The Incubus System Chapter 1312. Naked Healing Arc
The Incubus System Chapter 1312. Naked Healing Arc
The breeze curled around me, cool and gentle, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the villa’s garden mixed with brine and salt and seaweed.
And for a moment, I didn’t feel like the Warborn.
Or the System’s Chosen.
Or some cursed half-angel half-demon hybrid who had too many enemies and not enough therapy.
I felt like a boy.
A stupid, barefoot, salty, sand-covered, laughing boy who just wanted to outrun everything for five more minutes.
And honestly?
That was enough.
That was everything.
I turned back after a few minutes, soaked to my calves, smiling like I just cheated death. My shirt was a little wet. My hair, wind-tousled. Foxy flopped beside me in the sand, tails wagging lazily, clearly satisfied.
The sun had dipped just a little lower.
The sky was going full orange now. The kind of orange that made you feel like life might be okay. Like maybe—just maybe—you deserved a break.
And behind me?
Celia stood at the edge of the beach, arms crossed, holding two drinks.
Tiff beside her, barefoot already, with her hands on her hips and that look of someone seconds away from tackling me into the sea.
Puriel?
Yeah.
She stood near the villa entrance. Smiling.
Like she’d seen this before. Like she knew this was important. Sacred, even.
I took one last deep breath and started walking back.
That was enough.
That was everything.
I dipped into the sea like a sinner begging for absolution, letting the warm surf wash over my skin and soul. My Demon’s Clothes dispersed with a hiss—disintegrating into smoky tendrils that curled away from my limbs like embarrassed shadows.
Yeah… fully naked now.
And yeah, it was awkward.
But no one was here. Just me. And Foxy, of course.
Still, a part of me flinched. Like some instinct told me to cover myself, even though I was pretty sure Foxy didn’t give a damn about my manhood or shame levels.
The water wrapped around my waist, the waves kissing up my thighs as I walked in deeper, sighing. Each step pulled something out of me. Not pain. Just… exhaustion. Residue from everything I carried.
I dove under once—just once—letting the sea swallow me.
That feeling. Salt clinging to my skin, the silence beneath, the way the pressure hugged my head. It made me feel small and big at the same time. Like a kid again. Or maybe just something less cursed. Less watched.
I surfaced, hair slicked back, exhaling hard. Then I laughed.
I floated on my back like a lazy-ass jellyfish, arms spread, staring at the sky like it was the first time I’d ever seen blue turn orange. And then, just to be safe, I reactivated Demon’s Clothes—but only to conjure a pair of dark, simple swim trunks. Just me and a half-formed smile.
“This is heaven,” I muttered.
Not the gold-gated one. Not the bureaucratic, angel-infested version.
But this. Right here.
The sea. The wind. The scent of salt and sun. The way I could feel something.
The way I could feel human.
Everything faded to the background. No noise. No weight. Just the sloshing of water and the occasional call of a seabird. But after a while, I heard it—cars.
At least two. Maybe three. Doors opening. Faint voices.
One of them sounded like Emma’s shocking voice.
Another was probably Diamond and Pearl.
Camila? Probably telling them to calm down.
But me?
I didn’t move.
Didn’t answer.
Didn’t care.
Instead, I turned and walked back, slow and dripping. The waves tugged at my ankles, the sand swallowing my steps, the wind drying streaks of salt across my chest. My hair was a mess—wind-tossed and probably sticking to my face—but I smiled. A dumb, soft, grateful smile. Like someone who just cheated death. Again.
My eyes half-lidded, my arms swinging at my sides, I didn’t even flinch when Foxy flopped next to me in the sand with an audible plop. Her tails splayed out like paintbrushes on a golden canvas, flicking lazily. Her tongue lolled out like a drunk tourist.
The sun was sinking fast now. A smear of fire-orange on the horizon.
The kind of color that made even sad memories look soft.
The kind that whispered maybe… maybe life wasn’t so cruel.
Maybe you did deserve a break.
Behind me, the car doors slammed. Gravel crunched under shoes.
And there—standing like some ethereal postcard of judgment and patience—was Celia. Arms crossed. Holding two drinks. One was clearly mine. Probably laced with electrolytes and "anti-stupid-boy" energy. Her brows were raised just slightly.
Next to her?
Tiffany. Already barefoot, hands on her hips, leaning forward slightly like she was about to charge me into the sea like some angry, bikini-clad linebacker.
And by the villa entrance?
Puriel.
Of course.
Leaning against the stucco archway like she’d just stepped out of a romance anime. One hand tucked into her sundress pocket. The other shielding her eyes from the sun as she smiled—knowingly. Like she’d seen this version of me before.
Like she understood that this wasn’t just swimming.
This was sacred.
This was me being real for a second.
I took a long, slow breath, let the sea air fill my lungs one last time, and started walking.
“Took you long enough,” Celia said, tossing me the drink. It was cold. Sweet. Fizzy. Probably mango.
I caught it one-handed. “I was enjoying my mandatory healing arc.”
Tiffany raised an eyebrow. “Naked healing arc?”
Foxy perked up. “Master was very naked. Very healed.”
I glared at her.
Celia sipped her own drink, eyes scanning me slowly. “Did you at least manifest a towel? Or are we going to pretend you’re not dripping all over the sand like a wet sea demon?”
I shrugged. “It’s part of the look.”
“Part of the look?” Tiffany walked over, stopped just close enough to sniff. “You smell like seaweed and sin.”
“Two things I excel at.”
“You’re lucky the sunset’s pretty,” she muttered. Then, with a mischievous grin, she kicked sand at my legs and took off toward the water.