I Took A Succubus's First Time

The smoke billowed thickly around Kouhei and Aria, curling like phantom tendrils, cloaking their movements in an impenetrable shroud. The dense haze blurred the outlines of everything around them, reducing the world to shades of gray and muffled sounds.

Their opponent was no ordinary archer. Her sight was like that of a hawk, and her aim deadly enough to turn even the slightest mistake into a fatal one. Every arrow she released was a whisper of death slicing through the air, terrifyingly accurate. To stand a chance, Kouhei and Aria had to undermine her strengths—starting with her vision. That was why the smoke was crucial—it had to blind her. It had to throw off the edge she held over them.

Kouhei's sharp eyes caught something unsettling through the obscured battlefield. The enemy wasn't just shooting; she was orchestrating a storm. Clones of her—identical and unnervingly synchronized—released volleys of arrows in every direction. The arrows came with a precision that made Kouhei's skin crawl. If Aria hadn't been so swift, the two of them would have been skewered long ago.

Yet now, something had shifted. The once-deadly rain of arrows was faltering. Shots that once carried cold confidence were erratic, almost sloppy. Kouhei's plan to disrupt her vision was working. The smoke had become their silent ally, dragging her accuracy into the dirt.

Even so, the battle was far from over. Kouhei's mind raced. To win, Aria had to get close. Aria excelled at melee combat, and Kouhei was confident she could defeat their opponent if she closed the distance. If she could reach their enemy, the fight would end in their favor.

But the path to the target was lined with danger. Their opponent was a master marksman, and the clones were like shadows, creating a labyrinth of uncertainty. Adding to the chaos was the mystery of which one was real. Hundreds of figures surrounded the mansion, making it nearly impossible to pick out the original.

Kouhei's thoughts churned. Do the clones think for themselves, or are they puppets tied to the original's mind?

It was impossible to know. This was their first encounter with this particular enemy, and they had limited information, even with Aria's intel. But the clones' diminished accuracy in the smoke suggested they might be linked to the original. Perhaps the clones relied on the original's vision, rather than having their own.

Whatever the truth was, it didn't matter now. The next step in his plan was set: close the distance.

"Aria-san," Kouhei said, "when we find an opening, dash straight for her."

Aria's gaze locked on his, her nod firm and resolute.

As the thick smoke began to clear slightly, Kouhei strained to see through the haze. The enemy was far away—so far that he couldn't make out anything clearly. Judging by the arrows' travel distance, she had impressive strength to back up her skill. Charging in recklessly would only get them killed. Kouhei needed to find the perfect opening for Aria to strike.

Then it happened. An arrow hissed through the air, narrowly missing Kouhei. The sharp whoosh of its flight made his heart pound, but Aria didn't flinch or slash at it. She had read its trajectory and knew it wouldn't hit. But Kouhei saw more than just a close call—he saw an opportunity.

"Aria-san," he said quickly, "when I count to three, dash northward."

"North?"

"The arrow that almost hit me came from the right. The smoke on the right side is still thick, so whoever fired it couldn't have seen us clearly. But there's a slight gap in the smoke to the north. That means the original likely ordered the clone in front to take the shot, using her vision to guide them. The clone's poor aim confirms it. The real one is probably ahead of us, northward."

Of course, this was all speculation. Kouhei wasn't some genius strategist, and he knew there was a chance the enemy was just messing with them. But the logic made sense, and Aria's unwavering confidence in him gave him the resolve to act. Without hesitation, she prepared herself to follow his lead.

Kouhei's sharp gaze scanned the battlefield, searching for the perfect moment to strike. The enemy archer was distant, her silhouette faint through the lingering smoke, but he could see her movements clearly enough. She raised her bow, muscles taut as she prepared to unleash an attack aimed skyward. Her fingers released the string, and the arrow shot into the air, arching high above.

"Now!" Kouhei shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a commandment.

Aria sprang into action, her form a blur of motion as she surged forward with explosive speed. The arrows descended like a rain of death, their deadly tips all trained on Kouhei. But Aria didn't falter; she trusted him completely. If he said to charge, there was a plan behind it.

And he didn't disappoint.

