The air in Sturgon Academy felt heavier than usual. The once-vibrant halls, filled with the chatter of young mages and the hum of arcane energy, now carried whispers of unease.

Archmage Mandira, the academy's revered principal, had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a void filled by a new principal—a mage from an obscure sector, cold and unyielding. Daniel Marciel, president of the student council, walked through the corridors, his expression as stoic as ever. But inside, he was unraveling.

Rumors swirled like a storm. Some said Sir Juno, Daniel's uncle and a legendary knight, had betrayed the kingdom. Others whispered he'd taken a mortal wound and lay bedridden, clinging to life. The truth was murkier, and Daniel was determined to uncover it. His uncle wasn't a traitor—he was sure of it. The name Shennong, a mysterious figure tied to Cassandra and Christina, burned in his mind. Hatred pulsed through him. I'll kill him, or I'll drag him to the throne to confess, Daniel vowed silently.

Lady Famina, the vice president, watched him during the student council meeting, her sharp eyes catching the tension in his jaw. She knew him better than anyone. The new principal, a wiry man with a voice like steel, addressed the council. "With Princess Maria returned to the empire, we no longer prioritize anyone. Perfection is your standard. Continue your duties as usual treating everyone equally."

But nothing was usual. The academy felt like a shadow of itself, as if a dark current ran beneath its polished surface. Even Daniel, ever perceptive, sensed it. The king is hiding something, he thought, his mind racing. What's happening here?

The meeting ended, and Daniel stepped into the dim hallway, his boots echoing softly on the cold stone floor. The magic-lit sconces lining the walls flickered faintly, casting long, wavering shadows that seemed to shift with a will of their own. A chill clung to the air—unnatural, even for the high towers of Sturgon Academy.

He moved with purpose, but something gnawed at his instincts, the same instinct that had guided him through countless duels and court intrigues. His fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger strapped beneath his robe, a family heirloom laced with defensive enchantments.

Then he heard it—a sound faint but distinct in the quiet: a soft, rhythmic moan, rising and falling like a chant swallowed in passion. It was followed by a stifled gasp, a low whimper of pleasure. Daniel froze.

What the hell?

He pressed himself to the wall, eyes narrowing, and crept toward the source. His mind raced through the possibilities. A student affair? Someone breaking curfew? A spell gone awry? But something about the noise felt wrong—too deliberate, too theatrical.

Rounding a corner, Daniel stopped dead.

In the alcove formed by two ancient, ivy-draped pillars, two figures were entwined. Cloaked in partial shadow, their robes half-undone, they clung to each other with ravenous hunger. Lips locked, fingers digging into flesh. The taller one pressed the other against the stone wall with slow, sensual movements. The moans were clearer now—pleasure tinged with something darker, almost desperate.

Daniel's jaw clenched. "Enough," he muttered, stepping forward. "This isn't the place for—"

Pain.

It struck him like lightning.

A blinding white flash behind his eyes, then searing agony at the base of his skull. His breath caught in his throat as his knees buckled. The world tilted.

He didn't even hear the thud of his body hitting the ground.

His last coherent thought was confusion, not fear. How did someone get behind me?

Then darkness swallowed him whole.

A woman's voice purred, "What a delicious-looking boy."

"You should be more careful!" Another voice, colder, responded, "Do you know who this is?"

"Of course," the first woman said, stepping closer to Daniel's limp form. "Daniel Marciel, nephew of Juno Marciel. Our target."

The second woman smirked. "So we got him already? Thanks to me."

The first rolled her eyes. "You should be more aware of your surroundings while feeding. Mistress won't be pleased if she hears you were sloppy."

The second woman, her lips curling as she licked them, nodded. "Let's take this boy to our hideout. I want to see how long he can keep his sanity. It'll be fun to play with him."

"What about this Shennong we heard about?" the first asked, glancing at the drained body of the student they'd been kissing moments before.

The second waved a hand dismissively. "He's insignificant for now. All we need is Sir Juno's sword—it can tear open the rifts to the Otherworld."

The two succubi hoisted Daniel's unconscious body, their laughter echoing as they vanished into the shadows.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the capital, the headquarters of the 5th Order stood as a bastion of order amidst the chaos. Lady Serpha, the Order's formidable leader, surveyed a grim scene. Several dried, husk-like bodies lay sprawled across the marble floor of the government building.

