The Incubus System Chapter 1211. Crueler Than a Demon
The Incubus System Chapter 1211. Crueler Than a Demon Clea’s PoV Clea was already stepping toward the door. Her boots clicked across the st
The Incubus System Chapter 1211. Crueler Than a Demon
Clea’s PoV
Clea was already stepping toward the door. Her boots clicked across the sterile chamber floor like gunshots in a church. The cold air bit at her exposed skin, her breath fogging faintly in the artificial light.
She wanted to scream. To tear through every screen. To pull these bastards out from behind their shadows.
Then—
Another voice.
Not like theirs.
Not distorted.
Not cowardly.
A calm voice. A little amused. Smooth, low, with the kind of steel underneath that made your spine straighten even when you didn’t know why.
“They don’t,” the voice said. “But I am.”
Clea froze.
Her hand hovered in midair, just inches from the door panel.
She turned, heart leaping into her throat.
And there he was.
Floating above the polished floor like he didn’t care about gravity, arms folded, legs crossed mid-air, a silhouette of darkness and light.
Ethan.
No… not just Ethan.
His wings unfurled in slow, deliberate motion—six in total. Three leathery and jagged, the other three radiant, feathered with a golden hue that shimmered faintly like divine oil on a black sea.
Nephilim form.
And his eyes.
They glowed. Red and blue. A sign what he was.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He just existed in that space like he’d always belonged there.
Like a god who’d just decided to crash their little hidden temple.
Clea’s lips parted.
She wanted to say his name.
But her throat closed up.
He was beautiful and terrifying and way too calm.
So instead she settled on…
“Mr. Great Demon,” she said, voice tight.
“Mrs. Chairwoman,” he greeted, tone polite. “Please. Join me. Let’s talk to these corrupted mortals, shall we?”
Her heart beat faster.
Not because she was afraid of him.
But because she wasn’t, and she should’ve been.
Still, she walked toward him. Her boots echoed again. She stopped just beside the circle where he hovered, just close enough to feel the heat of his demonic aura and the sting of holy mana flickering from his angelic wings.
The air felt wrong. Heavy. Saturated with conflicting divinity and sin.
The screens in the chamber started buzzing. One by one, flickering like flies in a storm.
“What do you want, Mr. Great Demon?” one of the senators asked finally, venom dripping from their tone.
Ethan tilted his head slowly. “Dunno. Maybe we could start by taking your toys.”
He looked around.
“This place. These facilities. Your secret labs. Your human-angel chemistry experiments. You’ve been playing way too much.”
His gaze turned sharp—deadly sharp—and locked onto the screens.
“Even crueler than me,” he muttered. “And that’s saying something.”
A scoff erupted from one of the shadowed figures.
“Hah! Crueler than a demon like you? You’ve got some nerve.”
Another screen flared brighter. “You act like you’re different. But you’re still a monster in fancy clothes. Don’t think those wings change anything.”
“Pretending to be a savior, huh? With your little mercy act?” another sneered. “Please. You’re just a smarter devil.”
A fourth voice cut in, harsh and raw. “You’re the reason we even need weapons like these. You and your kind are the rot that spread into our world.”
“You’ve killed more humans than you’ve saved,” a fifth spat. “You're just another disaster waiting to happen.”
“You want us to be better than you?” another added, mocking. “Then why do we have to stoop to your level just to survive?”
The chamber filled with static rage and distortion, like the whole system was buckling under the tension.
Clea stood there, gritting her teeth. Her fists trembled at her sides.
She glanced at Ethan.
He was still floating. Still calm. Too calm.
But his eyes— They burned with a slow fury.
Not wild.
Not chaotic.
Just… patient.
Like he was already playing out the next twenty moves in his mind.
He was young. Barely nineteen.
But he’d seen too much. And it was showing now.
He didn’t shout.
He didn’t growl.
He just answered.
“Do you hear yourselves?” he said quietly. “All this righteousness. All this self-justified rot. You torture your own kind and call it sacrifice. You strip children of their lives and call it progress.”
“You act like I’m the villain,” he continued. “But let’s be honest… You need villains. Otherwise, what would you be left with? Mirrors?”
A few senators went silent.
He turned slowly in the air, like a slow orbit above the pit of wolves.
“I didn’t come here to give speeches,” he said. “And I’m not here to beg you to stop.”
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
One of the screens behind Clea exploded in sparks. The senator didn’t even scream. They just cut off.
“You’re already rotting. You just haven’t noticed the smell.”
Clea finally spoke, with her telepathy. ‘Ethan…’
But he didn’t look at her. Not yet.
His attention was still on them.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not here to kill you.”
He leaned back in the air slightly.
“I’m here to take what should be mine…” Ethan’s voice dropped lower, the power behind it enough to bend the air itself.
His wings flared wider.
“I’ve already drained the holy power you stored here. Every last drop inside those containment pillars you used on that demon hunter… all of it now flows through me.”
The screens buzzed sharply. Static flared across the chamber walls. A few silhouettes shifted behind the glass—tense, confused, some even alarmed.
“The ritual is broken,” Ethan said. “The light you tried to force down his throat—it’s gone. Absorbed. Corrupted. Mine.”
He hovered just a little lower, letting the tips of his boots tap the air like water. Still seated casually. Still calm. But the way the floor cracked beneath him as if reacting to his presence? Yeah, no one missed it.
One of the remaining senators stiffened, trying to keep control.
“You think you can threaten us in our own house?” the voice growled, thick with authority but thinner than they wanted it to be.
“No,” Ethan replied. “I don’t threaten.”
He unfolded his arms and spread his wings in full, the light and dark casting massive. Every screen lit up in harsh contrast, illuminating the wide space like a stage about to collapse.
“I promise.”