Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 171: Status Update.

Creed didn’t answer the question right away. He just stood there with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, eyes slowly narrowing as gears spun at lightning speed behind them.

"Where do you think the dimensional bracelets came from?" wasn’t the kind of thing someone dropped into a conversation like asking about lunch.

No, this was one of those questions. The kind that turned stories inside out.

Creed had wondered it himself, actually. Those sleek wristbands everyone wore were everywhere now, used by almost every awakened, noble, merchant, and even students.

But if you looked closely, like really looked, you’d notice something weird. The technology inside them was way too advanced!

He’d tinkered with his own once and found mechanisms that made zero sense. Things that shouldn’t work with how the world’s magic or machinery currently operated.

It was like finding a smartphone in a caveman village and being told it was "just a rock with light."

And then there were the higher-tier bracelets. The fancy ones worn by Diamond Awakened, top officials, and terrifying unknown elites who didn’t even bother showing their faces.

Those things weren’t just expensive, they were rare. Rumor had it they came with secret functions that no one ever explained.

Some people said they had hidden spaces larger than entire cities inside them. Others claimed they could bend time for a few seconds.

One guy online swore his cousin’s friend’s uncle saw a bracelet teleport its wearer straight into a different dimension during a life-or-death duel.

Most of those rumors were probably nonsense. But not all of them.

Creed had been around long enough to tell the difference between fantasy and a truth people were too scared to say out loud.

So he finally opened his mouth and calmly said, "I’m guessing there are some really advanced civilizations out there. Ones we don’t know about. Ones that probably made contact with Earth a long time ago.

"They are most likely the kind of people who’d consider us toddlers playing with sharp tools. But for some reason, the general public never hears a thing about it."

The old monk didn’t even blink. He just smiled, slow and satisfied. "Exactly."

And with that one word, the world tilted.

"You ever heard the phrase ’Great Humans’?" the monk asked, his voice suddenly heavier, quieter, like someone about to tell a story that changed their soul.

"Not just strong humans. Great ones. They came from beyond the stars, but not in the way you’re thinking. They didn’t land in big metal ships or fire lasers. No, they descended quietly... like whispers through time. And where did they first touch down?" freēnovelkiss.com

His eyes sparkled. "In a place far to the south. A dead land of white and wind. Cold, silent, untouched. A place now called Eden but originally called Antarctica."

Creed froze. Eden? That... that place that was forbidden to the public?

That frozen nightmare of a continent with military patrols, rumors of impossible ruins, and scientists that vanished by the dozen? Everyone called it a dead zone. Off-limits. But now...

"That place," the monk continued, "was where Earth was first introduced to the real game. The one most people don’t even know exists.

"The dimensional bracelet? That was a gift. A token of sincerity. A way to say, ’We recognize your potential. Let us help you grow.’ Of course, not everyone saw it that way."

Creed’s throat was dry. "Wait... wait, are you telling me the reason we had the Dimensional Descent?

"That global awakening thing where rifts appeared, and people got super powers and unlocked talents and whatnot—that—wasn’t random?"

The monk smiled. "No. That was... their way. A nudge to wake Earth up properly. A little chaos to ignite greatness."

Creed almost screamed. "Their way!? THEIR way?! So they were the cause of it? They caused the apocalypse event on purpose?!"

"Technically, it wasn’t an apocalypse," the man said thoughtfully. "More like... a violent welcome party. We all survived. Kinda."

Creed wanted to rip his hair out. "The government maniacs are worse than novelkiss authors."

The monk chuckled. "Speaking of stories... tell me, have you ever wondered about the Hopes?"

Creed blinked, still mentally screaming inside. "You mean the big shots everyone respects? The legendary ones chosen by fate or whatever? Yeah, what about them?"

He was a Hope Candidate, but even he knew he was still far from being a confirmed Hope. He needed combat power of at least Diamond Level before he could claim that title!

"They aren’t just strong," the old man said. "They’re symbols. But to the Humanity Alliance—the faction Earth belongs to—they’re called something else. Wildcards.

