Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 82: Rift Exploration! (End)

Creed’s eyes snapped open, and he immediately shot up with a sharp intake of breath, his body tense, his mind racing, ready to fight.

His fingers twitched instinctively, expecting to find his spear, but when no enemy lunged at him, when no immediate danger presented itself, he hesitated.

His breathing slowed as his gaze darted around, scanning his surroundings.

He was in another chamber. This was another dark red cavern, its walls pulsating faintly like the inside of some colossal living beast.

The air was thick, heavy, tinged with the scent of iron and something ancient.

Creed’s muscles, aching from battle, forced him to take a deep breath as he steadied himself.

The last thing he remembered was unleashing that terrifying red strike.

At that moment, everything had clicked. His spear had moved not with thought, but with something deeper.

A state beyond instinct. A moment of complete, true enlightenment.

His heart pounded as the memory of it flooded back; the way power had surged through his veins like a dam finally breaking, an unstoppable tide surging forward.

He had understood something... no, he had become something. His mind, still hazy from exhaustion, urged him to confirm what he already knew.

’Right, I got some system notifications, right?’

With a thought, he brought up his system interface and checked his previous notifications.

A familiar screen flashed before him.

[Congratulations! Host has comprehended the Path of Killing!]

Creed blinked, his mind still sluggish, but the words Path of Killing stood out like burning embers in his brain.

A path? His brows furrowed. He had heard of intents before; Sword Intent, Spear Intent, Lightning Intent etc.

They were understandings that warriors used to enhance their attacks, to become more in tune with their weapons or elements.

But a path? What the hell was a path? Was it the same thing?

He hadn’t tried, but somehow... somehow, he felt that this wasn’t like an intent. It was something deeper, broader, stronger.

Unlike an intent, which was a mere boost, this felt like something that shaped his very existence.

He could tell he could use it just like an intent—to make his spear strikes sharper, his movements deadlier—but there was something else.

Something he didn’t understand yet.

He clicked his tongue. "System, what the hell is a path?" he asked aloud.

Silence.

Of course. He should’ve known. The system, in all its frustrating glory, never answered the important questions!

He sighed and pushed himself up from the cold, smooth floor, shaking off the lingering fatigue.

His body felt weak, drained, almost as if something had taken everything from him, and yet, at the same time, he could feel it. He was stronger.

Not just in terms of physical power, but in a way he couldn’t describe. He rolled his shoulders, letting out a slow breath.

"Focus, Creed. First, figure out where the hell you are," he muttered to himself.

Now that his head was clearer, he took in the chamber properly.

It was smaller than the battlefield where he had fought the golems, though still dimly lit by that eerie crimson glow.

His sharp gaze swept across the space until it landed on something that made his breath catch.

Three podiums.

Creed’s mind clicked into place. He had passed the trials!

Whether it was because he had killed all those golems or because his comprehension of the Path of Killing had fulfilled some condition, it didn’t matter.

He had completed the trial. And now came the best part.

The reward!

Excitement bubbled in his chest as he stepped forward, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

His boots echoed against the stone floor as he approached the podiums, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

His hands itched to see, to touch, to claim whatever was waiting for him. His gaze landed on the leftmost podium first.

And the moment he laid eyes on what rested atop it, his breath hitched.

A spear.

But not just any spear.

It was long, thick, and entirely deep red. It was almost translucent, like a crystal forged from solidified blood.

The shaft was smooth, gleaming, with vein-like patterns running along its length, pulsating faintly as if it were alive.

The blade at its tip was a wicked fusion of a spearhead and a scythe’s curve, sharp enough to pierce and slice effortlessly.

Even from where he stood, he could feel it. The sheer weight of its presence, the killing intent rolling off it in waves, as if the weapon itself had tasted more blood than any human ever could.

For a moment, Creed simply stared, his fingers twitching with an undeniable urge.

"Well... damn," he breathed, a grin slowly creeping onto his lips. "Now this is a weapon."

Even without touching it, he could tell this was no ordinary weapon. This was a soul weapon!

His breath hitched slightly as realization dawned upon him. A soul weapon wasn’t just any weapon artifact.

