The way of the fist

"Fuaaa~~" Alma Elma stretched her arms lazily, a content smile spreading across her face as she lounged on the bed in Grand Noah's inn. The room was a chaotic mess: overturned chairs, empty mugs, and at least a dozen naked men sprawled across the floor, all fast asleep, and the sun was beginning to show itself through the window's shutters.

"Too bad some of them got scared and ran away…" She looked at the mess she and Sally made last night. "They really missed out on the fun…"

She stood, stretching once more as she surveyed the room. Her eyes landed on Sally, who was sleeping on the other side of the room. Despite her exhaustion, Sally stirred at the sound of Alma Elma's voice, groaning as she rubbed her temples.

"Remind me never to indulge your whims again," Sally muttered groggily, her tone heavy with regret. "What even was last night?"

Alma Elma grinned, clearly unfazed. "A fun party, that's what. You have to admit it, it was fun!" She reached for a half-full pitcher of wine on the nearby table and poured herself a glass 

Sally shot her a glare through half-lidded eyes. "Exciting for you, maybe. For me, it was babysitting. You know, most of the guys ran away because you kept punching people when you got drunk."

"W-Whaaat?!" Alma Elma nearly choked on her wine, her eyes wide with disbelief. "I don't remember that at all… Are you sure?"

Sally let out a dry snort, crossing her arms. "Oh, I'm sure. And on top of that, I had to keep an eye on those poor guys you were cozying up to. You were this close to turning some of them into literal dried fish. Seriously, your alcohol tolerance is terrible."

Alma Elma gave an exaggerated pout, swirling the wine in her glass. "I-I mean…" she stammered, not really sure where to look.

"You even got mad and told them it was their fault in the first place. For what, I don't know…"

Alma Elma sighed dramatically, setting her glass down with a wistful smile. "Fine, I'll work on that. Now I understand why Mom always told me not to drink…"

Sally's smirk softened into a grin. "See? I'm practically a parental figure at this point. Maybe I should start charging for life lessons."

"Don't push your luck, Sally…♪" Alma Elma shot back, though the corner of her lips twitched upward. "Anyway, enough about that! I need to get that trophy back to Mom."

"About that…" Sally looked around and deliberately avoided eye contact. "Where is the trophy?"

Alma Elma froze, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, 'where is the trophy?'" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.

Sally scratched the back of her head, her gaze darting toward the pile of empty bottles and scattered furniture. "Well… it was here last night. I swear it was on the table, but, uh…" She trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

Alma Elma's eyes widened in disbelief, and she shot to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. "You're telling me my hard-earned trophy—my Spring Tournament Champion trophy—just vanished?"

Sally raised her hands defensively. "Hey, don't look at me! You're the one who was supposed to keep an eye on it!"

A vein visibly popped on Alma Elma's forehead and she clutched her fists. "Whoever took it is dead…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Chill out!" Sally raised her arms in alarm. "No need to get so violent."

"Sally!" she groaned. "How am I supposed to face Mom now? She'll think I lost it because I'm 'irresponsible' or something!"

"...You mean because you are?" Sally muttered under her breath.

Alma Elma froze for a second, her eyes locked with Sally's.

"...You're not wrong. But still, I'll get my trophy back. No way am I letting Mom have the last laugh."

Sally smirked faintly. "Now there's the Alma Elma we know and tolerate."

Alma Elma rolled her eyes but cracked a determined smile. "Let's start tracking down whoever thought they could swipe my prize."

The pair descended the tavern stairs into the dimly lit common area. The burly innkeeper, polishing a mug behind the bar, raised an eyebrow as they approached. "Morning, ladies. Something I can help you with?"

Alma Elma leaned on the counter, her tone serious. "Yeah. We're looking for my tournament trophy. Big, shiny, says 'Spring Tournament Champion.' Any chance you saw someone walking off with it?"

The innkeeper scratched his beard, thinking. "Hmm. Now that you mention it, some guy left in a hurry just before sunrise. Looked nervous. Had something wrapped up under his arm."

"What did he look like?"