"After they reach a certain level, they get recruited. They’re sent to serve in one of the Twelve Accords."

"Twelve... Accords?" Creed echoed, the words feeling heavy in his mouth.

The old man was dropping revelation after revelation. It was almost too much for him to take in.

There were too many things kept secret from the public by the government. It was scary how many more secrets there were.

"The great factions of humanity across the Sector," the monk said. "And Earth’s Accord—the one that took you under its wing—is the Dawn Accord. Our patron in the war against the Nihilites."

Creed’s brain stopped. Full system shutdown. ’Wait. Wait. Wait. I don’t even have health insurance and now Earth is suddenly a chess piece in a space war against something called a Nihilite?!’

"Nihilite? What even is that? Sounds like a villain made out of homework and despair!"

"Pretty close," the monk said with a smirk.

Creed groaned.

’This is getting way too fast. Plot moving at breakneck speed. I haven’t even finished learning how to properly unleash my arts yet!’

’And now you’re telling me I’m part of some interstellar human resistance group? Can’t I just do a few more training arcs first? I haven’t even had my classic tournament arc yet!’

The old man just stood there, smiling like a man watching his favorite play unfold.

But Creed, despite all the racing thoughts and sarcasm, was listening. He took it in. Every word. Every implication. And then, voice low and even, he asked the one question that mattered:

"Where do I fit in all of this? What’s my place? Why are you telling me this? Why me?"

The monk was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than before. "Because I owe a debt. A debt so great that even if I gave my life, it wouldn’t be enough. I owe it to your parents."

Creed froze. The old man was finally revealing some information about his parents. Apparently, they had some interaction or relationship with him?

And then the man stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Creed’s shoulder. There was no joke in his face now. No teasing glint. Just... warmth.

"They’d be proud of you," he said, so quietly it almost got lost in the wind.

And then, just like last time, the man vanished. No sparkles. No smoke. Just gone. One second there, the next second, silence.

Creed blinked. Once. Twice.

"...What even is my life?"

But before he could fully freak out again, the old man’s voice echoed through the room; clear, crisp, and impossible.

"As for your other question... let’s just say I’m no longer a wildcard. I’m now an observer."

Creed turned wildly, but the room was empty.

"And I want you," the voice finished, "to be my pawn."

A pause. Then a whisper.

"The pawn that flips the board... and changes the game."

The silence in the room felt deeper after the old man vanished. Like the air itself had been holding its breath, and now even that was gone.

Creed stood there for a few long seconds, just blinking at the space the man had disappeared from.

After some seconds, he confirmed that he was really gone.

Creed let out a long, exhausted sigh, like a balloon deflating after being held under pressure for too long.

He dropped onto the nearby couch, slumped into it like a man twice his age, and stared at the ceiling with the dead eyes of someone whose life just got upgraded from "weird" to "intergalactic chaos."

His thoughts were a swirling mess; Great Humans, secret factions, Eden being the birthplace of first contact, the world-ending war against the Nihilites, Hopes being Wildcards, and now he was apparently someone’s "pawn to flip the board."

"...Pawn my butt," he muttered.

He kept staring into space for a good few seconds longer, like the answers might be carved into the invisible pixels of the air.

What the old man had said was still sinking in, slowly, like molasses dripping through his mind.

Now, some things started to make sense.

Sort of.

Still, there were huge gaps in the story. Creed could already tell the old man hadn’t told him everything. Not even close.

The guy had spoken in brief, vague lines, and hidden meanings like some drama-obsessed fortune cookie.

There was definitely more to this "deal" between Earth and the Great Humans. Maybe there were rules. Maybe betrayals. Maybe ancient contracts and secret betrayals buried under layers of politics.

But Creed didn’t press. Not because he wasn’t curious since he was, but because the man clearly thought Creed wasn’t ready yet. Not strong enough.

And that... that made something spark inside him.

A fresh surge of fire.

Even without all these new revelations, Creed had already been super motivated to grow strong.

He had a mission to complete, a death mission at that.