It was a weapon that could bond with him, grow alongside him, strengthen as he did. It wouldn’t be something he would outgrow in a few years or trade for a better one.

It would be his, for life. A true companion in battle.

What made it even more terrifying was its natural connection to killing intent.

That meant that his newly comprehended Path of Killing would resonate with it perfectly.

If he bound with this weapon, his attacks using the path would be significantly stronger, sharper, deadlier.

The sheer synergy between his newfound power and this spear would make him a walking calamity on the battlefield.

Temptation clawed at him. His fingers twitched at the thought of picking it up, of making it his, of feeling its weight in his hands and testing its power.

But, he held himself back.

Creed clenched his fists, forcing himself to calm down. There were two more options left.

He had to see all of them before making a decision, because if there was anything he had learned from past mistakes, it was that rushing into choices without thinking got him into trouble.

With a deep breath, he turned his gaze to the far-right podium.

The moment his eyes landed on the object sitting atop it, his pupils shrank.

It was a single glowing drop of blood.

Not just any blood, it shone and sparkled like a priceless jewel, its surface swirling with a crimson luster so intense that it felt like he was staring into something infinite.

And the aura emanating from it? Thick. Overwhelming. Choking. The killing intent surrounding it was so dense that it almost made his skin prickle!

His mind instinctively recognized what it was.

A bloodline essence!

If he absorbed this, he would gain a bloodline related to killing.

His very existence would become more attuned to slaughter, his body and abilities would change, and his Path of Killing would be strengthened beyond belief.

His attacks would become even more ferocious, his presence in battle would exude an aura that could terrify enemies into submission.

A natural-born killer!

Another incredibly tempting choice.

But again, Creed stopped himself. He was letting his emotions take over.

This was exactly why he needed to think things through. He clenched his jaw, steeling himself as he turned his gaze to the final podium, the one in the center.

The object placed on this podium was different from the others.

It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t some kind of essence or power-up.

It was... a plaque.

A bold, dashing plaque—almost like a small badge. The craftsmanship was exquisite, elegant yet fierce.

At the back, three red slashes were drawn in a triangular formation, each slash seemingly made with expert precision, almost as if it had been scratched onto the surface by something incredibly sharp.

On the front, the number ’3’ was engraved with a sense of authority.

Creed’s eyes narrowed.

There was something odd about this badge. Unlike the other two rewards, this one was placed slightly higher.

That meant something. Whoever set up this inheritance trial had clearly valued this badge more than the other two rewards. But why?

He had no idea what it did.

He had no idea what it represented.

But if there was one thing Creed knew for sure, it was that value wasn’t always about immediate power.

He thought back to the spear. Yes, it was incredibly powerful, but soul weapons weren’t impossible to obtain.

They were rare, expensive, but not out of reach. He could buy one later if he wanted.

He thought about the bloodline essence. It was tempting, but he didn’t want to choose a bloodline so hastily.

He had to be sure before making such a permanent decision.

But this badge?

This wasn’t something money could buy.

It was an identity. A status. A mystery. And mysteries often led to power that couldn’t be measured by simple logic.

His eyes gleamed with resolve.

"This one," he muttered, his hand reaching out.

The moment his fingers brushed against the badge, the entire chamber trembled, as if something ancient had been disturbed.

RUMBLE.

Small crimson stones dislodged from the ceiling, tumbling to the ground with faint clinks.

The podiums trembled slightly, and then, with a sudden pulse of energy, a portal opened at the far end of the chamber.

Creed barely had time to process what had happened before his gaze instinctively snapped toward one of the small pebble-like red stones that had fallen nearby.

His eyes widened.

This... was a Fragment of Killing!

He bent down and picked it up, his heart pounding. This was the same type of fragment that had reached out to him before, the one that had helped him understand the secrets of killing.

But what truly shocked him was when he looked up at the ceiling and realized that there were dozens more!

The ceiling and pillars of this chamber were covered in them.

His grip tightened around the fragment in his palm.

Based on logic, he had a few minutes before the portal forcefully dragged him out of the rift. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

So why waste them?

A grin stretched across his face as he cracked his knuckles.

"Alright then," he muttered, eyes gleaming. "Time to harvest."