Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users

The roots pulled back, their growth pausing like they had been told to wait. The illusions stilled, too, their reflections holding steady in the broken sky above.

Even the rivers of light curved back into calmer arcs, no longer lashing wildly through the dark, and for a moment the whole place seemed to draw breath.

The fractured sky smoothed just enough to stop trembling.

The two of them stood across from each other again, just as they had in the beginning. Opposite sides of the arena, steady, unbroken, eyes locked.

Elowen's lips curved faintly, not mockery, just a small nod of acknowledgment. A calm smile that didn't need words.

Lilith smirked back, her crimson gaze sharp, the edge in her eyes never softening.

The warm-up was over.

The void quivered faintly, as if it knew it had to brace for what came next. It waited, holding its breath, waiting for whichever storm would move first.

This time, it was Lilith. She lifted one hand gracefully and deliberately, and the fractured sky above them shivered.

The jagged shards of mirrored horizons trembled and then cracked further, splitting apart like glass under pressure.

Dozens of fragments spilled downward, glowing faintly as they fell, but before they touched the root floor, they twisted.

They didn't scatter into dust this time. They pulled themselves into shape. Figures. Dozens of them. Each one is sharp. Each one is tall. Each one wears Elowen's face.

The arena is filled with mirrored Elowens—dozens of them—their eyes calm, their hands lifted, and their breath steady.

They weren't empty shells. They breathed. Their lips moved. Their bodies wove phantom roots, raised phantom branches, bent phantom rivers to their will.

The space grew crowded, packed with Elowens who weren't hers.

For the first time, the void felt small.

The mirrored Elowens moved in unison, their voices layering, whispers stacking on top of each other until they sounded like leaves rustling in a phantom forest.

The sound spread across the arena, mixing with the hiss of rivers that weren't real but felt like they could drown anything they touched.

Elowen's brow furrowed slightly. No fear, just concentration. She spread her arms wide, her bare feet pressing harder into the living root beneath her, and the pulse of the place surged outward with her will. A soft sound caught in her throat—not anger, just effort.

The roots answered.

They erupted upward in a tidal wave, thicker and denser than before. Veins of green light wrapped around them, weaving together like braids tied by unseen hands.

They crashed against the false branches and rivers, splitting them open, tearing them apart one by one.

The mirrored Elowens fell with them, their faces breaking into shards of light that hissed faintly before fading out.

The battlefield shook under the weight of her command, the cracks sounding like thunder.

But Lilith's smirk only widened. Her voice came smooth, carried through the noise, teasing but edged.

"Erase my tricks if you like, but you spend twice the strength every time you do it. Can you really outlast me?"

Elowen's gaze snapped to her, steady, silver-green eyes calm but carrying more weight than her quiet tone suggested.

"You mistake me, Lilith. The roots don't tire." She pressed her hand harder into the lattice beneath her feet, her voice like stone settling. "And I don't fight alone."

The words rippled through the void, and for the briefest moment, the illusions themselves bent.

It was as if the colossal tree, the one whose roots stretched across everything, had shifted closer.

Its unseen canopy pressed weight down into the battlefield, a reminder that it still lived.

The rivers of light trembled, bowing inward, curving as though acknowledging the truth of what she said.

Lilith's crimson eyes narrowed, her smirk still fixed in place but thinner now. She lifted her hand again, and the illusions twisted further.

The rivers bent sideways, pouring across the arena at impossible angles. The mirrored skies folded downward, shattering and reforming into claws that scraped against the ground.

Roots, both false and real, bent sharply as if they had been torn from their anchors, striking at Elowen from corners of the void that shouldn't even exist.

The battlefield bent itself, folding like paper, turning itself into a weapon. Every attack came from an angle that couldn't be braced for, because the ground itself didn't know which way was down.

Elowen stood her ground. Her breathing stayed steady. Her arms lifted slowly, deliberately. She didn't chase the illusions or waste herself striking blindly. Instead, she pressed deeper into the heartbeat of the arena, that slow rhythm that had lived here long before either of them had walked it.

Her roots thickened, her vines coiled tighter, and their glow grew so dense that they became more than branches—they were pillars, anchors driven into the fabric of space.

The phantom rivers slammed against them from sideways and upside down, but the anchors didn't move.

The claws of mirrored sky scraped down, but they broke. The ground bent, the air screamed, but the roots stayed.

Reality steadied itself around her.

The illusions cracked, hissing as they shattered. The phantom rivers split. The mirrored skies broke apart into dust. And Elowen remained, calm and rooted.

Lilith's smirk sharpened, amusement shifting into something closer to acknowledgment. She snapped her fingers once. The sound was small, but the effect was anything but.

The entire battlefield flipped.

The mirrored skies rushed downward, rivers bent upward, roots split sideways. For a breathless instant, the world turned itself inside out.

But Elowen didn't stumble. Her feet dug deeper into the living lattice, the glow of the veins beneath her pulsing like iron chains wrapping her in place.

She forced the world to stabilize around her, not by denying Lilith's illusions but by demanding reality bend to her instead.

The arena groaned under both of them. Shards of illusion fell like hail. Roots cracked open the mirrored sky.

Rivers spilled across the void, twisting and flooding until they broke apart. The fabric of the place warped and ripped, struggling to hold against two forces that refused to yield.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Neither moved. They just stood, steady, their eyes locked through the chaos.

And then they moved again, not holding back this time.