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

Chapter 754: Chapter 753 - Getting the Second Inheritance of His Higher Sex Demon Self

~ Part I: The Hollow Dimension

The world went white.

Not bright. Not blinding. White like the absence of everything. Like someone had taken reality and scraped it clean, leaving behind nothing but the canvas beneath. No sound. No smell. No sensation. Just white.

Then darkness.

The white collapsed inward, folding into itself like paper being crumpled by an invisible hand. The darkness that replaced it was not the darkness of night or shadow. It was the darkness of void. Of nothingness. Of a space that existed between spaces, where the rules of the living world did not apply.

Viktor stood.

His body, naked and glowing with a faint amethyst luminescence, was the only source of light. The glow, which pulsed from his skin like a heartbeat, cast long shadows into the void. The shadows, which should have stretched infinitely, stopped. As if the darkness itself had edges. Walls. A floor that he could not see but could feel beneath his bare feet.

He blinked. The action, which should have been involuntary, was deliberate. A conscious effort to process what was happening.

"What is this?" he said. His voice, which should have echoed, did not. The words, spoken into the void, were absorbed. Swallowed. As if the darkness was hungry and ate sound.

He looked forward. The void, which had been empty, was not.

The orb hung in the distance. Not far. Not close. The distance, in this place without landmarks, was impossible to judge. The orb, which was the size of a man’s head, was hollow. Not solid. Not filled. Hollow. The surface, which was not glass or crystal or any material he recognized, was translucent. Through it, he could see... nothing. The same void. The same darkness. As if the orb was a window into the same nothingness that surrounded him.

His lust, which had been a constant companion since his awakening as an incubus, was gone. Not suppressed. Not redirected. Gone. The fire, the hunger, the driving need that had powered every action, every fuck, every conquest, was absent. As if someone had reached into his core and extinguished the flame. The absence, the sudden and complete absence, was more disorienting than the void itself.

He walked. His feet, bare on the invisible floor, moved. Each step, which produced no sound, carried him toward the orb. The glow, the amethyst light that pulsed from his skin, shifted with each movement. The shadows, which had been still, shifted too.

The ground changed.

The first inscription appeared beneath his right foot. A symbol, glowing with the same amethyst light as his skin, formed on the invisible floor. The symbol, which was complex and angular, was not familiar. Not from any magical tradition he knew. Not from the demon realm. Not from the human kingdoms. The lines, which intersected and curved and spiraled, were something older. Something that predated the systems of magic that the world operated on.

Then another. Beneath his left foot. Different but similar. The same angular complexity. The same ancient feel.

Then more. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands.

The inscriptions, forming on the ground as he walked, spread outward from his path. The floor, which had been invisible, was now visible. Not because the darkness had lifted. Because the inscriptions, the glowing symbols, defined it. Each one, unique and complex, covered a portion of the surface. Together, they formed a carpet of light that stretched in every direction.

He stopped. The orb, which had been in the distance, was now before him. Close enough to touch. The surface, which was translucent, reflected his face. His features, the green eyes and the sharp jaw and the dark hair, were visible. And on his head, where there had been one horn, there were now two.

The second horn, the left one, had grown. The crystalline appendage, which matched the right in shape and size, curved upward from his temple. The amethyst glow, which pulsed from his skin, was brightest at the horns. The crystal, which was smooth and faceted, caught the light and refracted it. Tiny rainbows, cast across the void, danced on the inscriptions below.

He stared at the reflection. At the second horn. At the twin crystals that now crowned his head.

Then the pain hit.

Not gradually. Not building. Instant. Like a spear being driven through his skull from both temples simultaneously. The horns, which had been inert, ignited. The crystal, which had been smooth and cold, became hot. Burning. The amethyst glow, which had been soft, became blinding.

He screamed. The sound, which should have been absorbed by the void, was not. The scream, raw and primal, tore through the darkness. The inscriptions, which had been glowing on the ground, flared. The light, the amethyst light, became white. The void, the hungry void, was filled.

He fell. His knees, which had been steady, buckled. His hands, which had been at his sides, flew to his head. His fingers, gripping his hair, pulled. The pain, which was centered on the horns, radiated. Down his spine. Through his chest. Into his extremities. Every nerve, every cell, every fiber of his being was burning.

"AAAAAHH—!!"

The system appeared.

Not the golden interface that he was accustomed to. This was different. The text, which was usually golden, was amethyst. The notification, which usually appeared in a small window, filled his entire field of vision. The words, which were usually concise, were extensive.

[CRITICAL MASS OF INCUBUS POTENTIAL REACHED]

[ACTIVATING INHERITANCE LEFT BY THE HONORED ONE]

[SECOND INHERITANCE: HORN OF RUNIC INSCRIPTION]

[ABILITY: ANCIENT RUNE TRANSCRIPTION — UNLOCKED]

[WARNING: SOUL FRAGMENT INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS]

[ESTIMATED COMPLETION: VARIABLE]

He read the words. Through the pain, through the blinding light, through the screaming, he read them. And understood.

’Shit. Shit. Shit.’

The realization, which came in three waves, was devastating.

The first wave: the critical mass. His incubus potential, which had been growing since his awakening, had reached a threshold. The tail, which he had gained in Millbrook, had been the first inheritance. The horn, which had now grown, was the second. The system, which had been monitoring his growth, had triggered the inheritance when the threshold was crossed.

The second wave: the Honored One. The inheritance, which was described as being left by the Honored One, was not from a random source. The Honored One, the title that the system used, referred to a being of immense power. A being who had, at some point in the ancient past, set up the inheritance. A being whose power was now being transferred to Viktor in fragments. Tail first. Horns second.

The third wave: his higher self. Viktor had known, from the beginning, that his arrival in this world was not accidental. The sequence of events, the chain of coincidences that had led him to Millbrook, to the incubus inheritance, to the women, to the powers, was too precise. Too orchestrated. The ’someone-planned-this’ certainty that he had carried since his rebirth. His higher self, the consciousness that existed beyond his current form, had arranged everything. The town. The inheritance. The women. The checkpoints.

The mermaid. The woman he had just fucked on the flower bed. The woman whose pussy had felt different from any other. The woman whose body had triggered the second inheritance. She was not a coincidence. She was a checkpoint. A point on the path that his higher self had laid out. The ’she-was-chosen’ realization that made him gasp.

His eyes opened. The void was gone. The inscriptions, the orb, the darkness, all gone.