Incubus Lord: I Summoned My Lustful Wives

'There is no time... If we run at full speed, it would only draw them all to the base!'

Lancelot looked at Tiamat and closed his eyes while stroking her hand almost subconsciously, looking at the group ahead, who seemed to be waiting. He made a choice and knew that she would be angry.

"Lancelot?" Tia looked confused, her throat still swallowing as if something was stuck in the middle as the enemy reinforcements were now within range, both able to sense their number and strength.

'Let's not waste time...'

She wouldn't listen to him as he leaned forward and gently kissed her lips, watching the female dragon's eyes widen before he stroked her cheek, "forgive me. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Tiamat... I order you to return to the base and prepare everyone for battle—you are forbidden to return and are to man the walls and await my return."

"Wha..." Before she could speak, the order settled in her body because it was related to battle and danger she couldn't disobey. Lancelot never used these orders normally, and this was an emergency...

'Because Tiamat is stubborn and doesn't show her feelings easily... I know she would never abandon me, but her getting hurt isn't something I see, and I could remain calm.'

Instantly, her body transformed into her dragon form, the beautiful red scales and huge wings sending her flying into the air without a second thought as she shot towards Maria's base and would probably do as he ordered.

'Many would complain or hate this action, but to save her from injury or death. So be it.'

Lancelot said he was going to retreat, but he was lying to her; in reality, he planned to kill the high necromancer alone because, for the longest time since he fought Arthur, there was a heavy, unbearable weight in his heart.

'I should be stronger.'

'I must become stronger.'

'Yet I am held back!'

He felt his growth had stagnated since he became a Lord and chose to accept the normal path from the moment he sat on that throne and thought of sharing power with all his troops equally...

That moment was where he made a grave mistake.

'Only being able to grow stronger when I distribute my power on the throne?' Feeling anger at his naive and safe thoughts.

He only made that choice and path because the other ways were something he didn't have the confidence to take.

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

'What joke is that... this isn't my last life where I pathetically scrounged the land for scraps to improve!'

If all lords were the same and, like Lancelot, shared their power equally with their troops, why was Arthur so strong after a year? Why did Merlin only have one troop and rely on his power?

There were countless paths, ways and types of lord.

Why had he never tried to change before?

A lack of confidence, conviction and determination—the world was so easy, and things seemed to line up for him that Lancelot didn't believe he would struggle this time...

However, he was wrong.

Without Sebastian, he would have died the other day; without Morgana and his strong commanders, he would have died to Rena!

He was scared because once you change your path, that's it.

Lancelot could never change it again, and thus, he was always doubting himself until this moment... the devouring one and the enemies that were now revealing themselves.

If Lancelot was to become the knight who protects his land and saves the ones he loves and cares for.

He must become something better, stronger, superior.

'I do what I must. For my Empress and our future children.'

Slowly, he advanced nothing but his black armour with silver chainmail fixtures to protect him, standing in the path of the knights who began to march forward.

He closed his eyes and made the choice he was too afraid to make in the past that would change his future greatly—unsure whether for better or worse.

Lancelot lifted his left hand with the silver gauntlet, appearing as a gleaming gemstone filled with ether, storing and absorbing all the essence since a few weeks before coming to the fairy realm until today.

Shatter!

His right hand shattered the gemstone, releasing all the ether into the atmosphere as it swelled around him.

This was something that Lords who lost their units and territory would have to do—from now on, he would take half of the ether killed by any of his units while the rest would be shared with them on the spot.

While anything he killed was all his, completely empowering his body, as the zombie dragons ether and the dozens of people he had killed over the past month all began to flood his body as Lancelot made his choice.

A selfish ruler...

It would make him a Lord Subtype...

The Tyrant or Overlord.

'This is how I should have been; my heart won't waver. I will love and cherish them the same. But a weak king is a worthless king!'

Taking out his sword, the black dragon-slaying sword now held tightly in his left hand, the feeling of his body improving, changing, reforming, reforging repeatedly, a sudden voice whispered from the darkness in his mind.

