The Monster's Apprentice: Chapter 87 - Kicking the Hornet’s Nest | Part 3

May 28, 2026

“Do not mistake a succubus for a creature only of lust. They are demons, their endurance is legendary, capable of withstanding pain that would shatter any human. Their beauty hides a resilience forged in the darkest pits of hell, for what truly lies behind their mask is a savage, bloodthirsty entity that will stop at nothing to devour its prey once its sight is set on it.”

— Faelyn Sylsalor, “Demons and Their Curses: Volume 2,” page 140

Emily followed Arthur as he bolted into the bath chamber.

Clara had braced herself against the door. “They’re here!”

The succubi were howling like banshees, slamming into the door and clawing at it like rabid animals.

Arthur cursed under his breath, shoving Clara aside and taking her place at the door, bracing his body against it. “Get Emily out of here! Use the utility tunnels! Now!”

Before Emily had the chance to say anything, Clara grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the boiler room. The door leading into the tunnels flew open, and both of them plunged into the narrow, suffocating darkness. Steam hissed from a ruptured pipe overhead, startling them both. Emily had no choice but to blindly trust that that her mother was leading her the right way. She didn’t have the nightvision of a vampire.

“W-Wait, what about dad?”

“He’ll be alright, sweetie. He—”

A demonic howl echoed from he depths.

Emily crashed into Clara as she froze in her tracks.

“They’re in here too?!” Clara shouted and started backing away.

Emily shoved past her mother and shot fire from her fingertips. The tunnel lit up with a blinding flare, revealing the succubi charging toward them in the darkness, a writhing mass of distorted bodies and gnashing teeth, their eyes glowing like embers in the firelight. The demons recoiled from the flames, hissing and screeching. One of them caught aflame, her skin crackling like paper as she shrieked in agony.

Clara jerked Emily back into the bath chamber, slamming the door to the boiler room shut. She leaned against it, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. “They’re in there too, Arthur!” she screamed.

Arthur didn’t respond, too focused on keeping the door to the corridor shut. He was losing. The succubi were bashing against it too hard, too violently. A collective mass of them were doing everything in their power to break into the bath chamber, even if it meant throwing themselves at the door until it gave.

“Is there any other way out?” Emily asked, looking frantically around the bath chamber for any possible escape, but there was none.

“Only the tunnels!” Arthur confirmed.

The door suddenly buckled from the weight of the charging succubi, almost knocking Arthur off his footing. He ground his teeth, hissing violently as he put all his strength into keeping the door shut. Pieces of it were starting to crack. The succubi were carving through it with their claws, making small holes through the thick wood. One succubi managed to claw one arm through, but Arthur smashed the bone with one mighty swing from the wrench still in his hand. The creature on the other side wailed as she tried to pull her broken arm back through.

Emily hurried over to help, but before she could do anything, the door exploded open. Pieces of it went flying as Arthur stumbled back, swinging his claws at the throng of demons pouring in. There was hardly anything human about them. Their skin was covered in scales that bristled like thorns, and mouths full of jagged teeth gaped across their arms, on their palms, and even along their thighs and chests. Some had horns, while others had talons and long, spiked tails. Some had split their torsos open like obscene flowers, their ribs peeled back and fused into bony petals around a pulsing, translucent womb-sac that hung outside the body, sloshing with half-formed embryos that clawed at the membrane from within. Others had engorged stalks the length of forearms, erect and dripping clear venom, whipping back and forth like blind serpents tasting the air. Between their legs were the writhing clusters of fleshy tendrils that dragged along the floor, leaving blood trails.

Arthur bashed the succubi with a wrench in one hand and slashed at them with his other, but he was quickly overwhelmed and driven to the floor.

The wrench went flying as claws raked across his flesh, and fangs sank into his shoulder. Arthur’s roars of pain echoed through the chamber.

Emily screamed and unleashed a torrent of fire onto the demons. They cried, caught in the inferno, and fell to the floor as their bodies were consumed. Before she could unleash another wave of fire, though, the other door—the one leading back into the boiler room—burst open. Clara screamed, swinging her claws at the horde charging in, their screams and howls mingling with the crackling of flames and the wet, tearing sounds of flesh being ripped apart as their bodies shifted and transformed.

Succubi latched onto Clara, sinking its fangs deep. Another caught her across the chest with its talons. Blood sprayed everywhere as more of them piled on, pulling her to the ground.

Emily’s heart raced as she quickly looked from side to side. She was pinned, her only exits blocked once again. She barely dodged as a succubus launched itself at her, its jaws snapping inches from her face. Fire erupted from Emily’s palms, engulfing the demon in a blazing inferno. The creature twisted in mid-air, flesh charring as it crashed to the floor and writhed in agony.

“Mom!” Emily cried. “Dad!”

