Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users

"I know," Ethan said. "But it still didn't feel like enough."

Ardis looked over at him, her expression calm. Then she asked, quietly, "Who do you want to protect?"

He didn't answer right away. That question landed deeper than he expected.

He looked at her, then glanced away.

She didn't repeat it. Didn't press him. She just let it hang there.

His thoughts weren't loud. Just steady.

He thought of Lilith. Of his sisters. Of the Moonshade twins. Even Ardis, in a quiet way. But this wasn't about who he cared about. It was deeper than that.

It was about who he'd step in front of when things went wrong.

Who would he take the hit for?

Who he'd fight for, no matter what it cost him.

He didn't say anything out loud.

But something in his face shifted. His eyes steadied.

Ardis noticed.

"You don't have to know right away," she said gently. "But once you do—that's when your strength will stop being something you just have, and start becoming something you use."

They didn't speak after that.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It just… felt right like nothing else needed to be said.

When Ethan finally stood again, there was a change in how he moved.

His next illusion formed the second he thought about it.

No effort, no long setup.

It just happened, not because he tried harder.

But because it came from somewhere deeper, it held weight, intent.

Not just some blurry copy of himself—but a presence.

Something alive.

He wasn't just learning to use illusions anymore.

He was becoming someone who lived through them.

And that made him dangerous—not because he could fool people, but because he could walk through a world full of lies…

And never lose his sense of what mattered.

—

Meanwhile, Evelyn sat quietly under the silverleaf tree. Her legs were tucked under her, her hands resting in her lap.

Across from her, Thalynae mirrored the same calm pose. The grove around them didn't make much noise.

It wasn't silent—it just felt… still. Peaceful. Like, even the wind slowed down a little when it passed through here.

Every now and then, a leaf would fall, catching a bit of light as it drifted to the ground.

Training had changed.

There were no more energy blasts or shields. No sparring or mana drills. This wasn't about power anymore.

Not in the Life Grove.

Evelyn had already learned how to fight. How do you focus, cast, block, and react?

Now, she was learning how to let go.

Thalynae's voice was low but steady. It always felt like part of the groove itself.

"Your bloodline doesn't force nature to listen," she said. "It listens first. Then joins."

Evelyn didn't answer at first.

She was staring at nothing in particular, eyes soft.

"I don't think I know how to do that," she said quietly.

Thalynae didn't push.

Instead, she reached out and gently placed her hand against the silverleaf tree's trunk. The bark didn't change, but it pulsed for a moment as if it breathed in response.

"Then we'll begin there," Thalynae said.

Evelyn gave a small nod.

She reached forward and touched the grass.

Nothing happened at first.

No glow. No shift.

But Thalynae smiled faintly.

"Don't try to shape anything. Just notice."

So she did.

For a long time, Evelyn just sat there, feeling the ground.

At first, it felt like always—cool, a little damp.

But slowly, something inside her began to shift.

Her breathing slowed.

Her mana stopped pulling.

And instead of pushing out, it softened. Blended.

She didn't force anything. She just… sat with it.

Her fingers warmed slightly. Not with magic. Just presence.

Thalynae watched.

"You're getting closer," she said.

Evelyn didn't speak. She didn't need to.

Her mind wasn't focused like usual—it had widened, relaxed. She was starting to feel things she normally overlooked.

Then it happened.

Not a light. Not a sound.

Just a small, quiet pulse from the grass beneath her fingers.

A kind of… yes.

A breeze drifted through the grove. It didn't do much.

But Evelyn's mana moved with it. Not by command. Just naturally. It curved around her shoulders, then settled again.

She didn't smile. But her face softened.

"I felt it," she whispered.

Thalynae gave a slow nod.

"That's harmony," she said. "And harmony doesn't rush."

Evelyn's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something—but no words came out.

She was still feeling it settle.

Thalynae stood, her steps so light they barely pressed into the grass.

"Someday," she said, "you can move through battle like this. Not as a fighter. As someone the world moves with."

Evelyn looked up.

"You mean like this... forever?"

"No," Thalynae replied. "But close. With practice, your presence will carry this quiet with you—even in noise and chaos."

The words didn't sound like instructions. More like a reminder.

Evelyn stayed seated as Thalynae stepped away.

And as she closed her eyes again, she reached out—not with her hands, but with her thoughts. Toward her sister. Toward Ethan.

That's when it became easier.

The bond between them was like a thread—light, warm, steady. It didn't pull or tighten. Just stayed close.

And that helped.

The spells inside her—normally tight, ready, sharp—felt softer now. Not weak. Just… flexible. Like they could move without needing force.

Even when the light began to dim and the sky turned soft blue above the grove, Evelyn didn't get up.

She stayed there, brushing her fingers through the grass.

Letting it all settle.

Then—footsteps.

Not fast. Not loud. Just calm.

She turned her head slightly.

Ethan was there.

He didn't say anything. Didn't ask if it was okay to come closer.

She smiled anyway.

Lifted one hand a little, just enough to show him he was welcome.

He walked over, quiet as ever, and sat beside her.

They didn't speak.

The silverleaf tree rustled once, and a single petal floated down, landing gently near Ethan's shoulder.

He didn't brush it off.

Evelyn leaned slightly against him.

Not because she needed to.

Just because it felt good to be close.

Her hand touched his arm, fingers trailing lightly. She didn't pull back.

He looked at her.

Their eyes met.

She smiled—small, calm.

"We're all getting stronger," she said.