The innkeeper tapped his temple, recalling the details. "Huh… Let's see. Black hair, and a scarf on his face, didn't say a word. He was wearing leather armor, too. Looked like the sneaky type."

Alma Elma's jaw dropped, and she slapped her hands on the counter. "The fake Galla?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in surprise.

Sally blinked, her expression twisting into a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Wait, that guy? The one you humiliated in the tournament?"

"Yeah, him!" Alma Elma growled, her wings flaring slightly. "I knew he'd be salty about losing, but stealing my trophy? That's low, even for him!"

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. "You know the guy?"

"Oh, I know him," Alma Elma muttered darkly. "And now I'm going to know where he is, so that I'll make sure he never gets in my way ever again."

The innkeeper held up a hand. "If it helps, he headed toward the eastern gates. Looked like he was in a rush."

"Eastern gates, got it," Alma Elma said, already turning toward the door.

"Alma, wait!" Sally called after her, rushing to keep up. "Have some mercy on the guy. You already humiliated him for life."

"I don't care!" she interrupted as she marched forward. "Nobody steals from me and gets away with it."

Sally sighed, muttering to herself, "This is going to be a long morning…" as she followed Alma Elma out the door.

Soon after, they reached the eastern gates. While flying over the plains of Grand Noah, and following the road, they found nothing. Not even a single monster showing its face on the road, or even the slightest animal. 

"Perhaps he is still in Grand Noah?" 

"Maybe…" Alma Elma muttered as she watched carefully the surroundings. "He's hiding, no doubt. Or he's already gone into the wilds."

"There's a chance other monsters find him before us."

"I'll find him," Alma Elma said with determination. She then chuckled darkly as she hovered forward. "And then I'll give him ten times what he got in the tournament."

Welp, he is dead for sure… Sally thought, watching Alma Elma's sinister chuckle. When her friend was like this, she knew there was no way the guy would escape unscathed. He'd be lucky if he made it out as anything other than a dry fish.

The morning slipped by uneventfully, the sky gradually brightening as the hours ticked away, but still no sign of the thief. They scoured the surrounding area, hoping for even the faintest trail, but the plains remained empty—no footprints, no distant sounds, nothing.

Sally rubbed her temples in frustration. "We've been flying all morning and we've got nothing. At this point, he could be halfway to another town."

Alma Elma remained unfazed, her eyes scanning the land with laser focus. "He's here. I can feel it." She fluttered higher, trying to get a better view, her wings cutting through the cool morning air. "He's hiding, and when I find him—"

"I know, I know, he's gonna end up a dry fish," Sally interrupted, the exhaustion creeping into her voice.

Alma Elma flashed her a grin. "Exactly. But it's going to be a lot more fun than you think." Her tone held a dark promise, and Sally couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the guy, wherever he was.

Despite their search, nothing turned up, and frustration was beginning to set in for both of them. Sally, unable to hide her annoyance any longer, sighed. "Maybe we should just head back. We could try asking around the town again or—"

"No," Alma Elma cut her off sharply, her eyes narrowing. "I won't leave without that trophy. He has nowhere to go."

"Alright, alright. We keep looking then. But I swear, if we don't find him soon, I'll start charging you for these wasted hours."

Just as Sally was about to complain further, Alma Elma's keen eyes caught movement on the horizon. A shadow darted quickly behind the hill, just barely visible from their vantage point in the sky.

"There," Alma Elma murmured.

Sally's gaze followed Alma Elma's pointed finger, squinting against the rising sun. "You sure? It's hard to tell from here."

Alma Elma's wings beat steadily as she descended toward the spot. "I'm sure. Let's go."

They swooped down, flying low, and in moments, they landed quietly near the hill. Alma Elma held up a hand, signaling Sally to stay silent as they crept closer to the top. There, crouched near a boulder, was the man they were looking for. His black hair was a little messier than before, and he was clutching the wrapped bundle under his arm like his life depended on it.

They followed him at a cautious distance, moving through the dense underbrush until they reached a small, weathered house tucked away in the heart of the forest.

