Incubus Awakening: The More I Lust, The Stronger I Become

"Well, isn't that cute," Pixel said, mocking yet straightforward.

Logan shook his head. "At the time, Selene took a liking to me. But even then, I don't think I was able to reciprocate her affection."

Reacting to his words, the world circled around the two once more, waving into a single point before exploding back out.

The scenery reflected his intent, returning to a different field.

This time, it was a hallway. Gray lockers lined the brick walls, short and skinny. And, despite the ones in Buford all having locks, these ones stood without protection.

Along with them came the occasional door that hid a classroom, labeled with last names at the center.

Logan's eyes lit up, panning over each component. "My old school," he sighed, tapping his foot against the floor. "The last place I'd want to see."

"Why is that?" Pixel asked, taking the time to take in each locker. Just barely, she caught one in particular, its grotesque smell and horrible appearance forcing a gag out of her. "Jesus Christ," she said.

Egg shells hung on its door from dried yolk, used toilet paper peeked out from a crack on the side of the locker, and layers of paint discolored its metal.

"That, there, is my old locker," Logan said, walking up to push his hand against it. As usual, it passed through, leading to his eyes turning down.

"If this is what I think it is, then..." he pondered, taking a deep breath before he twisted his body right.

Across the hallway—barely visible—was a single boy on the ground, getting pushed around by a ring of kicks and knees.

Six boys stood over the boy, each sounding with grunts and chuckles.

"Well, get up, then, mute! Make some sound!"

"Why do you even come to this school when you can't speak?"

Each one persisted with their taunts, even feeling bolder in their assault. The number of kicks increased, some even going so far as to thrash his nether region.

"Nggahh, gghay!" the boy yelled, flailing his arms and legs in some misguided attempt to protect himself.

"You got bullied, even back then?" Pixel asked, moving forward for a better view. Logan followed her, looking around.

"Yes," he replied, closing his eyes. "But it's a good thing I wasn't alone."

Two pairs of pattering feet stole the bullies' attention, giving the younger Logan just a moment's respite from the assault.

There, two kids stood. One flaunting their deathly black hair and smooth, prominent skin, the other also donning their black—yet, not ethereal—hair and creepily narrow face.

"Get your hands off of him! That's my friend you're dealing with!" one yelled, a girl. Her fist broiled with all the malice of a wolf, even without the aid of mana.

"Who the heck is this?" one kid asked.

"That's Selene! We shouldn't mess with her, she's already awakened her Gift!"

"What? Seriously!?"

"Yeah! They say she beat up Mr. Calligan just because she was put in the corner!"

"Dang, then she's the real deal! Let's move it!"

The boys scattered, running to opposite ends of the hallway, then off into the distance.

Selene took it as a chance to run up to the younger Logan. "What were you thinking? You know not to roam the halls during class time!" she yelled, running her hand through his many purple blemishes.

The second kid followed behind her, crouching down to her level. "Yeah, Logan. The kids here are all elitist, so they'll take every chance they get to drop other kids down a peg. That goes double for someone with no real social class."

Selene punched his shoulder. "Zack, you shouldn't say such things!"

Feeling the skin she attacked turn purple, Zack scratched at it. "Ow! I'm just telling the truth. He should stick close to us if he can't even speak."

"Nyah, gghuuh!" younger Logan exclaimed, reaching his arms in the air like a child. "Buugh, buh!"

Zack's expression darkened. "Detestable," he said once.

"Okay, that's too far!" Selene spat.

Zack inched back from her anger, then hardened his limbs. "But am I wrong? We've all had to take really hard language classes. Why does a pansy like him get to coast along in the same school without putting in the work?"

The older Logan scoffed at the young kid's speech, leaning against the hard wall. "Look at him, at least he was much more well-spoken with his insults back then."

"You and Zack knew each other?" Pixel asked.

"Of course. In fact, 'knew' is an understatement."

Letting his mind do the work, the environment bled anew, this time basking in the warm sunlight on a field of grass. A long waterway separated the space in front, flowing freely into the vast unknown.

Seated on the clean wilderness were Zack and Selene, holding a book up in front of the younger Logan. "See the green blades? It is... 'grass.' Okay? 'Grass," Selene said, pointing to the ground, then one of the book's pages.

"Gr... ash..." young Logan struggled, squinting his eyes directly into the book's contents.

Then, the group continued with their lessons. Zack would say a word, Selene would help make it stick for Logan.

Once more, the world warped. The grass turned into a field of chairs, rowed nicely throughout the expanse of a classroom.

"Class, would anyone like to tell me who exactly drew on my whiteboard before class started?" a teacher asked, smacking one, long ruler against her palm.

Some students snickered, others looked for potential culprits. Then, she spoke again:

"If someone doesn't speak up, then everyone in this room will have to do an extra five laps in tomorrow's PE class."

The entire room groaned, leading some to look behind at Logan, lips curved as high as the sky.

"It was Logan," one kid proclaimed, raising his hand. "Yeah, I saw him walk up and draw it right before class started," another one issued, sitting right next to the first. "Isn't that right, Zack?"

Zack was sandwiched between the two, wearing the exact same plain black shirt. "Y-yeah... I saw Logan do it."

The teacher shook her head, lips curled up. "My, am I disappointed. I expected a better student out of you, Logan, especially with your many disadvantages. Perhaps this school isn't meant for you?"

The younger Logan raised his hands up, scanning the room in confusion. Nobody spoke up, not a soul. "B-but, it wasn't me..."

"So are you saying that three of my best students lied? I'm sorry, but you're going to have to pay a visit to the principal's office."

Logan's eyes went wet as he pushed himself off his seat. Not a word left his mouth as he turned his head left—keeping the class from witnessing his tears.

Then, another stood in his stead. "No, I lied. I didn't see Logan write on that board, and neither did my friends, because... we were the ones who drew on it," Zack said, turning away from the hateful glare of the two beside him.

"Zack, why you...!" one bit, but the teacher swiped her hand.

"This is even more unexpected. Fine then. Logan, sit down. These three will answer for the crime," the teacher ordered.

Logan—the older one—smiled, letting his hand hover over Zack's incorporeal body. "After he went out of his way to stick up for me, him and I became friends—the best of friends. That is, before it happened."