The Incubus System Chapter 1179. You’re Getting Soft

The Incubus System Chapter 1179. You’re Getting Soft

Zatan didn’t wait—he was already on me again, wings creating sonic booms as he slashed from above. I raised my sword to block—his blade crashed against mine, locking us for a split second.

Our faces were close now. Too close.

“You’re getting soft,” he hissed, blood steaming off his armor.

“Or maybe you’re just underestimating me.”

I grunted and surged Telekinesis through Nightmare’s edge—raw force blasted outward, sending him reeling.

We both went flying in opposite directions—him toward the eastern end of the district, crashing through a billboard, me arcing up toward the sky, higher, toward the mouth of the crack.

I gritted my teeth. My knuckles were bruised. Chest aching. Wings pulsing with every ragged beat of my heart.

Fine. If he wanted round two, he’d have to wait.

Because right now?

I had a bigger problem.

I pointed my hand upward, toward the ever-widening wound in the sky still vomiting demon after demon onto the city below.

“Dark Storm!”

Dark thunder cracked open the heavens.

Black lightning rained down like divine rage twisted in shadow, spearing through the demon swarm pouring from the rift. Screeches filled the air as monsters were obliterated mid-fall. Flames danced in the sky. Corrupted wings ignited. Bodies disintegrated before they ever hit the ground.

But even with the carnage I unleashed from Dark Storm, it wasn’t enough.

The demons were still coming.

Too many. Too fast.

They spilled out of the sky like someone had tipped over the entire ninth circle of Hell and aimed the flow directly at this street. Their howls echoed through the air, wings flapping, claws slashing, some still flaming from the storm and still coming down with murder in their eyes.

I narrowed mine.

This wasn’t random.

This wasn’t chaos.

This was planned.

And yeah… Zatan wasn’t just lucky.

The troops were prepared beforehand. Their ranks weren’t scattered. They hit strategic places. They moved with formation—even their imps were moving in sync.

I gritted my teeth. “You sneaky bastard…”

He’d managed to anchor the crack with pre-determined coordinates.

That meant he didn’t just open a tear.

He opened this one.

Intentionally.

And that was terrifying.

Even worse? I recognized the hellspawn pouring through.

Imps. Carvers. Slitherfiends. Flametongues.

All of them belonged to Zatan’s domain.

The bastards were branded with his sigil.

That was the final confirmation. This wasn’t just a random breach. It was Zatan opening a gate to his personal hell and unleashing it onto a city filled with civilians.

And I was the only one who could seal it.

But there was a catch.

There’s always a damn catch.

The moment I cast it, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t even lift my sword. I’d be a glowing sign of “hit me, I’m busy.”

And once it was done?

The spell would suck the demonic energy out of me. I wouldn’t be able to fight again. Not for hours.

Maybe longer.

I watched another group of demons dive-bomb the street. My storm fried half of them, but the rest slipped through, forcing Foxy and Puriel to push harder. Red and the others were fighting like a beast unleashed,

Then— Through the rift, past the swirling, chaotic layers of dimensional helllight—I saw them.

Lilith, her silhouette unmistakable, floating at the rear of the battlefield inside the rift.

Beside her—Sarael, tall, pale, reeking of undeath and authority. In his hand, his signature weapon, a skull with green necrotic energy curling from its jaw like fog.

And Andrew.

His fingers were already tentacles, lashing around him like sentient whips. His grin was as unhinged as ever.

They weren’t standing still. They were fighting. Thinning the numbers on their end of the rift.

Trying to hold the flood before it all spilled into my plane.

“Status,” I barked.

Sarael’s reply was instant. Sharp. “Bad. Super bad!”

Andrew’s voice followed, slightly too upbeat considering the context. “Beel’s hitting the capital. Hard. One of Zatan’s lieutenants is already there too! Got an army of horned chargers, trying to tear up the main gate!”

I froze. “What?!”

“Yeah,” he said. “And also? You’re not gonna love this—another force is attacking Licheri.”

My domain.

I gasped. “Are you serious?!”

Sarael growled. “Dead serious. This isn’t just a breach—it’s a campaign.”

Andrew chimed back in. “Lord Damon’s leading defense at the capital with Tania and Kitty. We’ve already seen Beel’s forces swarming the front city gate. If you don’t hold that rift, we lose the entire front.”

“And Licheri?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Leon and Curtis are protecting it! With Licheri (the city core),” Andrew said. “Nefaris is reinforcing the gates with her army! The entire Lust City is under siege, but they’re holding—for now.”

I exhaled shakily, my grip tightening around Nightmare’s hilt. My claws flared, rage creeping into my voice. “So Zatan’s not just trying to take me out. He’s trying to burn everything I’ve built.”

Sarael barked, “Just concentrate with this shit! We’ll deal with the rest!”

My eyes locked back on the rift.

It was growing wider. Demons were still flooding through. I could feel the pressure against my skin, like standing near the mouth of a vacuum made of screams. The air crackled with heat and rot and something else… purpose. Like the rift itself was alive and hunting.

My fingers twitched, hovering over the runes glowing on the back of my palm—Dark Energy ready to fire.

But I hesitated.

If I sealed it now, I’d be helpless. I’d drop like a puppet with its strings cut. And Zatan…

I turned my head slightly, instincts flaring.

He was already there.

A blur of red and steel came for me like a missile.

-          CLAAAANG!

Bloodrender met Nightmare mid-air in a titanic clash, the force of it flinging both of us backward with a shockwave that blasted nearby debris off the rooftops. I tumbled, flipped, caught myself with my wings, skidding through the sky as I adjusted my grip on Nightmare.