Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users-Chapter 238: They Don’t Deserve It

Hey everyone,

Just wanted to give a quick update and explain the delay in the bonus Chapters.

I’m currently traveling, and I’ve been relying on mobile data to write and upload Chapters.

Unfortunately, the signal has been weak in a lot of areas, and most of the previous bulk Chapters I had prepared were already used up during the days when I had almost no service at all, not even enough to open the app properly.

Because of that, the bonus Chapters have been delayed. I’m really sorry for the wait. I’m doing my best to find a place with stable Wi-Fi so I can write and upload in bulk again.

Once I get a decent connection, I’ll try to catch up and get everything back on track.

Thanks so much for your patience and support—it means a lot.

Author.

...

The temperature didn’t fall, but the walls around them seemed more alert. Not like they were reacting to power, but like they were listening.

Lilith reached into the case and handed out the rings one by one.

Liliana took hers first, sliding it on without hesitation. It fit like it had always been there, smooth and seamless, like it was never truly off her finger.

Seraphina studied hers briefly, not because she doubted, but because she always took a moment before claiming anything with weight. Then she slipped it on with the same fluid motion she used to close deals that changed nations.

Isabella held hers between her fingers, rotating it once as if tasting its weight. Then she slipped it onto her left index without ceremony.

Lilith placed hers last.

The fourth and final one, the one made for Ethan, remained in the box. Untouched. Waiting.

The house responded immediately.

No lights dimmed. No sound echoed.

But somewhere beneath the floors, behind the walls, buried under generations of protective spellwork and silenced history, something very old stirred and locked into place.

Not to defend.

To recognize.

To acknowledge that all four had returned to full alignment.

Lilith raised her teacup again, eyes soft but focused.

"We go together because this isn’t just about cleaning up loose ends. It’s about ending a story that should’ve never been written."

No one questioned the statement. No one needed further context.

Seraphina stood first. "I’ll take down the satellite sweeps. We don’t want them seeing anything, not even static."

Liliana rose alongside her. "I’ll prep what we need. Light, fast, silent. No flames. No trails."

Isabella lingered. Her gaze met Lilith’s and held for a second longer.

"Will you bring your blade?"

Lilith paused, then exhaled through her nose.

"No."

Isabella gave a small, rare smile. Not cold. Not sarcastic.

"Good," she said. "They don’t deserve it."

She turned and left the room.

Seraphina followed, already calculating the blackout trajectory.

Liliana nodded once at her mother and walked out without another word.

Lilith didn’t move right away.

She stayed seated, sipping her tea, letting the moment breathe.

Not thinking.

Not planning.

Just waiting.

Because tomorrow, when the first breath of frost touched the last unmarked part of the map—

They would finish what the cult started.

And nothing would remain.

—

The northern wastes didn’t shift like they used to. The skies held no stars. No birds crossed them. The clouds were frozen in place, thick and gray with an edge of violet where the sun should have been.

Even time moved differently here.

At the far end of the cliffs, a temple had been carved into the mountain itself. Not built. Carved. Hewn directly from the cliffside like a wound that never healed.

The entrance loomed—jagged, towering, not shaped for human scale. It looked like something had torn into the earth, and instead of healing, the land had formed stone teeth around the damage.

Bones sat scattered in the snow nearby. Not shattered. Not random.

Arranged.

Laid out in patterns too precise to be nature.

Dozens of tents surrounded the cliffs. Their canvas was covered in faded runes. Crystals had been buried along their borders, and strange circles were painted into the ground—colors not found in any recognized army.

The cult was ready.

At least, they thought they were.

Some of them wore armor made of salvaged scrap plates from grave sites, stitched runes from ruined battlefields.

Others wore robes blackened from weather and age, trimmed with feathers and bones.

All of them were armed. But none of them carried anything clean.

Their weapons pulsed faintly. One sword hissed with something that looked like smoke, but moved like oil. Another staff sparked softly, the energy twitching like nerve endings.

At the front of the camp stood their leader.

Or what was left of him.

His form was twisted, pulled in ways that anatomy should never allow. One arm hung nearly half a meter longer than the other. His spine was bent, but didn’t break.

His skin was cracked in patterns that looked like divine inscriptions—except they were incomplete.

His face twitched every few seconds, like something trapped beneath the flesh still wanted out.

He leaked energy.

Not glowing.

Leaking.

It was visible in the air, a faint ripple of pressure like glass under heat. But it was audible too. Like the grinding of bone, muffled by cloth. Like teeth scraping from inside a box.

The cultists didn’t fear him.

They revered what he had become.

They waited in silence.

And they had no idea who they were waiting for.

—

The first flicker appeared along the eastern ridge.

No sound. No flare. Just a shift.

One presence.

Then three more.

No alarms were triggered.

And then Liliana dropped.

She didn’t descend gently. She didn’t float. She felt like a warhead—controlled, precise, but with no intention of being stopped.

Her boots slammed into the earth at the camp’s edge, and the outer barrier cracked—not with light, but with sound. A low structural groan passed through the air as if the enchantment itself had just lost confidence.

The protective field around the cult base didn’t fail.

It submitted.

She moved immediately. Her form blurred forward. Her lance extended in a single smooth motion. Her foot hit the dirt once, and the front wall—stone, sigils, reinforced steel—split in two.

It didn’t explode. It just came apart.

The next second, Seraphina arrived behind her.

She didn’t touch the ground.

She floated just above it, one hand raised. A silver orb rested against her palm, unlit, unmoving.

She tapped the top of the orb with one finger.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