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*****
{Chapter: 77: Beauty In Gregg's Tavern}
Dex relaxed even further, kicking his feet up onto the battered table and folding his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes slightly, listening intently to the murmurs of conversation that flowed like a chaotic river around him.
However, after several minutes, his lips curled into a smirk of disdain.
Boastful lies, drunken fantasies, empty threats — the same dreary nonsense you could find in any back-alley watering hole, whether in a kingdom of men or the lowest pit of the Abyss.
How disappointing.
Sensing his boredom, the bartender hesitated for a moment before leaning in, speaking in a conspiratorial tone, "Forgive my curiosity, sir… but are you from another layer of the Abyss?"
Dex cracked one eye open, studying the man for a moment. The question wasn't entirely out of place — even within the Abyss, there were countless layers, each one twisted in its own unique fashion.
"Yes," Dex said with a slight shrug.
He supposed the Wailing Forest — a savage, cursed region, the beginning village of the Abyss he had recently escaped — counted as another layer. Technically, it wasn't a lie.
The bartender nodded, a wistful sigh escaping him. "No wonder. You carry only the faintest scent of the Lava Wastelands… not native at all. I envy you, traveler. You've seen sights I can only dream of."
He paused, then added with a touch of sadness, "I've never left this tavern. Not once. This place… it is my whole world."
Dex arched his brow. His tone became almost teasing. "Oh? Shackled by a cruel owner, perhaps?"
The bartender laughed dryly, shaking his head. "No chains. No bindings. Only the cold truth of weakness."
His voice softened, the lively edge fading. "My parents were outsiders — not born of the Abyss. They stumbled into this cursed world through a rift they could never return from. Strangers… lost and afraid. They found this tavern and thought they had found sanctuary."
A shadow crossed his face.
"But after a night of drinking, they quarreled with others... and were torn apart like scraps of meat. When the staff was cleaning up the aftermath, they found me — still curled inside my mother's cooling body."
He chuckled bitterly. "A pity, isn't it? Born not even of love, but of accident. Raised by tavern-keepers who had little use for me beyond mixing drinks and cleaning floors."
His shoulders sagged.
"I could leave if I wanted, but what would await me out there? I have no strength, no skills beyond tending bar. Beyond these doors... I am nothing but prey."
Dex regarded him silently for a moment, then offered a rare, genuine nod of respect. "Still, you're better off than most."
The bartender smiled faintly, bowing his head in gratitude. It wasn't much, but a small kindness in the Abyss was worth more than gold.
Just as Dex was about to lift his drink again, a soft, sultry voice whispered beside his ear:
"Handsome… would you be willing to buy a lady a drink?"
Turning his head lazily, Dex found himself looking at a creature designed purely to tempt the weak-willed: a succubus.
She was a vision of sinful beauty — small, curved horns peeked from her flowing violet hair, and a pair of delicate wings fluttered behind her like a silken cape. Her body was perfect — lithe, athletic, yet lush in all the right places. Her thighs were strong and toned like a dancer's, tapering down to legs ending in cloven hooves, the dark leather of her armor clinging tightly to her every curve.
Her armor, if it could even be called that, left little to the imagination. It was a mere suggestion of clothing — barely covering anything, designed more to captivate than protect. A thin whip coiled at her hip, the handle polished from use.
Her tail, long and whip-like, swayed behind her suggestively, betraying her playful nature.
Dex studied her with detached interest.
"Succubus," he thought. "Lower-class demon, feeding on lust and weak hearts."
Still, there was no harm in indulging a bit.
"Alright," Dex said with a faint smile, tossing another soul crystal to the bartender with the casual air of a man throwing scraps to a pet. "Give this lovely lady something... memorable."
The succubus's eyes gleamed like twin crimson jewels, catching the dim, otherworldly light of the tavern. With a sway of her hips so exaggerated it looked almost theatrical, she twisted her lithe waist and sauntered over to Dex's table. Her movements were a calculated dance, every step designed to draw attention, to captivate — a siren's performance perfected over countless years.
Without a shred of hesitation, she lowered herself onto Dex's lap, her leather-clad body pressing against him with practiced intimacy. Draping an arm lazily over his shoulder, she pouted playfully and murmured in a voice as smooth and intoxicating as honeyed wine, "You are so generous, my handsome stranger. Not like some of the miserly rats in here who can't even spare a crystal for a lady's drink."
As she spoke, her slender fingers began to roam Dex's torso with a feline curiosity, tracing the sharp, elegant lines of muscle beneath his armor. Her touch was light but deliberate, as if trying to read him through the tips of her fingers. Her eyes widened slightly when she focused on intricate death flower pattern inked across his body — a complex, elegant design that seemed almost alive under the dim shifting lights.
She gasped, her voice laced with genuine fascination. "What a beautiful pattern… I noticed you the moment I walked into this pit," she breathed, her tail curling around Dex's leg like a playful snake. "I couldn't take my eyes off you. That mark... it's like it calls to something inside me."
