100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 760: Chapter 759- A Mermaid in Millbrook

The healing magic flowed from her hands into the worker, restoring his energy. The man, who had been on his knees, stood. He picked up his tools and returned to the wall.

Olivia, turning to the next worker, continued. The healing was constant and also a motivator. Work hard and she would heal you. Fake it and she would know. The priestess, whose gentle nature had been tempered by the demands of war, was no longer just a healer. She was a general.

Elara flew.

The succubus, whose wings had been a gift from Viktor’s power, was in her element. The pink hair streamed behind her, catching the wind. The tail whipped through the air as a rudder. The wings beat with a rhythm both natural and supernatural, carrying her across the territory at speeds no human could match.

She was hunting.

The spies, the men and women who had been sent by neighboring nobles to observe and report, were her prey. Her eyes, which could see through charm and deception, found them. Disguises and covers meant nothing to her.

The first spy, a man posing as a merchant, was in the market. Elara landed. The impact was light, drawing no attention. She approached. The charm magic, which she radiated, hit him. He looked at her. He would tell her everything.

"Who sent you?" she asked. Her voice was sweet and hypnotic, carrying the succubus compulsion. He could not lie. He would answer.

The man, whose eyes had glazed, spoke. "Lord Castien. He sent me to observe the territory and report on the defenses."

The name was noted. Another noble who wanted to know. He would be dealt with.

"Who else is here?" Elara asked.

"Three others. Two in the market. One in the barracks."

The information was extracted in seconds. Her hand, which had been at her side, moved. The claw, the succubus claw that could tear steel, found his throat.

The man, who had been charmed, died without feeling it. He could not have stopped it even if he had tried. The body, hidden beneath an illusion, would not be found.

She flew. To the next spy. And the next. And the next. The systematic clearing of every enemy agent in the territory was her work. Shadow. Blade. His.

And then there was Mira.

The woman, who alone was handling the battlefield, was a catastrophe.

The battlefield, which was the border between the Millbrook territory and the neighboring kingdom, was a wasteland. The ground, which had been green, was black. The grass, which had been growing, was ash. The air, which had been clean, was thick with smoke and the smell of blood.

The neighboring kingdom, which had sent an army to claim the territory, had made a mistake. They thought they could take it by force. They had underestimated what they were dealing with.

Mira hovered in the air. Her body, suspended above the battlefield, was a dark silhouette against the smoke. Her hair, dark and wild, streamed in the wind. Her eyes, glowing with demonic light, surveyed the field. Everything below her was hers.

The catapults, fired by the enemy, were swung. Not at the walls. At her. The massive stones, each one the size of a carriage, arced through the sky. The trajectory was aimed at the hovering woman, precise.

Mira raised her hand. The gesture was casual. She did not care. They could not touch her. The magic, which erupted from her palm, was a wall. Invisible and solid, it intercepted the stones. The impact, which should have shattered the barrier, did nothing. The stones crumbled on contact.

The rubble rained down on the enemy. The army, which had been advancing, was now being crushed by their own ammunition. Screams rose from the soldiers.

"AAAAGH—!!"

"MY LEG—!! MY LEG—!!"

"RETREAT—!! RETREAT—!!"

The screams, varied and desperate, filled the battlefield. The men, who had been marching, were running. The retreat was disordered and panicked. A rout. They could not fight her. They were going to die.

Mira did not let them retreat. The hand, which had been raised, lowered. The magic, which had been a wall, became a weapon. The dark energy, which erupted from her palm, was not a beam. It was a wave. The wave swept across the battlefield and hit the retreating army.

The men caught in the wave died. Not quickly. The dark energy, demonic in nature, did not kill. It converted. The bodies, which had been alive, became vessels. The demons, summoned from the dark energy, emerged from the corpses. The dead became demons. Their army was now her army.

The demons, which rose from the fallen soldiers, were not powerful. Low-level foot soldiers. But they were numerous. Each fallen soldier produced one. The army, which had been a thousand strong, became a thousand demons.

GRAAAAOOR—!!

The roar, not from a dragon but from the ground itself, accompanied the summoning. The earth split open to release the demons. Fissures ran across the battlefield like scars. The land, which had been a border, was now a graveyard. A graveyard that produced soldiers. For Mira. For the Millbrook. For the lord.

The title, which the system had granted her, was ’Demoness Queen’. She commanded demons. She ruled the battlefield. She had alone destroyed an army. She was his most powerful weapon.

The players, the ones who had arrived to conquer the territory, had been defeated. The ambition to take the tower was crushed. The tower, which had appeared as part of the system’s event, was now a symbol. Not of conquest. Of submission. You cannot win. Join or die.

The defeated players, who had been warriors and mages and strategists in their own right, were given a choice. Fight and die, or submit and serve. The ones who chose submission were turned into soldiers. They would fight for Millbrook. They would be stronger than they were before.

The ranks, which had been depleted by the battle, were replenished. The new soldiers, the former enemies, were integrated. They were Millbrook now. Their past did not matter. The men, who had been trying to kill them hours ago, were now comrades.

The countryside, the towns and villages that surrounded Millbrook, were given the chance. Join voluntarily or be conquered. The men, who had been farmers and fishermen and craftsmen, were given weapons. They were soldiers now. They would fight for the lord.

"FOR THE LORD—!!"

"FOR THE LORD—!!"

"FOR THE LORD—!!"

The chant, which rose from the training grounds, was thunder. The men, who had been civilians days ago, were now soldiers. The transformation was rapid and brutal and necessary. They needed an army. The civil war was coming. The motivation, visible in every face, was real. They believed in him. He would protect them.

The territory, which had been a single town, was expanding. The borders, which had been modest, were pushed. The neighboring kingdoms, which had sent armies, were pushed back. Their land was now Millbrook land, and they could not stop it. The expansion was rapid and aggressive. Not subtle. A statement. They were here. They were not leaving.

The power, which soared through the sky, was visible. The magic circles, the dragons, the demons, the walls, the soldiers. All of it, the combined might of a territory that was no longer a town but a nation in formation, was on display. Do not fuck with them. They were the future.

And then, above it all, Victor hovered.

The man, who was naked, held the mermaid in his arms. His horns, the twin amethyst crystals that crowned his head, caught the sunlight. His tail, the scaled appendage that swayed behind him, was visible. He was not human. He was their lord.

He looked down. At his territory. At the walls and the dragons and the soldiers and the magic circles. At the expanding borders and the defeated enemies and the growing army. At the women, who were managing it all in his absence. At the town, which was no longer a town but the foundation of an empire.

"It looks good," he said.

The mermaid, who was in his arms, looked up. Her golden eyes, wet with tears, found his face.

"Will I be able to prove my worth, husband?" she asked. Her voice was melodic and soft. She wanted to be useful. She did not want to be a burden.

He looked at her. Directly. Into her golden eyes. The green met the gold. Steady.

"You do not need to," he said.

He smiled. Warm and genuine. He kissed her forehead. Gentle.

The system popped.

The notification, which appeared in his field of vision, was golden. The text was concise.

[Target: Mermaid — Confirmed]

[Status: Impregnated]

[Gestational Period: 3 Months]

[Note: Mermaid pregnancy accelerated due to divine sovereignty influence]