The Hero Became a Succubus, and the Only Way to Level is to… What?!

A much-needed break followed the end of Petyr and Bocchiri’s match. After the two of them had been carried off in stretchers by clerics, stadium organizers flooded the arena to reinforce the magical barriers again. A group had entered the VIP booth to repair the hole, too. Down below on the arena proper, two servants struggled to pick up Petyr’s felmetal warhammer. Archbishop Patrice herself kneeled down to grab the haft of Shifting Steel. Her gaze snapped up to Kanae with a knowing and steely look.

”Ugh. I think I’m in trouble.” Kanae sighed.

”Should I not have done that, mom?” Suvee cast her eyes down to her feet.

”I know you meant well. But in a tournament, no one is supposed to interfere in any way. Especially not throwing a magical weapon down there. I’m not mad at you for that. I’m angry at you for endangering yourself going up to the hole in the barrier,” she explained.

”That was dumb of you.” Kanade clocked her younger sister over the head.

”I’m sorry…” The girl sulked.

”Excuse me, Amethyst. Would you and your family be so kind as to spare us some room to restore the barrier?” a young mage asked.

Kanae and Arenade corralled their children away from the front row to let them work. The break was going to be longer than usual. Many of the folks in the booth were already leaving, whether it was to grab food, partake in other festivities, or relieve themselves. Motta and Vesh were nowhere to be seen. The two had likely run off as soon as the match ended to look for Petyr, who suffered a lot worse this fight than her previous ones.

”You guys go on ahead. I’m going to go get Shifting Steel back from the archbishop,” Kanae said.

They descended the stadium stairs while Kanae split off in the opposite direction, to an infirmary on the bottom floor that had seen little use until recently. Inside, few ill people occupied the two rows of cots lined against the wall. The biggest commotion was in the back. Clerics and doctors tended to the most recent combatants, taking off their equipment, washing their wounds, dressing them in bandages, and casting healing magic. Permafrost was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was just too dangerous of a weapon to be left out in the open.

Both looked roughed. The tip of Petyr’s right ear had gone black and blue from frostbite. There was a chance she might lose that. Her fingers were also mildly frostbitten, but not as badly as the ear. Motta and Vesh were at her bedside, but stayed out of the way of the clerics. Bocchiri’s left eye had been swollen shut. His cracked nose tilted to one side, which the healers were currently trying to put back into place.

”I can help,” Kanae offered, squeezing past and leaning over an unconscious Petyr.

However, a hand shot up to grab her by the throat.

”Don’t… you dare… spit in my mouth…” Petyr muttered before passing out again.

”Well, alright then.” Kanae rubbed her throat and sighed.

”Still full of moxie despite being half-dead? I have to hand it to Petyr. The results of the match surprised even me,” Archbishop Patrice said, entering the infirmary with Ulric and Vestrid.

Ulric waved at Kanae, skipping into the room to check on his colleague. Vestrid, however, remained at her ward’s side.

”Surprised that Permafrost, which was supposed to be locked up, wasn’t enough to defeat Petyr?” Kanae chided.

”Surprised that Shifting Steel serendipitously fell into Petyr’s hands at the climax of the fight.” The archbishop tossed the haft across the room, and Kanae narrowly missed in catching it.

”That, uhh… That was my fault.” She cleared her throat. ”So… what happens now? Are you disqualifying Petyr for what happened?”

Shrugging, Patrice shook her head. ”What? And risk her ire when she inevitably awakens? I’d like to live a little while longer and see how the last two matches play out. And Saint Priest Bocchiri is too honorable of a man. He would not deign to accept victory after such an outcome.”

”How is he, Ulric?” Vestrid asked across the room.

”Ah, Ruu’s breathing. The guy needs to not wear a mask so often. He looks so much more handsome without it.” Ulric poked his colleague’s cheek, much to the doctors’ dismay.

One of the clerics staggered backwards, exhausting her mana from casting healing spells. Kanae caught the weary woman from behind, who bowed her head in thanks. She casted Restore Mana to replenish her pool. The cleric’s eyes went wide and bowed low, more gratefully.

”And what about Camilla? You’ve probably got her all geared up,” Kanae accused her.

”Do you even need to ask?” Archbishop Patrice smirked. ”Come, Ulric. You and Vestrid must be famished after following me along all day. I’ll treat you to whatever you like.” She glanced back at Kanae. ”And Amethyst? Petyr may have emerged victorious, but I wouldn’t count on our dear friend the lich to have it any easier against Camilla Rudeux.”

Ulric and Archbishop Patrice began to walk out, but Vestrid lingered behind.

”Between you and me, Amethyst, the archbishop is quietly seething over Bocchiri’s loss. But you didn’t hear it from me.” Vestrid winked.

