The Incubus System Chapter 1269. Her Favorite Prey
The Incubus System Chapter 1269. Her Favorite Prey
Syntyche, still lounging like a queen who just claimed her favorite prey, swirled her wine again and gave me a thoughtful look. “You know about the candidates. Should I bring the names now?”
I blinked, still half-lost in strategy and political dread. “No. Later. It’s not just about having names on paper. The final decision’s gonna depend on Lord Damon’s approval anyway.”
Azrael grunted in agreement, his arms folded across his broad chest.
I leaned forward, tapping the rim of my goblet. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t take your list. They can be part of Lord Damon’s consideration. Hell, I might even add a few of my own.”
Syntyche raised an eyebrow, amused. “Your subordinates?”
I gave a slow nod. “Some of them are more competent than half the sitting lords. And less likely to summon plague for fun.”
“Low bar,” she murmured.
I turned to Azrael. “What about you? Got anyone you’d recommend?”
He paused. Longer than I expected.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, he said, “Maybe better to give it fully to Lord Damon. I can offer names from my side, sure. But…”
He trailed off, eyes narrowed like he was chewing a memory.
“But…?” I pressed.
“…some demons in that territory wouldn’t like it,” he muttered. “Too much baggage. And if I nominate someone, it might trigger resistance. Or worse—martyr nostalgia.”
He wasn’t wrong. The infernal population had long memories and short fuses.
Syntyche nodded slowly. “Some lords might want to toss in their own names too. Make it a power play.”
“Exactly,” Azrael said. “But a list could still help. If Damon doesn’t see a viable candidate among his own people, ours might give him more options.”
“Options are good,” I agreed. “Too many power vacuums lately.”
“I’ll send mine to the capital later,” Azrael said. “Encrypted and sealed.”
“Thanks.” I stood, stretching my back with a soft crack. “I’ll go talk to him today.”
Azrael squinted. “With that form?”
I looked down at myself.
Deadpan, I said, “You really dislike this look, don’t you?”
“Clearly,” he said flatly. “Too angelic! I hate that!”
Syntyche’s lips twitched. She knew what was coming.
“Incubus form…” I muttered under my breath.
The shift happened instantly.
[You have activated your Incubus Form.]
The warmth of light receded. My wings, tail, and horns retracted. The divine shimmer snuffed out like someone slapped holy water on a candle. Likewise with my demonic aura.
I blinked once. “There. Better?”
Azrael stared. “Now, you are too human.”
“…Seriously?” I said, exasperated.
Syntyche waved her hand. “Okay, moving on. We have more important things to do than critique his wings aesthetics.”
Azrael grumbled. “Ugh. I hate when you’re right.”
“Now. My question is—what does the demon world usually do to select a new lord, besides bloodline?” I asked.
Azrael snorted. “Bloodline is the main path. What else do you want? Inheritance is everything down here.”
“Yeah, well, Beel and Zatan didn’t have kids,” I pointed out. “Zatan was too busy hating Damon, and Beel was too busy eating.”
That shut them both up for a second.
Syntyche tapped her chin. “Hmm. That’s true. So no direct heir. No official bloodline continuation…”
I leaned toward them. “C’mon. You two are some of the oldest and most terrifying people I know. Surely you’ve seen something different in the past.”
Azrael frowned. “You forget how long this system’s been in place. We’ve had bloodline-based rulership for so long that even suggesting alternatives is taboo.”
“And yet,” I said, “the two seats are still empty.”
Silence.
I looked between them.
“Nothing?”
Azrael leaned back in his chair like someone had just challenged him to a pop quiz he didn’t study for.
Syntyche just blinked at me like I’d asked her to solve world hunger using erotic spells and sarcasm.
Syntyche perked up. “Maybe we can make it like a lottery?”
I stared at her.
Azrael stared at her.
She sipped her wine innocently.
“A lottery?” I echoed.
“Yeah,” she said brightly. “A little chaos ball. Pull names from a cursed urn. Maybe have it spit fire when it likes someone.”
“Nope,” I said immediately. “That’s definitely illegal.”
Syntyche pouted. “You’re no fun.”
“I am fun. I’m just not stupid.”
A pause.
I rubbed my jaw, thinking harder now. “Okay… how about a summit. Pull in the city elders, surviving captains, regional advisors. Let them offer endorsements. That way, it looks more like tradition and less like a coup?”
Azrael gave me a side-eye. “Is that something they do in the human world?”
I hesitated. “...Yes?”
Syntyche sighed and tilted her head. “Ugh. Too human.”
I cringed. “Right.”
Azrael scratched his chin, eyes narrowing. “Well, if we go way back, before all this bloodline supremacy nonsense, the original way was simpler.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Power.”
Syntyche grinned, catching on before I did.
Azrael smirked. “I vote we host a selection tournament. Gladiator style. Last one standing gets the chair.”
I immediately cringed. “Azrael, that’s gonna mess up.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, teeth flashing. “But it’s our style. Demon world style.”
Syntyche giggled like someone just gave her front row tickets to a noble assassination.
Azrael continued, voice hard now, more serious. “No high lords allowed. Just local elites. Maybe a few wild cards. They have to come from the territory itself. No outsiders trying to sneak in.”
I rubbed my temples. “That would cause less political backlash…”
Syntyche leaned forward, eyes glowing. “It’d be entertaining, too.”
Azrael looked far too smug now. “Blood. Glory. Honor. You know, the usual criteria.”
I gave it some thought. Deeper this time.
Okay. Maybe there was something here.
“I mean… it could work,” I muttered. “It’s violent. But it’s public. It gives everyone a fair chance. Even the locals get to watch and see their future lord bleed for the seat.”
“Exactly,” Azrael said. “And that buys you legitimacy.”
“But…” I raised a hand, index finger extended. “Before that… what if we did an interview?”
The room went dead silent again.