Dex did not flinch. His smile remained easy, almost lazy, betraying nothing of his true thoughts. He had seen true horrors in his time — real monsters wearing masks of beauty and charm — and he had long since learned that outward appearance was the most deceptive illusion of all.
Without reacting to her roaming hands, he replied casually, "This flower is called the Death Flower. I'm glad you appreciate it."
The succubus shifted slightly on his lap, angling herself to better peer up at him, her horns brushing lightly against his chin. Despite her height — easily over two meters tall — Dex dwarfed her like a man might cradle a doll. Her delicate frame was nothing in his arms, a plaything easily crushed if he so desired.
The scent of blood clung to her like a lover's perfume, thick and sweet and just a little cloying. Dex leaned forward slightly, inhaling the scent with idle curiosity. His hand, strong and calloused, reached up to toy with one of her double horns, idly flicking it with a light touch.
The succubus laughed, the sound low and throaty, vibrating against his chest. She arched proudly under his hand and said, "Mmm, how is it? Doesn't it smell wonderful? I just finished a fresh blood bath. It makes the skin so supple, don't you think?"
Dex gave a slow nod, meeting her fiery gaze without blinking. "It's a fine scent," he agreed. "Very... vivid."
The bartender, a many-armed figure named Greg, placed a freshly mixed drink onto the table with mechanical efficiency. The succubus, still pressing herself close against Dex, picked up the glass and brought it to her lips. Before drinking, however, she rubbed her cheek affectionately against his chest, the gesture oddly catlike.
"Unlike you fire demons," she said in a sweet, almost childlike tone, "we succubi have to maintain appearances, no matter what. Charm is our first weapon... and sometimes our last."
Tilting her head, she studied Dex's face, her brows knitting together slightly in confusion. "But you... you're strange. I've met a few Balors before — hulking, terrifying things — but none of them were ever... handsome." She smiled mischievously. "You, my dear flame, could probably make an elf swoon."
Dex shrugged with the same nonchalance he wore like armor. "Mutation," he said simply. "Sometimes the Abyss gifts... peculiar changes. Explains everything, doesn't it?"
The bottomless abyss was a chaotic realm, a crucible of endless possibilities. Mutations were not just common — they were inevitable. Some creatures gained wings where there should be none, others birthed minds as sharp as daggers. A handsome Balor? In the grand theater of the Abyss, it was barely worth raising an eyebrow.
Hearing his answer, the succubus simply smiled knowingly and made no further inquiries. She had lived long enough to recognize when it was better not to poke into certain mysteries.
Instead, she laughed lightly, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers, and continued to chat and joke with Dex. Their conversation flowed with surprising ease, peppered with soft laughter, flirtatious remarks, and the occasional clinking of glasses. Around them, the tavern buzzed and fuck with life — the guttural roars of demons arguing, the soft cries of otherworldly minstrels playing broken, and moans of females enjoying the exhibition sex, ancient tunes, the steady clink of coins and soul crystals exchanging hands.
Time slipped by unnoticed, lost in the easy rhythm of conversation.
---
Much later, when Dex finally rose to leave, the succubus's seductive mask melted away like morning mist under the sun. Her smile faded, her body language shifting from flirtatious to deferential in an instant.
Standing by the counter, she bowed respectfully to Greg, the many-armed bartender who had been watching the entire exchange with unblinking eyes.
"Lord Greg," she said softly, "is there anything else you require of me?"
Greg, still methodically wiping glasses with a half-dozen hands, waved dismissively. "No," he said with a calm, almost absent tone. "You've done well. Go."
The succubus nodded and vanished into the shifting crowd without another word.
Greg, meanwhile, leaned on the counter and stared thoughtfully in the direction where Dex had disappeared. A slow, amused smile crept onto his face.
"A strange Balor indeed," he murmured to himself. "One with too many secrets tucked beneath that charming smile."
He polished the same glass over and over, lost in thought.
---
Outside, the streets of the Abyssal city twisted in impossible angles, glowing faintly with molten rivers of energy that ran like veins through the cracked earth. The air shimmered with heat and the coppery tang of spilled blood.
Dex walked through it all with a relaxed gait, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
'The Abyss truly is a marvel,' he mused. 'So many strange creatures... so many fascinating stories... each one richer than the last. It feels alive — raw and brutal, but alive. I think I'm going to enjoy it here.'
He passed a pair of dueling demons, their blades flashing under a flickering streetlamp. Further down, a trio of goblins argued over a charred map, their green faces twisted with greed. Dex ignored them all.
"The next step..." he muttered to himself, stretching lazily, "...is to find a place to stay."
He glanced around at the teeming, chaotic streets, a glint of mischief in his golden eyes.
"Looks like I'll have to pick a lucky passerby again..."
His smile deepened into something almost predatory as he melted into the ever-shifting crowd of the Abyss.
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