Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users - Chapter 148

Chapter 148: The Special Team (Gift Chapter)
Hey everyone, just a quick update on the support tally.

Last time, we had 510 coins left over. Since then:

One new Massage Chair (500 coins) was gifted

Another 130-coin worth of gifts came in from different readers

That brings the total to 510 + 500 + 130 = 1140 coins, which means we’ve crossed another 1000-coin milestone — unlocking this thank-you chapter.

The remaining 140 coins will carry over to the next one.

Thanks again to everyone who’s been supporting the story, whether through coins, golden tickets, or just by reading. It really does help me keep things consistent without burning out.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

****

Below.

Even inside the walls.

And if he could devour just one of the strong ones—just a bite, just a fragment, he was certain he could break through the wall that held his evolution back.

Ascension.

The level above Platinum.

Something no spider monster had ever reached since the First Nest.

He would be the first.

He would leave the cavern.

Lead his kind above.

His name would be passed through the threads forever.

And all it would take… was patience.

He shifted on the throne.

The lights faded again.

The humming slowed.

But his mind didn’t rest.

He knew they were getting closer.

Step by step.

Cautious.

Deadly.

And soon?

They’d stand in front of him.

Maybe talking.

Maybe shooting.

And when that moment came?

He’d be ready.

Waiting.

Still.

And hungry.

***

Meanwhile, far away from the nest, a silent alarm lit the walls red in a heavily shielded outpost buried deep inside a rocky ridge.

No sirens.

No shouting.

Just a soft, pulsing glow.

It was enough.

The Special Division moved immediately.

Six figures stepped out from side rooms, each one dressed in partial armor. They didn’t say anything.

They just moved—snapping on chest plates, checking weapons, and adjusting comms units.

Each one looked different. Some younger, some older. One was limber and catlike, while the other moved with the precision of a tank.

But they had one thing in common: they were fast.

Not just in speed.

In thinking. In reacting. In knowing exactly what needed to be done.

They didn’t have ranks like normal units.

They didn’t need them.

Every member of this squad had once been part of a standard tactical team.

And every single one had outgrown that world.

Their powers were too sharp.

It is too specialized and too dangerous for casual patrols, but not quite high enough to lead solo missions on the world stage.

Each and every one of the team members is a Diamond-ranked superpower user.

Peak-level mortals.

And their leader?

Quasi-Lord.

The step just before true Transcendence.

He wasn’t tall to the point of intimidation, but when he walked into the room, the others adjusted slightly—shoulders straighter, backs tighter, eyes tracking without turning their heads.

Respect wasn’t forced.

It was natural.

He walked to the large screen on the far wall. A faint shimmer greeted him as he placed a hand against the reader pad.

The mission flickered into view.

“Cave breach. Nest-class formation. Potential new intelligence-level threats.”

The voice that read it out was AI—smooth, clipped, calm.

“Commander on site: Liliana Nocturne.”

The name changed everything.

No questions. No doubts.

Everyone adjusted without a word—because when Commander Nocturne was involved, it wasn’t just another mission.

It was serious.

She wasn’t just respected. She was trusted.

The kind of superior who didn’t call for backup unless it mattered.

And if she’d made the call?

Then what was happening underground… isn’t a routine operation.

The AI continued: “Two squads are currently active. No casualties. However, a request for reinforcement was sent via the high-priority channel.”

A low voice came from one of the soldiers—short hair, a long scar running from his temple to his jaw.

“She never calls for backup.”

“She just did,” someone else muttered, strapping a curved blade to her thigh.

The captain didn’t say anything. He was already reading through the attached files, flipping through maps, webbed zones, projected lifeform density, and potential layout shifts.

The terrain was bad.

Worse than bad.

They were sending them into a nest.

Underground.

Tight corridors.

Limited range.

Creatures with unknown behavior.

High numbers. Possibly intelligent. Possibly unified.

The kind of threat that most teams wouldn’t survive long enough to report.

But that was exactly why they were here.

“Standard cave suppression gear,” the captain said quietly. “Stealth protocol up front. No flashy strikes unless forced. You know the drill.”

His voice was calm. Grounded.

The others nodded.

No one asked dumb questions.

No one cracked jokes.

They just moved.

This wasn’t new for them.

One of the youngest operatives—sharp-eyed, quiet, with black gloves and two slim blades—asked, “We expecting Transcendent-level interference?”

“No,” said the captain. “But Commander saw something she didn’t like. That means the things down there aren’t just crawling. They’re planning.”

The briefing light changed from red to blue.

“Ninety seconds to drop,” the AI announced.

The squad stepped onto the launch platform. It was circular, big enough for six armored suits to lock in place with their gear lined across magnetic rails.

Boots clamped.

Back harnesses synced.

Visors dropped down with a faint hiss.

The platform began to shake slightly.

Engines humming beneath their feet.

“Maintain formation,” the captain said. “Once we enter, we head toward the command signal. Commander Liliana marked her last position. We start there.”

One of the others asked, “Do we expect visuals on the local threats?”

“They’ll be waiting.”

That was the thing about intelligent monsters. They didn’t rush to attack.

They watched.

They listened.

They studied.

Which made them a nightmare to fight.

The count reached thirty seconds.

A final check confirmed all vitals were stable. Power levels are optimal.

Weapons secure, and they readied themselves so that their superpowers could be used at a moment’s notice.

The air grew heavier.

That strange quiet right before a mission always felt longer than it was.

But it wasn’t fair.

Not for them.

Just focus.

Preparation.

“Ten seconds,” the AI said. “Begin drop cycle.”

The lift jerked slightly.

The noise deepened.

The captain rolled his shoulders once and looked ahead.

Not at his team.

At the blackness waiting below.

And then—

“Deploying.”

The floor vanished.

The squad dropped fast—sealed in a vertical tunnel of reinforced alloy, their suits adjusting speed and gravity as the lights above faded to nothing.