100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 685: Chapter 684- Mira Entering the Northern Battlefield

The shockwave hit. The camp — the hide tents, the bone fences, the fire pits — was flattened. Not destroyed — flattened. The air pressure pushed everything downward. The fires went out. The tents collapsed. The men — hundreds of muscular, scarred, battle-ready men — were driven to their knees.

Gharuk staggered. His bull-like body — seven feet, three hundred pounds of muscle and bone — was pushed back. His feet dug into the earth. His hands found the rock. He held.

The shaman — the tribe’s spiritual leader, an old man with a buffalo-skull cane, his body thin and covered in ritual paint — fell. Not to his knees. To the ground. His cane — the buffalo skull, the sacred object — clattered from his hands. He looked up. Through the dust. Through the force.

At the sky.

At the light.

At the figure.

A meteor. A falling star. A ’something-is-coming-down-from-the-heavens’ object that was blazing with light and radiating power that the old shaman — who had spent fifty years communing with the spirits of the wastes — could feel in his bones. In his teeth. In the marrow of his spine.

He fell to his knees. His hands — thin, trembling, the hands of an old man who had seen much but never this — found the ground. He pressed his forehead to the earth.

"This is the judgment of the gods," he whispered. The words were not loud. But in the silence — the ’everything-has-stopped’ silence that followed the impact — they carried.

The barbarians looked at each other. At their muscular bodies. At their weapons — the stone axes, the bone spears, the leather shields. At the sky. At the light. At the ’what-is-happening’ reality that had just interrupted their conquest.

The heat came.

Not from the fire — the fires were dead. From the figure. From the sky. The temperature rose. Ten degrees. Twenty. Thirty. The sweat — which had been a comfortable, ’we-are-strong-men’ sweat — became the ’something-is-wrong’ sweat. The sweat of fear.

And their cocks.

The men — who had been erect, their cocks hard with the excitement of battle and conquest and rape — felt it. The loss. The softening. The ’my-body-is-no-longer-interested-in-fighting-or-fucking’ response that happened when the biological system was overridden by something stronger than lust.

Fear.

The fear of a god.

Not mortal fear. Not the ’I-might-die-in-battle’ fear that every barbarian carried and accepted. This was deeper. Older. The fear that lived in the brain stem, in the reptile brain, in the ’I-am-prey-and-that-is-a-predator’ instinct that every animal — including human animals — carried.

Gharuk felt it. His cock — nine inches, still hanging from his earlier exertion — went limp. Completely. The ’this-is-not-the-time-for-reproduction’ response that his body produced without his permission. His hands — the massive, killing hands — trembled.

"BERSERKER!" he screamed.

The word was not Eldorian. It was the old tongue. The language of the wastes. The word that meant ’take-the-pill-and-become-something-else.’

His hand found the pouch at his waist. The leather pouch — small, tied with sinew. Inside, the pills. Dark. Round. The size of a thumb. The demonification pills — the tablets that the barbarians had acquired through trade with the demon realm, the ’we-cannot-use-magic-but-we-can-become-demons’ substitute that gave mana-less men the power of demon-kin.

He ate one.

The change was immediate. His skin darkened. Not tanned — ’darkened.’ The color shifted from weathered brown to deep, charcoal black. The veins — the network of blood vessels beneath the skin — bulged. Became visible. The dark, purple-black lines of demonic energy running beneath the surface, the ’I-am-becoming-something-else’ transformation that turned a barbarian into a demonified brute.

His muscles swelled. The already-massive frame — seven feet, three hundred pounds — expanded. The fibers multiplied. The density increased. His skin — now black, now veined — hardened. The texture changed from flesh to something closer to leather. To armor. To ’nothing-I-have-ever-seen’ tissue that was denser than steel.

His eyes went red. Not the crimson of a demon — the burning, ’I-am-on-the-inside’ red of demonic energy flooding the irises.

He punched the rock.

The meteor — which had been descending, which had been falling, which had been ’coming’ — was not a meteor. It was a figure. A woman. A humanoid shape, wreathed in light, hovering in the air above the camp.

Gharuk’s fist — the demonified, black-skinned, steel-hard fist — hit the air. The punch was not aimed at the figure. It was aimed at the ’concept.’ At the fear. At the ’I-will-not-be-afraid’ declaration of a man who refused to kneel.

The shockwave from his punch split the air. The sound barrier — the ’I-am-moving-faster-than-sound’ crack — echoed across the grassland. The air distorted. The figure — the woman in the sky — remained.

Seeing their leader do it, the others ate.

Hundreds of them. The pills — the demonification tablets — were passed around. Shared. Swallowed. The transformation rippled through the camp. Hundreds of muscular men becoming hundreds of demonified brutes. Black skin. Bulging veins. Red eyes. The mass transformation — the ’we-will-not-be-afraid-we-will-become-something-stronger’ response of a tribe that had faced gods before and survived through berserker rage.

They jumped.

Dozens of them. The demonified legs — enhanced, the muscles containing demonic energy that supplemented their lack of mana — launched them into the air. Not flying. Jumping. The ’I-will-reach-you’ leaps of men whose bodies had been enhanced beyond human limits.

The first wave — twelve men — reached the height of the figure. Their hands — the black, clawed hands — extended. Their mouths — the fanged, ’I-will-bite-your-throat’ mouths — opened.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Gharuk screamed from below. His voice — amplified by the demonification, the vocal cords vibrating with demonic energy — shook the ground. "SHOW YOURSELF!"

The figure hovered.

Not a meteor. Not a god. A woman.

Mira.

She floated in the air. Her body — not naked this time. Dressed. The loose gown she had changed into after feeding the baby. The fabric covered her from neck to ankle. Her black hair was tied back. Her green eyes — luminous, burning — looked down at the barbarian camp. At the demonified brutes. At the black-skinned, red-eyed, vein-bulging men who were jumping toward her.

She was not naked because she had learned. The battlefield — the first battlefield, the ten thousand soldiers — had been different. Those men had been within her negation field. These men were spread across a larger area. Not every man who laid eyes on her would be within the field’s radius. And Mira — the perverted MILF who walked naked through her manor — was not an exhibitionist in front of enemies. Not anymore. Not when the rule was absolute: ’no man sees my body and lives.’

So she was dressed. Covered. The gown — loose, practical — hid the thick body, the heavy tits, the wide hips. Only her face — the sharp, beautiful, ’I-am-going-to-destroy-you’ face — was visible.

Her eyes tracked the demonified barbarians. The black skin. The bulging veins. The red eyes. The pills.

’Demonification,’ she thought. The recognition was instant. The Arcane Sovereign’s spell analysis ability — the instant identification of magical phenomena — told her what she was seeing. ’They’re using demonic energy to supplement their lack of mana. These barbarians — they have no mana. No training. No understanding of magic. But the pills — the demonification — it gives them a substitute. The demonic energy acts as artificial mana.’

’Where did they get these?’

The question formed. And the answer — the unwelcome, ’I-should-have-seen-this-coming’ answer — followed.

The holy church. The royal faction. The hidden forces that had been moving against Millbrook since Viktor arrived. She had expected action. Had prepared. Had tracked the merchant trails, the weapons shipments, the supply lines. Had killed and arrested the agents. Had dismantled the networks.

But she had not expected this.