Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users - Chapter 121

Chapter 121: And Then… You Fought It Alone? (Gift Bonus Chapter)
Hey everyone,Thanks so much for the support this past week/month.

I’ve decided to start a system to show appreciation without burning out or lowering chapter quality. Here’s how it’ll work going forward:

Every 1000 coins gifted (cumulative) = 1 thank-you chapter

Every 100 golden tickets = 1 thank-you chapter

Golden ticket totals are counted at the end of each month, and those chapters will be published during the first 10 days of the following month.

I’ll post a maximum of 1 thank-you chapter per day to keep things manageable.

That said, no one is required or expected to gift or vote. It’s completely your choice. This is just a way for anyone who wants to support the story to help unlock more chapters a little earlier.

Right now, we’ve hit:

1510 coins, so 1 thank-you chapter (with 510 rolling over)

200 golden tickets, so 2 thank-you chapters

That means you’re getting 3 bonus chapters along with today’s regular updates.I appreciate you all. Thanks for reading and sticking with the story.

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Evelyn didn’t waste a second.

The illusion was gone now.

No beach.

No trees.

No Ethan.

Just the desert, flat, dry, real.

And the scorpion.

It didn’t move.

It hadn’t from the beginning.

It sat just a few meters away—massive, sand-colored, half-buried, pretending to be part of the terrain.

Its body was still. But its tail, curved high and menacing, glowed faintly at the tip, where the four threads extended toward her and her teammates.

She stared at it, her breath steadying.

She could feel the simulation’s pressure shift.

The illusion stage was over.

Now came the combat phase.

The scorpion had lost its cover, but it still had one advantage—it was using the others like shields. If she attacked carelessly, they’d take the damage instead.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Of course,” she muttered.

She couldn’t fire straight at it. Not without risking them.

The three girls were still stuck, frozen, with blank eyes and stiff limbs, completely unaware that they were standing in front of a monster.

The wires weren’t just illusions. They were part of the scorpion’s ability—a form of simulated soul-thread projection.

They connected to the victim’s mind and anchored the illusion inside their heads.

That’s why they weren’t waking up.

And if that was true…

Then, cutting the threads might free them.

Might.

She had no way to know for sure.

But waiting wouldn’t help either.

And right now, she couldn’t even use half her power properly—not with them standing in the line of fire.

The scorpion shifted slightly.

Its tail arched higher, a faint tremor passing through its armored spine.

It was watching her.

Reacting.

It knew she was free.

Which meant it might strike at any moment.

She raised her bow.

The shimmering lunar threads at her fingertips pulsed, glowing softly like moonlight reflecting off water.

She didn’t aim at the scorpion directly.

She aimed at the threads.

One of them, the one closest to her.

A thin strand of glowing blue connects the scorpion’s tail to the back of the short girl’s head.

Evelyn exhaled.

Then fired.

A sharp beam of silver light shot forward, slicing clean through the thread with a soft crack.

The girl gasped.

Her body jolted.

And then she fell to one knee, clutching her chest.

The light in her eyes returned slowly, blinking like someone waking up from a deep sleep.

“Wha…?”

It worked.

Evelyn didn’t smile.

She just moved.

The scorpion screeched.

Its tail twitched.

A second thread lifted off the sand slightly, aimed at Evelyn now.

She ducked left and rolled.

Another thread flicked at her like a whip.

She barely avoided it.

The beast was faster than it looked.

But it wasn’t ready for her speed either.

She summoned another arrow—thicker, colder.

It wasn’t heat-based like Everly’s solar arrows.

It was elemental moonlight—quiet, clean, and cutting.

She fired at the next thread.

Slice.

It cut through again.

The second girl jerked as the thread broke.

Then dropped to the ground, coughing once.

She wasn’t fully conscious yet, but was out of the trap.

The scorpion roared again.

This time, it raised one claw, digging into the ground.

It wasn’t passive anymore.

It was preparing to fight.

Its legs shifted. Its armored body creaked as it lifted slightly, the plates along its back vibrating with suppressed energy.

But Evelyn didn’t back down.

She charged.

Fast.

Low.

Focused.

A third thread came into view.

She spun, summoned another arrow, and fired in the same motion.

Hit.

The thread snapped, and the tall girl crumpled as the illusion finally released her, too.

Three down.

One to go.

The final thread was connected to Evelyn herself.

She could feel the pull on her mind, like something was still trying to fog her senses, twist her thoughts, drag her back into that dream world.

She closed her eyes for a second.

Let the energy settle.

Then formed one last arrow—pure white, threaded with silver streaks.

It hummed faintly, like it knew what it was about to do.

She aimed.

Straight at the base of the tail.

And fired.

The arrow struck with a flash of lunar energy, cutting the last thread—and along with it, the line attached to her mind.

The connection shattered.

Her head cleared instantly.

And the scorpion?

It screamed.

A horrible, distorted sound—not just from pain, but from something deeper.

The threads hadn’t just been connections.

They were part of its soul.

The illusion was its power—but also its weakness.

And now that weakness had been exposed.

The beast lunged forward, mouth open, tail whipping wildly behind it.

Evelyn leapt back, landing near the three girls now slumped behind her.

They were breathing.

They were waking.

She didn’t have much time.

The scorpion came faster this time.

Claws digging into the sand.

Tail slashing in the air.

She dodged right, then left, then slid under a pincer and fired a pulse shot at the beast’s underbelly.

A burst of light slammed into it.

The scorpion staggered.

Its movements had changed.

Slower.

Weaker.

The loss of the soul threads had cut off its main energy source.

Its illusion power was gone.

And with it, most of its stability.

Still, it was dangerous.

It snapped at her, one claw grazing her side.

She winced but didn’t fall.

Instead, she rolled out of range, spun on one heel, and let loose three more shots in quick succession.