Succubi Chapter 236. Pattern and Habit I
Succubi Chapter 236. Pattern and Habit I
The crowd gasped again.
Cassian whispered as he passed, “Still improvising?”
I smiled. Then I started changing.
Not power. Rhythm.
Until now, I had been reacting. Letting him lead. Letting him show me what Vale Martial Hall taught arrogant boys with expensive toys.
Now, I answered.
He thrust.
I parried softer, not meeting force with force, letting his enhanced strength slide off my blade.
He cut.
I stepped into the dead angle instead of away.
He feinted.
I didn’t bite.
His eyes flickered.
His wrist rotated.
Feint to high, real strike low.
I shifted before the real strike formed.
His blade cut empty air.
I tapped his rapier guard lightly with mine.
-Tink!
Small sound.
Humiliating sound.
The balcony noticed.
Cassian froze for half a breath.
I smiled. “There.”
His face twisted.
He attacked again.
Harder.
Faster.
Angrier.
But now I saw him.
The first minutes had been difficult, yes. His speed surprised me. His enchanted rapier pressed me harder than I liked. One mistake would have drawn blood. Two would have ended me.
But none of his blade had landed.
Not once.
Because this was what I did.
I learned.
Pattern by pattern.
Habit by habit.
People thought talent was being untouchable from the start.
No.
Talent was surviving long enough to understand why someone thought they could touch you.
Cassian’s rapier flashed toward my shoulder.
I leaned aside.
Countered toward his wrist.
He pulled back.
Yeah, he expected that now.
So I turned my counter mid-line and tapped his sleeve near the elbow.
Not blood.
Just cloth.
A warning.
The crowd erupted in a sharper murmur.
Cassian looked down at his sleeve.
Then at me.
His expression was no longer smug.
Finally, the real duel began.
Cassian stared at the tiny tear on his sleeve like I had carved his family crest in half.
For a second, he didn’t move.
The moonlight caught the pale gold shimmer on his rapier. The balcony above fell into that delicious silence that came when rich people realized entertainment had stopped being predictable. Cassian’s breathing was still controlled, but his eyes weren’t.
His eyes were angry.
He lowered his rapier.
Then, without a word, he reached up, grabbed the edge of his coat, and shrugged it off.
The fabric fell from his shoulders and landed in the hands of a servant who rushed forward like this was a rehearsed ritual. Cassian rolled his shoulders once, then folded his sleeves carefully up to his forearms.
Oh.
So we were doing this?
The “serious man removes coat” phase?
Fine.
I could respect the drama.
Actually, no, I could improve it.
I shifted my shadow rapier to my left hand, then reached for my own coat. Slowly. Calmly. Not rushed. I unbuttoned it, slid it from my shoulders, and handed it to the nearest servant without looking.
The servant took it like he had been handed something sacred.
Then I folded my sleeves too.
Once.
Twice.
Clean.
The night air touched my forearms.
And the balcony changed.
Just slightly.
A whisper rose from somewhere above. “Oh.”
Another one followed. “He’s… built.”
“I thought he was just pretty.”
“No, look at his grip.”
I flexed my fingers around the shadow rapier without meaning to.
The veins along my hand and forearm stood out under the lamp glow, dark lines shifting beneath skin and muscle. Not bulky like a Titan student. Not monstrous like Leon’s wolf form. But lean. Tense. Trained. The kind of muscle built by surviving things, not posing in front of mirrors.
My Pride demon immediately stood taller inside me.
‘Yes! Please continue’.
The whispers spread.
A few women leaned closer to the balcony rail.
One actually hit her partner’s arm with her fan.
The man looked offended and insecure.
Cassian heard it too. His jaw tightened so hard I worried for his teeth.
Mirena, still near Alyra, had her eyes on my arms. She realized it a second too late and looked away, but not before Cassian caught the direction of her gaze.
Oh, that was priceless.
That was better than dessert.
Alyra didn’t hide her smile this time. She looked at me like I had just become a weapon she absolutely enjoyed owning for the evening.
My blood warmed.
Cassian lifted his rapier. “Enough theatrics.”
I smiled. “You started it.”
He lunged.
Fast again.
But this time, fast wasn’t enough.
Because now I knew him.
His opening thrust came with anger added to the old pattern. More speed, less patience. His shoulder betrayed him before his wrist did. I didn’t need to step far. I shifted half a foot to the side, letting the rapier pass close enough to kiss my sleeve, then turned my wrist and tapped his blade away.
He cut across.
I ducked.
He reversed.
I leaned.
He stepped in, trying to use the enchanted rapier’s boosted force to overwhelm my guard.
I didn’t block.
I guided.
His blade slid along mine, dark mana and pale gold sparking together. I turned my wrist, let his strength roll past me, and stepped around him like we were still dancing.
Then I used his momentum.
Not much.
Just a small push near his elbow with the flat of my blade.
Cassian stumbled.
Not fell.
Almost.
His foot caught the grass, his body pitched forward, and for one glorious heartbeat, the noble heir of House Vale nearly made his face kiss the ground.
A laugh burst from the balcony.
Then another.
Someone coughed to hide it and failed.
Cassian recovered fast, turning sharply, but the damage was done.
His ears turned red.
Social bleeding before physical bleeding.
“You—”
I lifted my rapier lightly. “The grass looks expensive.”
More laughter.
Cassian’s face darkened.
He attacked again.
Harder.
Exactly what I wanted.
His rapier flashed in a chain of strikes, faster than before, gold mana pulsing along the blade with every movement. The enchantment tried to carry him back into superiority. Speed. Power. Precision. A noble weapon correcting a noble temper.
But correction wasn’t mastery.
I dodged the first thrust.
Parried the second.
Let the third pass over my shoulder.
Countered with a flick toward his wrist.
He pulled back.
Oh, he remembered.