Also, he wanted to stand at the peak—not just for the rewards or the power, but because being weak in this new world meant you were one bad day away from being a bloodstain.

But now? Now it wasn’t just about dungeons or getting rich or summoning badass allies. Now it was about wars between stars.

Now it was about being strong enough to shake entire systems. If he wanted answers, if he wanted to control his fate and not be someone’s pawn, then there was only one way to do it: get stronger.

Way, way stronger than he had even thought before!

He nodded to himself, took a deep breath, and tapped three times on his bracelet.

The air shimmered in front of him, and then a sleek glowing screen popped into view—his [Dimensional Interface].

It hovered like a futuristic hologram, twinkling ever so slightly, with glowing runes around the edges.

[Dimensional Interface]

Name: Creed Walden

Stage: Stage 4 (Bronze)

Progress: 89/100

[Talent]

Primordial Summoning (SSS)

Strength: 161

Speed: 185

Constitution: 155

Energy: 200

[Talent Abilities]

• Primordial Summoning

[Bloodline(s)]

• None

[Source(s)]

• Force (Stage 2)

• Aura (Stage 2)

[Technique(s)]

• Thunderclap Orb (Peak Stage 2)

• Pierce (Peak Stage 2)

• Triple Pounce (Peak Stage 2)

• Double Pierce (Peak Stage 2)

[Intent(s)]

• Spear (Stage 2)

• Lightning (Stage 2)

• Space (Stage 1)

[Path(s)]

• Killing (Partial)

• Freedom (Faint)

• Mountain (Faint)

[Art(s)]

• Wings of Freedom (Faint) [Freedom]

• Line of Death (Partial) [Killing]

[Spirit(s)]

• Spear (Stage 1, Silver Level)

Creed stared at the interface, eyes darting across every detail, and then let out a soft, impressed whistle.

"Huh... my body’s been working overtime," he muttered.

His Strength, Speed, and Constitution had all quietly grown while he was busy surviving the Pyramid and unlocking his new arts.

His Energy stat was now at 200—just one point away from breaking into Stage 5, which would officially push his abilities forward again.

His Constitution was solid too, meaning his body could take hits like a tank. It wasn’t just surface-level muscle either.

Every stat boost here translated into real-life fighting power; bones harder than iron, muscles that moved like coiled thunder, and a body that recovered like a beast.

But what stood out more than the raw numbers was what had changed.

He wasn’t a combat monster because of his body anymore. That era had passed.

Now... it was the Paths.

The [Path of Killing] was already at Partial, which meant he could actively manifest techniques like Line of Death, a terrifying art that cut through lies, illusions, and even time-delay tricks.

His other Paths; [Freedom] and [Mountain], were still faint, but they gave him versatility.

One gave him flight and evasive potential, and the other offered him a mirage of defense that blocked overwhelming attacks.

Together, these Paths created real strategy. They made him versatile, unpredictable. A killing artist, not just a thug with muscle.

And his two Arts? Game changers.

Line of Death was his trump card. That thing cut through everything. The moment it was activated, it was a death sentence unless someone blocked it perfectly.

It wasn’t flashy, it was final.

On the other hand, Wings of Freedom let him float and dodge mid-air like a battle angel. It was still draining to use, but the mobility it offered? Insane.

He smirked to himself, the fire in his chest rekindling brighter than ever. "Alright. Let’s make some trouble."

He already had a plan for what to do next. A way to rise through the stages quickly before school resumed.

With enough training and battles, he could break past Stage 5 before the semester started. That meant more spirit power, more summon slots, and more prestige.

But before that, there were two things that demanded immediate attention.

Number one: the package.

The Academy had delivered a prize for him after winning first place on the Apex Floor trial. It had been sitting in his living room like a Christmas gift from heaven, just waiting to be opened.

Creed grinned.

"Oh, you better be worth it," he muttered, standing up and cracking his knuckles like he was about to interrogate a mobster.

He walked over to the glowing, rune-sealed chest that sat quietly in the corner of his room; his reward for being the top dog.