The Incubus System Chapter 1225. I’m The Consequence
The Incubus System Chapter 1225. I’m The Consequence Elenna’s and others’ PoV Another flickered to static. But Drone 2—bless that old stubbo
The Incubus System Chapter 1225. I’m The Consequence
Elenna’s and others’ PoV
Another flickered to static.
But Drone 2—bless that old stubborn machine—held its position above, its lens trained right on the black figure in the center of the street.
Elenna stepped forward.
“M-Ma’am!” her assistant gasped, clutching her arm. “What are you doing?!”
“Let go,” she whispered. “He won’t hurt me.”
“How do you know?!”
Elenna didn’t answer.
She just gripped her microphone tighter.
Her breath fogged in the cold night air as she approached the center of the chaos. The distance between her and the demon prince was no more than a few meters now, but it felt like crossing realms. Like walking across a battlefield where the laws of nature had broken down.
The pressure was suffocating. Mana thrummed under her skin like static soaked in gasoline. Her bones wanted to shake. Her eyes wanted to water.
But she would not falter.
She stopped just short of the blast radius—close enough to feel the ripple of his aura brushing against her skin like velvet wrapped around a blade.
“Mr. Great Demon,” she said, her voice steady—too steady for what she felt. “I want to interview you.”
A single breath passed.
Silence.
And then—he tilted his head slightly.
Not threatening. Just curious.
Like a god waking from a nap to find a mortal poking him with a stick.
“I don’t mind,” he said. His voice carried not just sound, but weight. Gravity. “I need to talk and straighten some points after all.”
Elenna’s heart dropped.
Then soared.
She had it.
The world’s most dangerous man—on record.
“Thank you,” she whispered, half to him, half to herself.
Behind her, people were still shouting. Officers moved like panicked chess pieces, forming perimeter lines around a king no one could checkmate. Reporters blinked as if waking from nightmares that had been sweet. Drones zoomed in, capturing the glint in the demon’s eyes. Not rage. Not cruelty.
Clarity.
Elenna raised the mic again, swallowing the tremble in her throat. “We’re live. The world is watching.”
He didn’t flinch. Of course he didn’t.
“What do you want to say to them?” she asked, breathless now. “To the governments. To the people. To the ones who still don’t understand what you are.”
He stepped forward—just once.
The ground cracked beneath his boot.
And then… he smiled.
Not a full smile.
Just the curve of something ancient behind a mask of flesh.
“I’m not here to burn cities,” he said. “Not yet.”
Her breath caught.
He continued, voice smooth, laced with cold steel. “I’m not the apocalypse your leaders whisper about behind closed doors. I’m not the weapon your generals hope they can reverse-engineer. I’m not your god. I’m not your devil. I’m the consequence.”
Gasps echoed through the press line.
Cameras adjusted.
Drone 2 zoomed in.
Elenna’s fingers twitched slightly on the mic. “Consequence… for what?”
“For pretending hell didn’t bleed when you cut it,” he said.
Her knees almost buckled again.
He raised one clawed hand, slowly, like conducting an invisible orchestra. “You built prisons in churches. You carved angelic wards onto cages meant for children. You called us monsters for retaliating while you taught your own how to dissect us. You burned sanctuaries, then asked why we stopped hiding.”
The air turned colder.
Frost curled along the cracked pavement under his boots.
He looked around at the city skyline, the lights blinking like nervous eyes.
“You asked for peace,” he said. “Then sent soldiers with swords to enforce it.”
A murmur rippled across the crowd. Some officers lowered their weapons instinctively. Others didn’t even realize they were crying until the warmth left their cheeks.
Elenna knew—knew—this was history.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked, softer this time.
He turned back to her.
The wings shifted slightly behind him. The queens remained motionless, regal and unreadable.
“I’m going to reclaim what was stolen,” he said. “One lie at a time.”
A beat passed.
“And if someone tries to stop you?” she pressed.
“Then they’ll understand why I’m here.”
Lightning cracked across the sky—not weather. Not nature. Just presence. Like his voice broke something upstairs.
She was shaking now. Fully. But she didn’t stop.
“Next question…” she said, barely above a whisper.
Her mic trembled slightly in her fingers, and not just from the cold or pressure. Her limbs felt weightless and wired at the same time—like someone had tied her nerves into a violin string and kept plucking it without mercy. But she stood her ground.
She had to. Because history didn’t wait for the calm or the ready.
“There’s fear around every city,” she began, forcing her voice to hold. “People call you a terrorist… a conqueror. But you’re also credited for closing a massive rift and taking command of the situation when others failed. So…” she looked up, searching his unreadable gaze behind the flicker of those ember-red eyes. “How do you respond?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he breathed.
And the world paused with him.
The kind of silence that thickened the air like wet velvet. Even the wind seemed to hush, circling his frame but never daring to touch him. His coat rustled. The broken glass at his feet vibrated faintly.
Then—his voice.
Calm, controlled, like something ancient being reawakened and remembered aloud.
“I’m not a conqueror.”
He said it so simply. So finally. As if denying the claim meant erasing it from the world itself.
“I’m no one’s pawn,” he continued. “I didn’t open the rift—but I closed it, yes. So the world wouldn’t die. So mortals wouldn’t burn screaming under a sky they couldn’t understand.”
Elenna’s heart skipped.
And then dropped.
“If that makes me a villain for some… so be it.”
There it was.
That chill.
Not the one from his aura. The one behind his words. The line between salvation and damnation, balanced on his tongue like a coin mid-flip.
Behind her, she could hear her crew shifting—anxious glances exchanged, quiet gasps stifled. One of them muttered something about pulling the drone back. Another began whispering in her earpiece about spiking viewership—millions climbing by the second.
But she barely heard them.