Incubus Ascension

Liam’s heart hammered against his ribs like a war drum as Valdora charged straight toward him, a blur of lethal intent cutting through the chaos of the castle grounds. Dust kicked up in the pursuer’s wake, and the air crackled with the faint ozone of powerful magic. *Why him?* Liam thought, panic clawing at his throat. *This bastard must be after Nyx, but I don’t even know where she is. What the hell does he want with me?*

There was no time to puzzle it out. Footsteps thundered closer, each one promising pain or worse. Liam’s legs burned as he pushed backward, every instinct screaming to run, but his body felt sluggish, weighed down by the remnants of battles past and the bitter reminder of his current limits.

Suddenly, a shimmering rift tore open in the air beside him, swirling with ethereal light. Laila stepped through, her face tight with urgency, and grabbed his arm in a vice grip. "Damn it, Liam—let’s run!" she cursed, yanking him toward the portal before he could even process her arrival.

They tumbled through the swirling void, the world twisting in a nauseating blur. Liam’s heart hammered even harder as they emerged atop a high roof, the tiles slick beneath his boots. Wind whipped at his face, carrying the distant clamor of the city below. But relief lasted less than a second—Valdora was there, inches away, his eyes gleaming with predatory amusement as he closed the distance in a single, impossible leap.

Laila didn’t hesitate. Another portal ripped open, and she pulled Liam through again. The chase blurred into a nightmare of fleeting escapes. They popped out in a narrow alley, then a crowded market square, then the edge of a towering battlement. Each time, Valdora was right there, relentless, his movements a hairsbreadth from snatching them. Laila’s breathing grew ragged, her portals flickering with strain as she tried to put more distance between them and their hunter. But no matter how far she stretched, it was never enough. The man was a force of nature.

Valdora’s laugh echoed across the latest rooftop, deep and mocking as he regarded Laila. "Girl, you’ll tire soon enough. You’re barely escaping by a hair’s width."

Liam gritted his teeth, fury and shame twisting in his gut. ’*How the hell did I get this weak again? Getting my ass saved like some damn damsel in distress...*’ The thought burned. He’d come so far, yet here he was, relying on Laila while death nipped at their heels. No more. He couldn’t keep being the liability.

His mind raced to his System interface. With a focused thought, the shop menu unfolded in his vision, glowing options scrolling past in a haze of desperation. Skills, items, enhancements—he filtered frantically until one caught his eye: **Reflection**. *Reflects any effect targeting the user back onto the enemy.* Perfect. Risky, but it was something.

He purchased it without a second thought, the System deducting the cost from his reserves. "Laila," he said, voice steady despite the pounding in his chest, "make one more portal. For me."

She hesitated, sweat beading on her forehead, eyes flicking to the approaching threat. "I’ve only got enough energy left for one. After that..."

She bit her lip, conflict clear on her face, but then nodded sharply. The portal bloomed open in front of them, a desperate gateway. Liam poured his will into the new skill, hoping—*willing*—it to recognize Valdora as the enemy. ’*Come on, work. Make him the target.*’

Valdora burst into laughter, the sound grating like gravel underfoot. "Do you really want to run and leave your friend here, boy?"

But before the words fully left his mouth, his reflexes kicked in. A portal yawned open beneath his feet, sucking with violent force. "What—" Valdora snarled, slamming his hands down to grip the edge of reality itself, muscles bulging as he resisted the pull.

Liam saw the opening. Valdora was slowing, fighting free inch by inch. He grabbed Laila’s hand and bolted, dragging her with him back toward the castle’s inner grounds. "Now! Back to the others!"

They reunited with Luna and the princess in a frantic collision of bodies and hurried words. The whole group broke into a run, weaving through the castle’s labyrinthine halls and out toward freedom. Liam glanced over his shoulder more than once, half-expecting Valdora’s shadow to loom again, but the pursuer was nowhere in sight. No footsteps, no mocking laugh. Just the fading echoes of their own escape.

He let out a shaky sigh of relief, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction as they cleared the outer gates. The girls stayed close, their presence a small anchor in the storm. Together, they made their way back toward the inn, the streets blurring past in a haze of adrenaline.

At the inn, Liam noticed the princess’s highborn poise cracking under the weight of everything. She held her iron mask for the public eye, but the moment they pushed through the door, he saw the tremble in her shoulders. "I’ll buy this inn," she declared to the wide-eyed owner, her voice steady but edged with exhaustion. "Ten times your asking price. Gather your things and leave. Now."

The man didn’t argue. He scrambled to comply, and soon the group claimed an empty room upstairs, the door clicking shut behind them like a fragile barrier against the world.

Inside, the princess’s demeanor finally shattered. She sank onto a worn chair, iron facade crumbling as silent tears tracked down her cheeks. The others hovered close, offering what comfort they could. Liam’s heart ached at the sight. ’*She’s lost so much.*’ He realized then, with a heavy clarity, that most of the royal family had been purged that night. She was the last one standing—the sole survivor carrying the weight of a fallen house.

He stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey... it’s okay to let it out. We’re here." Luna and the others joined in softly, their words and presence a quiet circle of support. The room filled with shared grief, raw and human.

Then a crucial detail hit Liam like a slap. *The maid.* She’d been inseparable from the princess, even for the smallest things. "Where’s your maid?" he asked gently, dreading the answer.

The princess wiped her eyes, voice cracking. "She... she bought us time. Against the three bearers. She’s gone."

Liam rubbed the back of his head, the familiar gesture grounding him amid the chaos. He turned to Laila, the weight of leadership settling uneasily on his shoulders. "What should we do now?"

Laila met his gaze, her expression grim. "I don’t know. Valdora wasn’t supposed to be an exile—I knew that much. With the ruling layer of the kingdom just purged, the nobles will seize this chance. A war is coming. Thrones don’t stay empty for long."

Liam rubbed his head again, mind spinning through options. "Then let’s leave the country. Get out before it all explodes."

The words had barely left his mouth when the System chimed, a new notification flashing before his eyes:

**Quest Received: Protect the Princess from the Scorpion Assassins and Discover Her Secret Bloodline.**

**Time Limit: 7 Days.**

**Failure: The summoning of the True Devil proceeds unchecked, and the girls will die.**

Liam cursed under his breath, frustration boiling over. "Didn’t I just finish dealing with this? As long as the princess is alive, that summoning threat still hangs over us?"

Laila nodded, glancing between him and the princess. "I can open a portal to another country, but a distance like that... it’ll take a lot of energy. More than I have right now."

Liam managed a small smile, drawing on the memory of his monstrous energy reserves—the one advantage he still clung to. "How about I charge your reserves?"

Laila’s eyes widened with gratitude. "Thank you, Liam. That might just work."

Almost immediately, another System alert appeared:

**Quest: Transfer Your Energy to Laila Through Skill.**

**Failure: User death, the girls’ deaths, and Valdora ascending to celestial status.**

The stakes pressed down on him, heavy and personal. But for the first time in the frantic escape, Liam felt a spark of purpose. He wasn’t just running anymore. He had allies, a direction, and—most importantly—a reason to fight that went beyond his own survival. The girls needed him, flaws and all. And he’d be damned if he let them down.