Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users
Chapter 192: Now It’s My Turn

Chapter 192: Now It’s My Turn

Ethan didn’t shift his feet.

He just kept watching.

His breathing stayed calm. His hand still rested near the hilt of his blade, but he hadn’t touched it yet.

He was waiting, measuring.

Because he knew that once he made the first move, everything would change.

The forest would wake up again. The noise would return. The others would feel the ripple and start preparing for another round of chaos.

But for now, this brief, stretched-out moment of stillness was something he could use.

He didn’t smile.

But his eyes narrowed slightly, not in fear, but in focus.

And as the beast began to crouch, preparing to charge for real this time—

Ethan exhaled, slow and steady.

Then, he took one small step to the left.

Just enough to invite the first strike.

The beast dropped its front paws hard.

Its muscles coiled.

And just before it leapt—

Ethan moved.

But the fight hadn’t started yet.

Not really.

He wasn’t here to win right now.

He was here to lead it away.

The beast pounced, teeth bared and eyes locked onto Ethan’s chest, expecting him to dodge like prey.

But Ethan didn’t run. He stepped to the side, calm, measured, letting the beast pass with only a breath of space between them.

One smooth sidestep and a half-turn of his body was enough. The creature hit the ground where he had just been, landing hard and spinning with a snarl.

Ethan walked again. No rush in his steps, but no hesitation either. Each stride was deliberate, leading the creature away from the moss trench and farther into the uneven rise that curled behind it.

The beast followed.

It didn’t roar again. It didn’t charge wildly. It just stalked him now, its heavy steps pressing into the dirt with steady force.

Its eyes glowed faintly under the canopy, a light that wasn’t natural but didn’t belong to anything magical either. Pure instinct. Pure killing intent.

The trees thinned as they reached a small plateau. Broken branches and low bushes marked the area, like something larger had passed through recently.

Maybe another beast. Maybe not. Ethan didn’t care.

He reached the edge of the plateau and stopped. There was just enough space here. The terrain dipped down at the far end, giving him a slope to play with.

Rocks to use. Enough open ground to dodge, but not so much that the creature could run freely.

This would do.

Ethan turned.

His hand slid to his sword.

But he didn’t draw it yet.

The bronze beast stopped at the edge of the clearing. Its breath had started to deepen, not with exhaustion but with intent.

It lowered its front half again, spreading its claws, shoulders rolling forward like it was trying to push the ground down before exploding from it.

Ethan’s fingers flexed once around the hilt.

He exhaled again, slower this time.

Then he spoke quietly, not loud enough for anyone but himself to hear.

"Now it’s my turn."

The beast moved first.

It charged without warning, legs pounding the ground like hammers, and for the first time since they spotted it, it showed its true speed.

Ethan met it head-on. But not to clash. Not yet.

At the last moment, he shifted again, a clean, precise angle just enough to avoid the impact. As he moved, his blade came free.

The metal slid out without a sound. One step, one pivot, and a sharp slash cut beneath the beast’s front leg.

Not deep. Not meant to kill. Just to test.

A burst of sparks flew off the strike.

The blade had hit something beneath the fur—tough armor, thickened by time and pressure.

Ethan noted the resistance, then rolled out of the way as the beast turned faster than expected, swinging its full weight to slam him into the ridge behind.

He didn’t get hit.

But it was close.

The creature spun, kicking up a spray of dirt, and lunged again, this time faster, like it had registered him as a real threat.

Ethan’s second strike landed across the ribs.

Again, not to kill. Not yet.

This wasn’t about overpowering it. This was about understanding it.

And every second gave him more.

The way it planted its hind legs first. The way it swung was more predictable when it roared. The way it guarded its neck without even realizing it.

It had habits.

And habits could be broken.

The third clash came with a loud thud. The beast feinted left and swiped right, catching Ethan’s shoulder with a glancing blow.

He twisted with the impact, absorbing the force and moving back instead of resisting.

He slid five steps across the ground and stopped cleanly.

Then lunged forward again.

His sword snapped down along its forelimb, this time drawing a shallow line of dark blood.

It howled—not in pain, but in anger. A reaction. Another sign.

Ethan backed off again, giving it space to charge, baiting the momentum.

The fight turned into a pattern, a rhythm.

The beast struck hard and wild. Ethan moved in precise, cutting arcs. He never wasted energy.

Every slash had a purpose. Every block turned into a counter. Every breath was taken with care.

He wasn’t trying to win with brute force. That would’ve been foolish.

He was breaking it down.

First, the front legs, over and over, until its weight started to shift more slowly.

Then, the joints near its shoulders, sharp strikes meant to disrupt balance.

He ducked under another charge and left a clean cut across its inner thigh.

Another howl.

Another stagger.

But still it came.

Its power was real. Bronze rank wasn’t something to laugh at. A single hit, full force, could crush bones.

But Ethan wasn’t standing there to measure power.

He was showing control.

And every time the beast lunged, he punished it.

Two more steps forward. A feint.

A slice across the ribs.

He stepped back. Waited.

It swiped at his head. He dropped low and cut behind its knee.

The ground shook again as the creature buckled slightly. Not enough to fall. But it was losing its edge.

The next clash happened in the center of the clearing.

The beast roared and leapt, full body weight thrown forward.

Ethan didn’t dodge this time.