Extra's Life: MILFs Won't Leave the Incubus Alone-Chapter 185: Lucifer

DING!! DING!!!

The bells tolled like the slow heartbeat of a sleeping god. Each clang rolled across the spires and cobblestones of Leonidus fief, echoing through the cloisters and ancient halls of the Holy Basilica.

The air carried the scent of rain-soaked incense, of cold stone and candle wax.

It was the hour of renewal — when vows were made, names rewritten, and the weight of devotion pressed like invisible chains upon mortal shoulders.

A new batch of nuns and priests was to arrive at the church that day. Twelve of them. Twelve new vessels to be filled with faith, or with something that only pretended to be faith.

At the altar stood two abbesses — one radiant, one fractured.

Amber, the younger, bore the white of sanctity too well. Her blond hair framed a face still soft with compassion, her eyes the color of gentle mornings.

She had been promoted swiftly, a symbol of purity and healing. The people called her The Saint of Mercy, though she herself never used the title. Her hands, which glowed faintly with a divine warmth when she prayed, trembled even now as she held the ceremonial text.

Beside her stood Shila. Her robes were darker, her posture rigid as if carved from the marble she despised.

Once she had been a bishop, one of the youngest in the Empire’s history. But her name had fallen — whispered with pity, with contempt, with fascination.

Fascination of her cascading with young boys. Teen boys to be exact. But it was only an accusation.

The accusation of sin had never been proven, yet it hung around her like a shadow that refused to die. To her, this demotion to Leonidus was not mercy, but exile.

She stood beside Amber like night beside dawn, her scarlet eyes faintly catching the candlelight. To her, the girl was a child, a symbol of everything she once believed in — and now could not.

Pride warred with shame inside her, two beasts gnawing the same wounded heart.

The Father of the church, a round, genial man with a smile too wide for his eyes, entered the hall then. His voice boomed, rich and practiced.

"Rejoice, the lord as answered our prayers, as so many have joined our sanctuary."

Amber bowed her head, murmuring her agreement. "Glory to the One who oversees all creation."

Shila said nothing. Her silence was sharper than any word. She thought, as she had so many times before, that perhaps their god did not listen anymore — or perhaps He was laughing.

The heavy doors of the basilica groaned open.

Through them came the twelve.

They entered in pairs, their robes damp with rain, eyes wide and uncertain. Each face carried its own story — fear, hope, guilt, hunger.

The scent of travel clung to them: dust, sweat, and the faint sweetness of the mountain lilies they had passed on their way.

And among them... he came.

Amber felt it before she saw him. A pulse, faint and magnetic, as if her soul had recognized a sound before her ears did. Her gaze drifted across the new initiates — and then caught.

Black hair. Blue eyes. An ordinary man, to anyone else. But to her, the air around him seemed alive, trembling as though the world itself bowed in quiet recognition.

He had changed — of course he had. His hair no longer white, his eyes no longer molten gold.

But the thread between them, that unseen link woven by something deeper than blood or belief, tugged at her heart.

Aiden... no. Lucifer, she reminded herself. That was the name he had chosen. A strange name — a dangerous one. The syllables tasted of rebellion and light fallen from grace.

Her chest tightened. She had not expected him so soon. She had not expected him at all.

Before she could speak, she noticed Shila’s eyes narrow. Red met blue — the predator’s gaze upon the unknown. Shila’s lips curved faintly, a smile or a warning.

"You there," she said, her voice smooth as polished steel. "State your name."

The hall grew still. The other initiates froze, their breaths shallow.

Aiden — now Lucifer — raised his head. The candlelight caught his face, soft shadows playing along his cheekbones. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and low. "Lucifer, my Lady Abbess."

The name lingered like smoke.

Amber’s heart gave a small, involuntary tremor. Shila tilted her head, studying him. "Lucifer," she repeated, as though tasting the word. "A bold name. Do you know its meaning?"

"I do," he said, smiling faintly. "It means light or light giver..."

Shila’s lips twitched — amusement, or suspicion. "Truly a unique name. I like that...."

Amber’s fingers tightened around her text. She wanted to interrupt, to protect him from whatever trap Shila’s words might weave, but she forced herself still. He could handle himself. He always could.

Shila turned away, dismissing the moment. "Very well. You will learn humility soon enough. You all will."

The ceremony continued — prayers murmured, vows recited, holy water sprinkled like cold stars across the bowed heads of the twelve.

The Father spoke of duty and sacrifice. Amber’s voice joined in chorus, though her mind was elsewhere — fixed on the man who now knelt among the faithful.