Kouhei activated the barrier gifted to him by Yuuna, a power he had once used during their Love Link with Nagisa. The moment he unleashed it, a crimson dome erupted outward, its translucent walls humming with energy. The arrows met the barrier with relentless force, each strike a thunderous impact that cracked the protective shield.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface as if the barrier itself was crying under the pressure. Then, with a shattering sound, the dome burst apart. But Kouhei had achieved what he needed—the arrows clattered harmlessly to the ground, their lethal momentum absorbed by the shield's sacrifice.

The path was clear. Now, it was up to Aria.

***

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Aria's dash toward Masaki was like a gale tearing through the battlefield, her speed defying comprehension. Masaki, caught mid-recovery from her last attack, fumbled to react. Her hand darted to her quiver, fingers scrambling for an arrow, but it was futile. Aria closed the distance in what seemed like an instant.

'So fast…!' Masaki's eyes widened, panic flashing across her face.

The half-kilometer gap had vanished in mere seconds, Aria's every movement sharp and deliberate. She adjusted her posture mid-dash, her sword gleaming in the dim light, poised to strike.

Masaki's instincts kicked in, and she summoned her clones with a desperate mental command. The clones rushed forward, their bodies a wall of resistance meant to block Aria's oncoming attack. They managed to shove Masaki aside just as Aria's blade cut through them with ruthless precision. The clones dissipated like fragile bubbles, their forms vanishing as if they'd never existed.

Masaki stumbled, regaining her footing quickly, and raised her bow. She couldn't afford to hesitate now.

Aria, her eyes locked onto Masaki with unyielding focus, moved again. Her speed was relentless, like a storm refusing to die down. Masaki fired, unleashing a torrent of arrows in rapid succession. Her clones joined the assault, adding to the deadly barrage. The air filled with the hiss and hum of arrows cutting through the space toward Aria.

But Aria was unfazed. Her stance shifted, her sword moving in a mesmerizing dance of steel. She slashed away the arrows with blinding speed, each movement precise and fluid, as though she anticipated every attack before it was launched.

"What…? She's… she's fast…!" Masaki's confidence wavered, cracks forming in her resolve.

Up close, the reality of her opponent was far more terrifying than she'd imagined. Aria wasn't just a melee combatant—she was a force of nature, impossibly fast and impossibly skilled. Masaki felt the weight of her own inadequacy pressing down on her.

But she couldn't fail. Souichiro's warning echoed in her mind, a grim reminder of what awaited her if she lost. Failure wasn't an option. She gritted her teeth, her grip on the bow tightening.

'My mission is to kill the Child of Anti-Prophecy,' Masaki thought, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. 'If I manage that, then I won't have failed.' Her lips trembled as she drew a sharp breath. 'Even if it costs me my life, that's fine. As long as the Child of Anti-Prophecy dies… everything will be fine.'

Her mind clung to that thought like a lifeline, repeating it like a mantra. The smoke from the battle swirled around her, distorting her vision, but her gaze sharpened as she looked past Aria.

And then she saw him.

The Child of Anti-Prophecy stood amidst the chaos, his figure finally emerging from the shroud of smoke. Until now, Masaki had only been firing blindly into the mansion, her vision obscured. But now, for the first time, she could see him clearly.

A boy.

He was just a boy.

His black hair fell around his pale face, and his dark eyes held an unnerving calmness. He didn't flinch, didn't cower, even as arrows threatened his life. There was no fear in his gaze.

Her clones, acting on her earlier commands, had already drawn their bows. Arrows flew through the air, deadly and precise, slicing toward their target.

She hadn't meant for this to happen—not yet. Her hand shot up instinctively, as if trying to call back her clones, but the arrows had already been loosed. They soared through the air, cutting a deadly path toward the boy.

'Ah…'

Regret washed over her like a tidal wave. It was a foreign, almost alien feeling to her—a moment of weakness she hadn't anticipated. She had wanted to kill the boy. That was her mission, her purpose. And yet, as the arrows closed in on him, she felt a pang of something she couldn't understand.

The boy would die.

Her body tensed, her mind screaming at her to act, to undo what was already in motion. But there was no stopping it now.

Aria, meanwhile, was a blur of motion. Her footsteps closed the distance between them in an instant, her eyes blazing with determination. Masaki barely had time to react before the strike came.