The Incubus System Chapter 891. Failed Product I

The Incubus System Chapter 891. Failed Product I

"Now shoot them, Ethan," came the command from the male voice emanating from behind the mirrored glass. The words hung in the air, heavy with expectation and a hint of urgency.

As soon as the sound registered, the doctors who had been observing me scuttled out of the room in a flurry of activity, leaving me alone with the targets lined up before me.

I turned toward the direction of the voice, a furrow forming on my brow as I feigned confusion. "S-Shoot? How?" I stammered, injecting a note of uncertainty into my voice to play the part of the clueless subject.

The instructions came swiftly from the unseen figure behind the mirror. "Just go to the X mark. Point your hand at a target and focus your energy on the palm of your hand. Then imagine that energy flowing towards your target," he explained, his voice clear and authoritative.

"Okay," I responded, masking my inner skepticism with a compliant tone. Well, that explained why the doctors left the room. Maybe they prevented undesirable things. Like suddenly my power blew up or something.

Deciding to play my act, I stepped onto the floor marked with a bold red X. I glanced around the room, my eyes flitting nervously from one target to the next, each one seeming to loom larger and more imposing than the last.

With a shaky hand, I pointed toward the nearest target, my fingers trembling slightly as I tried to summon the supposed power within me. I furrowed my brow in concentration, trying to channel my inner strength into my palm as if I were some kind of mage harnessing arcane energies.

But nothing came. No shimmering stream of energy burst forth from my hand, no mystical force manifested to strike the targets before me. Instead, there was only silence, broken only by the sound of my own frustrated breaths.

I repeated the motion again and again, each time with growing desperation as if I was hoping that this time would be different. But each attempt ended in the same disappointing result – nothing.

The minutes ticked by. I showed how my frustration mounting, boiling over into a palpable sense of defeat. With a frustrated groan, I clenched my fists and pounded them against the air, as if trying to force the elusive power from within.

"Come on!" I cried out, my voice laced with frustration and desperation. "Why won't it work?"

I could feel the eyes of the observers behind the mirrored glass boring into me. I knew they were watching my every move, analyzing my every reaction.

"This isn't working," I blurted out in a panicked tone, frustration evident in my voice.

"That's not possible. Put more concentration," the male voice responded, his tone tinged with impatience. I could practically imagine the annoyance etched on their faces behind that mirrored glass.

"I did. But I can't," I replied, my voice tinged with desperation as I continued to futilely attempt to summon whatever mystical power they expected me to wield.

Gasping for breath, I turned to the mirror, desperation evident in my eyes. "What should I do?" I pleaded, hoping for some guidance or reassurance.

"Check him again," the male voice commanded, the urgency in his tone cutting through the air like a knife.

The doctors returned to the room, their expressions still marked with concern as they approached me once again. I watched them closely and prepared to employ my Illusion skill once more.

With a silent command, I projected my illusion, subtly influencing their perceptions and guiding their actions to align with my desires.

"He seems stable, no signs of distress," one of them remarked, his voice echoing faintly in my ears.

"Vital signs are normal, no anomalies detected," another added, his words confirming what I wanted them to believe.

"Too normal," chimed in another doctor, his brow furrowing in thought. "We didn't detect any Mana from him. Just like how it was before getting that injection," he explained, his voice firm and decisive.

"In other words, he's the same as an ordinary human," concluded the last doctor, his words landing heavily in the room.

"That's impossible!" the male voice behind the mirror exclaimed, his frustration evident in his tone. "Where do all those vaccines go?" he demanded, his voice rising with each word.

The doctors exchanged disappointed glances, their expressions a mixture of frustration and resignation. "There seems to be something in him that can neutralize it all. So even though he has the same conditions as Mr. Renart, they are two different people. While Mr. Renart can absorb the angelic power in the vaccine. This kid, neutralize it," one of them explained, his voice tinged with disappointment.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes internally at being referred to as a "kid." I mean, come on, I was nineteen years old – practically an adult. But I held my tongue, keeping up the facade of innocence and vulnerability.

"In other words, he's a failed product," another doctor concluded, his words landing like a heavy blow.

That stung, even though I knew it was coming. Failed product. Just what every teenager wants to hear about themselves. But I plastered on a shocked and saddened expression, pretending to be devastated by the news.

"So... I can't have the same power as my father?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I struggled to maintain the facade of sadness.

The doctors delivered the news with a heavy tone, their disappointment palpable. "Unfortunately not," one of them announced, his voice carrying the weight of defeat. "Instead, you don't seem to be able to become a demon hunter. There is something inside you that neutralizes the vaccine," he stated.

I let out a fake sigh of resignation. Inside, though, my mind was already wandering. I found myself growing bored with the whole affair, longing for it to be over so I could move on to more pressing matters. Like figuring out the identities of the senators and unraveling the mysteries that surrounded them.