Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!

Creed found himself lying face-down on what felt like solid ground, his body aching in places he didn't know he had and his head spinning with residual disorientation from the portal transit.

For a long moment, he simply lay there, breathing heavily and trying to convince his inner ear that up and down were once again meaningful concepts.

The ground beneath him felt strange, not quite like earth or stone or any other natural surface he was familiar with, but at least it was solid and stationary and reassuringly real.

When he finally gathered the strength and courage to lift his head and look around, what he saw made his blood run cold with a mixture of awe and terror.

He was in a world that looked like it had been painted with ink and shadow, where everything existed in shades of black and gray and deep purple that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

The landscape stretched out before him in rolling hills and twisted valleys that followed no logical geological patterns, as if the entire terrain had been sculpted by someone who had only heard descriptions of what land was supposed to look like but had never actually seen any.

The sky above was not blue or gray or any color that belonged in a normal sky, but rather a deep, inky blackness that seemed to press down on everything below with the weight of eternity.

There were no stars visible in that alien sky, no sun or moon to provide illumination, yet somehow there was light, a dim and sourceless radiance that seemed to emanate from the landscape itself.

Everything glowed with a faint inner luminescence that made the world visible but cast no shadows, creating an eerie twilight atmosphere that made it impossible to judge distances or depths with any accuracy.

The air tasted of metal and ozone and something else that he couldn't identify, something that made his tongue tingle and his teeth ache.

When he breathed, he could feel the strange atmosphere entering his lungs, foreign and thick and somehow alive in a way that normal air definitely wasn't.

It didn't hurt to breathe, exactly, but it felt wrong, like his body was processing something that was almost but not quite what it needed to survive.

As Creed slowly pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky from the portal transit and the overwhelming strangeness of his new environment, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

There was nothing visible in the immediate area, no signs of life or movement or anything that might be observing him, but the sensation was unmistakable.

Something in this ink-black world was aware of his presence, something that was studying him with the patient interest of a predator evaluating its prey.

"Well," he said aloud, his voice sounding strange and muffled in the thick air of this alien realm, "I guess it really couldn't get any worse. And then it did."

The sound of his own voice was somehow reassuring in the oppressive silence of this new world, a reminder that he was still himself despite being transported to what was obviously somewhere very far from home.

But even as he tried to maintain his composure and figure out his next move, Creed couldn't ignore the growing certainty that his troubles were far from over.

He was alone in a world that looked like it had been designed by nightmares, with no idea how to get home, no way to contact anyone who might help him, and no guarantee that the strange atmosphere wouldn't slowly poison him or that the unseen watchers wouldn't decide to make their presence known in ways that would be extremely unpleasant for him.

But at least, he thought with the kind of bitter humor that comes from having absolutely nothing left to lose, his day couldn't possibly get any more interesting than it already had.

Standing in the oppressive twilight of this alien realm, Creed took his first tentative steps forward, his bare feet making soft squelching sounds against the strange ground that seemed to be composed of something between soil and shadow.

Yes, he was also very naked. The portal apparently couldn't transport clothes.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to find shelter, to hide, to curl up in a ball and wait for this nightmare to end, but he knew that wasn't an option.

He needed to explore, to understand where he was and hopefully find some way back to his own dimension before whatever was watching him decided to make its presence known.

The landscape around him was a study in controlled chaos, with rolling hills that seemed to shift slightly when he wasn't looking directly at them and valleys that appeared to be deeper than they should have been according to the laws of perspective.

There were no trees or vegetation of any kind, just the endless expanse of dark terrain punctuated by strange rock formations that looked more like abstract sculptures than natural geological features.

Some of these formations glowed with the same inner light as the ground, while others seemed to absorb even the meager illumination of this world, creating pockets of absolute darkness that his eyes couldn't penetrate.

As he walked, Creed tried to maintain his bearings by picking landmarks and noting the direction he was traveling, but the constantly shifting nature of the landscape made navigation nearly impossible.

Hills that had been on his left would somehow migrate to his right, and valleys that should have been behind him would appear ahead of him, as if the very geography of this place was actively working against his attempts to understand it.

The silence was another source of constant unease. There were no sounds of wind, no rustling of non-existent vegetation, no distant calls of whatever creatures might inhabit this realm.

