Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users
Chapter 207: Your Late

Chapter 207: Your Late

The shuttle wasn’t big. Just enough seats for maybe a dozen passengers, with built-in restraints and reinforced windows.

The walls were a dull gray, scratched from use, and the hum of the mana core under the floor gave the space a soft, constant vibration—barely noticeable unless you were still.

Ethan stepped on board and took a seat near the back. Not in the corner, but close—far enough that he had space on both sides, and a clear view of the doors.

Evelyn and Everly followed a moment later, settling into the seats across the aisle. Not pressed up against him, but close. Their posture relaxed, not alert, but casual.

Outside, the base was still in motion. Crates were lifted by hovering forklifts, drones navigated pre-programmed paths, and workers moved with clipped, focused urgency. Everyone was doing something. Everyone had a task.

It looked normal. But the energy wasn’t normal.

Too clean. Too efficient. Like everyone was pretending things hadn’t gone off script.

Just before the shuttle doors sealed shut, Ethan turned slightly to glance out the window.

One of the supervising officers stood near the edge of the compound, half-shadowed by a comms tower. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched them.

Their eyes didn’t meet.

But the attention was clear.

The doors hissed closed, and the shuttle’s mana plates activated with a soft thrum. A low lift carried them into the air, and the ground fell away beneath them in steady motion.

No one spoke.

The ride wasn’t long, but the silence made it stretch. The students said nothing. The escorts said even less.

Some tried to sleep. Others stared blankly ahead.

Ethan sat with his arms crossed loosely, his eyes half-lidded but sharp underneath.

He wasn’t thinking about the forest. Not directly.

He was thinking about what came after.

As the shuttle pierced the low cloud layer, the city skyline came into view—gray towers with gold trim, digital banners flickering across wide buildings, air patrols running silently above the spires.

Home.

But it didn’t feel like it.

The shuttle banked right, dipping into the controlled flight lanes. A soft chime sounded. A voice came over the intercom, distant and practiced.

"Processing zone incoming. Remain seated. All students will disembark for health verification and return briefings. Please comply with all inspection requests."

The voice clicked off. The silence returned.

When they landed, the doors opened with a smooth hiss. The base platform was larger than expected—military-grade, full landing pad infrastructure with tall privacy shields rising on either side.

Officials waited outside. Not many. Just enough to be noticeable. Two wore insignia from the Department of Superpower Oversight. The others were clearly internal staff.

No cameras.

No media.

Just quiet.

One by one, students stepped off the shuttle.

They were directed to different lines. Most of Group F went left, toward the standard processing stations. Med check. Energy screening. Behavior analysis.

But not Ethan.

A woman in a sleek black coat stepped forward and called his name. "Ethan Nocturne."

He didn’t answer.

He just moved.

She didn’t explain where they were going. She didn’t need to.

Evelyn and Everly exchanged a look but didn’t follow. They weren’t stopped. They just didn’t move.

They knew where he was going.

A separate shuttle was already waiting at the far end of the pad. Smaller. Sleeker. No insignia on the sides. The type used for high-tier personnel transfers.

Ethan stepped inside with no resistance or hesitation.

The interior was warmer. Quieter. There was no vibration here. The mana field was balanced to perfection.

The shuttle took off with no sound.

No announcements, no escort inside.

Just the faint hum of luxury-level systems at work.

It didn’t take long to reach the estate.

The Nocturne mansion stood exactly where it always had, perched near the edge of a private district, half-surrounded by dense greenery and faint illusionary wards that kept out prying eyes.

The gates opened before the shuttle even touched down.

Ethan stepped out onto the stone path that led toward the front entrance.

The wind was calm. The trees barely moved. The sky was blue-gray with evening mist curling along the edges of the rooftop.

He didn’t stop to admire it.

The front doors were already open.

Inside, the mansion didn’t feel loud.

But it didn’t feel peaceful either.

There was movement.

Not rushed. Not chaotic, just a quiet peace that made him feel lighter.

Lilith stood near the edge of the hallway, dressed in black, no apron, no casual clothes, just a long, tailored coat that hugged her figure with elegance and command.

Seraphina was by the stairs, datapad in hand, one heel propped on the second step like she had paused midway through pacing.

Her eyes didn’t leave the screen, but the moment Ethan stepped in, she tapped it off.

Liliana leaned against a wall to the right, arms crossed, still in partial combat uniform. Her boots were dusty. She hadn’t changed.

And Isabella?

She stood closest.

The shuttle touched down without a bump. Smooth. Quiet.

Ethan stepped out into the evening breeze, the weight of the past days still tucked inside his chest, calm on the outside, steady on his feet.

He didn’t pause.

Didn’t need to.

The path to the front door was clear, lined with faint lights that flickered on as he passed.

Somewhere behind him, the Moonshade twins stayed a few paces back, respectful, but near. Mei and Sera had gone their own way at the checkpoint.

He walked up the final steps alone.

The door opened before he reached it.

Lilith stood there, her silver-white hair catching the warm hallway light, her expression calm—but her eyes, deep crimson, flickered for a second too long.

Not cold. Not sharp.

Just full.

A kind of fullness that came from watching the person you love finally come home.

She stepped forward first. Not rushed. Not stiff. Just one smooth motion as she reached out and brushed her fingers gently along Ethan’s cheek.

"You’re late," she murmured, her voice low, soft, and without edge.

Then her hand moved to the back of his head—fingers threading lightly through his hair—and she held him there for just a second.

Not hard. Not desperate.

Just long enough.