”Oh, I got it.” Kanae shared a laugh with the drakeling.

Vestrid nodded and left to catch up with the other two. As soon as they were gone, Kanae was about to do the same and leave to find her family when the cot creaked behind her. She expected Petyr to awaken first, but it was actually Saint Priest Bocchiri, who sat upright with the help of the clerics.

”Was that… you poking just earlier?” Bocchiri croaked.

”That was Ulric. He, Vestrid, and the archbishop came to check up on you,” Kanae said.

The Saint Priest took a look at Petyr.

”It seems I have lost.” Bocchiri sighed.

”You were close. A few more seconds, and Petyr would’ve fainted. And uh… I’m sorry on behalf of my daughter, Suvee. She threw Shifting Steel through a hole in the barrier into the arena,” Kanae explained.

Bocchiri stifled his laughter and winced in pain, clutching the side of his abdomen.

”A hole that was of my making anyway. If you see Camilla… wish her good luck for me.” Bocchiri laid back down and closed his eyes.

That might be a difficult ask. Kanae made herself scarce, not wanting to get in the way of the clerics any longer. She flew out of the stadium in search of her family. The Broodmother skill flashed in her mind like a faint beacon. One of her children was nearby. This sensation was feral and free-spirited. It had to be Feraline.

Kanae steered in the direction of her drakeling daughter first. As she flew over the crowds, the presence drew closer. She finally spotted Feraline on the shoulders of a drakeling man.

”What do you think you’re doing with my daughter?” Kanae intercepted them only to come face to face with Darren von Cleisseldor. ”Darren? Wait, shouldn’t you be in prison?”

The tall drakeling man, a spitting image of the male counterpart of Avaline von Cleisseldor, glanced up with a forced smile.

”Ah. Hello, Kanae. Yes, they agreed to release me just this morning thanks to my good behavior, it seems. Sorry, if I appear distracted. I’ve been tasked by my sister to look after her little monster of a child— stop. Stop it! The horns are not for biting!” Darren tried in vain to wrangle Feraline, who was chewing on his horns.

”Enemy. Fight!” Feraline pointed at her uncle.

”Feraline, come to me. Stop harassing your uncle.” Kanae stretched out her arms.

Feraline hopped off of Darren and climbed onto Kanae’s back instead.

”Thank you. Ugh. My horns are covered in saliva…” Darren groaned.

”Here, I got it!” Kanae retrieved her wand with her tail and casted Prestidigitation, removing the drool from his head. ”Exactly, where did Esta go?”

”My thanks… My sister returned to Silver Hall, so I was told. I saw her and a squad of knights from her hall carrying a box that was long in length,” he explained.

That was almost certainly Permafrost being delivered back to the vault. Kanae joined her daughter Feraline and Darren into the festivities around the stadium. Esta’s brother ate just as much and messily as his niece. Large cuts of meat devoured raw or roasted with their own flames. At the very least, they shared that with each other.

”You have my gratitude. I expected to be imprisoned for much longer, but I’ll be able to return to my master at last. Though, that won’t be for another few months,” Darren said, wiping his chin of the fatty oils.

”I hear a lot’s been happening in the empire. Guillaume Pyrelle’s consolidated a lot of power back home after invading the Commonwealth. It might not be the same Ortesia you’re returning to,” Kanae warned and used her wand to magic away Feraline’s messy face.

”Such news is not unknown to me. Prison guards and wardens gossip plenty. I do not agree with everything Lord Pyrelle does, but he is my mother’s master,” the drakeling explained.

A bellowing horn originating from the stadium echoed across Aidenhall. A flock of harpies soared across the sky overhead.

”The second match of the semi-finals will begin shortly!” they announced.

”Darren, you should come sit with us in the VIP booth. Unless you rather be with those stuffy high elves,” Kanae joked.

”Hrm. Very well. I suspect Esta will return soon enough, too. But I am not babysitting Feraline the entire time.” Darren growled, and Feraline growled back.

Kanae returned to the stadium with the two drakelings. Many of the guards who recognized Darren hesitantly let him pass. However, Kanae’s authority as Knight of Amethyst superseded theirs. Arenade, Suvee, and Kanade had already returned ahead of them. The trio were in their seats at the front row again, in front of the restored barrier.

As Kanae was coming down to join them, Arenade noticed first and jumped out of her seat.

”It’s you! The son of the bitch who cut down Talahurah’s first Kh’shanti!” Arenade brandished her staff at Darren.

”Arenade, you knew Darren was going to be released from the meeting anyway. Put the staff down.” Kanae rolled her eyes.

”I can still be angry about what happened.” She glared.

Darren took a step back and bowed low.

”I apologize on my mother’s behalf. It was a rash thing she did that also threatened Esta and Feraline’s lives. If it were up to me, I would have ensued the citizens of Talahurah properly evacuated, and then blow up the—”

”Okay, you can stop talking now!” Kanae interjected before he infuriated Arenade more.

