Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users-Chapter 242: Not Yet

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Chapter 242: Not Yet

Lilith closed her eyes.

She stood there for a while. Not moving and not speaking. Her breath didn’t rise. Her shoulders didn’t shift.

The room stayed still, the walls pulsing softly around her. In the center, the black fruit floated in place.

Then she spoke.

"Not yet."

The glow around the fruit faded, like something inside had accepted her words. The walls stopped moving. The air settled. And the fruit dropped.

It didn’t crash. It didn’t bounce. It just fell, like it had been waiting for permission to let go.

It landed with a soft, padded thud.

Lilith stepped forward. She picked it up with both hands. It was warm to the touch, heavier than expected. Still. Steady. Almost like it was breathing.

She turned and left.

The platform rose again, quietly and smoothly. When the doors opened into the war room, nothing had changed visibly.

But the air felt tighter, like time had stretched thin while the others waited.

All three of them turned when she entered.

Lilith set the fruit down in the center of the table. It didn’t roll. It didn’t pulse. It just rested there, like it already knew its place.

"New orders," she said.

Liliana stood up straighter.

Isabella uncrossed her arms and looked at the fruit, then at Lilith.

Seraphina didn’t speak. But her jaw tightened.

Lilith looked at each of them, one by one.

"No more holding back."

She let it sit there for a moment, letting the words sink in.

"They’ve started to remember," she said. "And we’re done pretending we’ve forgotten."

No one disagreed.

Seraphina swiped the current map aside and pulled up a hidden panel. They hadn’t used it in over ten years. It unlocked with her passcode and Lilith’s biometrics.

Red folders filled the screen—old orders, contingency plans, restricted assets.

"Do we go now?" Liliana asked.

"No," Lilith replied. "Tomorrow."

She turned from the table, voice steady.

"Let them sleep one last night."

The room was quiet again. But this silence felt heavier than before. It wasn’t coming from tension, but from something finally being accepted.

Even Isabella, usually the first to crack a sharp remark, said nothing.

They all understood what tomorrow meant.

This wasn’t about killing a cult anymore.

It was about what came after.

The next morning didn’t start with noise. It started with pressure.

Just after dawn, the mountain that had hidden the final cult base gave way. It wasn’t loud.

There was no rumble, no smoke, no cracks in the sky. One second, the peak was there. The next, it wasn’t.

There was no collapse, no explosion. Nothing violent.

It was more like the mountain had changed its mind—and erased everything inside it.

The temple disappeared. The slope flattened out. The snow drifted down, covering the new crater like nothing had ever been there. Not a single tree was disturbed.

No fire. No scream. No ripple of energy.

Just absence.

Seconds later, a secure relay hit the Superpower Association’s highest alert channel.

THREAT NEUTRALIZED. CONFIRMED.

There was no additional message. Just one image.

Lilith stood in the center of the clearing.

No armor. No weapons. Just her black heels pressing softly into the snow, her silver-white hair catching the dawn light, and her coat resting quietly on her shoulders.

She wasn’t smiling. But she didn’t look tired either.

Like she had just taken out the trash.

And was deciding whether anything else needed to be cleaned up.

No one in the Association replied. Not even the President. They knew better.

Back at the mansion, the war room stayed locked. The central map showed nothing left to track—no cult signals, no hidden outposts, no movement.

Seraphina handled the digital cleanup herself. Quietly. Methodically. She traced old names tied to the cult—suppliers, fake permit holders, side-channel allies.

Even the ones who didn’t know what they were part of. All of them disappeared from the records. Not flagged. Not warned. Just erased.

The kind of work only she could do.

Isabella had left before anyone asked. She didn’t say where she was going, but Lilith didn’t stop her. She didn’t need to.

There were always a few who got away.

Liliana remained at the estate, managing layered security across all Nocturne assets. Both public and private.

Anything suspicious was marked for inspection. Anything marked was quietly queued for a sweep.

She moved through it all without hesitation.

By noon, Velmora’s update arrived.

Plain. Minimal.

OUTER ZONES: CLEAR. PERIMETER STABLE. ZERO HOSTILE PRESENCE.

No voice. No call. Just text. Signed. Time-stamped.

That was enough.

By the time evening settled in, the systems across their network reported calm.

But no one relaxed.

Not really.

Because they all felt it, something subtle had shifted ever since the fruit in Sector Nine had spoken. The seal that held something ancient at bay... had cracked just enough to whisper.

And now the quiet that followed wasn’t peace.

It was a warning.

A silence waiting to break.

Lilith stood alone on the balcony of the inner library. The sky outside was painted orange from the setting sun.

The long windows stretched from floor to ceiling, casting soft shadows behind her. She didn’t move.

Her arms rested lightly on the railing, and her eyes stayed fixed on the far edge of the horizon.

She wasn’t thinking about the cult.

Or the temple that no longer existed.

Or the world that still believed she and her daughters had gone quiet.

Her thoughts were on the voice—the one from the black fruit.

The one that had whispered a word she hadn’t heard in centuries.

Mother.

Not a threat.

Not a scream for help.

Just a greeting.

And it had come far too early.

Behind her, the door opened.

Seraphina stepped in, her steps quiet, her tone even softer. "They’re asleep."

Lilith didn’t turn. Just nodded.

Seraphina waited near the railing, watching her mother’s profile. She didn’t speak again right away. She could feel something was still turning behind Lilith’s calm expression.

After a moment, Lilith spoke.

"They’ll come again. Not the cult. Something worse."

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed. "From where?"

Lilith’s voice stayed quiet. "Wherever that voice came from."

A pause stretched between them.

Then Lilith turned just slightly, enough to meet her daughter’s gaze.

"When they arrive... we won’t stop them."

Seraphina frowned. "Why not?"

Lilith looked back out the window.

"Because the moment they try... the world will remember who we are."

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