A feminine voice.

—Use Me

—Summon me into thy hands, my true king!

'Ugh.... damn my body.... and mind...! This is... so much ether....!'

He closed his teeth as his body was improved, reformed and repaired rapidly over and over as the enemy approached, waiting for them as his dragon and demon bloodlines began to evolve and deepen, flooding his body with their powerful aura.

The thick ether boosted their power and dominance as they devoured his humanity.

This isn't to say he became unfeeling, but his human traits were added to them, making his dual races even more powerful.

A dragon with restraint, patience and the ability to trust

A demon with the power to calm their rage and control their desire to destroy and devour.

This action was the first he had taken without Morgana's input, meaning it was completely Lancelot's choice and path... and allowed him to summon his demonic sword.

—To all swords, there is a counterpart in this world. Excalibur has its match, and that sword is the exact opposite, offering pure power to the wielder without the special knights. It focuses on making the bearer the most powerful and dominant king.

"What is this idiot doing holding the air?" A necromancer acolyte laughed as they reached within 900 metres of Lancelot and saw him standing still, his body convulsing.

"Who knows, maybe our allies already got to him. Look, his chest has our lord's crest."

Lancelot's power... as if he was wearing some kind of limiter before, exploded as his demonic and dragon features, which always seemed foreign to him like he resisted them himself, started to fuse with his human body.

Silver hair in an undercut style, a fringe that flicked over his right cheek with two twisted, black horns growing from his temples, reaching towards the sky behind him covered in dragon runes and demonic sigils glowing with an eerie red and black light.

Both eyes became golden, with dark sclera—however, those golden pupils were divine... his replaced eye now replaced both eyes as if asserting, "This is my domain" to the other bloodlines as he could see everything within 500 metres in perfect detail.

Two pairs of wings, with one unfurled, the black dragon wings flickering with crimson scales and the bloody armour he used to gain from his dominus while the pure white wings, like those of an angel, were furled and kept tight.

It seemed the holy bloodline from those divine eyes also grew and now controlled his vision and second pair of wings.

A trinity of bloodlines.

"It's time to let the whole of Avalon know... that its future king has been born."

Lancelot pushed out his right hand as if grasping something.

"You claim I am your true king, then come to me and state your name while swearing your everlasting allegiance.

As if responding to his words... the world began to shudder around him as darkness enveloped his body, the sheer thickness of this horrific raven shroud causing even the necromancers to step back, feeling their pact master's terror.

"W-What is that darkness!?"

"Ugh.... my skeletons are kneeling!?" A higher-ranked necromancer shouted in horror.

Watching in the distance, the high necromancer lifted his dark hood, a skeletal jaw attached to a humanoid face, and smiled... "Interesting... So the limitless fiend's bitch daughter has chosen her wielder..."

The voice was a mixture of both the necromancer... and a dark... ancient creature... likely to be the devouring one's servant himself.

—I am Caladbolg, the Abyssal Leviathan Daughter of the limitless fiend! The one who slayed her father!

Her words caused the air and dimension to shatter as a blade began to manifest inside Lancelot's hand, while the raven shroud began to tear apart bloody red slashes flickering from the sharp blade, tearing them apart as if nothing more than rags.

'Caladbolg isn't a very feminine name...'

—Then call me Kara!

This was the moment the leviathan sword, born from the most devious of births in the abyss and the Overlord of Camelot met and became one.

***

⁜ Arthur POV

In a distant realm where Arthur sat meditating under a fountain, a sudden tremble filled Excalibur... a male's voice sounding in Arthur's head.

—Beware my king... My sworn enemy has found her owner... A terrifying Tyrant will be born.

"I see..." Arthur's scarred eye, now half blinded, looked to the sky of his city, feeling a sense of danger in his heart... all the while wondering who his new enemy was...

Would they be stronger than the man who ruined his face and left arm?