The Incubus System Chapter 1216. Hunting The Senators III
The Incubus System Chapter 1216. Hunting The Senators III I stepped forward. The sun bore down on me from directly above, turning the roofto
The Incubus System Chapter 1216. Hunting The Senators III
I stepped forward.
The sun bore down on me from directly above, turning the rooftop into a slab of heat and light. The wind whipped around my suit, tugging it to the side like it wanted to reveal my wings again. My boots tapped steadily, slow and unbothered.
Each step closed the space between me and him.
He kept crawling back. Hands scraping against broken gravel and bits of rooftop wiring. He was gasping—sweating. His suit was torn, his knees bloodied, and his expression was the perfect mix of panic and disbelief.
"No—no, please—" he wheezed. "I was just following orders!"
I didn’t answer.
The sound of rifles clacking echoed from every direction.
Surrounding buildings.
Copter blades overhead.
Helmets. Visors. Reticle locks.
"Stand down!" a soldier barked from above. "Put your hands where we can see them!"
"Back away from the senator!" someone else shouted.
"I’m warning you! This is your last chance!"
I didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even look at them.
I kept walking.
And my heart felt… cold.
Not bitter. Not broken.
Just cold.
Like a demon.
Like what I was meant to be.
“I have money,” the senator stammered, crawling faster. “I can transfer whatever amount you want. You want property? Immunity? Your own region? I can negotiate—”
My steps didn’t stop.
The senator’s voice cracked. “Please—I know who you are. It wasn’t me—I didn’t sign off on the Angel Creation Project. That wasn’t—”
I froze.
My fingers curled into a fist.
Because that name. That project.
I hadn’t looked. I hadn’t let myself read the report. Not the full thing.
But Syntyche's spyders pulled it.
And I’d seen it.
Just a few minutes ago.
The “main candidate” for the Angel Creation Project.
The one who would’ve been “the strongest demon hunter ever created.”
Not me.
Him.
Renart Strongheart.
My father.
Before he died.
I stared down at the man crawling away from me.
[Name: Senator Darius Felwin]
[Race: Human]
[Level: 6]
[Affiliation: Central Senate – Human Ascension Division]
Of course it was him.
"Darius," I said softly.
He froze.
“I let the others live,” I continued, stepping closer. “As humans. As people. I spared them because they were afraid, pathetic, weak.”
I stopped walking.
Now only a few feet from him.
“But not you.”
He shook his head. “Please—Please-please. All decision came from above. I was just overseeing the logistics. I didn’t even know—”
“You lied.”
I reached forward.
He screamed.
The soldiers screamed louder.
“OPEN FIRE!”
A wave of gunshots erupted.
Helicopters opened up from above. Bullets rained down.
But my hand had already moved.
“Barrier.”
[You have formed a Barrier!]
A translucent black dome exploded outward—rippling like oil on glass.
Bullets stopped.
Some shattered mid-air.
Others slowed, dropped like rain, clattered uselessly against the rooftop.
The wind roared. Smoke flared. Dust rose.
But in the center of it all—
I stood untouched.
And my hand was wrapped around Senator Darius Felwin’s head.
“Let me go,” he sobbed. “Please—I'll disappear, I'll resign—I’ll vanish, no one will know—”
I leaned closer.
My voice dropped into something darker.
Something honest.
“I want them to know.”
His eyes widened, full of panic, not recognition.
“No,” he whimpered. “Please—whatever they told you, I’m not the one in charge! I’m just logistics, just oversight—”
I tilted my head slightly. A small, bitter smile tugged at my lips.
“Exactly,” I said. “You don’t know who I am. You don’t care who I am. Just another anomaly in your file. Another number.”
He tried to speak again, but I stepped closer.
“You signed off on the Angel Creation Project,” I continued, voice colder now. “And you didn’t even read the names involved.”
“What?” he stammered. “What are you talking about—?”
“My father,” I said softly. “Renart Strongheart.”
He froze.
Confused. Disoriented.
Then slowly, as the pieces fell into place, the horror began to bleed into his expression.
“I… I didn’t know—” he whispered, almost choking on the words.
His breath hitched. Eyes wide. He gasped.
“So… you’re—”
His voice trembled.
“You’re Ethan Strongheart?”
I stared at him. Then laughed.
Not loud.
Not joyful.
A dark, hollow sound that echoed like footsteps in a crypt.
“Yes,” I said. “I am. The human part of me still carries that name. Ethan Strongheart.”
I leaned closer, voice dropping into something colder.
“But me now? What you see standing here?”
I spread my wings—demonic shadow on one side, divine golden feathers on the other.
“This… is the Demon Prince.”
He stumbled back, hand reaching for anything—air, hope, god—whatever could save him.
“We—we can talk about this,” he stammered, desperate. “There’s still time to fix things—maybe… maybe you can take over the whole program, lead it, perfect it—”
“No,” I said. Flat. Final.
I stepped closer, shadows coiling at my heels.
“I’m tired… of all the bullshit.”
He shook his head, trembling. “You don’t have to do this. Please—”
“I do,” I cut in. “Because I’m going to make sure there’s no more Renart Strongheart. No more Ethan Strongheart. No more sons thrown into cages for someone else’s version of glory.”
I watched him. Saw the light go out in his eyes.
“Exactly,” I said again, quiet and sharp. “You never cared who you turned into fuel.”
He screamed.
High. Broken. Hysterical.
But I’d already closed my eyes.
I’d heard enough.
“Devil’s Puppet.”
[Skill Activated: Devil’s Puppet]
[Target: Senator Darius Felwin ]
He stopped screaming.
His eyes went wide—then blank.
The whites dimmed to dull grey.
His body shuddered once.
Then stilled.
I released him.
He knelt there, quietly.
No emotion.
No resistance.
Just a husk.
One that would do exactly what I commanded.
Behind me, the soldiers stopped firing.
I turned my head slowly toward the hovering drones. Toward the rows of shocked faces behind scopes.
I didn’t say a word.
Didn’t need to.
They saw.
They understood.
The Great Demon didn’t need to declare war.
He was war.
And I…
I didn’t feel proud.
Didn’t feel victorious.
Only…
Empty.
Because deep down, I knew—
Whatever part of me was human…
I’d buried it here.
On this rooftop.
Under a sun that refused to look away.