Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!

[10/10 Of Castle Mass Release! Shout out to Dragonman009128 for the gift! End of Bonus! Go get that castle!]

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the bustling streets of the Tier 3 Bastion.

Creed walked out of the restaurant with the swagger of a man who had just conquered the world—or at least, a really good steak.

His stomach bulged slightly under his shirt, and a satisfied grin stretched across his face.

"Worth. Every. Credit," he muttered, patting his stomach like it was a treasure chest full of gold.

And honestly? It was worth it.

That steak wasn’t just food—it was a masterpiece.

Perfectly seared on the outside, juicy and tender on the inside, seasoned with spices so good they probably came from some ridiculously dangerous Rift.

He’d spent a whole 100 credits on that one meal—a reckless decision for someone who had just gone broke buying Dimensional Runes—but not a single ounce of regret filled his heart.

That steak made him feel alive!

Stuffed and happy, Creed finally pulled himself together and checked his map before setting off toward his hotel.

His steps were slower now, not because of exhaustion, but because of that dangerously full stomach.

Still, as he walked, thoughts of his next moves churned in his mind.

Out of his remaining 1,000 credits, he had wisely—or maybe desperately—spent 500 credits on a Basic Cultivation Technique.

It was nothing fancy, not the kind of high-tier method rich kids with famous surnames would use, but it was effective.

The cultivation technique would help accelerate his growth, pushing him closer to breaking through to the Bronze Awakened Stage.

And that breakthrough? It was crucial!

Only by becoming a Stage 1 Awakened could Creed even dare to believe he had a fighting chance at passing the upcoming Academy Entrance Exams.

But let’s be real—passing was a stretch.

The top-tier geniuses? Yeah, they were on an entirely different level.

Those spoiled monsters were already sitting comfortably at Stage 3 or even Stage 4!

On top of that, they had powerful bloodlines enhancing their abilities, naturally strong talents polished with precision, and—just to make things worse—a few of them had already comprehended Stage 4 Intents!

Creed?

The poor guy didn’t even have a single Stage 1 Intent yet!

The gap between him and those so-called "geniuses" wasn’t just a crack—it was a freaking canyon!

But Creed wasn’t about to give up.

The only advantage he had now was his physique.

By exploring rifts, hunting monsters, and pushing himself to the limit, Creed could rapidly increase his physical stats—Strength, Speed, Constitution—all of them would rise much faster than traditional training could ever allow.

If luck was on his side (for once), maybe—just maybe—he could achieve a Peak Stage 1 Physique before the entrance exams, which were two months away.

That would be his ticket to narrowing the gap between him and the rich kids who had been spoon-fed talent their entire lives.

But for now, one problem at a time.

He finally reached his hotel, already daydreaming about hopping into the elevator, getting back to his room, and maybe passing out with a full belly and a happy soul.

Then it happened.

"Mr. Creed! Wait a moment!" the hotel clerk called out, rushing toward him with urgency in every step.

Creed blinked, confused. "Uh, yeah?"

The clerk handed him a letter—a physical letter.

Creed blinked.

"Who the hell still sends letters in this century?" he grumbled, his gut already telling him this wasn’t going to be good.

Then he saw the icon stamped on the corner of the envelope. His stomach didn’t just drop—it backflipped!

Alfonzo’s!

The name alone sent a cold sweat crawling down Creed’s neck.

Back in his room, Creed sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the letter like it was a live bomb.

His brain raced with every possible excuse, every dumb idea of how this could be a mistake.

"I thought that bastard wouldn’t survive the beast tide!" Creed hissed under his breath. "How is Alfonzo still alive?! Did this guy just casually survive the apocalypse or something?"

Alfonzo wasn’t just any loan shark—he was the loan shark.

The kind of guy who made you sign contracts that felt like they were written in blood. Creed had borrowed 10k from him once, back when desperation clouded his judgment.

And now...

The letter said he owed 20,000 credits!

"TWENTY THOUSAND?!" Creed practically screamed at the paper, his voice echoing around the tiny room.

The worst part? He had thought—prayed—that the beast tide had wiped out the loan shark’s operation entirely.

But of course, someone as slippery and dangerous as Alfonzo had found a way to survive and collect.

After a full minute of cursing the universe, Creed forced himself to calm down. He slapped his cheeks lightly and let out a long breath.

"No use crying about it now," he muttered. "I’ll just have to get stronger and pay this off... somehow."

It was either that or slavery, so he had no choice.

His gaze drifted toward the small leather pouch sitting on his desk.

Inside it was his shortcut rapidly improving his strength and actually making a name for himself—the Dimensional Rune he had bought earlier.

Time to focus.

He pulled out the smooth, dark rock, its surface etched with intricate lines that glowed faintly under the room’s dim lights.

The Spear Intent Rune was a masterpiece, each line representing hidden knowledge about force, precision, and deadly strikes.

"If I’m going to fight my way out of debt, I might as well start here," Creed muttered with a smirk.

He set the stone down carefully, crossing his legs as he sat in front of it. His eyes locked onto the rune’s pattern, and the world around him slowly began to blur.

Every swirl, every line, every minuscule detail of the rune seemed to pulse with ancient energy.

His mind dove into the depths of the inscription, searching for the hidden meaning behind every symbol.

This was it.

His first step toward mastering Spear Intent.

And hopefully, his first step toward crawling out of the never-ending pit of debt.

.....

What is a spear?

Not just a weapon, but a concept. A truth forged in simplicity and perfected by focus.

