King Soris stood atop the jagged cliffs of the moonlight forest, the wind howling through the desolate valley below. His royal cape billowed behind him, and his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as he stared at the colossal giant lumbering toward his army.

Everytime Soris looked at this dungeon he had questions. Where did the wind come from? Isn't this dungeon supposed to be underground? Every step he took, his mind was filled with a new question.

Its eyes glowed like sapphire gems, and each step shook the earth. The knights of the Orders of Sturgon, clad in armor, braced themselves, their shields raised under Soris's command. But his heart was heavy, his mind adrift in memories of a past he could not escape.

Years Ago:

Soris's father, King Valdar Sturgon, had been a man consumed by the Otherworld—a realm of forbidden magic and creatures that defied mortal understanding. His chambers were littered with ancient tomes, their pages filled with runes and tales of succubi, wraiths, and eldritch beasts guided by aid of several mages and witches.

Valdar believed the Otherworld held the key to eternal power, a way to make their kingdom invincible. He sent expeditions into forbidden areas, sacrificing men and resources to capture creatures for study. Soris, barely a teenager, watched his father descend into madness.

But he knew it wasn't just his father that was filled with this thirst for knowledge, rather it was his lineage. What was the reason? Nobody knew, but Valdar found the solution for this curse, which was Marciel family who helped them to hold back this thirst.

"Father, this obsession will destroy us!" Soris had pleaded one night, standing in the flickering light of Valdar's study. The king's eyes were wild, his hands trembling as he clutched a glowing crystal.

"You don't understand, boy," Valdar snapped. "The Otherworld is our salvation. These creatures—their power is ours to claim!"

Soris shook his head. "You've lost many of the royal guard to those rifts. The people starve while you chase myths!"

Valdar's face twisted with rage. "One day, you'll see. You'll beg for the power I've uncovered."

But soon it returned to normal, as if there were two men inside him.

That was the last conversation they had. Days later, Valdar was found dead in his chamber with his tears being turned into disgusting cursed liquid. The kingdom mourned, but Soris felt only dread. When he took the crown at seventeen, he vowed to seal every rift and banish the Otherworld's influence. "I will not become my father," he swore to his advisor, his sister, Mandira, who was a young sorceress at that time. She nodded, her eyes kind but wary.

"I believe you, Brother," she said softly. "But the Otherworld has a way of calling to those who resist it most."

But Soris came back to present quickly, knowing he can't let these memories haunt him.

"Forward!" Soris shouted, snapping back to the present. The giant swung a massive fist, shattering a boulder into dust. His soldiers and knights scattered, their spears glancing off the creature's hide. Soris's chest tightened. "As expected," he muttered, "I have no idea where we're going."

He glanced at the faces of his men—brave, but faltering. These were the moments he missed Mandira most. Her calm presence, her knack for unraveling chaos, had saved him countless times. But Mandira was gone, vanished after their last mission in the cursed dungeon. Soris clenched his jaw. He couldn't dwell on her now.

"Hold the line!" he bellowed, charging forward. The giant roared, and for hours, the battle raged. Blood and sweat mingled on the rocky ground until, finally, the beast collapsed, its body crumbling into ash. The soldiers cheered, but Soris's relief was short-lived.

The same place they accepted their defeat before their memories were wiped out loomed ahead, a dark alleyway carved into the walls, its walls pulsing with an unnatural chill. Soris froze, his breath catching. "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "This is the place."

Mandira had risked everything to free him. Some hazy memories flooded back—chains biting into his wrists, the stench of decay, and Mandira's voice pulling him from despair. "No way this is the place Shennong was talking about, where is this second floor he spoke of? If he knew and wanted this sword to be taken by us, why would he even bring us here in the first place? All of this were fishy from the beginning" he said, louder now, his voice trembling with doubt. "After all, it's a trap. We go back!"

