Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 150: Pyramid Of Dominion! (3)

Creed moved like a streak of wind and instinct; faster than a blink and sharper than a blade. Yet with every step he took, something shifted in the air.

No, not just the air, the entire space around the knight.

Crackle!

A strange, crackling pressure started pouring out of it, like it had suddenly swallowed a thunderstorm and was now casually exhaling chaos.

Creed narrowed his eyes. That aura... it wasn’t just strong. It was very strong!

At first, the knight had clearly been Stage 1 Silver—already a bit much for what was supposed to be a Bronze-level candidate’s trial.

But as Creed charged forward, its power surged like a bottle of soda violently shaken and then cracked open. Boom; Stage 2!

Then, another wave—Stage 3. Creed’s pupils shrank. Then boom, again! Stage 4?!

The knight’s entire body glowed with red and black energy as its armor shifted and cracked, reshaping into something even heavier, even more dangerous.

It wasn’t just a guardian anymore, it looked like the final boss of a game that skipped the tutorial and shoved you straight into nightmare mode!

"What in the unholy goatmilk is this?" Creed muttered aloud, not even trying to hide the disbelief on his face.

His brain immediately kicked into overdrive, analyzing the absurd rise in strength.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not here. Not on the first floor. Not in a trial that was meant for people who mostly hadn’t even touched Silver rank yet.

It was like giving a fire-breathing dragon to a kid still learning to use a water pistol!

He was just about to reach a logical conclusion when Lilith’s voice exploded into his mind like an emergency siren with glitter on it.

’Creed! They suddenly got way weaker! The knights—those leather-armored clowns around me—they just lost most of their strength all at once! I crushed them in like two seconds flat!’

Creed blinked. Then a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. ’Oh, he got it now.’

"Energy transfer," he muttered under his breath, a spark of excitement flashing in his eyes.

’That bastard Alan... He’s siphoning energy from the guardians spread across the floor. Condensing it. Shoving it all into this one knight—this one guardian—just to stall me!’

It all made sense. That would explain why Lilith’s enemies became so weak they practically tripped over their own swords.

It wasn’t some weird glitch or a gift from the gods. It was Alan Snow—the newly crowned Arena Lord—actively making moves from behind the scenes.

That meant one of two things. One, either there were only two candidates present on this floor—him and Alan—which made Creed the biggest threat by default.

Or two, Alan had evaluated everyone and decided that Creed was the biggest danger to his plans!

The implications hit Creed like a truck full of conspiracy theories.

And then, a new thought struck him, and his eyes widened.

’Lilith,’ he said through gritted teeth, ’be extremely careful. If Alan’s focusing this much effort to stall me, it means he’s coming to you!’

’He’s trying to catch the Flame of Merit before you do so he can farm dominion points on the lowest level like a greedy little rat hoarding cheese!’

There was a pause. Then Lilith responded, her tone colder than usual. ’Got it. Activating my sigil now. I’m not taking any chances with someone who stomped an Arena Lord like he was a practice dummy.’

Creed felt her energy spike through the bond they shared, and he smiled faintly.

Lilith might’ve looked like a lightning-cloaked demoness of chaos, but when it came to combat, she was as sharp as his spear and ten times scarier when she got serious.

Still, he couldn’t afford to focus on her situation right now.

Not when a knight the size of a two-story building with fire for sweat and doom for breakfast was stomping toward him like it was late for an apocalypse-themed tea party!

Creed’s grin dropped. He took a deep breath and let the chaos of thought fall away.

"Alright then," he whispered. "Time to stop playing."

He activated his Path of Freedom, and his movements became almost blurry, impossible to predict.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

One second, he was in front of the knight; the next, he was slightly to the side, or maybe above, or maybe just a twitch away from its killing arc!

Simultaneously, he triggered his Path of Killing, and a terrifying pressure burst from him like a blade drawn from a sacred scabbard.

His presence alone felt like walking through a forest where every leaf could be a hidden knife!

His badge pulsed as his Spear Domain activated at full force.

Screeeeech!

The air around him trembled, and the corridor’s walls shuddered under the weight of his killing intent.

His spear lit up with a furious red glow, a soft hum vibrating through its length, like the weapon was excited.

Creed grinned and shouted, "Take my thrust, you stupid tin can!"

In an instant, his spear tore through the air—and then tore through it again.

Two massive streaks of red, edged with faint trails of multicolored energy, ripped forward like twin dragons born from war itself.

They moved so fast the air didn’t even have time to scream.

One stream of energy slammed into the knight’s chest, the other just behind it, so perfectly timed they formed a devastating echo of destruction, ripping space itself as they carved through toward their target.

The knight had no time to block. No time to dodge. Its eyes, glowing like miniature suns widened in a mix of confusion and horror.

Creed didn’t wait to see the result. He was already charging again with his spear raised and ready!

As expected, the moment Creed reached sword-swinging distance, the knight didn’t waste even a second.

Like a beast programmed to kill anything that blinked in its direction, it exploded into action.

Boom!