She was suddenly driven to the hard tile floor, scraping her skin raw as a succubus pinned her down. Its breasts had split vertically and were breathing, the nipples opened and closed like gasping gills, exhaling hot, sour filth across Emily’s face. Between its thighs a second, smaller mouth opened wetly, lined with needle teeth. She twisted her body and reached out. Her father’s wrench flew into her hand, and she swung it with all her might, bashing the succubus’s skull in. One of the creature’s horns snapped off, and blood splattered across Emily’s face. The succubus stumbled, its head lolling to the side as a river of crimson poured from the cratered skull. Bits of brain matter oozed from the wound, and one of its eyes had popped from its socket, dangling by a thread. The succubus’s twisted smile returned, a gurgling laugh bubbling up through the blood filling its mouth.

Emily’s heart pounded as she jumped to her feet, grabbing the broken horn. She plunged it into the creature’s chest, only to be blindsided by another succubus that tackled her into the pool of blood at the center of the chamber.

Several other succubi leaped in after them.

Emily’s head went under. The blood was warm and thick, flooding her mouth, nose and eyes; It tasted like copper. Claws raked down her ribs, across her breasts, between her legs, shredding her clothes to ribbons. Something thick and ridged forced its way between her thighs, not a tail, but a pulsing ovipositor, slick with mucus, probing blindly. Emily screamed; the sound came out as a wet gurgle as the blood filled her lungs. Above her, the succubi’s bellies distended, wombs glowing faintly under stretched skin, ready to burst and spill new sisters into the pool with her.

Then, the succubus’s grip loosened, and Emily’s head broke the surface of the pool. Blood gushed from her mouth as she vomited and choked it all up. She could barely see or breathe. When she managed to wipe the blood from her eyes, she saw that Arthur and Clara had thrown themselves into the blood after her. Arthur’s claws punched straight through one succubus’s swollen belly and came out clutching a fistful of writhing, half-formed fetuses still attached by glistening cords. He ripped them free in a spray of black fluid. Clara sank her fangs into another’s throat, but kept going, tearing downward until she split the creature open. The pool churned with blood and gore, the liquid thickening with viscera as more and more succubi swarmed them.

Clara’s scream was blood-curdling as a succubus bit into her shoulder, tearing a hunk of flesh away in its jaws. Arthur’s roar of pain echoed through the chamber as claws raked down his sides.

Everything seemed to slow down.

Emily tried to stand, but the blood weighed her down like a thick and suffocating blanket, like it was trying to pull her back under. Her vision was a haze of blood and tears. All she saw through the crimson blur was her parents being overwhelmed. All she heard was the sickening rip of flesh being torn, and the crunching of bones snapping like thick, dry branches. Her chest burned as a succubus latched onto her, its claws digging deep into her shoulders, dragging her down. Emily fought with every ounce of strength she had left, but her fire was sputtering weakly from her fingertips like dying embers.

She had no fight left in her.

Blood rushed down Emily’s throat as she went under, pain exploding across her body.

This was how it ended. Overwhelmed and drowned in a pool of blood. But, to her surprise, her heart didn’t stop. She could feel it beating faster and faster. Heat started building up inside her, pumping through her to the beat of her heart. No, she couldn’t let it end like this, not after everything she had been through. She was the conduit. Sorcerers bend magic to their will, but she is its master! Her blood began to boil, literally boiling in her veins. Her skin grew uncomfortably hot, her body trembling with the sudden surge of energy. She was the embodiment of all magic, the convergence of every arcane force that coursed through Ageria.

And then, a wave of blistering heat exploded from her.

Emily launched to her feet as the pool of blood erupted, a primal, pained scream tearing through her throat. The succubi were shrieking, their flesh melting away like wax, their eyes swelling and bursting in their skulls, oozing down their faces like overripe fruit.

The heat radiating from her was almost unbearable, as if she were made of fire herself. The fracture scars had opened, splitting her skin further as it traveled up her arms, as if her body was tearing itself apart. The magma flowing beneath her skin began to bubble and billow steam. Her fingers glowed like coals freshly pulled from a furnace.

One succubus lunged anyway, its vulva splitting wide into a vertical, toothed gash that drooled boiling fluid. The heat hit it mid-leap; the lips blackened and curled back like burning paper, exposing a tunnel of flesh that cooked from the inside out. The creature landed twitching, legs splayed, womb steaming and collapsing inward as the embryos inside flash-boiled and burst through the abdominal wall in a spray of scalding yolk. One succubus spread its legs obscenely wide, trying to birth one last sister even as its skin blistered and smoked. The newborn’s head crowned, then cooked solid halfway out, fusing mother and child into a single blackened statue of screaming meat before it toppled sideways and shattered.

Emily glanced down at her hands, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t know what was happening to her or how she was doing this, but it was working. Emily looked out at the horde of succubi surrounding her, the monsters, and how they wouldn’t dare go near her. Whatever this magic was, it was powerful, and she didn’t know how long she could hold it.

