Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users

Veyra stepped into the room without knocking, the faint, measured sound of her boots against the polished floor cutting through the quiet like a thin line drawn across still water.

Ardis Kyrelle looked up immediately, straightening in her chair as if pulled by an invisible thread, her hand setting the pen down with deliberate care before sliding a few loose papers into neater order.

For a brief moment, the space between them stayed suspended—neither heavy nor tense, but there was something that told her that this visit wasn't a normal one between an aunt and niece.

Both women knew it, and neither wasted time pretending otherwise.

The door eased shut behind Veyra with the soft finality of something that would not be opened again until she allowed it.

With a small motion of her hand, three distinct layers of privacy seals shimmered faintly into view for a heartbeat before vanishing, their magic settling over the room like a thin, invisible dome.

Whatever passed between them now would not leave these walls, not in voice, not in whisper, not even in the slip of an unguarded thought.

She walked past the desk without pausing to sit, her stride steady and unhurried. Instead, she headed toward the tall window that overlooked the courtyard.

Beyond the glass, the silverleaf trees swayed in the faint breeze, their pale, almost luminous leaves catching the light before drifting down in slow spirals to the ground.

It was a peaceful scene, yet as she stood there, it felt less like calm and more like the stillness before a distant storm.

"I'm not going to circle around it," she began, her voice even, each word shaped with the precision of someone who understood the weight it carried.

"The Crescent forces have started to move. Quietly, but with intent. And the cult tied to the sleeping god—they've shifted as well.

This university is no longer just an academy. It is now part of the world's defensive network, whether we choose that or not."

Ardis didn't reply right away. She adjusted her stance subtly, standing a touch straighter, her hands resting loosely at her sides in a picture of composure, though the faint curl of her fingers betrayed the tension she was holding in check.

Her aunt's words didn't need repeating. They were clear, and they left little room for misinterpretation.

Veyra's gaze stayed fixed on the courtyard, on the way the silver leaves turned over and over in the air before touching the ground.

"Your current student—Ethan—is not just another promising first-year. He is a pivot point—a variable the enemy will notice sooner or later.

Right now, they may not understand exactly who he is, but that ignorance won't last. When they do, he becomes a target."

Ardis kept her breath even, but her eyes never left Veyra, the pale lavender of them steady and attentive.

When her aunt walked in, she had expected something serious, but not this. Still, she waited for the rest, knowing there was more.

"I'm not telling you this so you can shield him from it," Veyra continued, finally turning to face her.

Her voice was calm, but there was a quiet gravity to it that could not be mistaken for anything but warning.

"Your task is to prepare him for it. Gradually. Without rushing him into a fight he's not ready to win. And without breaking him before he's strong enough to stand on his own."

The words landed like measured weights, one after another, settling into the space between them until the air itself seemed heavier.

Ardis didn't look away, but her gaze lowered just slightly, enough to show she felt the pressure for what it was.

She didn't shrink from it, but she didn't pretend it wasn't there either.

Veyra stepped forward, closing the distance until she was standing directly in front of her niece.

For a moment, she said nothing, simply studying her face the way one might study a map—not for the landmarks everyone saw, but for the fine lines and quiet shifts that revealed something deeper.

Then, without ceremony, she placed her hand on Ardis's shoulder, her grip steady and sure.

"You're not just his teacher now," she said, her voice low but clear. "You're one of his most important lines of defense."

Ardis didn't hesitate. "I understand," she said, her voice quiet but certain. The acceptance wasn't loud, but it was firm, without the shadow of doubt.

There was nothing else to add. Veyra released her shoulder and let her hand fall back to her side before turning toward the door.

With a flick of her wrist, the layered privacy seals dissolved soundlessly, and the door opened, letting in the faint murmur of voices and footsteps from the university beyond. She stepped out without looking back.

Ardis remained where she was for several moments after the door had closed, standing in the quiet sunlight that streamed through the window.

The pale glow caught in her hair, turning it almost silver at the edges, and she let her gaze drift back to the courtyard.

The silverleaf trees still swayed gently, their movements slow and graceful, as though nothing in the world had shifted.

But she knew better now. The calm was nothing more than a thin surface stretched over something deep and restless, and somewhere beyond these walls, the first moves in a larger game were already being made.

She let out a slow breath, her mind turning over her aunt's words. This wasn't about changing her next lesson plan. It was about reshaping the way she would guide him from this point on.

The work ahead would still look like learning, still sound like training, but every choice, every correction, every sparring match would be designed to make him stronger without him realizing the true reason why.

Knowledge and skill would still matter—but survival would now be woven into every thread.

She gathered the books from her desk, stacking them neatly, her fingers brushing over the smooth covers as if memorizing their feel.

Ethan wouldn't notice the change immediately. He wasn't meant to. But from this moment forward, their time together would be different.

And when the moment came, she wanted him to be ready, even if he never understood all the steps she had taken to make sure of it.