I Took A Succubus's First Time

'What the fuck is this? Why the hell did he suddenly become this fucking powerful?!' Souichiro thought, staring at Kouhei like he was seeing a nightmare come alive right in front of him.

His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, almost drowning out the chaos echoing all around them. It felt unreal because just moments ago, Kouhei had been gasping, bleeding, and barely hanging on… but now?

Now, Souichiro could hardly recognize what stood before him.

It wasn't the same guy he had cornered earlier. This was something else. Something monstrous. Something that radiated power so thick it made the air feel heavier, like Souichiro was breathing through ash.

'Am I really gonna get fucking defeated here? No. Fuck, no! That's fucking impossible. I won't allow it. I can't. I'd rather die than bow my fucking head to this bullshit!' he screamed silently inside his skull, gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly that his fingers ached and blood almost seemed to drain from his knuckles.

Yet his grip, for all its strength, was trembling. A tiny, traitorous quake that betrayed what words and rage couldn't hide.

Because buried beneath the stubborn, raging fire in his chest was something colder and sharper.

And that was fear.

The raw, gut-twisting fear of dying.

And worse, the horror of not knowing what the fuck to do next.

His teeth ground against each other so hard he felt his jaw burn. Sweat dripped down the side of his face, stinging as it mixed with blood and grime.

'Where the fuck is Natsuya?!' his mind spat, wild and desperate with his eyes darting around the field like a hunted animal. 'I need that bastard to get me the fuck out of here—right now—away from this fucking bastard!'

His mind spun like rusted gears grinding together for survival, escape, or any fucking option that didn't end with him dying here, like a dog.

But even as that idea clawed at his mind, another voice inside him, smaller but relentless, whispered the ugly truth that if he tried to run, Kouhei would catch him. Faster than he could even draw another breath.

'Masayoshi is fucking useless now… already done for,' Souichiro thought bitterly, eyes darting to where Masayoshi lay on the dirt, a grotesque figure writhing in pain. His arms had been severed, bleeding so badly the ground steamed with the heat of his blood. 'It would be pathetic to fucking surrender here. I have to keep my pride. If I give up, my father would look at me with fucking disgust. But fuck, I don't wanna die! Not yet! Not fucking now! I still need to rule this fucking hell! There's still so much blood to spill and as well as the heaven to fucking crush! I can't die, damn it! Not like this… not to this bastard!'

"Souichiro."

The sound of Kouhei's voice cut through the noise in his skull and it was cold, flat, and impossibly calm. Like a blade slipping through flesh.

"To what purpose is the reason why you are torturing Yuuna-san?"

Souichiro's face twisted, rage and madness swirling in his eyes.

"To what purpose? Ha! Have you lost your fucking mind?!" he barked, voice cracking with something between hate and panic. "As if I'd fucking tell you! But fuck it—fine! You wanna know? I've hated that bitch since the day I fucking opened my eyes! She was always so fucking perfect—always just out of reach, no matter how hard I fucking tried! Every time I pushed harder, she got even further ahead, like I was chasing a fucking shadow! And because she was so 'special'—so fucking gifted—they loved her more! Our parents coddled her, worshipped her, while I was left behind like trash! She was a fucking eyesore to me! I wanted her fucking dead!"

His voice cracked, spit flying, as he poured out years of bile and bitterness.

The truth rotted its way to the surface: about the fact that he didn't love Yuuna at all. Even wanting to marry her had nothing to do with love as it was only out of spite, and it was pure and ugly. He knew Yuuna despised the family's obsession with blood purity—and Souichiro hated it too. But unlike her, he wanted to use it to shatter her spirit.

Marrying her was never about love—it was about revenge. Twisting the knife, in other words.

"You think I'd go this far because I fucking love her?! Fuck no! I couldn't give a single shit about that bitch! She's got no appeal, nothing! That's why I wanted to ruin her life as well as to tear her away from the one thing that actually mattered to her and that's being with you! Forcing her to marry me was the perfect fucking revenge! If you were me, you'd fucking do the same!"

It was all jealousy. Venom that had eaten him alive for years.

