The Incubus System Chapter 1092. I'm A Savior

The Incubus System Chapter 1092. I'm A Savior

Celia, still perched on the edge of the couch with her phone forgotten beside her, spoke up. “But that cult might’ve appeared for a different reason,” she said, her voice softer now, more thoughtful. “Maybe it wasn’t started by demon lords at all. Maybe… it’s because people are desperate.”

I flicked my gaze toward her, watching as she gestured toward the TV with her chin. The screen was still frozen on an image of my demonic form during the last battle in Lightglen City. A camera drone must’ve captured the shot because it was too perfect. Too dramatic. The zoomed-in image showed me mid-air, my wings spread wide, dark energy crackling around me, my horns glowing faintly in the chaos. I looked like… a monster.

And yet, somehow, a savior.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I stared at the screen, trying to reconcile the face on it with the person I saw in the mirror every morning. Nineteen-year-old me—a college student who’d once worried about deadlines and dating—had turned into that. A fearsome, otherworldly demon lord who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a nightmare.

“Desperate,” I repeated quietly, my voice almost drowned out by the hum of the TV. “Yeah… maybe you’re right.”

Celia’s gaze softened as she watched me. “Think about it,” she said gently. “People are scared. They’re weak. They’re looking for a way out, for someone to save them. And then you show up. A demon, sure, but also powerful. Stronger than anything they’ve ever seen. Of course, they’d see you as a savior.”

I let her words sink in, the truth of them ringing uncomfortably clear. My eyes stayed locked on the screen, on the twisted version of myself frozen there. I didn’t recognize that person—not really. And yet… I knew it was me.

“Maybe,” I said slowly, my voice quiet but steady, “if this power didn’t come to me… I might’ve done the same thing.”

Celia blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

I looked away from the screen, running a hand through my damp hair as I searched for the right words. “Humans,” I started, “are desperate creatures. Being weak? It’s frustrating. It makes you feel small, powerless, like nothing you do matters. When you’re cornered like that—when you’re terrified and have nowhere to turn—what do you do? You latch onto anything that looks like hope. Doesn’t matter if it’s real or not.”

Shadow hummed softly, his eyes watching me closely now. “And you think you would’ve been the same?”

I shrugged, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the counter. “Why not?” I asked, forcing a bitter smile. “I mean, look at me. I’ve been in that place before. Before this power—before I knew who I was—I was just some guy trying to survive. If someone had shown up with god-like powers, offering to make everything better, I’d have followed them too.”

Silence settled over the room for a moment, heavy and reflective. Even Shadow, usually full of snark, didn’t say anything.

Celia finally broke the quiet, her voice softer now. “That’s… kind of depressing, you know.”

I laughed under my breath, though it wasn’t exactly a cheerful sound. “It’s just the truth,” I said, shaking my head. “Humans are fragile. They want strength, hope, purpose—anything to make the fear go away.”

Red, who’d been quiet for a while, finally piped up, his tail thumping gently against the floor as he looked up at me with those big, earnest eyes. “But you’re not like that anymore,” he said, his voice filled with a kind of unshakable loyalty that only a dog could muster. “You’re strong now. You’re someone people should follow.”

I chuckled softly, though it was tinged with a mix of bitterness and amusement. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Red,” I said, ruffling his fur. “But strength isn’t always enough to lead. Sometimes, it’s just another reason for people to fear you.”

Red tilted his head, his tail still wagging. “But they’re not scared of you, Master. They’re… inspired.”

“Inspired?” I repeated, my eyebrows shooting up. “You think those cultists out there worshiping some overly dramatic statue of me are inspired?”

Celia snorted from her spot on the couch. “More like obsessed,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone again. “And let’s be real, Ethan. You’re not exactly subtle. That last battle in Lightglen? You looked like a walking apocalypse.”

I glanced at the screen again, where my demonic form still loomed large. She wasn’t wrong. “Yeah,” I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. “I guess I do look a little… intense.”

“A little?” Shadow chimed in, his eyes narrowing with amusement. “That’s the understatement of the century. You look like you eat nightmares for breakfast.”

I shot him a look, but he just smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, fine,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I get it. I look terrifying. But that’s not exactly something I can help, is it? It’s part of the whole demon lord package.”

Celia glanced up, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “It’s not just the way you look, though,” she said, setting her phone aside. “It’s how you are. The way you fight, the way you carry yourself—it’s like you were made to be a symbol. People see you and think, ‘Here’s someone who can actually do something.’ Whether you like it or not, they’re going to put their faith in you.”

I frowned, her words sinking in. “But I didn’t ask for that,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I didn’t ask to be anyone’s savior.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replied simply. “They chose you.”

The room fell quiet again, the sound of the TV humming softly in the background. I stared at the screen, at the image of my demonic form. She was right. I hadn’t asked for any of this. But that didn’t change the fact that it was happening. These people—this cult—they’d decided I was their hope. Their answer.

Foxy spoke up next. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” she said, her eyes bright with sincerity. “I mean, if they see you as someone who can help them, isn’t that better than them feeling completely hopeless?”