A rustling sound broke his thoughts. He spun around, hand on his sword, and saw Shennong approaching. The man's clothes was tattered, his eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. Behind him, a massive wooden box, the size of an ancient tree, creaked forward, pulled by a team of Tygros—hulking, four-legged beasts with fur like polished obsidian but blue.

"What in the gods' name is that?" Soris demanded, his soldiers raising their weapons.

Shennong smirked. "A gift, Your Majesty. Something to ensure your victory. At least, they will make sure you will survive, after all, it's not me that is going to be your death."

Before Soris could respond, Shennong yanked a lever on the box. The front panel fell open with a thunderous crash, and a wave of dark energy spilled out. From within emerged a group of succubi—ethereal, winged women with furious eyes.

Their beauty was deadly, their movements hypnotic yet fast. The soldiers froze, caught off guard, as the succubi lunged into the dungeon's entrance as if drawn by an unseen force.

"Damn you, Shennong!" Soris roared, drawing his sword. The succubi turned on his men, their claws slashing through armor like paper. Chaos erupted, but Soris's instinct kicked in. "Form ranks! Protect the flanks!" he shouted, cutting down a succubus as it lunged at him. Her scream echoed, unnaturally shrill, but the tide of battle favored Soris's forces. His soldiers were disciplined, their blades enchanted to resist Otherworldly creatures.

Then, a blur of motion caught his eye. A figure raced toward the battlefield, moving with inhuman speed. Soris's blood ran cold as he recognized her—Mirelle D'Agraval, the superior succubus that he had hear so much about from the dark creature that came to meet him.

Her wings were broader, her aura darker than the others. Her crimson eyes locked onto Soris, burning with rage. Soris knew this dangerous creature was in Sturgon, but he always left her to do her own thing, as he knew this is something that they shouldn't mess with. Only fools play with fire and complain they are getting burned and this was one of those situation for him.

"So it was a trap after all," Soris growled, raising his sword. "I was a fool to come here, blinded by greed for the sword."

Mirelle's laughter was sharp, cutting through the din of battle. "You mortals never learn," she hissed. "You think you can wield the Otherworld's power? The sword will be ours...only we can cut through the otherworld and open the tears so our sisters can come here."

Soris's heart twisted at the mention of demons netering in hordes to this land. "I am not him! I won't allow that." he shouted, charging at her. His blade and her claws clashed, sparks flying as Mirelle's strength pushed him back. Around them, the battle raged, but Soris's focus was singular. He would not fall here.

***

Moments earlier, Shennong had orchestrated the succubi's capture with meticulous precision. Deep in the moonlight forest, where they entered to find the sword and possibly capture Shennong or Rilith and Velara to find out more about Yenissa, he had tracked Mirelle and her coven. The succubi were cunning, their charms lethal, but Shennong was no ordinary man. He had already laid plans for these succubus that entered.

"Stay together," Mirelle had warned her sub-ordinate as they hunted in the misty woods. "The mortal who stalks us is dangerous.if he has Yenissa with him."

But Shennong was prepared. He activated a trap, a mechanism of an wooden box that weakens the power of the creatures inside it that would close automatically. The moment the succubi stepped within, chains of light erupted, binding all but Mirelle. She screamed, her wings beating furiously as she tried to free her kin, but Shennong's voice cut through the chaos.

"You're too late," he said, emerging from the shadows. "You all are mine."

Mirelle lunged, but Shennong raised a his hands and stopped her attack while temporially chaining her. A wave of energy repelled her, sending her crashing into a tree. "What do you want with them?" she demanded, struggling to rise.

"A king seeks a sword," Shennong replied cryptically. "And your kind will ensure he finds it."

He sealed the other succubi in the massive box, enchanted to suppress their powers. Mirelle escaped, vowing revenge, but Shennong vanished into the deep of dungeon, his prize secured. He knew the succubi would draw Soris attention and with humans and succcubus clashing he could easily push all of them into the second floor, where the sword—and its curse—awaited.

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