The Incubus System Chapter 1345. Snackless Incubus
The Incubus System Chapter 1345. Snackless Incubus
I leaned back in my throne.
Stone dug into my spine like it was personally offended by the idea of comfort. My wings ached, angelic ones twitching every so often like they were trying to stretch without getting judged, and the incubus ones folded tighter in frustration.
My neck? Stiff.
My ass? Numb.
My soul? Craving popcorn.
My eyes kept flicking between the battle raging in the stadium below… and the snacks in the VIP section across from us. The demons over there had it good. Soft seats, silver trays, meat skewers glazed with syrup, pitchers of molten wine. Even napkins. One dude had a three layer demon fruit parfait and a literal feeding imp holding a spoon for him.
And me? Crown prince of the dark dimension? Nothing.
‘I want popcorn…’ I whined internally.
Outside? Oh, I kept it professional. The royal poker face. Jaw tight, gaze cold, chin slightly tilted down like I was too dignified to blink. You know, classic “demon lord with six wings and generational trauma” pose.
-BOOM!
An explosion rocked the arena below. Jagged obsidian cracked as one of the contenders flung the other into a wall hard enough to leave a crater.
Azrael leapt to his feet and roared, his eyes glowing like twin furnaces. “HELL YEAH! KILL HIM! RIP HIM APART!”
I blinked. Casually raised my hand.
[You have formed a barrier.]
Why I did it?
Because smoke, debris, and…
-DUK!
A chunk of molten steel the size of a car door slammed into the transparent hex shaped wall in front of me and sizzled as it slid down.
Yeah… that was why.
Below, the smoke cleared and the victor roared.
Big guy. Scorched armor. Horns curved back like blades. His tail lashed behind him as his aura surged up in waves of sulfur red energy.
The referee, a snake demon in floating robes, floated down, amplifying his voice across the arena with echo magic.
“AND WE HAVE OUR WINNER! GROL OF THE BURNED CLIFFS!”
The crowd went wild.
Fireworks exploded from the top of the stadium. Black and crimson lights spiraled into the sky like bleeding stars. Grol dropped to one knee, panting, covered in burns and bruises, but damn… he earned it.
The referee continued, “THIS VICTORY CLAIMS THE SEAT OF LORD ZATAN! ALL HAIL THE NEW WARLORD!”
I clapped. Politely. As required.
From the corner of my eye, I used my Observation skills.
[Name: Grol ]
[Age: 217 ]
[Strength level: high-tier war demon. ]
[Leadership skills: above average. Not stupid, not overly ambitious. Served under Zatan before his death. Stable enough not to start a civil war.]
In short… Not bad.
“Finally,” I muttered under my breath.
The referee raised his hands. “WE WILL NOW TAKE A FIFTEEN-MINUTE INTERMISSION BEFORE THE FINAL BATTLE TO CLAIM LORD BEEL’S SEAT!”
I nearly screamed ‘YES’ out loud.
Instead, I slumped back and let out a groan like I’d been reborn. Three hours on this throne with stone support? My spine deserved a promotion.
Nefaris smiled, lips stained wine dark, her gaze sliding to me like slow venom. “You know… sitting this long makes me want to stretch a little. Maybe we can have a quickie, Damian~”
Syntyche didn’t miss a beat, still plucking threads on her web-harp. “Mmm. I agree~ I’m so bored…”
Both of them turned to look at me.
I didn’t need to look to know what that look meant.
I knew that look.
That “let’s eat you for entertainment” look.
But then… across the lower levels, near the staff area, I saw them.
Ivy and Maria.
They were waving.
And in their hands?
FOOD.
And drinks.
A soda can glinted like divine salvation in Maria’s hand, cold metal catching the infernal light like a miracle.
Ivy lifted a basket beside her, steam curling upward. Fried snacks. Golden. Crispy. The just the right sinful amount of MSG.
My stomach screamed.
“Damian~” Nefaris purred again.
“Let’s play~” Syntyche sang sweetly, her voice like warm silk and poison.
I gave them the softest, fakest smile I could manage. Then teleported.
Gone.
Reappeared behind Ivy and Maria, nearly collapsing into their arms.
“YES!” I gasped, grabbing both by the shoulders. “You guys are the best!”
I was two seconds from crying.
Real tears.
Ivy giggled. “I know what you want, Your Highness~”
Maria rolled her eyes but handed me the soda. “Eat and drink first. You’ve lasted hours without anything. Slowly.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, already tearing open a pastry and shoving it into my mouth.
I groaned.
Like really groaned.
My knees buckled. I leaned against the nearest table.
A dark, buttery explosion of flavor hit my tongue. A little sweet. A little salty. A little spicy. Demonic spices were dangerous but so worth it.
“This tastes like an orgasm and a warm bath had a baby,” I moaned.
Ivy purred. “Want more?”
“Yes. Please. Feed me. I am but a starving god.”
Maria muttered, “You’re dramatic.”
“I’m traumatized,” I said through a mouthful. “Do you know how many muscle bound demons screamed in my face today?”
Ivy handed me a skewer of what looked like fried soulfruit glazed in shadow honey. I bit into it like it owed me money.
“Finally…” I sighed, drinking the soda. Bubbles burned my throat. Heaven. Sweet fizzy heaven.
Up in the throne seats, Azrael looked down and bellowed, “Oi! Did you abandon your royal duty for snacks?”
I looked up and shouted back, “YOU SLEPT THROUGH SIX INTERVIEWS!”
He laughed and gave me a thumbs up. “Fair.”
Syntyche dangled upside down from a thread and pouted, “You’re no fun, Damian~”
I licked honey from my fingers and replied, “I have food now. I am fun. Watch me chew.”
Ivy leaned against my shoulder. “Should I tell them you moaned louder for this fried pastry than you did for your last quickie with us?”
Maria choked on her wine.
I said nothing. Just took another bite.
Because food first.
Always.
Even in this place.
Let them judge.