It is the extension of will—a straight, unbending line aimed at the heart of all obstacles.

Unlike a sword, which dances and twists with flair, the spear is pure purpose. It does not ask for attention, nor does it seek beauty. It simply is.

A point that moves forward, forever cutting through hesitation, fear, and weakness.

It represents clarity, precision, and the ruthless determination to pierce through anything that stands in its way.

It is destruction in its most disciplined form!

In that moment, as Creed stared at the Dimensional Rune etched on the stone before him, these thoughts surged through his mind like a storm.

His eyes darkened with solemnity as if every fiber of his being observed the weight of the concept he was trying to grasp.

The flickering lines of the rune seemed alive, each stroke carved with meaning beyond words.

The faint, almost imperceptible glow of the inscription drew him deeper into contemplation, until everything else—his debt, his broken bank account, even his full stomach—faded into the background.

His breathing slowed.

Time stretched.

The world fell silent.

For two whole hours, Creed sat perfectly still. His mind was locked in a state of deep focus so intense it felt like he had become the very embodiment of the spear itself.

Sharp, unwavering, and endlessly reaching for something just out of grasp.

And then—snap.

The trance broke. Creed’s eyes blinked open, and the weight of disappointment slammed into his chest.

A long, tired sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back against the wall, his gaze dull and heavy.

’I knew this would be hard, but... damn.’

He didn’t even make 1% progress!

Not even a spark of enlightenment. Two hours of pure concentration, and the only thing he had to show for it was a slight headache and a growing frustration in his chest!

"At this rate, it’ll take weeks... maybe even months to comprehend a Stage 1 Spear Intent," Creed muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Geniuses get it in a week... and I’m sitting here like a clueless meathead staring at a rock."

But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not by a long shot.

A grin slowly crawled back onto his face as he pulled up his system panel and selected the one thing that could change everything:

Primordial Essence!

The moment the essence activated, it felt like a dam broke inside his head.

His eyes snapped wide open, shimmering like molten gold. Sparks of realization shot through his brain faster than he could process them.

The rune before him no longer looked like mere lines—it was alive, shifting and reshaping itself, revealing hidden layers of meaning in every curve and edge.

Thoughts, concepts, and revelations poured into his mind like a flood.

Every flicker of the rune’s glow suddenly made sense. Every intricate detail whispered secrets about the spear’s purpose: Direct. Precise. Unstoppable.

His eyes occasionally twitched, flickering with so many rapid realizations that even he couldn’t keep up.

It was like his mind was absorbing hundreds of lessons all at once, skipping the hard work of trial and error entirely!

Ten minutes later, the effect wore off.

And Creed?

He leaned back and started laughing like a madman.

"PFFT—HAHAHAHAHA!" His voice echoed through the room, raw and wild with excitement. "This! This is ridiculous!"

In just ten minutes, he had made 10% progress toward comprehending Stage 1 Spear Intent!

This was progress that would take a genius several hours, maybe even a few days of constant meditation!

"If one essence gives me 10%..." Creed’s grin stretched wider. "I just need nine more, and I’ll fully comprehend this intent like it’s child’s play!"

Suddenly, he felt invincible. The system wasn’t just a cheat—it was the cheat!

"Hah! I’m unstoppable now! Rich kids with your fancy bloodlines and overpriced cultivation techniques—get ready to eat my dust!"

His imagination went wild with hilarious thoughts. He pictured himself strutting into the academy, smacking down noble brats with effortless spear thrusts, their faces frozen in disbelief.

Maybe he’d even toss in some dramatic slow-motion moments for good measure—because why not? He deserved the dramatics!

But then, just as Creed was about to fully dive into his delusions of grandeur— freewēbnoveℓ.com

BOOM!

Thunder rumbled through the skies above, loud and ominous, as if the world itself was reminding him not to get too cocky.

DING!

A chilling system notification popped up in front of him:

[Ding! ALERT: Your Primordial Summon is about to evolve!]

[Warning: First Primordial Tribulation Incoming!]

[Countdown: 10 Minutes]

[Survival Chance: 30%]

The grin on Creed’s face evaporated faster than a puddle in the desert.

"What? Wait—WHAT?!"

His body froze like a statue. Every ounce of his previous confidence crumbled into sheer panic. 30% survival rate?! That wasn’t just low—it was practically a death sentence!

"I—No, no, no. This can’t be happening now!" Creed frantically pulled up every system window he could think of, scanning for a solution.

His thoughts were racing so fast they practically overlapped:

’Thirty percent?! I can’t lose my summon now! She’s literally my biggest advantage!’

’Why didn’t the system tell me earlier?!’

’Oh, right, because it loves screwing with me!’

The timer continued ticking down ominously. Each passing second felt like a hammer pounding against his sanity.

10:00... 9:59... 9:58...

Creed’s mouth was dry. His hands were clammy. Suddenly, that unbeatable confidence from earlier? Yeah, that was gone.

"Okay, okay, THINK! There’s got to be a way to increase her chances! Maybe I can—uh—boost her stats? Feed her something?! Bribe the system?!"

Nothing. No options. No solutions. Just that heart-crushing countdown and the terrifying realization that everything he had worked for might literally go up in smoke if his summon didn’t survive!

Creed collapsed into his chair, eyes wide and heart hammering in his chest.

"I should’ve known... being overpowered comes with a price."

The timer kept ticking down.

9:30... 9:29... 9:28...

He had to leave the bastion and find a way to survive this tribulation!

And he had 10 Minutes!

_____

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