Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users-Chapter 137: There’s A Rumor She Once Destroyed An Entire City

Meanwhile, in another city, in a massive mansion.

The music played loud but smooth, with polished beats and a classy touch. Laughter floated in from the grand ballroom, mixed with the sound of clinking glasses and the distant hum of expensive conversations.

A high-profile party was in full swing.

Everywhere you looked, someone important was trying to get noticed. Celebrities, influencers, and washed-up stars walked shoulder to shoulder with businessmen, small-time politicians, and people with wealth that didn’t appear on social media.

Men with thick wallets and bigger egos lounged on velvet sofas, letting girls in shimmering dresses lean on them and laugh at jokes that weren’t funny.

Women with perfect makeup and sharp smiles mingled with minor officials, working the room like they were born to rule it.

There was free food, endless drinks, and photographers capturing carefully timed moments that would be posted and reshared a thousand times by morning.

But not everyone came for the attention.

Above the ballroom, tucked behind a hallway guarded by two silent men in dark suits, a different kind of meeting was taking place.

Inside a private lounge—soundproofed and dimly lit—six powerful people sat around a long black table.

The room was simple but elegant, with soft gold lights overhead and a glowing bar along one wall stocked with only the rarest labels.

This wasn’t a meeting on the schedule.

And it definitely wasn’t about dancing.

Everyone here had a reason for showing up, and none of it had to do with champagne.

"Too fast," said the man in the silver pinstripe suit. His tone was low and flat, like he was stating a fact and not an opinion.

"Isabella’s moved on three zones this month. That’s not expansion. That’s pressure."

"She’s not looking to become a new power," said the man with the cigar. He was older, heavier, and leaned back in his chair like he owned the place.

"She’s clearing space. Quietly. You don’t notice until your channels are already running slower than they used to."

"She already took my Hollow port," added the woman in red. She had a voice like velvet and eyes that didn’t blink too often.

"Didn’t fire a shot. Just changed a few routes and bought a few people. Now my exports are paying double."

The younger man at the table shifted in his seat. He looked sleek—no tie, just a clean white shirt, a chain, and a cocky smile that hadn’t fully faded even in this setting. "She’s playing smart. You gotta give her that."

"No one’s saying she’s not smart," said the cigar man, smoke curling past his lips. "I’m saying she’s dangerous. And it’s getting worse."

"She has leverage," said the bald man. "But she’s still just a girl playing grown-up. We’ve seen her type before. They burn hot for a year or two, then disappear."

The woman in red raised a brow. "You sure about that?"

He smirked. "I’m sure she’s poked the wrong nest."

"She’s too clean," said the cigar man again. "No loose ends. No headlines. Not even a single noise complaint. Everything she does is behind closed doors. She’s got discipline."

"Or help," added the older man in gray. His voice was quiet, but steady. "Maybe she’s not doing it alone."

Everyone paused for a second at that, then looked around the table.

"Well, she’s not dumb enough to try this without support," said the bald man, breaking the silence. "Question is: where’s it coming from?"

"That’s what we’re here to talk about," said the woman in red. "We have two options. One—we treat her like a problem to fix. Pressure her. Take away her resources. Bleed her out slow."

"Or two," said the cigar man, leaning forward, "we hit her hard. Remove her entirely. Take out her key people. Flip her underlings. Burn her out before she digs in too deep."

"And if we go with option two?" asked the younger man, tapping his fingers on the table. "How far do we go?"

"All the way," said the bald man. "We strip her business down to the bones. Burn her safe houses. Crash her front companies. Make sure she knows she doesn’t belong in our tier."

"Maybe even take the family," the cigar man added. "Let her watch it happen. Fear makes the next one think twice."

That got a nod from one or two others.

But not from the older man in gray. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

He just kept looking at them quietly.

"What?" said the cigar man, noticing the stare. "You worried?"

"I’m thinking," said the man in gray. "You boys really want to start something with her, you better be sure of the blowback."

The bald man scoffed. "She’s not untouchable."

"No one’s untouchable," said the man in gray. "But some people are expensive to fight. You remember what happened last time someone tried to pull this with a Nocturne?"

The younger man squinted. "You mean her sisters?"

"Exactly," said the man in gray. "Seraphina runs one of the top business empires on the planet.

Not the country—the planet. She’s got deals with three governments. You think she’s not paying attention?"

The bald man waved it off. "Corporate doesn’t get involved in street matters."

"Tell that to the security forces she loaned to clear out the Raskov crew last year," the older man shot back. "That wasn’t a boardroom decision. That was personal."

The woman in red added, "Liliana’s in the military, too. She has command-level clearance and tactical training.

If you try to outmaneuver her, you’ll find yourself flagged before your people even know what’s happening."

"Military doesn’t move on civilians," said the cigar man.

"Unless you make it look like terrorism," the woman said softly.

That quieted them for a moment.

And then the younger man asked, "What about their mother? Lilith? She’s just a public figure, right?"

There was a pause.

And then the woman in red leaned forward slightly.

Her wine glass rested gently in her hand, but her voice dropped slightly lower.

"She’s not just a public figure."

The bald man frowned. "She’s a celebrity. A singer."

"She’s the most followed woman in the world," the woman corrected. "Top influence ranking—massive pull across tech, culture, and media.

Governments ask her for help when they need to push public unity. You think she doesn’t have real-world power?"

"Still doesn’t mean she’s a threat," the cigar man said, though less confident now.

The woman in red tilted her head, then said it plainly:

"There’s a rumor she once destroyed an entire city."