King of succubus

We exist to get what our master wants. We cannot be considered as living beings but as tools; tools used to satisfy the avarice and whims of our supreme master, who is also our savior in a way.

This savior is not an angel descended from heaven, but a demon who came straight from the thousand hells.

His cruelty has no equal, his goodness 'was' only superficial. But he had and always has something that never ceases to fascinate me and pulled me at him as a magnet; his temperament to fear no one, his frankness, and his powers.

We are a warrior breed. We were born in the middle of the battlefields of bloody battles. As far as I can remember, I have always lived this way; was it because of our father who only works with his punches? Or maybe because it's in our blood?

Anyway, this question is one of the most shitty questions I've ever looked at.

No matter the answer to this question, it won't be of much use to me.

All that matters to me and fascinates me is the history and daily life of this perfect and imperfect being.

I am not so 'cause he had resurrected me; no, far from it.

When my sister came to tell me about her meeting with this strange being for the first time, I saw a glow in her eyes that I could no longer remember when I saw her this way.

By dint of no longer seeing her sneaky smile, I thought I was in the presence of an evil spirit who had possessed her.

And without explaining anything to me, she dragged me by the arm to an entity that did not look like any of the creatures I had seen before.

His blank and disinterested eyes gave me the impression of being buried by the darkness that was sealed in his soul.

But I couldn't help but wonder...

How could such an existence be locked in this place? His eyes had no glimmer of life, but I admired him for this only immutable and disinterested expression of everything.

As I said, it wasn't ‘cause he had taken me under his wing that I was fascinated by him; the proof is that I had felt this fascination for him even before entering his service, from our first meeting.

I didn't need him to prove his superiority to me; it was as instinctive for me as when a spider abandons its web when it feels the presence of a predator who can devour it and its traps at once.

His body, the purity of his soul, powers, and aura were more perfect than anything I had seen until that time.

For the first time, I realized that there were more exceptional beings than this son of a bitch (Alfred, his father).

But despite the perfection of his existence, one thing made him imperfect; the vacuum in his soul.

This emptiness was not only omnipresent on his face but even in his eyes and in his soul; it was as if he had let his own darkness devour his soul and all his emotions.

It was not only an impression, but a fact that I was quick to understand after a few years with him.

For five years, he had only rarely spoken while we were traveling together.

I didn't know why I was following him; I thought it was because of my sister.

But she too seemed to ignore the reason for our presence with the master.

I thought it was because of his powers that I wanted to understand their sources. But over time, I realized that this was not the case.

He seldom spoke, and only rarely talked about himself.

If his reputation was tarnished, it was because of us who gave free rein to our rage.

This rage was not directed against the right person, but since this dog was stronger than me and my sister, we could only take revenge on him through others.

It was stupid, but it was our way of dousing the flames of revenge that slowly consumed us.

(How naive I was!)

I thought that by sowing so much chaos in our path, we would attract the wrath of the fury of existences stronger than our Father.

I secretly hoped that they would move to exterminate our entire species because of our actions.

It was stupid and naive of me.

But despair sometimes leads people to commit the craziest acts, especially if this despair is rooted in anger and self-disgust.

While ignoring our nonsense and the consequences of our acts, we continued to sow chaos, without knowing that we were tarnishing the reputation of our ghost companion.

[Wherever he goes, chaos and death would follow; he is a demon and an infamous and merciless being]: This infamous legend was probably 'cause of both of us. Since we were not stronger than him, the others took him as the only culprit.

Then came the day of our death.

My sister may have ignored it, but I, a specialist in spiritual powers, witnessed everything that had continued after our death.

During the battle, he did not intervene; as if he did not know us, something that did not surprise me.

But after our death, I was able to witness a more strange spectacle in my spiritual form.

At first, I imagined that he was content to defend himself against enemies who dared to disturb him after our death.

But after our death, his expression changed for the first time, and it was not beautiful to see. Even I, having lived in the blood for several millennia, had chills despite my death’s state.

Before these days, I would never have believed that a dead person could feel fear. I couldn't ask myself the reason for my fear. Fear is usually generated by certain factors.

The fear of death, but I already was. If it wasn't that, was it the fear of being in pain? But in my soul form, I was out of all physical suffering.

So what was this fear? If it's not my fear of having pain or fearing death, not to mention despair or other known forms of fear, what was it!?

This question remains and will probably remain a mystery to me. And I know that it is in this question that I’ll find my answer about my loyalty to him.

A master who does not give up his tool even after it’s out of service, a master who relies on his tools even though they are more burdens than anything else, etc.; it is this master that I had and I decide to follow until my end.

"ASKALD!"

"Y-yes!?" Askald startled slightly with surprise when he heard Fy's piercing roar.

"Tell me, have you finished daydreaming or should I wake you up with a few slaps?"

"...Forget that, I don't think it's necessary." He mutters while raising his eyes to the night sky in his contemplation.

Seeing that he was about to dive into his deep thoughts, Fy asks...

"Is that why you decided to follow Lord Alvine?"

"Huh?"

"... I'm talking about your story with this old woman who’s your...father." Regardless of her efforts, she always had trouble correctly placing the masculine title after a feminine name.

"I don't understand, where exactly do you want to go?" Askald frowns while looking far away.

To believe that the question Fy had just asked was of paramount importance to him; something his teammate did not know.

"Why are you feigning? In short; what I want to know is the source of your loyalty to the master. Is it by wanting to become strong to avenge your father that you and your sisters remained under his service? Or maybe you're waiting for him to kill your dad in your pla...-

"Where do you get this bunch of bullshit from? This dog must die with my hands, I wouldn't accept anyone to kill him in my place!"

"... I see. It was stupid on my part, such a question." Fy mutters with a small smile that shows her appreciation for Askald's decision.

"And you? How did you meet?"

Fy’s eyes were slightly convulsed with skepticism when she heard this question from the most unexpected person.

"Does it surprise you so much that I ask you such a question?" Askald also frowns.

"...What did you expect for? Note that you are hardly interested in these things."

"..."

Seeing Askald silently, she decided to answer him. "Finally, my story is not as interesting as yours. But if you...!!"

The two suddenly look above them with crumpled expressions.

Askald instantly gets up on the bench of the arena and smiles slyly but with eyes more wild than contradictory.

"Well, it looks like the storm is finally settling in." He mumbles before lowering his head to his subordinates who are training in the same arena.

They too seemed to have noticed the auras of hostility that gradually overlooked the planet.

In the following second, Elena, the three generals, and their captains plopped up around him like fireflies, who had wandered for a long time before finding a blinding source of light in a nighty night.

Feeling their presence, Askald nods his head, considering their decisions as the right one.

"Should I warn the Lord?" Elena asks for the first.

Askald nods his head. "Knowing him, he must already be aware of the unwanted insects that come knocking on our door. But you still have to warn him of one thing:

Say to him not to bother for them; I’d take care of these insects that dare to come and stain our stunning night sky with their blasphemous presences."

Hearing his message, Elena nods her head before vanishing.

After Elena's departure, Askald looks at the others who were kneeling behind him, except Fy, who was the only one standing.

'Tss~, watch them get excited like kids? It looks like they were just waiting for that.' He mutters in his mind while smiling slightly; himself unable to control his frenzy.