Thankfully, her lovely high elven wife sat back down after a little huff.

”Here’s your Shifting Steel back, Suvee. Don’t toss it again,” Kanae said, handing her daughter back the haft.

”Thanks, mom. It won’t happen again.” Suvee scratched the side of her cheek.

Feraline crawled down from Kanae’s back to sit nestled like a kitten between her two other daughters.

”Word abound that the former Lord Major faced a Saint Priest and won. An expected outcome. Despite her apathetic nature, I’d hoped to meet with her after. I suppose I’ll have to wait,” Darren said.

”Petyr got pretty banged up, but you’re welcome to visit Amethyst Hall later to see her. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a familiar face,” Kanae offered.

Archbishop Patrice boomed once again. ”Ladies, gentlemen, and all! What a stellar match that was, don’t you think? An incredible display of power from both combatants. But only one may emerge the victor. We will soon see who it shall be next. Shout loud, shout from the bottom of your lungs as I introduce to you a being of dread not seen in centuries— the wielder of the Pillar of the Damned and Scythe of Soul Reaping, she who overcame a devil, the Lich Edina Hackett!”

Roars ensued, especially loudly from one section of the stadium, as Edina came out of the tunnel on a bone-made chariot pulled by undead dreadmourns. Her flowing dress of deathly mist trailed from behind. She leaped high from the chariot, descending slowly upon skeletal wings. To Kanae’s right and behind, the kids cheered loudly and waved at their aunt Edina, who playfully twirled her combined weapons in a playful show.

”And facing her, the swiftest blade on this continent, a loyal servant of Radevic— Saint Priest Camilla Rudeux!” The archbishop’s lips curled.

Camilla stepped out of the tunnel in sleek silver armor that fitted close to her slender frame. The cold shine in the metal indicated something other than felmetal or adamantine. A stronger type of steel maybe. Her right hand rested on the pommel of a new rapier, in which the guard was crafted in an intricate honeycomb-like appearance. She wore no helmet and had her long orange hair done in a tightly-bound ponytail. And of course, she was having herself a smoke with a pipe between her lips.

If Bocchiri was any proof of it, Camilla also had to be wielding a magic weapon, too.

”The question is what?” Kanae murmured to herself.

”Isn’t it obvious?” Arenade overheard and chimed in. ”It has to be some kind of holy-attribute weapon.”

Camilla took one last long drag of the pipe, then handed it off to the archbishop.

”Begin!” Archbishop Patrice, darting into the air with Camilla’s pipe.

”I think you’re at a disadvantage against me. I ain’t a squirreling any more either, so I don’t get the shakes facing someone like you. Let’s try this. You get through all this, then we can duke it out.” Edina spun in a circle and sliced open an abyssal portal.

Three death knights and a massive army of undead, great enough to fill a third of the arena, came out ready to wage war. Bone brutes, skeletal hounds, and more undead monstrosities Edina had obtained over the years. Just look at the two, it was hard to believe Camilla could stand a chance. Yet there she stood, unfazed and carefree.

”Very well, but don’t hold it against me if I end this in a single strike.” Camilla drew the long rapier and scraped it against the crook of her elbow. Sparks flew. More surprisingly, golden sparks. The thin blade ignited in holy fire. ”En garde!”

A mass of undead surged forth, and Camilla met them head on. She was a dragonfly on her feet, movements flowing like water. Her rapier carved through them as easily as a hot knife through butter. Scores of undead fell. All three death knights dropped to their knees, because they were missing a leg. In the span of two blinks, Camilla had ended her dash right behind Edina.

The necromancer gasped and spun around. She willed a wall of bones up from the ground as Camilla thrusted forward with a killing blow. Her rapier threaded the needle, piercing through the barrier and plunging into Edina’s chest. The lich swung her arm, shattering the wall with explosive power.

Camilla jumped backwards, parrying the shards of bone flying everywhere. Edina, on the other hand, pressed a hand to her torso where the rapier had punctured. No blood. But the Saint Priest’s strike had left behind a golden glow in Edina’s chest.

”Arrgghhhh! What in three hells was that?!” Edina gasped, flying away and raising more undead between them.

”Before I assumed the mantle of Saint Priest, I’d gone to Ortesia to study their form of fencing. Ortesian Fencing, they call it. I bested their greatest champions and earned a cute little nickname— the Spear of Radevic.” Camilla scraped the rapier on her elbow crook again to reignite the flames.

”Because the thrust of her blade is like being struck by a spear,” Darren said.

”You heard of Camilla in Ortesia?” Kanae asked.

He nodded. ”Yes, and it is rumored that she has never lost a one on one duel.”