Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!-Chapter 125: Crimson Thunder Team!

The air in the café thickened like soup left too long on a stove. The kind of silence that screams.

Creed sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable, cool as ever, like he’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial.

Meanwhile, everyone else at the table had tensed up, their eyes fixed on the group of hulking, sweaty men that had just stomped their way into their peaceful gathering like a bunch of oversized bullies straight out of a cartoon.

The leader of the group; the fat, eight-foot-tall man with a pink mohawk and the fashion sense of a drunken rooster stood proudly with both his fat arms on the table, his large fingers splayed out like squashed sausages.

Behind him stood his backup dancers: five equally massive men, each looking like they ate protein powder for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with a side of steroids.

One of them, who wore a tight shirt that read "Woke up Sexy Again" suddenly swaggered toward Mia’s side of the table.

He didn’t say a word. He just reached over with his tree-trunk arm, picked up her drink like it was his, and chugged it in one go.

Slurp! Slurp!

The sound of the straw slurping up the last bits of juice echoed louder than it should have.

Then, with a belch that could have made a dragon blush, he smirked and said, "What is this? Budget juice? Damn, you broke kids really livin’ rough, huh?"

His friends laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, clapping each other on the back and making gross snorting noises that sounded like a pack of hogs celebrating a bad joke.

Creed didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. His face was calm, too calm, like the ocean before a storm.

But beneath that stillness, gears were turning in his head at lightning speed.

Based on the hostility, the timing, and the way Mia had shrunk into herself like a turtle retreating into its shell, it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on.

The clues were all there—the way Ivy’s face had tightened, the flicker of worry in the twins’ eyes, and the way Boris kept glancing at Mia like she was a prize to be claimed.

Something ugly was about to go down, and Creed, ever the ’tactician’, decided to wait.

Ivy was the leader of the group, and he had no intention of stepping in in her place—at least not until things crossed a line.

Ivy rose from her seat, her eyes sharp and voice cold. "What are you doing here, Boris?" she asked calmly, her tone neutral but her posture as stiff as a drawn bow.

Boris chuckled, a low, greasy sound that reminded Creed of wet meat slapping against a counter.

"Oh come on now, Ivy," he said, grinning with far too many teeth.

"Don’t play dumb. You know why we’re here. Let’s not waste time pretending, yeah? Time’s almost up. You lost the bet. Just woman up and honor your end."

Ivy’s gaze flicked to her watch. "We still have some hours before the deal expires. Leave. Now."

Boris rolled his eyes like a toddler being denied dessert. "Oh please," he groaned.

"You know you’ve already lost. Stop stalling like a sore loser. I’ll be back in an hour. And if you’re not ready by then,"—his eyes slid to Mia, who shrunk further into her hoodie—"I’ll be taking what’s mine. With or without your permission."

Mia’s fingers clenched her sleeves. Her breathing had grown shallow.

She looked like she wanted to disappear into the cushions. Creed saw it immediately; the fear, the helplessness, the guilt.

She was terrified. And in that moment, something cold and ancient stirred inside him. He didn’t move, didn’t raise his voice.

All he did was lightly pat Mia’s shoulder, offering a calm, steady touch, and then said in a voice so smooth it could’ve been butter on a summer day, "No one’s taking you anywhere you don’t want to go."

His words weren’t loud, but they hit like a thunderclap. Mia looked up at him, eyes wide, and her heart skipped more than just a beat.

Something about the quiet confidence in his voice made her feel safe, like she was standing next to an unshakable wall made of titanium and logic.

For the first time since Boris showed up, her posture straightened a little.

But if Creed’s calmness was a rock, it clearly annoyed the hyenas across the table.

The men glared at him, their auras pressing down like invisible hands trying to squeeze the life out of the room.

It was subtle at first, like a rising pressure in the air, but soon it became suffocating. It became thick with menace and raw power!

Creed’s eyes narrowed slightly, his calm gaze now calculating. ’Two Stage Fives,’ he thought, analyzing the group in real-time.

’The leader, Boris, is definitely one. And the bald guy with the scarred nose behind him too. The rest... all Stage Fours. Hm. This is a seriously stacked team. Why would Ivy agree to a bet with monsters like this?’

He didn’t say it out loud, of course. No need to stir the pot before it boiled itself. But the situation was clearly more dangerous than it looked.

These weren’t just meatheads. They were powerful meatheads. And in this world, power meant everything.

The fact that Ivy’s team had made a ’bet’ with them at all was reckless, maybe even desperate.

And yet, Creed didn’t panic. If anything, the thrill of the tension made him sharper.

The boys stood tall and smug, the girls sat ready and silent, while he... just smiled. He didn’t even need to rise from his seat to make the entire mood shift.

He simply flicked his fingers once, a gentle and almost casual motion, like someone brushing away dust, but in that very moment, the crushing pressure that had been exuding from the bulky men just vanished.

Gone. Like it was never there to begin with.

Their dimensional sources, which had almost been flooding the table like a wave ready to drown the girls in fear and stress, was nullified so completely that the cafe itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

One of the men in the back even stumbled a little, blinking in confusion like his entire internal compass had just been scrambled.