Sally blinked in surprise, her voice low but curious. "A house, here? Who in their right mind would live out here, surrounded by monsters?"

Alma Elma remained silent, her eyes narrowed as she observed the structure. She didn't answer Sally's question—her focus was entirely on the man as he disappeared inside the house.

Without a word, Alma Elma moved closer, motioning for Sally to follow. They slipped around to the side of the house, crouching low in the shadow of the trees.

"I don't like this," Sally muttered under her breath, peeking around the corner to get a better look. "It's just a trophy, Alma. No need to get this worked up over it."

"We're already here," Alma Elma whispered back, her tone colder, more determined. "We finish this."

They waited for a moment, listening for any sounds that might give them an indication of what was happening inside. The faint rustle of footsteps inside the house reached their ears.

Alma Elma's eyes hardened. "We're going in."

Sally exhaled sharply, her nerves tightening. "Just teach him a lesson, okay? Don't go overboard. Please…"

"I didn't know you grew soft, Sally…♪" Alma Elma chuckled. "Did he catch your attention, or something?"

Sally rolled her eyes but kept her voice low. "You're impossible."

Ignoring Sally's protest, Alma Elma gently pushed the door open. It creaked in protest, but they slipped inside swiftly, blending with the shadows of the small, dimly lit room.

The man was not alone in the house. On a modest bed in the corner of the room, a frail old woman lay motionless, her breathing slow and labored, while the man was hunched over a table, feverishly unwrapping the trophy. His nervous movements didn't go unnoticed by Alma Elma and Sally.

"Wait…" Sally whispered, her eyes flicking from the man to the woman. "What's going on here?"

Alma Elma's gaze narrowed, her focus shifting between the two figures. "That's not just a thief. There's more to this."

Sally moved closer, her voice barely a murmur. "Maybe… maybe we should back off? If he's got someone he's taking care of, we might be misunderstanding this whole thing."

But Alma Elma didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer to the man, who was so absorbed in the trophy that he hadn't noticed them.

Alma Elma grabbed him tightly on full nelson from behind before whispering in his ear. "So now you're hoping for me to feel bad…♪?"

The man froze at the sound of her voice, and he turned around, his face going pale as his eyes locked onto Alma Elma's intense stare. He quickly looked down, desperately clutching the trophy against his chest as if it were his only lifeline.

Alma Elma's gaze softened just slightly. "You stole from me. Did you really think you'd just waltz away without consequences?"

The man's voice was shaky. "Please… I really need it… If you let me show it to my mother, I'll give it back to you, I promise…"

Alma Elma's eyes narrowed, her grip firm as she held him in place. "Your mother, huh?" She looked over to the weak woman in the bed. 

"I-I'll even let you punish me if you want…" the man continued, his voice cracking from the fear. "Please just let me…"

With a slow exhale, Alma Elma finally released her hold, stepping back slightly. "I get it. But I'm staying."

"T-Thank you."

The man exhaled shakily, his tension easing as he knelt beside his mother. His face softened as he carefully woke her up, the worry that had consumed him now giving way to a gentle tenderness.

"Hey…" he whispered softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, Alma," Sally called her out with a whisper. "Should we really stay here?"

Alma Elma turned to her, her expression thoughtful but steady. She studied the man for a moment, watching the quiet exchange between him and his mother, before responding.

The mother woke up slowly, her eyes fluttering open halfway. With a slight cough, she turned her head to meet her son's eyes.

"Galla…"

HIS NAME IS REALLY GALLA?! Alma Elma screamed internally. 

She watched the interaction between Galla and his mother, her heart slightly softened by the concern in his voice. The competitive edge she had once felt toward him began to dull, replaced by a quiet confusion.

Galla's mother, still weak, reached out with a trembling hand to touch her son's cheek. "You came back... I knew you'd come back..."

Galla, clearly relieved to see his mother's recognition, gently held up the trophy with both hands, showing it to her like it was the greatest treasure he could offer. His voice was thick with emotion, a hint of pride leaking through his words. "See, Mom? I won the tournament... I realized your dream."

