The way of the fist

It was a happy day for the village. The birth of a new girl. 

Some villagers gathered around the modest wooden house, curiosity taking the better of them when they heard the news. Births were a rarity in this secluded corner of the Sentora region, and the arrival of a child was an occasion to be cherished.

"A baby girl, born here? It's been so long!"

"I heard her father is that wandering hero who passed through the village not too long ago."

While the appearance of heroes wasn't unheard of, it wasn't exactly commonplace either. This village had a reputation for being secretive while attractive to numerous men often filled with perverted attitudes and expectations. 

And who could blame them? The village, after all, was known as the Succubus Village. Though its inhabitants appeared as ordinary humans, some of them were anything but. Some of the women here were succubi hiding in plain sight.

For centuries, their secret had remained intact. A ritual to transform human women into succubi was held every hundred years, ensuring their lineage continued. Yet, it had been decades since the last ceremony, and the village had quietly adapted to the absence of new succubi.

Now, however, something extraordinary had happened—a succubus was being born naturally, without the need for ancient rites. Few among the gathered villagers knew the full truth of what this birth meant. To most, it was simply a rare blessing, a joyous event in their tranquil lives.

Inside the house, the mother held her newborn daughter close, her gaze brimming with love and expectation. The baby, delicate and new to the world, had arrived with two small pink wings and a tiny tail of the same hue, gently curling as she moved. Her bright ruby eyes, barely open, looked up at her mother, and the succubi gathered here to witness her arrival.

"She has potential," murmured an elder succubi who had come to see the child. She was the mayor of this town, and the one witnessing this birth. "A child born of a promising hero and one of us. She might become strong."

"You think so?" the mother, Elira, asked, her smile softening as she brushed a strand of her purplish hair from her daughter's forehead.

 The mayor nodded thoughtfully. "I do. However, we've seen how potential doesn't always lead to greatness."

"Yeah, don't get too carried away," another chimed in while sitting on a chair nearby. "We all remember what happened with your daughter, Mayor."

"Please don't bring that up…"

The mother glanced down at her newborn, tightening her hold on the child protectively. "This is different," she said firmly. "I'll make sure to raise her into a proper succubus. She won't fail."

The mayor's expression softened. "I hope you do, Elira. Otherwise, our legacy might be in peril."

The other succubus showed a teasing grin. "Oh, don't stress too much. You'll still be here for the next Purple Sabbath, won't you, Mayor?"

The mayor let out a weary sigh. "It's in fifty years, Trish. I'm not sure to be around by then. Hopefully, my daughter will take over the role instead."

Trish nodded, looking at the tiny infant with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "By the way, Elira…" She tilted her head, admiring the newborn. "What are you going to call her?"

Elira smiled softly, her fingers caressing the baby's delicate face. "I was thinking… Alma Elma. Kind soul."

Trish stifled a laugh, her hand hovering over her mouth. "Kind soul? Seriously?"

"If you're not happy then get out you whore," Elira shot back a glare. "Go get drunk for all I care."

"Pfff, at least my kid will be living the good life when she arrives. You're just setting yours up for failure with a name like that."

Elira's face hardened, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Get out," she snapped. "Or I'm going to stuff your mouth with potatoes until you choke on them."

"Hey, hey! Let's not get crazy!" Trish recoiled back with her hands waving in the air. "I was joking."

"Ah… Please don't make a scene you two…" the mayor sighed. 

Trish smirked, her eyes flicking to the mayor. "Well, she stole the hero from me," she said with a mock pout, pointing accusingly at Elira. "That's how it all started."

The mayor sighed heavily, muttering to herself, "Please, not this again…"

Elira, still holding her daughter with a firm but gentle grip, narrowed her eyes at Trish. "Not my fault if you were incapable of seducing him."

"Well at least I'm not a stealing whore!" Trish shot back, her arms crossed.

"You're just a good-for-nothing, a parasite!"

"No boobs!"

"Stinky bitch!"

"Uppity slut!"

The mayor, clearly on the brink of exhaustion, sighed deeply. "I'm too old for this…"

With a long-suffering sigh, she approached the still-fuming Elira, her expression softening. With practiced ease, she gently took the baby from her arms and cradled the tiny infant carefully. Smiling down at Alma Elma, the mayor's tone softened. "Hello little one," she murmured. 

"Welcome to the world, Alma Elma."