The Incubus System Chapter 1175. The Prince Has to Die

The Incubus System Chapter 1175. The Prince Has to Die

Foxy’s ears twitched at that. She looked up from the floor, resting her chin on her hand. “She’s not wrong, Celia.”

“Exactly.” I tapped my fingers against my thigh. “Yeah, you have my protection. All of you. But I don’t want the people I care about turned into outcasts because of me.”

Celia went quiet again.

Puriel swirled her drink absently and said, “Humans are so complicated.”

I turned to her with a raised brow. “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you the one who got kicked out of the light realm for saving your holy sister’s son?”

She pouted. Actually pouted. “You don’t have to remind me of that, you know.”

“Just saying,” I said, watching her take another long, sulky sip of honey milk tea. “You’re stuck down here with the rest of us.”

“I was passionate.”

“You were trapped in a crystal for like thousands of years.”

Buni, who had been dozing in a flowerpot, opened one eye. “So, are we not getting cupcakes, or…?”

“Still no,” Celia muttered.

“Rude.”

I rubbed my face, laughing softly to myself. “Look, I just don’t want to cause more mess. If I go full Demon Lord Mode in front of Mom, there’s no turning back. It’ll leak. And if it leaks, there’s no fixing it. Not without hurting people.”

“You’re always protecting everyone,” Celia said suddenly.

I looked at her. She was staring at the empty cupcake wrapper in her hands, fingers crumpling it slowly.

“I guess someone has to,” I said.

She didn’t say anything, but I saw the way her eyes softened. Saw the way her posture slumped just a little more into mine. Saw the guilt in her shoulders, even if she wouldn’t say it out loud.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone,” she murmured, so quiet only I could hear it.

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “But I will if I have to.”

We sat there in that strange quiet. Puriel humming something holy. Foxy pretending not to be jealous over desserts. My little squad of ridiculous, loyal animals making the room feel too full and somehow too perfect.

It was weird.

We were weird.

But this house? This life?

It was mine.

And if anyone tried to take it away again…

Well.

They’d meet the Demon Lord.

And I wasn’t talking about the moody, broody kind that just sat on a throne and monologued. I meant the full-form, wings-out, horns-glowing, realm-burning version of me. The one that didn’t give warnings. Just results.

So yeah, even if I was sitting in a cozy living room surrounded by half-eaten cupcakes, angel tea, a bunny in a flowerpot, and my sassy demon servant brushing her tails, I meant what I said.

This place—these people—were mine.

That was exactly when the universe decided to crap on the moment.

It started small. A flicker. A weird pressure in the air. Like gravity hiccupped. The warmth of the room dimmed—not because the lights went out, but because something else was here now.

Something wrong.

I felt it before I saw it.

And when I did, I just sighed.

A shimmering ripple bloomed in the corner of the ceiling, like reality had been poked by a cosmic stick. And from it, a single, massive eye slowly opened. Blood-red. Slit pupil. No eyelid. No body. Just… the eye.

It hovered there. Watching me.

Not blinking. Not breathing. Not saying a damn thing yet.

Foxy immediately stepped in front of Celia, tails flaring out, claws drawn. “Stay behind me, Miss Celia.”

Red stood up with a growl, fire licking from his throat. Shadow darted into a defensive crouch. Rave lifted off the curtain rod, wings spread. Even Buni, bless him, hopped out of the flowerpot and began charging up some kind of hilariously tiny energy spell. Puriel? She sipped her tea with one hand while her other hand, glowing faintly with holy sigils, rested casually on the armrest like she was so ready to smite.

As for me?

I just stared at the eye.

And sighed again.

“Hey,” I said. “Didn’t expect you to pop up again so soon.”

Foxy bared her fangs. “Master, permission to incinerate?”

“Denied.”

“Aw…”

Puriel stood up now, slowly. “It’s projecting through a micro-dimensional rift,” she murmured. “Not a full manifestation. We can’t touch it.”

“Another day, another intrusive eyeball,” I muttered.

“Anomaly,” the Eye said, hovering slightly lower now, the edges of the rift flaring like crimson lightning veins.” You must prepare.”

I folded my arms. “Yeah? For what now? Last time you said some weird cryptic crap about cosmic consequences for being a Nephilim. What’s this one? A poetry reading?”

“Two are coming.”

I paused.

“They are angry. They are aware. And they are coming.”

Celia tightened her grip on my sleeve. “Coming… here?”

The eye didn’t answer directly. It just pulsed, the red hue growing darker, thicker. The tension in the room made the air feel sticky. Unnatural.

“Zatan and Beel?” I said flatly. “Use names.”

“I do not know names.” It paused. Familiar.

“Why now?”

“Because you are waking up.”

I blinked. “...Come again?”

“The lock is breaking. The layers are thinning. The deeper version of you… awakens. And they feel it. The prince has to die.”

I exchanged looks with Puriel. She frowned deeply, her tea forgotten now.

“You said you don’t know their names,” I huffed. “But it’s clearly Zatan and Beel.”

The eye twitched.

Literally. It did this weird, vibrating pulse that made the walls shake slightly.

“I do not know names.”

“Right,” I muttered. “Because why would an all-seeing cosmic eye have access to a damn database?”

“Prepare. You have leveled beyond what was written. You are outside expectation.”

And then, just like that, the eye blinked—vanished—and the dimensional rift zipped shut with a sound like someone slapping a wet cloth against metal.

Silence.

Utter silence.

The lights slowly brightened back to normal, and the air felt breathable again. Foxy relaxed her stance. Red sat down. Buni flopped over. Celia just stared at the space where the Eye had been like she needed several therapy sessions and a nap.

Puriel frowned. “You think you’re ready?”

“Yes and no,” I said honestly. “But I’ve got you guys. So we’re as ready as we can be.”