Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 112: Trial Phase 1! (7)

Time flowed as gently as the river beneath them, the soft splash of water against the sides of the raft the only sound that accompanied their drifting journey.

The sunlight streamed through the thick canopy above in golden rays, glinting off the slow-moving current like tiny diamonds dancing on the surface.

For once, there was no danger. No sudden ambushes. No angry treemen or shrieking beasts exploding out from the woods.

Just quiet. Stillness. Peace. Something that felt almost... illegal in a trial designed to test people to their limits.

Creed sat cross-legged at the center of the raft, his spear resting beside him, eyes shut as he breathed in a steady rhythm.

He hadn’t expected this. Honestly, he thought there would’ve been a swarm of angry river serpents by now or some kind of flying carnivorous mosquito monster with a taste for human eyeballs.

But here they were; still floating, still alive, and moving in the direction the map indicated.

The forest canopy slowly began to thin the farther downstream they went, and it really seemed like this might actually work.

That maybe, just maybe, they’d cruise all the way to the ferry checkpoint like this.

Of course, he wasn’t about to waste such valuable peace.

He returned his focus inward, activating his cultivation technique; the Nine Axis Cultivation Manual.

His body lit up with the faintest pulse of dimensional light as dimensional energy began circulating within him.

It was a complicated technique, something only a few people could even attempt to master, let alone use properly.

This was why it was cheaper than other Peak Basic Stage Cultivation Manuals.

The Nine Axis technique worked by moving energy through nine specific meridians and then splitting that flow into 729 pathways within the body.

If he held the energy at very specific points for a precise amount of time; sometimes only fractions of a second, it would result in a sudden burst in cultivation, small jumps forward that would add up over time.

It was difficult, but efficient, and that’s what made it one of the top-tier techniques within the basic stage of cultivation.

It was strong enough to carry a cultivator all the way up to stage five of the Bronze Level, which was nothing to scoff at.

At the root of everything in this world, after all, was dimensional energy; the source of power behind everything.

Whether it was fundamental sources like force or aura, universal intents like sword or spear, or philosophical paths like the Path of Killing Creed used, everything had to be fueled and stabilized by dimensional energy.

It was the backbone of advancement. The thing that let you rise from a stage one weakling to a walking, lightning-throwing, tree-punching monster of power!

And so he cultivated. With calm breaths, he guided the energy. Through the first axis, then the second. Like a silent tide rolling through his body.

Meanwhile, resting quietly on the other side of the raft, Tierra lay fast asleep, her soft breathing the only sign she was even there.

Her head rested on his lap like a cat curling up in the sun, completely at peace.

She was still exhausted from their last teleportation, and unlike Lilith, she had no qualms with recovering using actual rest rather than raw sexual energy all the time.

Creed didn’t move. He just let her be. The only real movement on the raft was the gentle swaying of the water, and the occasional flicker of wind teasing the hem of his cloak.

Then, suddenly, he heard it. A soft voice. Barely louder than a whisper.

"...I’m sorry."

His eyes snapped open.

At first, he thought Tierra had said it in her sleep. But no, she was still soundly dozing. He turned his head slowly and blinked in mild surprise.

Amara was sitting across from him, arms loosely folded in front of her, eyes fixed downward at the wooden floor of the raft.

Her voice, although quiet, held an odd mix of awkwardness and sincerity.

It was the kind of voice someone used when they were forcing themselves to say something they really didn’t want to admit, but knew they had to anyway.

"I was wrong about you," she continued, still avoiding his gaze.

"Back when we first met... I called you an opportunist. A gold digger. I thought you were just some creep trying to take advantage of my little sister. I was trying to protect her. She’s... young. Naive. She tends to bring home people with bad intentions. You weren’t the first."

Creed just stared at her for a second. He wasn’t used to this version of Amara.

Normally, she was as cold and sharp as an icicle straight to the chest, with the personality of someone who had never smiled in her life and didn’t plan to start now.

But now, she actually looked—dare he say—embarrassed. Her ears even had a faint pink hue to them, though she was clearly trying to keep her usual ice-queen expression.

After a moment, Creed smirked. "So... you finally realized that I’m not a blood-sucking leech with an evil master plan?"

Amara narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t respond.

He gave her a mock-serious nod. "Well, since you’ve matured enough to apologize... I shall magnanimously accept."

A brief silence followed—and then, to his complete and utter surprise—Amara laughed.

Not a full-blown cackle or anything. Just a soft, short chuckle. But for her? That was practically a standing ovation.

It lightened the air instantly. The tension between them melted just a bit, like ice beginning to crack under the first rays of spring.

And then, Lilith’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

"Master. There’s something up ahead. A treeman hideout."