One foot slammed the ground, causing cracks to spiderweb through the floor, and its massive greatsword, easily the size of a church bench, came screaming toward Creed’s neck with a terrifying screech of wind and metal.

But just as Creed was about to sidestep the blow, confident in his read of the attack’s timing, the sword split. Multiple times!

Suddenly, dozens of sword slashes shimmered into reality, coming at him from every angle like a blender made of death had suddenly turned itself on and chosen him as breakfast!

’What in the actual hot fudge is this?!’ Creed’s eyes widened as the phantom blades closed in.

It wasn’t a normal technique—this was something else. Something way nastier.

His reflexes screamed for him to teleport, but the timing was far too short. He didn’t even have half a second, and his spatial affinity just wasn’t high enough yet for instant-phase teleportation.

He had to act fast. Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet and activated the Path of the Mountain.

BOOM!

The aura of an ancient, immovable mountain surged behind him; silent but overwhelming. It was like the weight of an entire continent had suddenly leaned on his back in support.

His spear whipped up in a whirlwind of motion, blocking three, four, five of the incoming strikes. But it wasn’t enough.

Each phantom slash hit with the force of a freight train on rocket fuel, and the sheer power knocked Creed backward step after step.

His heels dug trenches into the stone floor as he was shoved back like a man trying to hold off a tsunami with a stick.

"Are you serious right now?!" Creed barked out, wheezing as he blocked a particularly nasty overhead slash that nearly split his spear in two.

The knight wasn’t just strong, it was ridiculous. But while Creed grunted under the pressure, he wasn’t panicking. In fact, his mind was cool as ice.

Click.

The instant the knight finished its crazy sword art, Creed vanished from its range like a soap bubble popping in the sun—and reappeared a dozen meters away, kneeling and panting slightly, spear still in hand and skin steaming from the sheer heat of their clash.

"Whew," he muttered, then slowly rose. ’That was definitely an art. A real one.’

He could still feel the lingering energy from it hanging in the air like spicy perfume.

Creed grinned. It was insane. Even the knights in this pyramid had awakened a path and comprehended an art?

It made his blood boil in excitement!

’I need to create one of those,’ he thought, eyes gleaming. ’An art that actually fits me... something that would elevate my combat prowess once I use it.’

But no time to daydream. He quickly tapped into his mental links. ’Lilith?’

’Still tailing the flame,’ she responded, voice calm but sharp. ’Alan’s not here yet. I’m watching. I’ve got lightning coiled and ready to ruin someone’s day.’

Creed gave a mental nod. Good. That meant Lilith was still in the game, and Alan hadn’t caught up to her yet. He reached out to Tierra as well.

’Yo, found anything flaming and angry?’

’Actually, yes,’ Tierra replied, sounding surprisingly cheerful. ’A flaming lion just tried to claw my face off. I stabbed it in the eye. It’s dead now. I saved the coin for you.’

Creed smirked. ’That’s my girl.’

Roar!

But his smile vanished as the knight roared and launched itself at him again. And this time, Creed met it.

Boom! Boom! Bang!

What followed could only be described as a demolition derby between two gods of war.

Spear and sword collided over and over again, each strike sending shockwaves that made the walls shudder like they were about to cry.

Cracks spidered across the floor. Huge craters formed with every clash. The knight’s blade screamed through the air like a banshee; Creed’s spear danced with sharp, precise fury.

Metal rang out like a drumbeat of war, over and over again, like some insane symphony of destruction.

And yet... there was no advantage. Not even a sliver of one.

Creed gritted his teeth. ’Five minutes... and I haven’t made a dent in you?!’

He was starting to get frustrated now. Not because he couldn’t win, but because time was not on his side.

Lilith was still alone. Alan could show up any moment. And if Alan was even half as dangerous as his current plan suggested, Lilith would need backup. Creed needed to finish this fight now.

Then a thought slipped into his brain like a jigsaw puzzle piece finally snapping into place.

’Wait... Alan should’ve already reached Lilith by now!’

He knew the layout of the map. He was the Arena Lord, meaning he could view floor-wide data.

He could’ve teleported, blinked, or used his many tricks to arrive anywhere he wanted. So why hadn’t he reached her yet?

Unless...

Creed’s eyes snapped wide.

’Unless he wasn’t going for Lilith at all!’

He barely had time to act.

BOOM!

He teleported instantly, just barely in time. One moment he was standing, and the next, he reappeared several meters to the side, lungs tight with adrenaline.

And in the exact spot he had just vacated?

Space itself froze. The entire chunk of space there locked up like it had been flash-frozen by some divine deep-freezer, and then it exploded.

Boom!

The whole corner of the world cracked and shattered like a broken, frozen mirror.

Then a voice slipped out of the chaos like oil sliding over silk.

"Well, you’re pretty slippery, huh?"

Creed’s pupils narrowed. His body snapped into alertness.

He didn’t even need to look to confirm it.

Alan Snow had arrived.

And instead of chasing Lilith and the Flame of Merit?

He had come straight for him!