His mother's eyes glistened with tears, her fingers trembling as they lightly traced the cold surface of the trophy. "I'm so proud of you..." she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "I always knew you could do it."

With that, her eyes closed once more, and her frail body settled back against the pillow, slipping into a deep, peaceful sleep. The room fell silent, the only sound being the faint rustle of the leaves outside the window.

Galla stood still for a moment, his heart swelling with emotion as he watched his mother sleep. Then, slowly, he turned, his eyes meeting Alma Elma's piercing gaze. He froze, catching the silent intensity in her expression.

Without a word, Alma Elma gave a subtle gesture toward the door, her thumb pointed firmly in the direction of the exit. It was clear what she expected of him.

Galla swallowed hard.. His grip tightened around the trophy, as if clinging to the last thread of his dignity. With a final glance toward his mother, he slowly stood and made his way toward the door.

Alma Elma and Sally followed closely behind, their footsteps nearly silent as they exited the small house. The door creaked softly as it closed behind them, leaving the three of them in the quietness of the forest.

"You won the tournament, huh?" Alma Elma smirked while echoing the words he spoke of earlier.

Galla didn't respond, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew better than to argue with someone like her.

Sally gave Alma Elma a sideways glance. "So... what now?"

Galla held the trophy toward Alma Elma while looking away.

"You know, it's bad to lie to your mother like that…♪" 

"I had no choice. She is going to pass away soon and…"

"You were a failure as a son?" Alma Elma completed his sentence with a knowing smile.

Galla winced at the bluntness of her words. His hands tightened on the trophy again. "I wasn't good enough for her," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I was the last descendant of a long line of warriors, but instead of following that path, I chose to spend my days writing books. I couldn't live up to her expectations… I couldn't be the son she needed me to be."

Alma Elma's gaze softened just slightly, her sharp features betraying a brief flicker of understanding. She studied him for a moment before speaking, her voice quieter this time.

"Is that what you wanted too? To be the son she wanted?" Alma Elma's question was softer than usual, no trace of mockery in her tone.

"I just wanted her to be proud of me."

Sally, who had been silently observing the exchange, interjected gently, "So you're from the same family as the real Galla? The warrior?"

The man nodded sheepishly. "Yes. Galla was my ancestor, and the family has passed down the warrior techniques from generation to generation."

Alma Elma studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. 

At first, she wanted to make him pay for stealing her trophy, but now she didn't feel like it. It was as if all hatred and mischievousness had vanished from her.

"And now you want to make up for all that? By showing your mother a trophy that wasn't even yours?" Alma Elma's eyes flicked to the wrapped bundle still clutched in Galla's hands.

Galla's face flushed, and he looked away, biting his lip. "I thought... I thought that would be enough for her to pass away happy."

Alma Elma stepped closer, her presence overwhelming as she looked him over with a cold, but strangely understanding gaze. "You can't hide from who you are by pretending to be someone else, Galla. It wasn't up to you to fix everything. It was up to your mother to understand that, and unfortunately... she failed."

Without waiting for his response, Alma Elma took the trophy from his hands, her fingers curling around it with surprising gentleness. With a quick motion, she slung it casually over her shoulder. "Now," she added, her voice quieter, but still firm, "I'll do you a favor and not punish you too severely." She paused for a beat, then frowned, her tone taking on a sharper edge. "But listen to me, Galla—don't you dare stop writing. You hear me?"

Galla stood there, a mix of relief and confusion clouding his expression as he tried to process what was happening. He nodded slightly, not sure what to say.

"You've got your own path to follow now. Don't waste it," Alma Elma continued, her eyes steady on his.

Galla's throat tightened, and for a moment, he looked down at the ground, lost in thought. "But… what about my mom?"

"The right thing would be to tell her the truth. But... that's your decision to make. Just know it won't be easy. She'll likely give you a good scolding." A slight smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "But that's what you get when you hide things from people who care about you."

