The Incubus System Chapter 1186. Sexually Desperate
The Incubus System Chapter 1186. Sexually Desperate My vision blurred. “Mom…” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice. “Please be safe
The Incubus System Chapter 1186. Sexually Desperate
My vision blurred.
“Mom…” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice. “Please be safe…”
I forced my gaze to the edge of the rift—what little was left of it—and saw her.
Irien.
She stepped near the edge of the nearly-sealed rift, her long red dress billowing in the storm-winds of the collapsing portal. Her eyes glinted in the chaos.
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” she said coolly. “We’ll make sure the queen is safe and sound.”
I nodded slowly.
That was all I needed.
And then…
The rift snapped shut.
Like the final note of a cursed sound, the rift folded into itself and disappeared with a loud shrrrkkk and a ripple of silent pressure that sent my ears ringing.
And that was it.
It was done.
And the second it was— My wings stopped working.
Like, just gave up. Fully. They didn’t flap. Didn’t fold. Didn’t even twitch. It was like the muscles gave me the middle finger and noped out.
I dropped.
Straight out of the air like a paper bag full of bricks.
The wind screamed past my face as I fell, my vision flicking between black spots and red warnings from the system.
[Warning!]
[Warning!]
[WARNING! Your Demonic Power only has less than 2% left!]
[WARNING! System Overload Detected – Vital Support on Emergency Standby]
[WARNING! You will trigger your Incubus Rage status in 0:30 seconds.]
“…Oh, shit.”
I hit the ground hard. Rolled. Groaned. My cheek met the dirt like it was a long-lost lover.
And then the final system message hit.
[Incubus Rage Triggered]
[Condition: Sexually Desperate]
[Restoration Requirement: Intimate Demonic Link Required – Passive Demonic Power Regeneration Halted Until Condition Resolved]
I groaned louder. “Gods. Of. Hell.”
This was bad.
I’d felt it coming before, but never this bad.
This wasn’t just the usual “I’m drained, a kiss would help.”
This was feral.
Every nerve in my body was screaming for release. Every inch of me was pulsing with need—heat, ache, lust. My core was starved. My demonic instincts were no longer whispering naughty things in my head—they were screaming them on a megaphone and drawing diagrams.
[Additional Warning: Physical strength reduced by 60%. Magical regeneration disabled. Mental clarity disrupted. Do not engage in combat.]
“Yeah, no shit,” I muttered, rolling onto my back, my voice rough and hoarse.
I wasn’t even embarrassed about the state I was in anymore.
I mean, come on. I just saved the world. Again. Who cared if I lost my damn mind from sex withdrawal in the middle of a crater? If the humans wanted to judge, they could kiss my half-demonic ass.
Hell, let 'em watch.
I could barely move. My claws twitched. My breath came in short, ragged gasps. And everything below the waist felt like I was about to burst into fire and crawl out of my own skin.
“Alright…” I muttered. “Okay… okay, this is fine. I just need someone. Anyone. Now. Gods. Don’t even care if it’s in public. Or in front of the demons. Or the temple. Or the news.”
My vision flickered again. I could hear fighting still happening in the background—maybe stragglers. My girls were shouting, pushing the last of the attackers back.
They had no idea I was seconds away from turning into a raging sex-deprived mess of demonic hormones.
I needed to say something. Anything.
Footsteps.
Quick. Heavy.
I cracked my eyes open.
Two small figures creeping through the rubble. Twisted smiles. Sharp teeth.
Imps.
“Shit…” I whispered, barely able to lift a finger.
They were low-level trash normally. The kind you’d swat with a sneeze. But right now? I couldn’t even twitch. My body was cooked. Burned out. Just one more helpless demon slumped in a smoking crater.
The imps noticed. Their eyes gleamed. They scampered closer.
I braced myself—well, mentally. Because physically? Yeah, I was a ragdoll. This was it. I was about to get punked by glorified hell squirrels.
But then—
-Screech!
A blur of feathers and fury shot from the sky. Talons slashed. Blood sprayed. The first imp went spinning, screeching as Alan—Clea’s eagle familiar—ripped straight through it.
The second turned to run.
Too late.
-BOOM!
A beam of light slammed down from above like a wrathful goddess just decided to say “no.”
Holy Blast. Clean. Controlled. Brutal.
The imp disintegrated mid-air.
And then—there she was.
Mrs.Clea.
Boots kicking up dust, eyes scanning the chaos. And when she saw me?
Her expression cracked. “Ethan—!”
She rushed to me, dropped to one knee. “Are you okay?”
I tried to speak, but all that came out was a wheeze and a stupid, dry, cracked, “No.”
Then she really looked at me. Her eyes traveled down my body, and her gaze dropped—and stopped.
I didn’t need to check. I already knew.
Incubus Rage.
Her face flushed. She blinked. “Wait… Are you—?”
I nodded weakly. Couldn’t even make a joke about it. “I… I need it. Now.”
Clea’s lips parted. Her expression flickered between disbelief and sympathy—and something else I couldn’t read.
I thought she’d say, “Hold on, I’ll grab one of your girls.”
But they were still fighting. Every single one of them, spread out across the battlefield, barely holding the line. I could hear them still—grunts, shouts, spells being cast, blades clashing.
And then she did something I wasn’t ready for.
She grabbed my wrist.
“Come on.”
She dragged me—not far—just behind a collapsed wall and into a shadowed alley still cloaked in rubble and smoke. Her gaze darted upward, scanning the sky.
“Alan,” she said, without even turning. “Patrol the perimeter. Find any surveillance drones and destroy them.”
The eagle screeched once and launched into the sky.
She turned back to me. Her face serious. Her hands shaking slightly. “I haven’t done this…” she whispered, voice hoarse, “in a long time. So forgive me if I’m… not good at it.”
I blinked. “W-What?”
Clea slowly unfastened her demon hunter uniform, her fingers trembling as she peeled it open. The tight black fabric clung to her toned figure like a second skin, streaked with scratches and splattered with blood—battle-worn.