Succubi Chapter 235. Quick Prey is Still Prey
Succubi Chapter 235. Quick Prey is Still Prey
Hands moved. Coins changed. Small crystal markers glowed as wagers were registered through discreet servants. Noble gambling, dressed elegantly and pretending to be “sporting interest.”
My soul twitched.
I wanted in.
Badly.
If I could bet on myself right now, I would.
But academy mission. Student status. Potential gambling rules. Unknown contract consequences.
No.
Focus on bonus.
Duel participation, five hundred.
Win bonus, five hundred.
Political hazard maybe one thousand.
That was enough.
For now.
Still, seeing rich people bet on my duel while I couldn’t join felt like watching someone eat fried chicken through a window.
Painful.
Deeply unfair.
The officiant lifted his hand again.
Cassian lowered into stance.
This time, his smile was sharper. He wanted blood now. Maybe not much. Just enough to prove I was a dressed-up fraud.
I held my shadow rapier low.
Breathed in.
Breathed out.
The night air cooled my lungs. The lamps hummed. Alyra watched without blinking.
The hand dropped. “Begin!”
Cassian lunged.
Fast.
Really fast.
His body blurred forward, rapier point slicing straight toward my chest with terrifying precision. Not a reckless thrust. A clean noble technique strengthened by enchantment and training.
I stepped aside, barely.
The blade passed close enough that the air kissed my suit.
Okay.
This rich kid wasn’t just bluff.
My feet shifted, body turning with the motion. I countered toward his shoulder, light and quick, but Cassian twisted his wrist and parried before my blade reached him.
Metal and shadow rang together.
His enchanted rapier bit into my mana blade with a sharp pulse.
Heavy. Too heavy for such a slim weapon.
The enchantment amplified the impact.
My wrist vibrated.
Damn!
He smiled. “Still peaceful?”
I pushed off and retreated half a step before his follow-up cut skimmed across the space where my arm had been. “Still deciding.”
He came again.
Thrust.
Feint.
Low cut.
High flick.
His style was elegant but aggressive. Vale Martial Hall, Alyra said. It showed. He didn’t waste movement. Every step tried to take space. Every attack guided me toward the field edge. His rapier was fast, but the enchantment made it worse. It accelerated at the last moment, turning normal timing into a lie.
I dodged.
Parried.
Shifted.
Countered once.
Missed intentionally.
He took the bait and pressed harder.
Good.
Come on.
Show me.
Cassian’s blade snapped toward my face. I tilted back, feeling wind brush my cheek. Before he could recover, I stepped inside and aimed at his ribs. He turned his guard down just in time, rapier sliding along mine, sparks of dark mana flickering where the blades met.
The audience murmured.
A few people clapped lightly.
I ignored them.
Mostly.
Okay, not completely.
Pride demon.
Attention was protein.
But my focus stayed on Cassian.
His right foot always advanced first when he wanted power. His wrist rotated slightly before a feint. His left shoulder tightened before he changed angle. The enchanted rapier corrected overextension, but not his habits. Magic could boost speed. It could strengthen impact. It could polish flaws.
But it couldn’t remove personality.
And Cassian fought like a man used to winning before adapting became necessary.
He expected pressure to break me.
So I let him think it was working.
I stepped back again.
Again.
Again.
His rapier flashed in front of me, each strike forcing a reaction.
The balcony noise grew louder.
“He’s being pushed back.”
“Vale is faster.”
“Blackthorn’s weapon is strange…”
“Is that shadow mana?”
Let them think.
Cassian smiled wider. “You’re quick.”
“Generous again.”
“But quick prey is still prey.”
I blocked his next thrust with the flat of my shadow rapier, twisting the blade away before it could slide into my sleeve. “Do you practice these lines?”
His eyes narrowed.
He attacked harder.
A sequence of five strikes came in rapid succession.
High.
Low.
Center.
Wrist.
Heart.
I parried the first two, dodged the third, shifted my hand to avoid the fourth, and twisted away from the fifth so close the rapier point grazed the outer fabric of my coat.
Not skin.
No blood.
But the crowd gasped.
Cassian’s smile returned.
Alyra took half a step forward.
I caught it from the corner of my eye.
She was worried.
Interesting.
Sweet.
Dangerous for focus, but sweet.
Mirena stood near her, watching me with lips slightly parted, fingers touching her throat. Her fake softness had been replaced by something more honest now.
Interest.
Very inconvenient.
Cassian noticed too.
His jaw tightened.
His mistress was watching me.
His ex was worried about me.
His audience was whispering about me.
Poor Cassian.
Such a hard life for a man with an enchanted rapier and too much ego.
He lunged again, faster.
This time I didn’t retreat.
I slipped inside his attack line.
His eyes widened.
Too late.
My shoulder passed near his arm, close enough that our sleeves brushed. I could have struck his ribs. Could have tapped his wrist. Could have drawn first blood.
I didn’t.
I spun away instead, letting his momentum carry him one step too far.
The audience reacted with a low murmur.
Cassian turned sharply, anger flashing. “Are you mocking me?”
I smiled. “Observing.”
“Observing?”
“Yes.”
His face darkened.
I rolled my wrist once. “You’re not bad,” I said.
That insult landed beautifully because it sounded like praise.
Cassian’s mouth tightened. “I am not bad?”
“You’re trained. Fast. Your footwork is clean. Your weapon helps more than you’d admit, but your foundation isn’t fake.”
The crowd stirred.
A few older nobles looked at Cassian’s rapier more carefully.
Cassian’s eyes sharpened with fury. “Careful, Blackthorn.”
“I am.”
He rushed.
This time, his aura flared.
Body reinforcement.
Allowed.
And maybe his rapier responded, mana running along the blade in a pale gold shimmer.
Also technically passive?
Rich-people technicalities.
His next strike hit my parry so hard my arm numbed.
Damn.
I slid back across the grass, boots scraping.
The impact traveled up to my shoulder, but I didn’t let it show.
No flinch. No grimace. Dignity.
He followed immediately, point thrusting toward my collar.
I ducked aside and felt the blade slice a strand of hair.
Okay.
That one was close.