Lord Of Succubi:Transmigrated As A Dual Cultivator In Isekai Of Magic



Nexus turns, his expression attentive, as Mike imparts his counsel. "It's best to stay away from nighttime activities for a while. Let the police handle the investigation. Necromancers are creatures of the night, and the more you dig, the higher the chance the Necromancer may target you again. It's a dangerous game."

The gravity of Mike's words settles on Nexus like a heavy shroud. The mention of Necromancers, beings not only capable of manipulating corpses but summoning creatures from hell itself, sends a shiver down Nexus's spine. The reality of the threat becomes starkly apparent, and the cautionary tone in Mike's voice is not lost on him.

"Thank you for your concern, Mike," Nexus replies, his tone appreciative, but the resolute glint in his eyes remains. "But I can't afford to stay idle. Nora's still unconscious, and I need to find the killer before it's too late."

Mike's expression reveals a mix of understanding and concern. "I get it, Nexus. Just be careful. The darkness holds more than just secrets, and some things are better left undisturbed."

Nexus nods in acknowledgment, grateful for the advice yet unwavering in his determination. The shadows may conceal more than he can fathom, but the quest for answers propels him forward, undeterred by the ominous warnings that linger in the air.

…....

Seated in his office behind his grand desk, Reaves's brow furrowed with the weight of concern etched across his features, Reaves found himself enveloped in a cloud of introspection, his powerful frame seemed momentarily diminished as he replayed the harrowing events of the past days in his mind. The recent threat to his daughter Tiffany's life lingered in his thoughts, a haunting specter that refused to dissipate. Crystal's timely intervention and Tom's detective instincts had been the saving grace, averting a tragedy that could have shattered Reaves's world. The thought of Tiffany, his beloved daughter, teetering on the edge of danger, fueled the storm of concern that brewed within him.

As the leader of the city, Reaves had always been a pillar of strength, an emblem of authority and resilience, and a guardian against the shadows that threatened their existence. However, the recent attempt on Tiffany's life had shaken the very foundations of his confidence. Crystal's intervention and Tom's sharp instincts had spared Tiffany, but the haunting realization lingered—his daughter's safety was not guaranteed, even within the confines of their seemingly secure existence.

The depth of Reaves's depression became evident as he contemplated the vulnerability of those he held dear. The mantle of leadership, usually worn with unwavering resolve, now bore the scars of uncertainty. 

Reaves as a formidable figure in his own right, harbored suspicions that Dracula was the elusive puppeteer orchestrating the sinister machinations. However, a cloud of uncertainty hung over these suspicions. Fear that is not of Dracula's age but of the unknown arsenal at his disposal, restrained Reaves from taking direct action.

In the silence of his office, Reaves found solace in neither the ornate surroundings nor the trappings of power that surrounded him. The weight of responsibility, a burden he had shouldered for years, now bore down on him with a newfound intensity. The dichotomy of being both a father and a city leader became a poignant reality, and the lines between civic duty and personal sacrifice blurred in the recesses of his thoughts.

The old man, Dracula's residence is like a looming fortress of arcane secrets, that stood as an impenetrable barrier. Reaves lacked concrete evidence to substantiate his suspicions, and the implications of accusing an influential figure without proof weighed heavily on him.

The conflict within Reaves mirrored the dichotomy of his role—a leader burdened by the personal turmoil that transcended the boundaries of civic duty. The city depended on him, and yet, the threat to his family cast a long shadow over his resolve. The intricate dance of power and vulnerability played out in the recesses of Reaves's thoughts, a silent struggle that only those closest to him could perceive.

As Reaves delved into the recesses of his memories, a heavy contemplation draped over him like a shroud. His mind journeyed back to a time when he and Dracula were not estranged, but instead, bound by a camaraderie that had weathered the storms of countless adventures. The bond between them had been forged in the crucible of shared experiences and youthful exploits, and Reaves couldn't escape the inescapable truth that he had known Dracula for the greater part of his life.

"Was there ever a choice?" Reaves mused, his gaze fixed on a point beyond the walls of his office. The memory of those days with Dracula's son replayed in vivid hues, a reminder of the laughter and camaraderie that had once defined their friendship. "It seems fate dealt a hand I never expected."

The defining moment, however, cast a long shadow over their shared history. A tragedy had unfurled, and Reaves found himself standing at the precipice of an agonizing decision. Dracula's son and Reaves had been best friends, inseparable in their adventures. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, Reaves had to make a choice that had forever alter the course of their intertwined destinies.

He recalled the pivotal moment, the crossroads where friendships fractured, and destinies diverged. "The lives I ended—Abby's parents. For the greater good, or so I convinced myself." The specter of morality hovered, casting shadows on the righteousness of his actions. "It has always and will always be a painful decision, one that severed ties and sowed the seeds of enmity."

The weight of that decision reverberated through Reaves's thoughts. He had been compelled to take the lives of his friend and his wife, Abby's parents, a choice that, while painful, was deemed necessary. The echoes of the consequences lingered in the haunting memory of that pivotal moment. Dracula both heartbroken and bereaved, had been left to care for his daughter, Abby, the lone survivor of a tragic tale.

Internally, Reaves grappled with the morality of his actions. The ethical quandary of having ended lives for the sake of an unforeseen greater good weighed heavily on his conscience. The bonds of friendship shattered, and Reaves faced the aftermath of a decision that had driven a wedge between him and Dracula.

"Abby," his mind whispered, a name laden with sorrow. The child left in the wake of my actions. He remembered how he used to carry the little girl and play with her, guilt gnawed at Reaves, and he questioned the righteousness of a sacrifice that left scars on innocent lives.

And then came the unspoken question, the one that lingered like an unyielding specter. "Did I deserve forgiveness?" he asked himself.

"Dracula and Abby have every reason to hate me." Despite the gravity of his actions, Reaves acknowledged the truth, the bitter taste of remorse seeping into the recesses of his consciousness. Reaves acknowledged that Dracula had every reason to harbor resentment and seek retribution. The fact that the old wounds hadn't healed with time was a testament to the enduring pain that lingered beneath the surface. However, going after Tiffany, Reaves's own daughter, was a line that even the embittered past couldn't justify.

But it seems that Dracula had dared to cross a line he should have never dared to cross, targeting Tiffany, Reaves's own flesh and blood.

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