Every movement of his seemed deliberate. Every breath measured. Beneath the surface calm, she sensed currents — something vast, coiled, waiting. A serpent hidden beneath silk.

She remembered, suddenly, the first time she had healed him. His blood had burned like sunlight, too hot, too alive. He was not ordinary. He had never been.

When the final blessing ended, and the bells chimed again, Shila approached him once more.

"You’ve taken vows to serve the divine," she said quietly, her tone not unkind, but sharp. "Tell me, Brother Lucifer — what brought you here? The church does not often attract men of your... bearing."

He met her gaze evenly. "Faith," he said.

Shila raised a brow. "Faith?"

"Yes," he replied. "In what might still be pure."

The words lingered between them like the flicker of a hidden flame. Shila held his gaze, and for the first time in many years, she felt uncertain.

Amber, standing at the altar, watched silently. She saw something dangerous unfolding — a duel not of blades but of belief.

That night, snow fell again. The church bells slept. The halls were silent except for the whisper of candlelight and the low hum of the wind through stained glass.

Amber stood alone in the chapel, her hands pressed to her chest. The world outside was changing, and soon the world within the church would too.

inside, the air was thick with unseen tremors. Aiden’s presence had changed something. The church itself seemed to hum differently, as though the stones remembered him.

Footsteps echoed behind her. She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

The chapel was empty save for the soft flicker of light on the marble saints — faces carved in devotion, eyes closed in eternal judgment.

"I have comes like I told...," Aiden said softly, stepping out from the shadow of the cross.

Amber turned. His vestments were still white — too white, unearned — yet somehow he made them look like armor.

His presence no longer burned with the seduction that had once terrified her. It was quieter now, colder, like a prayer that forgot its mercy halfway through.

"I thought it was impossible, but how did you ..?" she whispered, though part of her already knew.

He raised a pendant — three bound crystals, faintly glowing. "Only refined myself," he said. "i just evolved Amber. These stones... they shift the aura. Let me appear clean, even before those who can see the soul."

Her stomach turned. "That’s not refinement. That’s deceit....if the high priestess or even the saintess..."

"It’s strategy," he replied calmly. "You think saints were born untarnished? No. They learned which sins to sanctify....So trust my deceit amber. Dont fear.."

Amber took a step closer, anger pushing through her fear. "ai..lucifer, You’re trying to twist what’s sacred....I thought the nuns would satisfy you enough, I thought you would rectify the church through other means...but you chose the harder path.

I already warned you...you still don’t understand about the church and it’s .."

"I’m understanding it," he said, eyes catching the light. "Faith isn’t purity — it’s control.

The people don’t need truth, they need direction. And the Church has forgotten that...its weak amber. And I will make it weaker...."

Thunder murmured beyond the walls, shaking dust from the rafters.

She looked at him for a long time. "So what now? You charm them all until they call you holy?"

His smile was faint, almost gentle. "Until they believe I belong here. Until we belong here."

Amber froze. "We?"

He nodded. "You think they’ll let me rise alone?

You’re right, i still don’t understand the workings of the church, I’m a novice from nowhere.

A whisper with a false name. But you — you already hold favor. The clergy respect you. You know the liturgies, the rites. I need someone they trust to rise beside me."

Her pulse quickened. "You mean to use me..."

"I mean to lift you," he said simply. "And through you, the Church itself. You said once you wanted to change things from within...i am giving you this opportunity, for the benefit for the both of us.."

"I...I.."

Aiden stepped forward. The candlelight caught in his eyes — twin reflections of the altar flame. "Amber, you are mine and I am yours. Just trust me and my process....don’t doubt me, and have faith in me.."

She looked away, guilt coiling through her chest like smoke, but...but his comforting eyes always stabled her. Like he was her only foundation.

Slap!

She slapped her own cheeks. "You want me promoted," she said quietly. "...Fast."

"Yes." He didn’t deny it. "The council’s eyes are on the outer parishes. The Saintess prepares for the Summit with the Emperor and the empress, in two months. That’s our window.

If you rise to assistant canon before then, you’ll have her ear."

Amber’s throat tightened. "And you’ll have mine."

Aiden’s gaze softened, but the words carried steel. "yes, now you understand..."

Amber stared at him — the man who had once been temptation incarnate, now draped in a counterfeit sanctity.

There was something terrifying about how sincerely he spoke.

"And what does come next?" she asked.

He looked toward the great cross above them, its shadow cutting the floor in two. "Rebirth," he said. "The Church has forgotten who it serves. And the one who they will serve has come ..."

"Wait... don’t tell me...."

Aiden smiled, menacingly. "Yes Amber. I will be their awaiting prophet.

A false prophet."