Sally, who had been standing quietly to the side, shot Alma Elma a sideways glance with an exaggerated deadpan expression. "You're one to talk, Kyuba."

Alma Elma raised an eyebrow, giving Sally a pointed look. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice dripping with playful challenge.

Sally's smirk only grew wider as she crossed her arms more tightly. "Oh, I'm just saying," she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "You've got your own history of hiding things, don't you? Don't start acting like the perfect teacher. Want me to remind you how you didn't tell your mother for a year that you were training in martial arts?"

Alma Elma froze, her eyes narrowing at the jab. Her playful demeanor faltered for a split second, before she shot Sally a sharp look. "That was different," she said quickly, but the hint of defensiveness in her voice didn't go unnoticed.

Sally raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too satisfied with herself. "Sure, sure. But it's funny how you've got all the answers now, huh?"

Alma Elma sighed and rolled her eyes. "You always know how to pick at the old wounds, don't you? Fine, I'll admit it—I'm not perfect. But this is about Galla, not me."

Galla, who had been standing there silently, caught in the middle of their banter, finally gave a nervous chuckle. "Uh, you two sure seem close," he said, looking between them with a bemused expression. "Should I... wait for the next round of insults, or...?"

Alma Elma and Sally both turned to him at the same time, their expressions quickly shifting back to their usual sharpness, though the tension between them had eased. Alma Elma shrugged. "Go ahead. Go tell your mother you prefer writing over fighting and that you lost the tournament. She'll probably be mad, but it's for the best."

Galla nodded silently and turned to leave, taking a moment to glance back at them. "Thanks... for not going too hard on me."

"You're lucky," Sally sighed. "She was going to eat you at first."

"R-Really?!" Galla stammered, his face draining of color.

"Yes…♪" Alma Elma shot him a predatory smirk. "And trust me, it would've felt really good…♪"

"EEEK!" Galla's body stiffened, his face going even paler as he quickly shut the door behind him, practically slamming it in haste.

Alma's smirk lingered as she turned to Sally. "I do love teasing them like that," she remarked.

"Me too, but that was a bit cruel there, wasn't it?"

"It's just to remind him not to mess with monsters again. Otherwise, I might have to come and pay him a visit another time…♪" she said as she licked her lips.

Sally chuckled under her breath. "You're impossible."

Alma Elma flashed a grin. "Oh, you know you love me."

The two succubi shared a knowing smile, and before long, their laughter filled the air as they soared high into the sky. The wind tugged at their wings as they left Grand Noah behind, heading back to Succubus Village, the bustling town already fading from view.

As they flew above Grangold, Sally suddenly tugged at Alma Elma's tail, drawing her attention. Hovering next to her, she pointed a finger northward toward the sea. "I need to stop by the castle," she said, her voice light. "I'll catch up with you later."

With a playful wink, Sally veered off, her figure soon becoming a silhouette against the sky as she disappeared into the distance, her course set. Alma Elma watched her go for a moment, then gave a nonchalant shrug, her attention shifting as she continued on her own path.

"See you later," Alma Elma muttered to herself, a faint smile tugging at her lips before she let the wind guide her onward.

After a few minutes, she arrived at the village, her trophy in hand. She carefully stopped a dozen meters from the entrance, to the forest to avoid catching the attention, and transformed into her human disguise. With light steps, she then headed over to her house and knocked on the door.

From inside, she could hear hurried steps and the sound of furniture falling on the wooden floor. With a curious frown, she pushed the door.

"..."

"H-Hello, sweetie…" her mother greeted her with a wave of her hand while standing naked on top of what looked like a man in his forties.

"Oh? Is that your daughter, darling?" the man beneath her mother asked, his voice thick with lust and amusement.

What was surprising however was the fact that Elira was in her succubus disguise, and the man was completely conscious. Meaning he was aware of the succubi's presence in the village.

"Who is this?" Alma Elma asked as she put down the trophy on the table.

Elira hesitated, her eyes darting around the room as though searching for the right words. "It's… uh..." She trailed off, uncertain how to explain the situation.

