The Incubus System Chapter 1346. Let Us Ruin Your Spine

The Incubus System Chapter 1346. Let Us Ruin Your Spine

Let them stare from their velvet cloaked thrones and infernal balconies like I just broke the sacred code of demon court etiquette. I didn’t care. Because right now? I had a pastry in my mouth, a cold soda in my hand, and crumbs on my cheek that tasted like joy and defiance.

And hell, it was worth it.

The molten spice lingered on my tongue, sweet heat blooming in the back of my throat, and for one second… I wasn’t the crown prince of the dark dimension burdened with politics, expectations, and generational trauma. I was just a starving 19 yo bastard who hadn’t eaten in five hours.

Then she appeared.

A shift in the air. Cold mist trailing like frost on obsidian.

Lilieth.

She stepped beside me without a sound. Her heels didn’t make a single sound, but the temperature around us dropped just enough to make my wings twitch.

“You look hungry,” she said, her voice that quiet velvet tone that always made people shut up and listen. Not loud. Just final.

I nodded, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand like a guilty schoolboy caught near the cookie jar. “You have no idea.”

Her gaze flicked to the half eaten pastry in my hand, the crumbs on my shirt, the soda I was clinging to like a life raft. Her lip curved, barely a smile. Barely.

I tilted my head toward the arena. “Just a question. Hypothetical. Can I bring food there?”

Lilieth blinked. “You mean… up there?”

I nodded solemnly, gesturing at the jagged obsidian balcony above. The royal seats, the high dais, the place where every camera and infernal gaze in the stadium zeroed in on like it was sacred ground.

“With popcorn and soda,” I added, dead serious. “Maybe pizza. Like the square kind with extra cheese.”

Her stare didn’t change.

“This is a real royal battle,” she said slowly, as if translating for someone brain-damaged. “You are the crown prince of the dark dimension. Not some sweaty mortal in a hoodie watching reruns of martial arts tournaments from his mother’s basement.”

I almost groaned.

Almost.

But I didn’t.

Because I was a prince.

And princes do not groan in despair.

They suffer silently. With grace. And sass.

“Yeah,” I muttered, deadpan. “I guess pizza and popcorn aren’t really suitable for a demon lord. Shame. I had a whole aesthetic in mind. Crimson throne, blood wine, mozzarella cheese.”

Lilieth reached forward and gently wiped a crumb from my cheek with her thumb.

The movement was soft. Maternal. Familiar.

And it hit deeper than I expected.

Not just because she was wiping food off my face like I was five years old again, but because for a moment, she didn’t look like the queen of the demons. She looked like my mom.

“Go back after you’re finished,” she said softly.

I gave a lazy wave, already reaching for another skewer. “Yeah, I know, I will. Just need to fuel up before I go back to be stared at.”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t turn away.

Instead, she looked over my shoulder, and I knew.

I didn’t need to ask. I didn’t need to turn.

I could feel it.

That look.

That look!

The “come here and let us ruin your spine” look.

“No,” Lilieth said firmly, stepping slightly closer like a mother wolf standing between her cub and a pack of hyenas. “I mean it. Go back after you’re finished or…”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t need to.

Her eyes flicked up to the other thrones, where Nefaris and Syntyche were still lounging like apex predators on break.

Syntyche dangled from one of her shimmering silk threads, upside down like a lazy spider goddess, plucking her web-harp with long black nails and humming some sultry tune that sounded like doom with rhythm.

Nefaris… was licking her wine glass.

Not drinking.

Licking.

Like it was the throat of a lover she was about to eviscerate.

They were both looking at me.

I didn’t flinch. Just raised a hand and gave them the slow “come here” gesture. Classic. Casual. Kingly.

Lilieth raised one elegant eyebrow.

I just smiled at her. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle them.”

That made her sigh. Not in disappointment. But in that way moms sigh when you insist you know how to put together IIkea furniture without instructions.

She gave me one final glance, her crimson eyes softening just a bit, then turned away.

Back to the royal path.

Back to Lord Damon’s arms. Of course he saw everything. Probably heard every word. But said nothing.

I liked him better when he didn’t speak.

A sudden whoosh of air snapped me out of my snack induced trance.

Because they were here.

Nefaris descended like a slow-falling meteor, red mist curling around her high heels, the hem of her leather and lace dress fluttering with every step. Her gaze? Heated. Like she already peeled me out of my clothes with it.

Syntyche followed, gliding down like silk unraveling. She didn’t walk. She flowed. Her spider silk dress clung to her curves.

“Damian~” Nefaris purred, her voice syrupy. “You ran from us…”

Syntyche laughed. “Didn’t even say goodbye. That’s rude, you know~”

I shoved the last bite of pastry into my mouth, pretending I wasn’t half covered in flakes and sauce.

“Yeah, well,” I said, chewing, “I was hungry. And terrified.”

“You should be terrified,” Nefaris purred, brushing a finger under my chin. “We were about to stretch you out…”

“Emotionally,” Syntyche added, looping her arms around my shoulders from behind. “With affection.”

“Terrifying,” I confirmed, sipping my soda in relax manner.

Ivy giggled beside me and waved a fry in front of my face. “Want to use me as a shield?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Absolutely. You’re my shield maiden now.”

Maria sighed and poured herself more wine. “Do I even want to know what’s going to happen if I leave you alone with them for five minutes?”

“No,” we all said in unison.

Syntyche rested her chin on my shoulder, her hair smelling like forbidden flowers and bad decisions. “What are you eating?”

“Fried soulfruit. Glazed,” I replied.

Nefaris licked her lips. “Sounds sticky.”