Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users
Chapter 201: Back Inside The Shuttles

Chapter 201: Back Inside The Shuttles

No static. No follow-up.

Hannick didn’t ask who said it. He didn’t send anyone to check. He didn’t need to.

He just nodded, slow, almost like he’d expected it, almost like he’d been waiting.

No one else spoke.

Above them, the main map flickered once. Briefly, the mana lines across the forest shifted slightly. They bent into new shapes. Calmer ones. Less erratic.

But not peaceful.

It wasn’t the calm after a fight.

It was the stillness after something wakes up and decides not to move.

For now.

And inside the control tent, for the first time since the beast riot began... nobody gave orders. No new instructions. No calls for support.

Because they all knew what had changed.

The system flagged the blackout. It logged the fallen cultists. It tagged the beasts still wandering near the outer zones.

The students still needed help.

But nobody was really looking at the map anymore.

They were looking at the silence.

And deep in the middle of it... they waited.

Not for answers.

Not for orders.

But for the next move.

Because the game wasn’t theirs anymore.

And whatever just woke up...

It wasn’t going back to sleep.

—

Out in the forest, things had started to shift.

The sound of fighting was still there, but thinner now. Fainter. Fewer roars. Less crashing.

The beasts weren’t gone. But they weren’t charging in waves anymore. Their movement slowed.

A few ran in circles. Some just stood still, eyes twitching toward the tree line like they were waiting for something else.

Some vanished entirely.

It didn’t make sense.

There were no signs they’d been killed. No leftover blood. No broken trees. Just gone—like something had pulled them back or wiped them off the board without needing a fight.

Ethan noticed it first.

He stood near the edge of a small cliff, overlooking a shallow valley where two groups of students were being guided to a narrow path that led out.

Most of them were limping. Some were helping each other. A few still looked ready to fight, but most were too tired to even speak.

Behind him, the twins moved in sync—one clearing brush, the other checking mana pulses from a stolen beast tracker.

Sera stood slightly uphill, her eyes sweeping the treeline, her stance still perfect despite the dried blood along her sleeves.

Mei wasn’t far. She stayed behind the rear-most group, walking silently, her hands coated with a soft healing glow as she moved from one injured student to another.

They didn’t need to speak.

Each step was covered.

Every gap filled.

None of them had broken off or rushed ahead.

Ethan had taken the lead earlier—not to prove anything, but because he was the only one the beasts seemed to hesitate around.

He hadn’t used much power. Just enough to draw attention without making a scene.

Now, as the last students made it down the slope and onto the exit route, he took a breath.

It didn’t feel like relief.

It felt like the moment after a warning had passed—but the danger hadn’t.

"Last group is down," Evelyn said from behind.

Everly glanced sideways. "You sure this isn’t a trap?"

Ethan gave a quiet shrug. "If it is, it’s a bad one."

Sera walked over, boots crunching lightly against broken twigs. "Evac signal just triggered. Final shuttle’s in-bound. Five minutes out."

Mei looked up. "That’s fast."

"They’re trying to clean this up before it spreads," Sera replied. "And before more eyes start watching."

Ethan didn’t comment. He just turned slightly, checking the trail behind them again.

No movement.

No beasts.

The silence was strange, but not the same as earlier. This one wasn’t thick or tense. It felt like a space had been made—on purpose—so they could leave.

So they could finish.

He didn’t like it.

But he wasn’t going to fight it either.

The shuttle arrived quietly.

It didn’t roar or blast wind across the clearing. Just hovered, low and steady, mana-thrusters humming as a ramp extended out onto the path.

One by one, the students boarded.

Some looked back at the woods.

Some kept their heads down.

A few glanced at Ethan and the others.

They didn’t say much. But the looks carried weight.

Questions.

Gratitude.

Uncertainty.

Not everyone had made it out. That was clear.

But those who had—had been kept alive because of a few people who didn’t panic. Who didn’t run.

Ethan’s group was the last to board.

Not by accident.

They waited. Counted.

Watched every trail until they were sure no one else was coming.

Then they stepped onto the shuttle.

No cheers. No applause. Just a final glance toward the forest before the door sealed shut.

From above, the forest looked calm.

No smoke.

No damage.

No beast corpses or burning clearings.

Just green.

Still.

But every person on that shuttle knew something had shifted.

It wasn’t over.

The beasts didn’t retreat because they lost.

They were called off.

Suppressed.

Handled.

And nobody knew by who.

Ethan leaned against the shuttle wall, arms crossed, staring out the small viewport as the tree line faded into the distance.

Sera sat near the rear, her eyes still sharp.

The twins shared a look but said nothing.

Mei checked over the students one last time.

None of them relaxed.

Not yet.

The pilot didn’t speak either.

The screen above the door just showed their flight path.

But even that looked strange.

Too straight.

Too fast.

Like they were being pushed out of the zone faster than normal.

And still—no alerts.

No news broadcasts.

No official warnings.

Just silence.

And underneath that silence... something had moved.

Not for them.

Not against them.

But it was there.

And it was watching.

They didn’t know its name.

But they all knew what it meant.

Because in the heart of that forest, someone had pulled the strings.

Someone had cleaned the mess.

And someone powerful didn’t want the world to see what really happened.

But Ethan saw enough.

And as the shuttle flew on, his fingers curled once against the armrest.

Just once.

Then let go.

They were out.

But whatever had started... hadn’t ended.

Not even close.