"I'm your stepfather," the man said with a smug smile, his posture relaxed as if this was all perfectly normal. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Alma Elma."

The moment the words left his mouth, Alma Elma's eyes narrowed, her expression flat and emotionless. She nodded, her gaze blank and distant—completely deadpan.

"Listen, sweetie…" Elira began, her voice suddenly faltering, as though struggling to find the right words. "When I told you I was in love, well…"

"It's me!" the man interjected, raising a hand and flashing a wide grin.

"Would you shut up?" Elira's eyes flashed toward the man before hitting him with an energy drain, enough to silence him immediately.

Alma Elma's gaze remained deadpan, her eyes flat and unblinking as she assessed the man. No hint of surprise or amusement passed across her face. "I see," she said, her voice as dry as ever. "Mom? Didn't you tell me that, being a queen and all, you couldn't love him?"

Elira glanced between Alma Elma and the man, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her daughter's directness. She visibly flinched, clearly flustered by Alma Elma's calm yet biting response. "Well… here's the thing..." Elira trailed off, taking a deep breath as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, a wave of shame passing through her. She steeled herself for the words she knew she had to say. "You need to go to the castle, Alma Elma," she finally said, her voice softer now, almost apologetic.

"Why is that?"

"Elira took a deep breath before continuing. "A selection will be held there to decide on the next queen, and I... recommended you." She glanced up, her expression vulnerable, waiting for Alma Elma's reaction.

Alma Elma stood still, a deep feeling in her chest settling in. "You did what?" she repeated in a low whisper.

"Because," Elira's voice cracked slightly. "As ex-queen, if I didn't recommend you, you would be even more ostracized than now. But don't worry, you've got what it takes, you're my daughter."

Alma Elma's gaze darkened for a moment, a faint tremor in her jaw. "You're not joking…" she said, her voice low, almost incredulous.

Elira hesitated before shaking her head. "No, I'm not. I know it's a lot to ask, but this could be your chance. Your chance to show them who you are—who you really are. A true queen of succubi."

Alma Elma remained silent, her thoughts swirling as she processed what her mother was saying. 

"You're just saying that."

Elira recoiled, taken aback by the accusation. "What do you mean?"

"You're just throwing me there so you can finally get rid of me and be happy with your new man, huh?"

Elira's face paled at the accusation, her mouth opening and closing in disbelief. She took a shaky step back, her voice trembling as she responded, "No, that's not it at all, Alma Elma. I—"

Alma Elma cut her off, her voice colder than ever. "It's fine, Mom. I get it. I thought maybe you'd acknowledge me for bringing that trophy back, but I guess I was too hopeful. Too naive."

Elira winced, the sting of Alma Elma's words cutting deep. She stepped forward again, her hands reaching out as though she could somehow close the emotional distance between them. "That's not it, I swear…"

"You just want me to be something I'm not. You're disappointed because I couldn't be the perfect daughter, the perfect heir. You can't love him without throwing away that title of queen, right?"

Elira's shoulders sagged as her gaze dropped to the floor, her face a mixture of regret and sorrow. "It's not that simple, Alma Elma. It never was."

Alma Elma stared at her for a long moment, the frustration bubbling in her chest, but something in her mother's voice, something about the sadness in her eyes, held her back.

"Fine, I'll go to the castle," Alma Elma said finally, her voice flat and resigned. "I'll change those stupid rules so that you can be free."

Elira's eyes widened with a mix of relief and sorrow. "What?"

Without another word, Alma Elma stepped outside, and undid her disguise.. She spread her wings wide, her gaze looking upward with the same tightening in her chest.

She wanted to say something, but what? That she hated this life? That she was angry at the expectations placed on her? That she resented her mother for forcing her into this situation?

Instead, she stayed silent, her wings still outstretched as she took a deep breath. She wasn't sure what to say, not to herself or to anyone else.

There was only a deep hatred for those rules given by their ancestor Minagi a long time ago. 

And with that realization, she turned and took off into the sky, the village growing smaller beneath her as she flew toward the castle, toward wherever the wind would bring her.