Arthur and Clara were wading over to her through the pool of blood. When she reached them, Arthur and Clara clung to her, and as they fell under the waves of heat she was emitting, it passed over them harmlessly, like a breeze brushing past a rock.

Emily tried taking a step, but her body was so caked in blood that her limbs were stiff and heavy. She managed out of the pool with their help, straining as she held onto the magic raging inside her. For once, it wasn’t a fading smoke, it was a solid, volatile thing she could squeeze. It felt weird, her body shuddering as too many sensations to keep track of washed through her.

With her parents by her side, Emily walked out of the bath chamber, the hoard of succubi trailing behind, snarling and shrieking, but unable to get too close. The air around Emily was a furnace, and the succubi hissed and spat as their skin bubbled when they got too near. The floor scorched beneath her feet, and fire began exploding from the fracture scars in her arms with bursts of white light. It wasn’t wild or chaotic, but controlled, as if the flames themselves were an extension of her. They surged toward the succubi, cutting them down. The fire was turning silver, growing brighter until it was white-hot like the sun. Embers shot through the air like a blizzard was erupting from Emily. Her eyes started to glow until they were consumed by a blinding, white light.

It didn’t look like fire anymore. To any onlooker, it could only be described as magic. Pure, raw magic. It burned brighter, hotter, until suddenly it stopped.

Emily could see again. She and her parents had made their way through the corridor, down the blood-streaked halls, and all the way up to the first floor. Emily was limping, her body quaking with the effort of holding herself together. Arthur and Clara had to half-carry her up the steps as her legs nearly gave out.

Emily looked back at the succubi that had gathered at the foot of the stairs behind them. They were out of their territory now, far enough from their nest. There was no reason to keep chasing their prey. With one last shriek of frustration, the succubi turned away, retreating back into the asylum.

When they reached the top of the stairs, the heat that had been boiling inside her vanished in an instant. She felt like she’d plunged naked into a frozen lake during a blizzard. She shivered violently, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as she struggled to stay upright. Her heart was aching, thundering in her ears.

“Emily!” She faintly heard her name being called through the ringing.

“Emily!” It was her mother’s voice.

Her parents looked at her with a mix of worry and horror. She was completely soaked in blood and looked like she had just clawed her way out of hell itself.

Maybe she had.

“Emily,” Arthur said again, “Are you alright?”

She managed a weak smile, forcing herself to work through the pain.

Clara reached out hesitantly, her hands trembling, like he didn’t know if he should touch her or not. “Emily, your arms…”

“What’s happening to you?” Arthur asked. He didn’t hesitate, brushing his fingers over Emily’s glowing skin, only to recoil as she burned her fingertips.

Emily looked down at her arms. They were still glowing with the same molten liquid that had erupted from her moments ago, and her skin had fractured up to her elbows. Despite the frigid sensation, she could still faintly feel the heat pulsing beneath the surface, like magma flowing through her veins. It was a strange sensation, both painful and exhilarating at the same time. She clenched her fists, and the light flared briefly before dimming again. It was a miracle she was standing, much less remaining conscious.

“I’ll explain later,” Emily managed to say with a dry, raspy voice. “We need to get out of here… How long until the boilers explode?”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know anymore…”

Mina reloaded both of her guns.

The hallway behind her was a slaughterhouse. The walls were painted with blood, and bodies were strewn like broken dolls. Her heart was hammering in her chest, each beat pounding like a war drum in her ears, adrenaline surging through her veins like coal feeding a roaring furnace. She was exhausted, and yet still had more energy in her than she had ever felt. She was so slathed up with gore a trail of dripping visera was left in her wake.

She and Henrik had made their way through the second floor, having searched nearly every inch of it. But finally, they had found him. At the end of the hallway, they stepped into a large, open room that looked like it had once been a recreation hall. Thick curtains bloated out the sun, with only a few slivers of light peeking through. The furniture was haphazardly stacked against the walls and draped in dusty tarps, almost like they had been purposefully set aside to make room for such an open area.

And in the center of it all stood Draven.

His sword of black steel was already drawn. His regal attire was more formal than ever, with a cape draped over his broad shoulders, held in place by a gleaming golden brooch. His hair was slicked back, and his face… it was nearly whole again. The once melted visage had healed, but not perfectly. Mina could still see the faint lines, like hairline cracks in porcelain, where the skin had knit itself back together. How long had he been waiting here, theatrically?

He looked up as they entered, a taunting smirk curving his lips. His silver eyes gleamed. “There she is. The Raven of Reghin.”

Mina didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. Her heart was racing, but not from the adrenaline anymore. She had to force herself to appear calm, but inside her mind raced with the speed of a hurricane.

Henrik sheathed his bloodied sword and drew the halberd from his back.

Draven stared them down, almost like he was sizing them up. His grin slowly widened to a smile. “Oh, this should be fun.”

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED TODAY’S CHAPTER!

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