Under the light of the blood-red moon, Mia walked ahead, moving across the soft, shifting sand with an ease that betrayed none of the helplessness she'd shown before.
She didn't look like prey at all.
"Your acting skills are laughable," Orson thought darkly, lips curling into a cold smile.
He could sense the faint ripples of elemental currents around them. Filthy things were lurking in the dark, circling like jackals, waiting for a chance to pounce.
No doubt, the moment he struck Mia down, they'd leap out to attack.
"Fine. You want a performance? I'll play along. Let's see if you can handle it."
His eyes gleamed with a chilling light.
Beneath the blood moon, Mia exuded a heart-tugging innocence that seemed absurdly out of place in such a sinister wasteland.
That, of course, was the natural allure of her kind.
Most succubi, faced with adventurers weighed down by lust or desire, would take on the form of the most seductive, irresistible partner they could imagine—driving them mad with longing before draining their bodies and souls dry.
Men like Madman or ShatteredCrown would've been the perfect marks.
But those were just the common breed.
The true hunters among succubi were the Bloodshadow line, wielding a power called Desire's Seed.
By probing their target's inner void, they'd plant this seed in the weakest corner of the heart—where it would sprout, grow, and eventually fill that emptiness completely, entwining itself so deeply that the adventurer's will and actions became theirs to command.
Many victims never realized until their dying breath that the person they loved was a succubus in disguise.
Some even raised their swords against their own comrades to protect them.
With the Ancient Sage's Eye, Orson saw through her at once.
This "Mia" was exactly that—a Bloodshadow Succubus.
She'd been tailing him since the night before, peering into his memories, seeking the perfect illusion.
She had even managed to compel lesser Heaven Demons, staging that desperate scene outside the ruined temple to draw his heroic instincts.
She picked Sienna's likeness because it was an obvious weak spot.
Even the most iron-willed might falter when confronted by a dead loved one miraculously alive.
Desire's Seed only needed the tiniest crack to take root.
Except Mia could never have guessed—Orson's memories of Sienna were split cleanly in two.
One, the grief of watching her die.
The other, the present joy of knowing she lived, healthy and strong.
It meant there was no void to fill.
From the start, predator and prey had already been decided.
They traveled on through the endless dunes, night falling once again.
At last, they left the desert behind for a bleak stretch of stony wasteland.
Sparse, withered grasses dotted the ground—a first fragile glimpse of life in this barren realm.
Hours later, they came to a small oasis, a creek curling around it.
A sizable village huddled there, its lanterns aglow under the eerie red light, radiating a subtle, unnatural wrongness.
"Papa, Mama! I'm back! This big brother saved me!"
Mia ran to the village gates, breathless. A dozen figures soon appeared, hurrying toward them.
Orson narrowed his eyes, taking in the villagers and their crude wooden homes.
"What the hell is this? Playing house?"
Nowhere in memory did succubi ever mimic humans so thoroughly—building villages, living rustic, peasant lives.
Sure, succubi absorbed fragments of memory from those they devoured. Some of that might influence their behavior.
But for a whole pack of these so-called monsters to set up a pastoral human existence? That was something new.
Especially considering Heaven Demons were driven by voracious hunger, willing to consume anything—humans, beasts, even insects.
The idea of them turning over a new leaf was absurd.
Each villager wore a pendant at their neck, identical to Mia's—a fang of some kind.
Godly Spirit Sorcerer's Lost Soul Stone
Effect: Unknown Error
Orson's expression darkened. These pendants were clearly crafted by an adventurer—and a powerful one at that.
The "Godly" prefix said it all.
And every single villager was a succubus, dressed plainly like humble farmers.
Not one was old. All had smooth skin, tall, elegant figures, and strikingly beautiful faces.
They looked like immortals from some hidden utopia.
"Oh thank the heavens, Mia, you're finally back!"
"You noble hero, thank you for saving our daughter!"
A couple clutched at Orson's hands, tears streaming down their faces, while Mia dabbed at her eyes, murmuring words of gratitude.
Beside him, Aeloria's blood-red eyes glared, her killing intent barely contained.
"Easy. Let's see what game they're playing."
Orson's mind was calm as he suppressed Aeloria's rising fury.
"It was nothing," he said politely.
Mia clung sweetly to his arm.
"It's late. Tomorrow, I'll take you to Godfall Cliff, alright?"
A sly glint flashed across Orson's face, gone in an instant. He shook his head.
"If it's that close, just point me in the right direction. No need to trouble you further."
He even clasped his hands together in their rustic gesture, bidding them farewell.
Mia's eyes twitched. She quickly glanced at her parents.
"High hills, savage demons on the road… You saved our daughter. Please, give us this small honor—stay a night under our humble roof," her father urged.
"Yes, tonight is our village's once-in-a-decade god's rite. The Sacred Executor himself will come to bless us," Mia's mother added.
"Tomorrow, you could travel with the Grand Saint for safety."
Orson's interest piqued. He turned back with a faint smile.
Curiosity won out. He agreed to stay, to see what their ritual would reveal.
So he and Aeloria were brought into Mia's home, where they were settled comfortably.
Soon, the entire village lit up with activity, preparing for their ceremony.
Orson stood at a distance, watching.
A round altar engraved with strange runes stood at the center.
Villagers slaughtered chickens and goats, letting the blood flow into channels carved into the stone.
Only their "livestock" were monstrous.
Goats taller than a man's chest had their legs hacked off but continued munching calmly on feed.
A black rooster with six heads had five chopped off—then was casually tossed back in its cage, apparently waiting for them to grow back.
"Not satisfied with dinner, big brother?"
Mia approached, clutching a roasted leg of goat, blinking up at him with sad eyes.
Orson looked over, skin crawling.
It was the very leg hacked off one of those mutilated goats.
He could eat it. He just… wasn't sure what "extra seasonings" might be mixed in.
These creatures clearly had been altered—bearing Heaven Demon regenerative traits.
Not that Heaven Demon meat bothered him. In his previous life, he'd eaten it plenty. But now he had the god of instant noodles on his side—no contest.
"No, just a bit tired. You all carry on."
"Oh, the Sacred Executor will be here soon! With hearts as righteous and brave as yours, surely you'll win the Grand Saint's blessing."
Before he could close the door, Mia giggled, pushing him back toward the street.
She shot Aeloria a nervous glance—but one glare from the dragon woman sent her scuttling away.
The village bell tolled.
"All hail the Sacred Executor!"
Torches rose high as villagers shouted with feverish devotion, eyes lifted to the sky.
There, an elderly man floated down, robes billowing.
In his hand was a golden scale that radiated light, rings of brilliance swirling around him.
His expression was tranquil, serene, yet he radiated a presence that made Orson's spine prickle.
The bell rang nine times, echoing through the bones of the earth.
Orson's face tightened. He checked the man's details.
Era of Immortals Adventurer · Cetran · Remnant Body