The Incubus System Chapter 1208. Demon Hunter HQ III
The Incubus System Chapter 1208. Demon Hunter HQ III I dragged him. No ceremony. No patience left in me. The guy struggled at first—shouted
The Incubus System Chapter 1208. Demon Hunter HQ III
I dragged him. No ceremony. No patience left in me.
The guy struggled at first—shouted something about dignity, protocol, chain of command. I didn’t care. He wasn’t bleeding, so I wasn’t listening. His feet scraped across the scorched floors, body bound in shadow tendrils.
A few flies tried to intercept us on the way. Some desperate guards. Maybe reinforcements. Maybe idiots.
Didn’t matter.
They moved—my servants moved faster.
Shadow intercepted one with a claw to the gut before the man could blink.
Buni crashed down from a ceiling panel like a rabid animal, taking two more out in one hit.
Miranda caught a spell mid-cast and reflected it with the flat of her blade, letting it ricochet into the caster’s skull with poetic justice.
Rave handled the last one—swooping low and cracking their head against the wall with a shadow-wrapped divekick.
I didn’t even glance.
We reached it.
The final door.
And, it was ugly.
Sturdy wasn’t the word—it was a bunker.
The corridor ended in a wall of thick, polished alloy—almost black, with soft lines of holy etching glowing faintly across the surface. Layers of security glyphs were embedded in the steel, radiating a weird mix of light-based suppression and anti-corruption enchantments. The whole thing looked more like a vault designed to contain the apocalypse than a lab.
Figures.
Bright white lights buzzed above us, sterile and cruel, illuminating every inch of the corridor like it was afraid of what might crawl in the dark. Cameras watched from every corner. Scrying mirrors shimmered faintly between the panels.
This place was overkill.
I stopped in front of the access console—some kind of rectangular magictech block attached to a slim podium. It blinked with numbers and scanners, waiting for clearance or biometric input or whatever high-end locking spell they used.
“Now,” I said without looking at the man I dragged, “open it.”
He blinked, bleeding slightly from his lip. “I—I don’t know how to—”
I turned my head slowly toward him.
Deadpan.
He held my gaze for maybe two seconds.
“Useless,” I muttered.
And then knocked him out with a quick flick of my fingers.
-Thunk!
He dropped like a bag of vegetables—no dignity, no sound but the floor catching his body.
Footsteps echoed behind me—fast, sharp. Then claws skidded to a halt.
“Is Larry in there?” Red’s voice came in quick, breathless.
I didn’t turn. Just nodded once. “Yeah.”
He growled. “Want me to destroy it?”
I stared at the terminal.
“No,” I said. “There’s too much holy energy stored inside. If this thing explodes, Larry’s gonna end up as roasted human.”
I sighed.
“I wish I had Pearl here...” I muttered, under my breath.
But she wasn’t here.
And I didn’t have time.
So?
I did it the demon lord’s way.
I pressed my palm to the console.
‘Hell Thunder.’
Black lightning burst from my skin, crawling through the device like a plague. Runes sparked and flickered. The screen spasmed, stuttering through access lines and failed input commands. Smoke rose. Then sparks. Then a high-pitched whine—
-CLICK!
The lock disengaged.
With a soft hiss, the giant door slid open.
I lowered my hand and exhaled. “Rough way always works.”
We stepped inside.
The air changed the moment we crossed the threshold.
Cold.
Like hospital air. Like somewhere designed to sterilize more than just bodies.
The floor was polished glass over black stone, and faint angelic glyphs glowed beneath our feet like ghosts watching from below. The walls shimmered with pale wards—soft golden lines tracing divine circuits, defensive scripts, and soul-altering matrices.
And at the very center, bound in what looked like a vertical containment web made of cables, tubes, and mana lines…
Larry.
Half-conscious. Slumped. Hanging.
His chest barely moved. His skin was pale—unnaturally pale. I saw burns along his arms. Not fresh. Deep. His torso was bruised, ribs clearly fractured beneath torn armor and exposed muscle. Dried blood crusted the side of his head.
My throat clenched.
He wasn’t just another test subject. They hadn’t just been poking him with tools or prepping for a ritual.
They beat him.
They tortured him.
Red was already moving before I could say anything.
“Larry!” he barked, voice raw.
The moment I heard it, my eyes flicked to the corner of the room.
CCTVs.
Three of them.
Watching. Recording. Broadcasting gods-knew-where.
I couldn’t let them see this. Not him. Not us.
I raised one finger.
‘Telekinesis.’
A sharp pulse of mana burst from my mind—precise and brutal.
All three cameras imploded at once. Lenses shattered, wires sparked. One hit the floor in a plume of smoke. The others fizzled out mid-air.
Clean. Silent. No more eyes.
By then, Red had already reached the base of the containment rig. His massive claws scraped the floor as he lunged forward, snarling low. Without hesitation, he slashed through one of the thick mana cables binding Larry’s body.
The glyphs flickered—then died.
The bindings loosened.
Larry slumped forward.
Red leapt beneath him just in time, his broad, furred shoulders catching the full weight.
Larry’s body sagged across his back—limp, bruised, barely breathing. His arm dangled uselessly. His fingers twitched. He let out a shallow, broken gasp, more breath than sound.
I didn’t speak.
Didn’t ask, “Are you okay?”
Because he wasn’t.
And pretending otherwise would’ve insulted everything he just endured.
Instead, I walked toward Red, slow and silent.
Then knelt beside Larry.
He was barely conscious. His eyes fluttered, blood drying across his temple. A faint sound escaped his throat—a half-moan, half-whimper.
He still had fight in him. Barely.
I hovered my hand above his chest.
“Observation.”
[Name: Larry Grandroar]
[Race: Human]
[Class: Demon Hunter/ student]
[Level: 57]
[Status: Single]
[Condition: Fractured ribs. Heavy bruising. Mana corrosion in the veins. Trauma from excessive holy energy exposure. Dehydration. Physical fatigue.]
But he was alive.
I let my hand fall to my side and took a slow breath.
And I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.
Rage.
The cold, quiet kind.
The kind that settles in your bones.
Because this?
This wasn’t just cruelty.
This was intentional. Designed.
And I planned to return the favor.
Double.