The Incubus System Chapter 1000. A Sword That Chooses Its Wielder

The Incubus System Chapter 1000. A Sword That Chooses Its Wielder

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “And do you think I would be the right hands for such a weapon, Mr. Lucio?”

I met her gaze without flinching, her question hanging in the air between us. “That depends, Your Majesty. Are you looking for a weapon, or are you looking for something more?”

Zalira’s eyes flashed with intrigue, and she smiled, a slow, almost predatory grin. “Perhaps I’m looking for both. Power, after all, comes in many forms.”

“Indeed it does,” I agreed, my voice steady as I maintained eye contact with Zalira. “And power can be wielded in many ways. But it’s important to remember that such power is not without its dangers. A weapon like the demon lord’s sword is not just a tool; it has a will of its own, a history soaked in blood and darkness. If not handled with care, it can just as easily destroy its wielder as it can their enemies.”

Zalira’s expression didn’t waver, but I could see the flicker of intrigue in her eyes. “Are you suggesting that I might not be able to control it, Mr. Lucio?”

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” I replied smoothly, my tone respectful yet firm. “I’m simply advising caution. A weapon like this requires respect and understanding. It must be tamed, not just wielded. Only someone with the right blend of strength and wisdom can truly master it.”

Her fingers tightened slightly on my hand, and her gaze grew more intense. “And you believe I have that blend, do you?”

“I believe you have the potential,” I said, carefully choosing my words. “But potential is only the beginning. It’s what you do with it that truly matters. I believe the sword itself has a will—a consciousness, if you will. Many have tried to steal it from me, and many have failed. The sword always finds its way back to me, no matter what. There have been buyers, very powerful and wealthy individuals, who have made incredibly high bids for it. Yet, every time they try to hold the sword or even order it to be moved, they fail. They always say the same thing, the sword is too heavy. Even advanced machinery can’t lift it. It’s as if the sword itself refuses to leave my side.”

Zalira’s eyes gleamed with a mix of fascination and skepticism. Her grip on my hand remained firm, her fingers warm against mine. “So you mean to say that the sword has acknowledged you as its owner?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

I shook my head slightly, offering her a modest smile. “I wouldn’t go so far as to claim ownership. I can carry it, yes, but I’ve never wielded it. Perhaps it just feels a sense of loyalty or gratitude toward me for restoring it. Or perhaps it’s biding its time, waiting for someone truly worthy of its power.”

Zalira considered this, her expression thoughtful. “A sword with a will of its own… That’s not unheard of in legend, but to see it in reality is something else entirely. And you say it refuses to be used by anyone?”

“Correct,” I affirmed, leaning back slightly, though still within her reach. “I’ve had it examined by some of the most knowledgeable experts in ancient weaponry, and they’ve all said the same thing, the sword is dormant, but not dead. There’s a latent energy within it, a kind of sentience that prevents it from being wielded by just anyone. It’s as if the sword is waiting for the right person—or perhaps the right circumstances—to reveal its true power.”

Zalira’s gaze drifted to the space between us, as if she were envisioning the sword in her mind, its dark power and storied past taking shape in her thoughts. “True power…” she repeated softly, her voice almost a whisper. “Those are surely interesting words,” she murmured, her tone betraying a deep, simmering curiosity that seemed to spark something within her.

Before the conversation could delve deeper, Mia spoke up, her voice cutting through the silence. “That’s part of the reason I brought Damian here, sister. Because of that sword.”

Zalira’s eyes flicked to Mia, a sharp glance that conveyed both intrigue and skepticism. “Because of the sword?” she asked, her voice probing as she sought to understand the full extent of Mia’s intentions.

Mia nodded, her expression serious. “Yes. I saw it once, and I could feel that it was different—special. Damian told me about its history and its peculiarities, and I thought it might be of interest to you.”

Zalira fell silent, her gaze shifting between us as if she were piecing together a puzzle. The gears in her mind were clearly turning. I could sense that my charm and appearance alone wouldn’t be enough to convince her; she was a queen, after all, accustomed to intrigue and manipulation. It was clear that she was considering the larger implications of what we were discussing, not just the allure of the sword or me, but what it might mean for her kingdom and her own power.

“Mia,” Zalira began, her voice measured as she turned her attention fully to her sister. “Did you try to wield it?”

Mia nodded, her expression serious. “Yes, once. And everything Damian said is true. I tried to lift it, to wield it, but it was so heavy—heavier than any weapon I’ve ever held. It was as if the sword didn’t want to be used by me, or perhaps by anyone.”

Zalira’s eyes narrowed slightly as she processed this. “So even you, with all your strength, couldn’t wield it?” Lamia had more strength than humans and they could hold a sword easier.

“No,” Mia admitted, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. “It felt like it was resisting me, like it had a will of its own. I’ve handled many weapons in my life, but this one… it was different.”

Zalira leaned back slightly, her gaze distant as she mulled over this new information. “A sword that chooses its wielder,” she mused, her voice barely audible. 

Note: Chapter 1000? I can't believe I made it this far 😭