All six of the goons, including their towering mohawked leader Boris, turned to Creed with expressions ranging from shocked to vaguely horrified.

This was the suppression of the path! There was nothing they could do against such a profound authority.

Their pressure had literally been eradicated!

Creed didn’t smirk. He didn’t even look proud.

He just leaned back in his seat, swirled his water in the glass, and said in a calm, perfectly polite voice;

"I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that you’re in a public establishment. If you all want to drown in fines from the Bastion Authorities and the establishment owner for physical harassment and public pressure discharge, by all means, keep going."

His tone wasn’t threatening. It was just factual. Like a teacher reminding kids that skipping class had consequences.

Except here, the consequence was bankruptcy and public humiliation.

Boris stared at him with bulging eyes and a reddening face. He clearly wasn’t used to being spoken down to.

"You’ve got a sharp tongue, boy," he growled, his voice a deep, guttural echo that sounded like someone gargling rocks. "I’ll remember that when we’re done."

"Oh," Creed said, lifting an eyebrow. "So you’re planning to lose?"

The surrounding group chuckled a bit nervously. Boris didn’t find it funny.

With a snort and a glare that promised future violence, he turned and stormed off with his posse of muscle-bound gorillas trailing behind him.

"One hour!" he bellowed back. "One hour and this ends!"

The moment they left, the energy around the table instantly shifted from oppressive to cautious relief.

Ivy leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, massaging her temple. Mia let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding and quietly whispered "Thank you" to Creed.

He just gave her a tiny nod and looked toward Ivy.

"Alright," he said, "I’m going to need some context here. What exactly happened?"

Ivy gave him a sharp look, but her voice was calm as she began to explain. She told him everything.

How a few weeks ago, that male adventurer group, officially known as "Crimson Thunder" (an incredibly dumb name, in Creed’s opinion), came to them with a problem.

One of their members had been infected during a rift raid with a bizarre type of soul-bound parasitic infection that corrupted his meridian pathways.

No healer could even touch it without hurting themselves... but Mia, with her rare life intent, could.

The only catch? Healing him would cause a rebound—a spiritual backlash—since the parasite would try to latch onto her instead.

The backlash would probably damage her life force and soul slightly, which meant she’d be in pain for days. Maybe even weeks.

That, and she’d be vulnerable during that time, which clearly made all of them uncomfortable, especially considering how those guys looked at her like she was dinner.

So naturally, Ivy’s team had refused.

But Boris wasn’t one to take no for an answer. He’d proposed a bet—a battle between their teams.

Triple Tag Team Battle. Three members from both side would represent their team in this deadly duel.

If the girls won, they’d receive an adventurer union team upgrade token, which would allow their squad to be officially recognized as a higher-tier team and access better rift missions and gear. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

If they lost... Mia would be forced to heal their teammate.

Creed leaned back, absorbing the info. "Why did you even agree to such a thing?" he asked, puzzled.

"Those guys are strong. You must’ve known that even if you were confident, it’d be risky."

Ivy’s eyes narrowed slightly. "They weren’t that strong when they made the bet," she said.

"Boris was only at stage 4 then, and the rest were around stage 3. A slightly tough fight, but not impossible. Then, a few days ago, they disappeared for five days. Came back... and suddenly all their team had advanced a stage. And none of them was at the peak of their stage before!"

Creed frowned. "That fast? Without damaging their foundations?"

"I know, right?" Ivy said, rubbing her arm uneasily. "It’s suspicious. They must have used something shady. An artifact, forbidden potion, maybe even had help from a higher tier backer."

Creed nodded slowly, processing the information. That explained their cocky behavior.

They thought they were now too strong to lose. "And today’s the last day?" he asked.

"Yeah. The final day. If we don’t fight, the deal is done."

Creed looked around at the table. Ivy at stage 5. Rin and Rai at stage 3. Mia, recently at stage 2. A good team... but compared to two stage 5s, one peak stage 4, and the rest all at stage 4? They were wildly outclassed.

He exhaled slowly, then smiled. "Alright. When they come back in an hour, tell them we’ll fight."

Everyone blinked at him.

"You... want to fight?" Ivy asked, unsure whether he was serious.

Creed nodded. "I’ll join your team for the match."

"But—"

"Ivy," he said with a soft smile. "Do you trust me?"

There was a pause. Then all the girls nodded, one by one. Even Mia looked at him with slightly teary but determined eyes.

"Then just do as I say."

Creed leaned back in his seat again, folding his arms and letting the moment settle.

His gaze wandered to the window, watching the warm city lights blink softly like sleepy fireflies.

In truth, he’d been wondering for days now what parting gift he could leave Ivy’s team if he got accepted into the academy. Something meaningful, something useful.

They were his first companions in this world, and he owed them more than just a thank-you. And this token... this upgrade to their status, their income, their missions, their lives...

Yeah. That would do.

He tilted his head with a grin. "Let’s win you an upgrade."