Her armor gleamed under the torchlight, her presence commanding despite the gruesome sight. Her sharp green eyes scanned the corpses, and her lips tightened into a thin line.

"Succubi," she said, her voice low but certain.

Her underlings, a group of young knights, exchanged uneasy glances. One, a wiry man named Torren, stepped forward. "How can you tell, Commander?"

Serpha knelt beside one of the bodies, her gloved hand hovering over the desiccated skin. "The marks on their necks—faint but precise. The way their life essence was drained, leaving nothing but a shell. Only succubi leave victims like this. They feed on vitality, not just blood."

Another knight, a woman named Lira, frowned. "Succubi in the capital? That's bold, even for them."

"Bold and dangerous," Serpha said, rising to her feet. "This city needs a cleanup, starting from the castle."

Torren's brow furrowed. "The castle? What do you mean, Commander?"

Serpha's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "What do I mean, indeed? We're dealing with something bigger than a few rogue demons. The castle's been compromised—I can feel it. But we're not going in alone. There's someone I know, a hunter of a different caliber."

Lira's eyes widened. "Who?"

"A monster that monsters fear," Serpha said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "His name is Kain. And if succubi are involved, he'll sniff them out faster than a bloodhound."

Torren swallowed hard. "Kain? The Kain? I thought he was dead."

"Not dead, man just wanted some peace so he went inot a hiding. He has his own reasons." Serpha said, her smile fading. "But I know I can find him, and he's our best shot at rooting out this infestation before it spreads further. Gather the team. We move at dawn."

Back at Sturgon Academy, Daniel woke to darkness. His head throbbed, and his limbs felt heavy, as if bound by invisible chains. The air was thick with a sweet, cloying scent that made his stomach churn. He blinked, trying to focus, and realized he was in a dimly lit chamber, its walls carved with strange runes that pulsed faintly.

"Well, well, the boy's awake," a sultry voice cooed.

Daniel's eyes snapped to the source. Two women stood before him, their beauty otherworldly yet chilling. Their eyes glowed faintly, and their smiles were predatory. Succubi. He cursed himself for not sensing them sooner.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.

The taller succubus, her hair a cascade of silver, laughed. "Oh, he's feisty. I'm succubi. This is succubi, it's not like our names matter to you. And you, Daniel Marciel, are our little prize."

Veyra, the shorter one with jet-black hair, leaned closer, her breath hot against his cheek. "We know all about you. Nephew of the great Sir Juno. Tell me, does it hurt knowing he's wasting away because of you? I heard man is on his death bed because he wanted to protect these people."

Daniel's fists clenched. "You know nothing about my uncle."

Lysara smirked. "Don't we? Humans told us plenty. Your uncle's sword is the thing we need, and you're our ticket to getting it."

"Dream about it," Daniel spat, his hatred flaring. "You won't get a single thing."

Veyra giggled. "Don't worry—you'll have plenty of time to think about answer while we play with you."

Daniel's mind raced. He needed to escape, to warn someone—anyone. But the runes on the walls pulsed stronger, sapping his strength. He was trapped, and these creatures knew it.

In the capital, Serpha strode through the streets, her knights trailing behind her. The city buzzed with nervous energy, as if it sensed the darkness creeping within. She stopped at a rundown tavern on the outskirts, its sign barely legible. The door creaked as she entered, and the patrons fell silent, their eyes wary.

At the back, a lone figure sat, cloaked in shadow. His presence was like a storm cloud, heavy and oppressive. Serpha approached, undaunted.

"Kain," she said.

The figure looked up, revealing a scarred face and eyes that gleamed with unnatural intensity. "Serpha. Been a while. Didn't I tell you not to approach me again? I told you if you do...I will kill you."

"We've got succubi in the capital," she said, cutting to the chase. "They're targeting high-profile figures, and I suspect the castle's involved. I need your help."

Kain leaned back, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Succubi, huh? Nasty little things. What's the catch?"

"This is not a simple succubi attack Kain," Serpha said. "They are more planned this time. Looking at the vicitims I can tell they are collecting information. You rememeber about the tragedy right? I feel like...it's going to happen again."

Kain's smirk vanished. "Don't bring that up!"

"We don't know yet," Serpha admitted. "But I'm betting you can track them. You've hunted worse."

Kain stood, his movements fluid and predatory. "Before that..."

Suddenly Kain took out something that look like a tube and kept it on Seprha's head. "Let's see who you really are."

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