"So you're jealous… huh?" Kouhei murmured, his eyes narrowing, voice low, almost pitying. 'Which is probably why… I can see the essence of envy wrapping around him like chains…'

With the fallen angel's power pulsing in his vision, Kouhei could see the dark threads, poisonous and writhing, clinging to Souichiro's soul. Five sins whispered around him, but envy was a roaring inferno, scorching the rest to ashes.

"I think you would have seen her differently if you'd just looked at her," Kouhei said.

"What the fuck does that even mean?!" Souichiro shot back, hate blazing in his eyes.

"I don't think Yuuna-san is some bright monster you had to chase," Kouhei continued, his voice calm, quiet, but piercing. "If you'd tried to understand her… you could've been good siblings."

"Don't fucking patronize me with that shit!" Souichiro roared, his voice cracking from rage. "You'd be better off fucking dying too!"

The madness boiling in Souichiro's veins overtook the fear in an instant.

Snarling, he lunged, blade gleaming in the dim, flickering light.

"It's sad that it had to come to this, but…" Kouhei muttered under his breath, his voice like steel wrapped in regret, as he swung his sword. "I have absolutely no intention of dying here."

Metal cut through flesh.

Souichiro's eyes went wide, mouth hanging open.

"Gh…!"

For a split second, he couldn't even feel it—then pain exploded through him like fire.

He looked down, and the horror settled in his stomach like ice.

Kouhei's blade had pierced clean through his chest. Blood was already pouring down the blade, dripping from Kouhei's clenched fist.

Souichiro's own mouth filled with the taste of iron. He coughed, choking, and thick, dark blood spilled past his lips.

'No… no… I don't wanna fucking die… I don't wanna die… I don't wanna die… this can't be happening… this can't fucking be! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna fucking die!'

The same desperate chant looped endlessly in his fading mind, even as darkness began clawing at the edges of his vision with it dragging him down, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat, into nothing.

Then slowly, his mind stopped thinking altogether with his thoughts flickering out like dying embers and his subconsciousness slipping away, swallowed by the creeping darkness that felt colder than any hellfire could ever burn.

Kouhei's breath trembled as he pulled the sword out from Souichiro's chest, the blade slick and dripping crimson. His arm felt so heavy with every muscle screaming from exhaustion, but he steadied himself just enough to gently lower Souichiro's lifeless body onto the scorched, cracked earth.

And in that same instant, the monstrous form that had clung to Kouhei like a living curse melted away. Flesh and bone shifted, reshaping, until what remained was only his human self again.

That terrifying form had been bound to the Love Link. And now that the Love Link had finally dissipated into nothing, all that otherworldly power vanished with it, leaving him exposed, vulnerable, and human once more.

His chest heaved with ragged gasps with each breath scraping against his dry throat like broken glass. Sweat mixed with blood trickled down the side of his face, cooling too quickly against his clammy skin. As he knelt there, Souichiro's body lay still beneath his hand.

Kouhei forced himself to look up with his eyes raw and stinging to see what awaited them next. His vision swam, but through the haze, he saw the another tide of soldiers, their armor catching the hellish glow as they marched forward.

He grit his teeth with every fiber of his battered body screaming in protest, and tried to push himself up. His legs trembled under him and blood pounded in his temples. But the moment he rose even slightly, his strength betrayed him.

With a dull thud, he crashed back down, palms scraping against the burned ground. His entire body felt hollowed out like he was emptied of every drop of power and will. Even lifting a finger felt impossible, like gravity itself had turned cruel.

The heat of the battlefield pressed down on him. But then—something happened.

The ground itself—the scorched, blistering earth of hell—began to pale, a shimmering frost creeping outward like a living tide. The blistering heat retreated, replaced by an unnatural, biting chill that stung his battered skin.

"Absolute Zero," someone spoke.

With effort that felt like tearing himself free from chains, Kouhei turned his head, eyes heavy and blurred—

And there, standing resolute among swirling mist and gleaming shards of frost, were figures draped in cold, quiet authority.

The Yuki Clan had arrived—like winter's final breath sweeping across the scorched land, freezing the fires of hell itself in defiance.