Creed’s eyes sharpened immediately.

So much for peace.

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, his head slowly tilting back as if the weight of disappointment had suddenly grown too heavy for his neck.

Just when things were finally starting to feel calm, peaceful—even pleasant—this had to happen.

The sweet serenity of floating down a lazy river, meditating with the sun on his face, and having only the occasional awkward apology from Amara as a disturbance... ruined.

His brow twitched as he muttered under his breath, "Of course we can’t have anything nice in this damn trial."

Still, he composed himself quickly. There was no time for sulking. ’Lilith, he called mentally, what exactly are we dealing with?’

Her voice flowed into his mind like electricity buzzing through a wire—cool, sharp, and confident.

’A small treemen outpost built on the riverbank. Several treehouses, likely serving as homes or storage, connected by a system of canopy walkways. There are treemen guards patrolling the perimeter, but not many. I count... three stage four treemen inside the settlement. No stage fives.’

Creed blinked. ’No stage fives?’ That was surprising.

He had already seen just how terrifying a stage five treeman could be. He had used his second trump card and it still hadn’t been enough.

The memory of being flung backward from that first punch was also still fresh in his mind, and so was the taste of blood.

And yet, Lilith’s next words made his mind whirl.

’The largest treehouse is currently empty. It looks like it was meant for someone important. I suspect the leader may be away.’

Now that made things very interesting.

His initial worry that another chieftain was stationed here completely faded.

He turned toward Amara, who was sharpening an ice shard between her fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Guess what? There’s a treemen civilization ahead. Three stage fours, and their leader’s out on vacation," he said casually, like announcing a special deal at a fast food joint. "Want to wipe them out?"

Amara’s blue eyes glowed with a battle-hungry gleam that sent a chill through the air. "Obviously," she said with a cold smile. "I’ve been bored."

Creed smiled too, but his was a different kind. Not hungry for blood, but full of intrigue.

There was more to this than just a simple attack. He slowed the raft down, carefully angling it toward the shore. ’Lilith, how far are we?’

’Less than 300 meters. You’ll be at the edge of the tree line in five minutes.’

Perfect. Now was the time to explain what had been tickling the back of his mind for a while now.

"You know," Creed started aloud, mostly for Amara and Tierra to hear, "I’ve been thinking about this whole trial setup. There are a hundred thousand participants in this thing, right?

"All dropped randomly into this massive forest, forced to fight and survive against Treemen while trying to reach the ferries.

"Now, if the goal was just survival, they could’ve made it simpler. But everything here seems... curated. Specific. Like it’s not just a test of strength, but of understanding. Strategy."

Amara raised a brow. "What are you getting at?"

Creed’s voice dropped, a spark of excitement flashing in his eyes. "The treemen. We’ve seen a lot of them. Almost too many. And they’re not mindless monsters—they’ve got settlements, weapons, even patrol routes.

"That means they have society. Infrastructure. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from studying trials like this, it’s that the things they overexpose you to usually matter more than the things they hide. What if..."

He leaned in, voice low and intense, "...what if there’s something specific about the treemen we’ll need later in the trial? A material? A weapon? A hidden key?"

He let the theory hang in the air like a juicy piece of gossip.

Amara’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So you’re saying... raiding this outpost might give us a clue?"

"Or something better," Creed added with a grin. "Resources. Tools. Something the others won’t have because they’re all too scared to fight back."

With that, they nudged the raft gently to the side of the river and tied it beneath the branches.

Creed leaned over and nudged Tierra awake, gently patting her shoulder. She groggily lifted her head from his lap, blinking up at him like a sleepy squirrel. "Are we... there?"

"We’re raiding a treeman hideout," he said cheerfully. "No pressure."

As the trio made their way silently through the underbrush, the hideout came into view. And it was more impressive than Creed expected.

Dozens of well-crafted treehouses were built high into the branches of towering forest giants, connected by thick wooden bridges and canopy paths.

The architecture was almost elegant, made of twisted vines, hardened sap, and carved wooden beams that merged seamlessly into the natural surroundings.

The whole village was perched in such a way that it had a perfect view of the riverbank—anyone crossing the river would’ve been spotted instantly.

Clearly, this place wasn’t just for living. It was for watching.

Which meant if Creed and his group had kept floating downriver, they would’ve been caught for sure.

"Alright," Creed whispered. "We don’t have much time. If their leader returns, we’re toast. Let’s hit hard and fast."

He gave a sharp nod to Tierra, who stretched slightly, brushed the sleep from her eyes, and then—vanished.

In a blink, she reappeared behind one of the outermost guards. A tiny grey flash of light shimmered in the air and the treeman’s head silently dropped from its shoulders.

And just like that, the raid had begun.