Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users

"But I still like it more when you're here."

Ethan didn't say anything back.

He didn't have to.

He just stayed there, like always—quiet, steady, real in a way that didn't need to prove itself.

Evelyn leaned against him a little more, just enough to feel the weight of his presence. She didn't push for a response.

She didn't need one. Sometimes silence said more than words ever could. And in that moment, it was enough.

No pressure. No expectations.

Just quiet. And comfort.

—

Meanwhile, Everly stared up at the sky through a break in the trees, blinking at the soft blue light that filtered down through the leaves.

She was lying on her back on a stone bench, moss creeping up the edges, and a few lazy leaves drifting overhead.

Her hands were folded behind her head. Her legs crossed at the ankle. It wasn't a bad way to wait.

She could feel it in the air—training was coming. Not in some big dramatic way, but in that quiet shift where the wind paused just a little, where the forest seemed to hold its breath, like it was waiting too.

She sat up slowly, brushing a leaf off her shoulder and rolling her neck until it popped. Her tails—still tucked away for now—twitched lightly under her coat as she stood and stretched, arms overhead.

No point pretending she wasn't relaxed. Being tense wasn't her style anyway. But something about today felt different, like the start of something she couldn't name yet.

And right on time, Thalynae emerged from between two tall trees without a sound. Her steps didn't disturb the grass.

Her expression didn't change. It was like she had always been there, just waiting for the world to notice.

Everly tilted her head, a small grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You always show up like you're floating."

Thalynae answered in that soft, even voice of hers. "I walk. But nature carries me."

Everly chuckled. "Sounds like cheating."

No reaction. Just the same quiet gaze from Thalynae—like she wasn't judging, but seeing something deeper.

"Your strength doesn't come from force," Thalynae said.

Everly's smile faded a bit. "Yeah, I figured. That's kind of why I'm here, right?"

"You're here," the elf replied, "because foxfire is not a weapon. It's clever. Gentle. Always shifting. Like you."

That made her blink. Then frown a little.

"I thought I was here because I kept messing up charm fields."

"You did," Thalynae said without missing a beat. "But only because you don't listen to your instincts."

Everly crossed her arms, eyes narrowing just a bit as she tried to figure out what that meant.

Then Thalynae raised one hand, and between her fingers, a web of shimmering light began to form.

It wasn't bright or showy—just quiet threads of energy, thin as spider silk, bending in on themselves in a soft rhythm.

She let it float outward, and it surrounded Everly in a slow, pulsing field.

"This," Thalynae said, "is not something to break. It's something to understand."

Everly stared at it.

"I could just flood it with mana and tear it apart."

"Yes," Thalynae replied. "But that's not the point."

She walked past her, still calm, still steady. "Charm isn't about control. It's about influence. And influence begins with understanding.

You already feel how others think. You know what they doubt, what they hope for. But instead of using that, you hide behind jokes. Playfulness. Deflection."

Everly tilted her head, this time with no grin.

"You think I'm hiding?"

Thalynae looked back, her voice level. "I think you're clever. And clever people often pretend not to be. Because it makes moving through the world easier."

That one hit a little closer.

Everly didn't reply right away. Her fingers flexed slightly, and the field around her stayed still—no reaction, no resistance. Just… waiting.

She took a slow step forward, letting her mana reach out—not in force, but in presence. A quiet hum.

A gentle pulse. The kind of touch she used when teasing someone—just enough to be felt, never enough to threaten.

And the field responded.

Not like something being cracked open. More like a ribbon being undone.

One strand loosened.

Then another.

Everly smiled softly. "Huh. Would you look at that?"

Thalynae gave her a slight nod. "You didn't break it. You coaxed it open. That's the difference."

The charm field faded.

And Everly stood a little taller.

Later, Thalynae brought out two more charm fields. One shimmered like a low dome—meant for shielding allies.

The other was invisible, designed to slip into enemy minds and disrupt focus without them realizing it.

"They must both hold," Thalynae said. "But they cannot blend."

Everly groaned under her breath. "Sounds fun."

Thalynae just looked at her.

So she tried.

She shaped the first one with care—a soft aura that wrapped outward, warm and reassuring, like a campfire in winter.

But the second field was trickier. It needed to stay sharp, needling, like a whisper of cold wind slipping under a door.

Every time she tried to manage both, they kept bleeding into each other.

Five tries.

Five fails.

By the sixth, she was sitting on the ground, her coat half-off, sweat dampening her neck even in the cool forest air.

She wasn't tired from mana loss. It was the mental strain—trying to split herself into two feelings at once.

That's when the earlier words came back to her.

"Stop hiding your wisdom behind playfulness."

She breathed in deeply.

And stopped trying to split her power through logic. She let her instincts do the work instead.

She didn't think of the spells as separate techniques anymore. She thought of people.

One field for Ethan. For Evelyn. For Ardis. For the people she wanted to protect. Gentle. Warm. Safe.

The other—for anyone who tried to hurt them. Cold. Slippery. Confusing. Like fog crawling over glass.

She didn't force the balance.

She just let it exist.

And slowly… it worked.

Two moods.

Two flows.

Both steady.

She opened her eyes, and the fields were still holding. Clean. Distinct. Balanced.

Thalynae was watching.

"You understand now," she said simply.

"I think I do," Everly said.

"Not just with your head," Thalynae added. "But with your spirit. That's what makes it real."