Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users-Chapter 259: Nocturne Domain

Legacy, in this new world, didn’t mean bloodline.

It didn’t mean being born into the right house.

It meant staying long enough to turn the pain into rewards, bleeding enough so that you never lose the land that they had gained.

Deep enough to make sure that even if they die, they fought till their last breath.

Refusing to leave, even when the land itself tried to erase you.

"Those people weren’t granted anything," the Dean said. "They weren’t elected. They didn’t hold titles that could be passed down."

They endured.

And the land recognized them for that and made them the owners of it.

"So in today’s world," she continued, "power doesn’t always wear badges."

She let her eyes sweep the entire amphitheater. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. It held weight, not volume.

"Sometimes it wears rags. Sometimes it moves like the wind. Sometimes it doesn’t speak at all."

The dome’s projection shifted again.

But this time, it wasn’t land. Not a battlefield. Not a map.

It was a face.

A boy, young, possibly younger than anyone in the Hall, sitting cross-legged on dry stone, hands resting in his lap. Calm. Still. Silent.

No gear.

No aura.

Just presence.

No caption followed, no name, no age, no location.

The Dean didn’t explain.

She didn’t need to.

Some things weren’t meant to be understood at first glance. Some were meant to be remembered and only understood later.

She turned again, her posture unshaken.

"Legacy Domains continue to form," she said. "Quietly. Without permission."

And they’re part of why the world hasn’t collapsed again.

Because when systems fail, and leaders vanish, and machines stop answering—

There is still land.

And there are still people who refuse to give it up.

She stepped back from the center of the platform.

The screen behind her shifted once more.

But it didn’t show ruins or jungles or wild craters.

It showed outlines.

Massive ones.

A new map flickered to life—one without academies, without borders, without roads. Just long, red scars carved into the land like claw marks across the world’s surface.

Some lines jagged like they’d been torn through skin. Others curved like wind trails mapped by time.

At first, no names appeared. Just the scale. The sheer size of what had been marked.

Then, slowly, symbols emerged. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Not guild emblems. Not the best signs. Not academy crests.

These were human. Deliberate. Each one is a family sigil.

The students leaned in. Quietly. Instinctively.

"Not all humans ran," the Dean said.

The map zoomed in. Ten crests solidified.

"Some took root."

She didn’t rush. She didn’t dramatize. She let the facts do their own work.

"Over the last century," she said, "while cities rebuilt and academies trained new generations, there were those who never left the wilds."

"They didn’t seek safety. They didn’t return to civilization. They stayed where the world broke. And lived."

Behind her, ten emblems glowed brighter. Beneath each, new scenes emerged.

A jungle lit by red mist. A frozen ridge humming with blue sparks. An underwater trench pulsing with soft lantern light.

"These families carved order out of chaos. Not through politics. Not through council seats. But by surviving where no one else could."

"They’re called Domain Holders."

"And they rule over the most dangerous land on the planet."

The Hall didn’t stir. No shifting chairs. No coughing. Just silence. Tension without fear.

The Dean turned and raised one hand.

The first crest pulsed.

"Nocturne Domain."

A twilight forest faded into view. Mist hung low. Silver trees stretched like veins across cliffs. Faint movements in the fog hinted at shadows with intent.

"Masters of charm-type powers. Illusion-class manipulation. Stealth-based elimination units. Their matriarch still holds the Crescent Vale. Unmatched.

Although they were part of the newest legacy domain owners they are still able to contendent with almost all of the domain owners combined."

Another crest lit.

"Ravengarde House."

Jagged ravines. Blacksteel scaffolds. Mechanized beasts patrolled the edges—some with synthetic limbs, others full-body armored.

"Fortress lineage. Augmentation experts. They contain mech-beast surges along four fault lines."

Next.

"Zeylan March."

Citadels floated in midair. Kinetic currents arced between them like rivers of lightning.

"Storm dominators. High-altitude cultivators. Keep the eastern skies mostly stable."

Next.

"Fangspire Covenant."

Beast-riders. Some walked beside creatures twice their size. Others... merged with them.

"Beastblood pact family. They don’t tame monsters. They become them."

Another.

"Thorneveil Keep."

A jungle that moved. Colors so bright they shimmered. Every plant swayed—not from wind, but from pulse.

"Poison realm. Alchemy and toxin specialization. Assassins and healers trained under the same roof."

"Ignis Solari."

A basin of flame. Lava surged between trenches. Fighters danced between molten geysers like it was second nature.

"Heat cultivators. Core extraction specialists. Their geothermal fields fuel half the clean cores on the planet."

"Duskline Accord."

A field of moving shadow. Ancient ruins flickered. Shapes shifted with each blink.

"Shadowborn. Information dominators. No spy network rivals theirs."

"Vantrel Dominion."

Deep-sea footage. Abyssal trenches. Old temples reinforced with rune seals.

"Pressure combat. Sealing arts. No one goes deeper."

"Frostreach Lineage."

Snow-blasted cliffs. Frozen flames curled around blackened trees.

"North Wall defenders. Ice domain prodigies. Elemental adaptation beyond known limits."

Last—

"Aetherborne Spire."

There was no terrain.

Just stars. And motion. A corridor that didn’t connect to anything.

"They don’t live in one place. Dimensional walkers. Appear when needed—if at all."

The Hall was still quite as every student tried to process all the new knowledge they were being fed.

Some students had their hands clenched around their seats. Others just stared—stunned, overwhelmed, maybe inspired.

These weren’t myths.

They were active.

Right now.

Living where others wouldn’t last a single night.

"These ten aren’t the only ones," the Dean said. "New Domains rise every year."

"Some are built by survivors. Others happen by accident. When the land chooses."

The map faded again.

Collapsed domains replaced it.

Burned fields. Corrupted jungles. Flooded fortresses. Places that had once held power are now nothing but broken relics.

"Beasts mutate. Cults spread. Zones shift."

"And when a Domain falls... it doesn’t fall quietly."

She paused.

Then continued, slower now.

"But this era—our era—isn’t one of helplessness."

"For the first time in over a hundred years, there are rules the wild respects."

The screen shifted.

One symbol remained.

Not a crest.

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