The Incubus System Chapter 1367. If You Looked Like The Villain, You Were Treated Like One

The Incubus System Chapter 1367. If You Looked Like The Villain, You Were Treated Like One

Blade against blade-limb. Wing against wing. Light colliding with shadow. The sound was constant. Screeching metal. Thunder cracks. The floor breaking beneath us. The air vibrating so hard my bones felt like they were humming.

I used everything.

Hell Inferno.

Smite Bolt.

Dark Bound.

Telekinesis.

Radiant Slash.

Demonic Spike.

Wrath Kill again and again.

He adapted every time.

So I stopped thinking.

Stopped strategizing.

Stopped caring how it looked.

I fought the way I used to fight when I was turned into a demon, when everything hurt and nothing made sense and the only thing that mattered was staying on my feet one second longer than the world wanted me to.

I recalled my Nightmare and let both swords move without overthinking. Let my wings react on instinct. Let the power inside me flow without trying to categorize it as dark or holy.

Just mine.

That was the difference.

That was why he started losing.

Not fast. Not dramatically. But gradually. His movements grew slower. His corrections lagged. His rune light flickered more often.

He was built for order.

I was built from contradiction.

Eventually, it ended the only way it could.

I caught his blade limb between Nightmare and Redemption, crossed both swords, and twisted.

The limb shattered.

He staggered.

I drove both blades straight through his chest.

For a moment, nothing happened.

We just stayed there. Me breathing hard. Him perfectly still.

“You… defy… balance,” he said quietly.

I leaned in closer, forehead almost touching his helm. “No. I redefine it.”

Then I pulled the blades out.

He didn’t explode. He didn’t scream.

He just began to fade.

Light peeling away. Form dissolving. Presence unraveling like mist under sunlight.

When he was gone, the dome went silent.

No more pressure.

No more hum.

Just me.

Standing in the aftermath.

Panting.

Sweat dripping down my temples.

My hands shaking slightly from adrenaline.

The system chimed softly in my head.

[You have gained EXP!]

I barely reacted.

I looked around instead.

The bodies were gone. All five of them had faded completely, leaving nothing behind. No remains. No weapons. Just faint motes of light drifting upward like dying embers.

My first kills of angels.

I thought I’d feel something.

Guilt. Horror. Regret. Something.

But honestly?

I just felt… tired.

And angry.

Still angry.

I ran a hand through my hair, wings slowly retracting. “I was peaceful,” I muttered to the empty dome. “I didn’t ask for this.”

The echo of my own voice felt small in the huge space.

If I looked like this, if I had white wings and a halo and clean light around me instead of shadow and horns and dark aura, would any of this have happened?

Probably not.

People loved visuals. Loved symbols. Loved neat little categories.

Angel equals good.

Demon equals bad.

Doesn’t matter what you actually do.

Doesn’t matter that I saved people. Protected them. Bled for them. Fixed problems nobody else wanted to deal with.

If you looked like the villain, you were treated like one.

“Wings-ist,” I muttered bitterly. Then huffed. “Or maybe class-ist. Species-ist. Whatever.”

I turned toward the crack in the air.

The opening that was supposed to lead to the Light Dimension.

It shimmered faintly, unstable now.

I flew toward it, hovering in front of the tear in reality. The energy felt different. Cleaner. More rigid. Like it didn’t want me near it.

I raised my hand.

I could feel it. The potential. The ability.

I was a Nephilim. Half of both. I should be able to affect this.

I focused. Gathered my power to use my Dark Energy skills.

But before I could do it, the crack… pulsed.

Then, without warning, it snapped shut.

Just vanished.

Like a door slamming in my face.

I stared at the empty space for a long second.

Then scoffed softly. “Figures.”

Even reality didn’t want to deal with me properly.

“Whatever.”

I turned away and flew back through the dome, through the messy battlefield, back toward where I’d started.

Back to the classroom.

When I landed, the room was quiet.

He was still there. Still standing near the wall. Still staring at me like he’d just watched a nightmare walk out of a movie screen.

His mouth was slightly open. His eyes wide. Face pale.

Yeah.

He saw everything.

I stood there, breathing slowly, adrenaline finally settling.

Neither of us spoke at first.

The silence stretched.

Then Larry swallowed hard.

“…Dude.”

I let out a low huff, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. My limbs felt like jelly, my heart still pounding out a delayed rhythm even though the battle was over. My hands were coated with drying sweat, and I could still smell the faint trace of ozone and angel blood burning off my skin.

“You just killed angels,” he said again, slower this time. Like he was still trying to process it out loud in case I hadn’t noticed.

I dropped into my seat. Or, well, collapsed into it.

My swords vanished in twin flashes of black and white, dissolving into the air like mist pulled back into my bones. The extra weight of my power sloughed off like a heavy coat. My wings faded, my claws vanished, the glow around my body dimmed. The horns curled back in. And just like that, I was Ethan again.

Normalish.

Larry sat next to me, slow and cautious, like I might start glowing again or explode. He stared straight ahead at the blackboard for a few seconds, then turned to me.

“Did you feel a thing?” he asked quietly.

I stared at the desk. At the notepad I’d left behind like a dumbass before I fought.

“No,” I said. My voice felt hollow. Not dead. Just… echoey. “I feel hollow.”

He didn’t say anything.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. “I mean, I tried. Really. I wasn’t trying to be a problem. I wasn’t trying to fight. I just wanted to be peaceful.”

My throat tightened. I hated that.