The Incubus System Chapter 1238. Relocated

The Incubus System Chapter 1238. Relocated There was always a signature. Even dormant relics left behind threads of aura, especially if they

The Incubus System Chapter 1238. Relocated

There was always a signature. Even dormant relics left behind threads of aura, especially if they were bound to demons.

I reached out. Felt the ambient threads floating in the air—like spider silk, almost invisible. Faint currents of energy flowing from one living thing to another. And yeah… I could feel them.

Humans.

Dozens of magical threads. Twisting and drifting like threads of warm breath. Civilians, probably. Some demon hunters. But nothing cursed. Nothing malicious.

And nothing from Bloodrender.

No screaming metal. No rage-flavored resonance.

Nothing.

I opened my eyes slowly, hands curled at my sides.

“…It can’t be,” I whispered.

Shadow landed beside me, fur bristling. “Well?”

“It’s gone,” I said. “Like… not destroyed. Just… not here.”

Red barked, ears twitching. Rave fluttered down onto my shoulder and tilted his head.

“Hidden?” Buni offered, ears perked.

“Maybe,” I murmured. “Or stolen.”

I turned back to the crater, squinting at the cracks like they might give me answers. The scorch marks were still there. The residual aura. But no trail. No anchor. Whatever Bloodrender was, it didn’t want to be found.

Or someone didn’t want me to find it.

I exhaled through my nose, sharp and frustrated.

“This place should still be crawling with cleanup teams,” I muttered. “Even if the sword’s gone, they’d know something happened here.”

Shadow paced in a tight circle. “Unless someone got here before them.”

I stopped.

Frowned.

“Someone fast,” I muttered. “Someone strong enough to touch a cursed weapon and not get disintegrated.”

“Another demon?” Buni asked quietly.

“Or a celestial,” Rave added. “Or worse… a collector.”

I clenched my jaw. “If someone took it…”

Red growled. The first serious sound from him all morning.

I ran my hand through my hair, tugging at the roots just to feel something. The moment finally settled on my shoulders, heavy like smoke.

I screwed up.

I left a cursed, sentient, potentially world-ending sword just lying there.

And now it was gone.

“Okay,” I said, voice a little steadier. “We scan the whole area. Again. Look for anything. A mark. A trace. A snack wrapper. I don’t care.”

The boys scattered like soldiers. Shadow vanished into the shadows—because of course he did. Red bolted left, sniffing everything with hyper-corgi precision. Rave took to the sky like a surveillance drone possessed by a drama queen. Buni sniffed the air, ears twitching like satellite dishes.

And me?

I stared into that crater and tried not to scream.

Something was wrong.

Not just the missing sword. The whole vibe of this place. Too clean. Too empty. Too… intentional.

I didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

And if whoever took Bloodrender thought I wouldn’t come looking?

They clearly didn’t read the part of my résumé labeled ‘petty, vengeful, and fueled by anxiety and unresolved trauma.’

“Oh no,” I muttered. “They’re gonna regret this.”

Because if someone wanted to turn that sword into the next doomsday weapon?

They’d just declared war.

And I wasn’t in the mood to play nice anymore.

I stared at the crater a little longer.

My fists were clenched.

My jaw? Probably doing permanent damage to my molars.

My brain buzzed. No trace. No magic. No aura trail.

But I knew someone who might know.

Clea.

Demon hunter chief.

I inhaled slowly, then reached out through my telepathic connection.

‘Clea…’ I called out in my head. ‘Are you awake yet?’

There was a pause, a blink of silence, then her voice slid into my brain like espresso poured into a black-gloved hand.

‘Of course I’m awake. What is it, Ethan?’

Sharp. Controlled. Dangerously calm. Very Clea.

‘Zatan’s weapon,’ I said. ‘The demon lord’s sword. You know, the one I killed? Do you know where it is?’

There was a pause.

Never a good sign.

‘Oh, about that…’ she said, her voice lower now. ‘I have bad news for you.’

My stomach sank.

I swallowed hard. ‘Go on.’

‘Demon hunters managed to secure the sword last night, she said. But… there was a big ruckus in HQ. So they decided to move the sword elsewhere.’

I breathed out.

Okay. Okay. Not stolen. Not corrupted. Just relocated.

‘So… it’s still in demon hunter association hands?’ I asked, a flicker of hope lighting in my chest like a dumb birthday candle.

Another pause.

‘Was,’ she corrected.

The flicker died.

‘But not anymore.’

I blinked. My brain made a clicking noise, like a vending machine jamming mid-snack.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Last night, the government intervened,' she said flatly. 'Took the sword straight from our hands. Military reps arrived mid-transport with some shady-ass paperwork and a portable vault. Claimed they had jurisdiction.’

My heart dropped.

‘Why?’ I asked, already regretting the answer.

‘Seems like they want to use the demonic sword as an energy supply for military research.’

There was a long moment of stunned silence.

Then I absolutely lost it.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Red barked and flinched like I’d just kicked a grenade. Shadow dropped his smug loaf pose. Rave cawed and flared his wings in full DEFCON panic. Even Buni froze mid-hop.

I started pacing in frantic, furious circles, one hand yanking at my hair like I could physically rip the idiocy out of the atmosphere.

“They’re using a bloodthirsty, sentient hell-sword to power tanks?! TANKS?! Are they out of their absolute government-issued MINDS?!”

“Oh my god,” I groaned, facepalming so hard I nearly phased into the ground. “This is how it starts. This is how every world-ending story begins. Some fool plugs a cursed artifact into a generator and BAM—cyber-demons riding nukes.”

‘Ethan,’ Clea’s voice returned, far too calm for what was happening, ‘I tried to stop it. I really did. But the order came from high up.’

‘You let them take it?’ I whispered, stunned.

‘I didn’t LET them,’ she explained. ‘But you know what happened last night. And trust me, it’s not gone for good. But… yeah. We’re in damage control now.’

I gritted my teeth.

‘Damage control.’

Right.

Because clearly no one else understood the concept of “do not weaponize ancient cursed demonic soulblades unless you want to become a haunted mech.”