Became a Demon with Pregnancy System-Chapter 125: New Target Lenora Quinn

He sauntered away from the club, the night air cool on his face. A swirl of dark magic flickered at his fingertips as he tested his new sub-monarch-level energies.

Better to let these folks handle their own intrigues.

If anything threatened his peace, though, he’d be ready.

Meanwhile, Across Arcadia

In another part of the sprawling city, tall skyscrapers loomed, lights shining in every window. On a private terrace high above the bustling streets, Tanya Reed was locked in debate with Victor Hale—a stern older mage advocating caution, or even outright hostility, toward the Totem Serpent.

Their raised voices occasionally turned heads among the few staff who lingered in the corridor, but none dared interrupt.

Elsewhere, in a secluded medical lab on campus, Elias Vaughn hunched over an array of tubes and beakers, carefully mixing extracts of Totem Serpent venom in search of a cure for his ailing grandfather.

The fluorescent lighting cast harsh shadows, highlighting the strain in Elias’s features. His mind kept drifting to the memory of that day’s epic fight at Avalon Lake, how close everyone came to perishing.

I’ll never be that helpless again, he vowed, pushing the syringe into a sample.

Back at Arcadia Academy

Luke found himself meandering the hushed lanes within the academy grounds. He paused beneath a tall lamppost, its glow illuminating an ivy-covered wall.

Beyond that wall lay the staff quarters, where Perola and Laura Adams undoubtedly recovered from the day’s "exertions." His lips twitched in a knowing grin. I wonder if they regret giving up so much dark magic...

A night-blooming flower’s fragrance drifted on the breeze, and for a moment, Luke’s eyelids drooped as the day’s fatigue wrapped around him like a comforting shawl.

On nights like this—serene yet tinged with underlying tension—he found it hard to switch off his mind. Each step forward felt like a reminder that he was an anomaly in a place built for more traditional mages.

"Congenital bad luck holy body," he muttered, echoing some rumor he’d once overheard, describing him as a magnet for calamities.

While meant sarcastically, it often felt true. He was forever stumbling into crises: demon upsurges, evil sect plots, ancient totem awakenings.

And recently, forging alliances with Fallen Angels for personal gain. Am I truly unlucky, or just fated for bigger things?

He snorted. "One man’s misfortune is another’s stepping stone, I guess."

Glancing at the sky, he noted the bright, pale moon.

In that glow, the silhouette of a sleek eagle soared overhead—one of the academy’s patrol hawks, no doubt.

The same hawks that rarely let him out of their sight these days.

Looks like the administration wants to ensure I’m not leading any more unauthorized demon hunts. Another pang of regret fluttered in his chest—he missed the thrill of frontline action.

Still, he had a second thought: At least, I can train on my own, pushing my new sub-monarch level to real-world readiness.

He turned on his heel, deciding to circle back to his dorm. Sleep beckoned, and while tomorrow offered no guaranteed excitement, he felt confident that something would eventually come his way. It always did.

He had no idea, of course, that the seeds of new conflict were already planted in Arcadia’s underbelly—some involving the Murphy Family’s blood agent deal, others swirling around the uncertain fates of the Totem Serpent and the Parthenon Soul.

But for now, Luke was content to embrace the quiet. Sometimes, a lull before the next storm was all one could hope for.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he strolled off. The shadows stretched longer under the moonlight, and the air carried a faint hum of Arcadia’s city life winding down.

Despite any lingering tension, he let a small, confident smile grace his face. Bad luck or not, I’m here. And I’ll handle whatever comes.

A soft drizzle fell over Arcadia’s evening streets, turning neon lights into smeared ribbons of color on the pavement. Somewhere along a side alley, a private club exuded muffled music through its walls, and from time to time, men in sharp suits or fashionable evening dresses passed in or out. Luke found himself lingering outside, partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity.

It had been a few days since he’d parted ways with the Fallen Angels, Perola and Laura Adams, after their eventful arrangement.

Now, with no official duties—since Dean Silas had removed him from all field leadership—Luke was in a peculiar idle phase, stuck in what he jokingly called a "window period."

As he meandered, a vaguely robotic chime sounded in the recesses of his mind.

"Ding! Qualified individual detected

High qualification: ’Lenora Quinn.’

Conquer to gain rewards."

He stopped in his tracks. "Lenora Quinn," he echoed under his breath. A flicker of recognition tugged at him.

She was an old acquaintance, but the system’s label was always impersonal. In his earlier life, she’d been known by a different name—Leng Qing—yet, just like him, the identity shift in Skandia required an English modernization: Lenora Quinn.

A wave of excitement coursed through him. So Senior Sister Quinn is here... He had long admired her fierce dedication to the Judgment Society.

In the old days, she’d been a high-ranking enforcer, rumored to be unstoppable when cornered.

She was also rumored to have a complicated background, tied to other powerful organizations. Luke had lost track of her for a while, only to learn from stray whispers that she was traveling incognito.

"Really nothing to do, then suddenly," he muttered wryly, "she appears out of nowhere—perfect timing."

He turned the corner around the club’s exterior and spotted a figure leaning against a scarlet wall.

In the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, Lenora Quinn was dressed in a provocative, form-hugging purple cheongsam that highlighted every curve.

The plunging neckline framed her collarbone, leaving enough to the imagination yet undeniably bold. Her face was adorned with smoky eyeshadow and rouge lips—thick makeup, sure, but skillfully applied.

Even from a distance, Luke could sense her aura of confidence. At least, it looked like confidence.