The only sounds were those he made himself: his footsteps, his breathing, and the occasional curse when he stumbled over some irregularity in the terrain.

The absence of ambient noise made every sound he produced seem unnaturally loud and intrusive, as if he were violating some sacred silence that was fundamental to the nature of this place.

After what felt like hours of walking through this monotonous yet terrifying landscape, Creed finally encountered something that made him stop in his tracks.

Ahead of him, the ground simply ended. Not gradually, not with any kind of slope or transition, but abruptly, as if someone had taken a knife to reality itself and carved away everything beyond a certain point.

What lay before him was a chasm so vast, so impossibly wide and deep, that his mind struggled to process its dimensions.

The chasm stretched from one horizon to the other, disappearing into the murky distance in both directions with no visible end. Its width was so enormous that he couldn't see the opposite side despite the clear, shadowless illumination of this realm.

Looking down into its depths was like staring into the void between stars, a darkness so complete and absolute that it seemed to pull at his consciousness, threatening to drag his sanity down into its infinite depths along with his gaze.

But it wasn't the size of the chasm that made Creed's blood freeze in his veins. It was the sound that rose from its depths.

Screaming. The sound of a woman screaming in absolute, unutterable agony, her voice echoing up from the bottomless pit with such raw pain and desperation that it bypassed his rational mind entirely and struck directly at some primal part of his psyche that existed solely to recognize suffering.

The screams weren't constant; they came in waves, building to crescendos of anguish that made his teeth ache and then fading to barely audible whimpers before beginning the cycle again.

There was something familiar about that voice, something that tugged at his memory in ways that made his stomach clench with dread.

He couldn't place it exactly, couldn't identify who it might be, but there was an intimacy to the sound that suggested he should know, that this was someone important, someone whose pain should matter to him in ways that went beyond simple human compassion.

The terror that washed over Creed at the sound of those screams was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

It wasn't the rational fear of physical danger or even the existential dread of being lost in an alien dimension.

This was something deeper, more primitive, a fear that seemed to reach into the very core of his being and whisper that he was in the presence of something so fundamentally wrong that his mind couldn't properly process it.

His body's response was immediate and overwhelming. His heart began to pound so violently that he could feel it beating against his ribs like a caged animal trying to escape.

His breathing became rapid and shallow, his lungs unable to extract enough oxygen from the strange air of this realm to satisfy his suddenly desperate need.

Cold sweat broke out across his skin despite the neutral temperature, and his hands began to shake with tremors that he couldn't control.

The fight-or-flight response that evolution had programmed into every human being kicked in with the force of a physical blow.

But there was nothing to fight here, no visible enemy to confront or overcome. There was only the chasm and the screaming and the crushing weight of terror that pressed down on him like the hand of some malevolent god.

So he ran.

Creed turned away from the chasm with desperate haste, his legs carrying him away from that horrible sound as fast as they could move across the uneven terrain.

He stumbled and nearly fell several times, his coordination compromised by the panic that had seized control of his nervous system, but he kept running until his lungs burned and his legs felt like they might collapse beneath him.

When he finally stopped, gasping and shaking, he found himself in a small depression between two of the strange rock formations, hidden from direct view of the chasm he had fled.

The screaming was still audible but muffled by distance and the intervening landscape, reduced to a faint echo that was somehow even more disturbing than the full volume had been.

It took him several minutes to regain control of his breathing and stop the violent shaking that had seized his entire body.

Even then, he couldn't shake the memory of that voice, the way it had seemed to reach into his soul and twist something vital inside him.

He had heard screams before, had witnessed pain and suffering in various forms during his training and studies, but nothing had prepared him for the raw, existential agony that had risen from the depths of that impossible chasm.

"Get it together, Creed," he muttered to himself, his voice still shaky but growing steadier with each word.

"You're supposed to be a primordial summoner, a future hero, someone who faces down monsters and saves people. You can't fall apart every time you encounter something scary. There has to be a logical explanation for all of this."

But even as he tried to rationalize what he had experienced, Creed couldn't shake the feeling that logic might not apply in this place.

The very nature of this realm seemed to operate according to rules that were fundamentally different from those of his home dimension, and attempting to understand it through familiar frameworks might be not just futile but actively dangerous.

All he wanted right now was to go home!