Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users Chapter 136: They Are Not Needed In This World Anymore

anwhile, in a different part of the world, the city outside glowed like a sea of diamonds, but Isabella barely noticed.

She sat alone in a private suite high above the chaos. Glass walls stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a full view of the luxury bar below.

Thousands of people were moving beneath her, drinking, dancing, laughing, and living without a single worry.

The bar was one of the finest in the region.

Clean lines, modern design, lighting that adjusted with the hour, live musicians playing low, stylish tunes, waitstaff dressed in black and white, moving like clockwork—it was a place where people with money ca to be seen, to network, to show off.

But Isabella didn’t care about any of that.

Not tonight.

She sat on a leather sofa near the back wall, one leg crossed over the other, her arms resting on the table in front of her.

Her violet heels were kicked off and left near the door. The tight dress she wore hugged her figure, showing off her curves without looking like she was trying too hard.

It shimred a little under the soft light, and the slit on the side showed part of her smooth thigh whenever she moved.

Her wavy violet hair flowed down her back, loose and soft. Her athyst eyes had a quiet glow in the dim room, focused and sharp.

Her skin looked flawless, almost unreal, and even without much makeup, she looked like soone you wouldn’t forget easily. She sat calm and still, but you could tell she was soone in charge.

Her holo-tablet rested on the table in front of her, the screen bright.

Her eyes never left it.

On the screen was a single page. But it was full.

A list of nas.

Not just individual nas, but nas of organizations, families, and factions.

Gangs.

Underground crews.

Black market brokers.

Legacy cri houses.

From top to bottom, the list showed every current player still holding influence in the underworld network across several districts.

So were old nas—groups that had been around for decades, families with deep roots and older money.

Others were new—fast risers with more firepower than brains, trying to carve their place with quick strikes and loud moves.

Isabella had crossed paths with many of them already.

So she’d worked with.

So she’d ignored.

Others... she’d already removed.

But the nas are still standing?

Those were the stubborn ones.

The ones that had power, leverage, or enough reputation to hold their ground, even with her on the rise.

And tonight, so of them were making moves.

A soft chi echoed from the tablet.

She tapped it once.

A ssage opened. It was short.

Encrypted. Anonymous. But clean.

"Several mid-level powers are eting tomorrow night. Agenda: You."

She smiled faintly.

So it was true.

They were gathering. Not all of them. Just a few. But enough to try and shift things around.

A regional summit, most likely disguised as a social mixer. A chance for them to decide whether to treat her as a threat or as a piece to be used.

Big mistake.

She leaned back slightly, fingers tapping the corner of the tablet as her eyes skimd the list again.

She already knew what this was.

They were going to discuss how to limit her reach.

How to squeeze her out without making too much noise.

Because they didn’t want war.

Not yet.

They wanted control.

She tilted her head slightly.

A soft knock ca from the door.

It opened without her needing to speak.

A tall, sharp—eyed woman stepped in, dressed in a fitted black blazer and heels. Her dark hair was tied tight, and she held a slim folder under one arm.

"Ma’am," she said respectfully.

Isabella raised one eyebrow. "You’re late."

"My apologies. The eting was harder to infiltrate than expected."

Isabella waved it off. "Show ."

The woman stepped forward and handed her the folder.

Inside were a series of printed stills—frozen images pulled from a hidden cara feed.

The quality was decent.

Enough to make out faces.

There they were.

Six key players.

Three n, two won, one non-affiliated rcenary.

All were sitting at a long table inside a private club, with drinks in front of them and bodyguards standing by.

A few of the faces were familiar.

Two weren’t.

Isabella flipped through each photo slowly.

"They’re talking about formal alignnt," the woman explained. "Their plan is to set up a coalition that blocks your access to ports, high-value zones, and intel brokers.

They’re also thinking of pulling in the Laskov family. Possibly even a few of the old brokers from Hollow Sector."

Isabella didn’t react at first.

Just stared at the photos.

Then, she closed the folder.

She looked at her tablet again.

Her fingers tapped the screen a few tis, and three nas were highlighted on the list.

Three of the ones from the eting.

"These three," she said, her voice calm.

"Yes, ma’am?"

"They’ll be dead within seventy-two hours."

The woman didn’t flinch. "Understood."

"The other three—we’ll watch them. If they panic, we take them down later. If they try to reach out, I might consider dealing."

The assistant nodded.

"Where’s the eting being held?"

"West sector. Private estate. Heavy security, but it’s more ceremonial than practical. They don’t expect direct action."

"Good."

Isabella stood now, stretching slightly as she moved toward the edge of the glass wall.

Below, the music had shifted. Sothing slow. Romantic.

The people were still dancing.

Still drinking.

Still laughing.

Completely unaware that by tomorrow night, at least three cri leaders would be dead, and the balance of power would shift—again.

She touched the glass lightly with her fingertips.

"They still think I’m soone whom they can decide on over a glass of wine," she said softly.

"But they don’t realize..."

She turned back toward her assistant.

"...they don’t realize I don’t even need to use my real identity to control the entire underworld in this world."

The woman gave a small nod.

"Would you like to prepare the signal for Team Black?"

"Yes. Make sure they’re clean. No noise. And confirm that the intel leaks back to the right ears."

"And the bodies?"

"Public," Isabella said coldly. "Let the underworld know what happens when you plot against ."

Her assistant turned and left without another word.

Isabella returned to her seat.

She picked up her tablet again and looked at the list one more ti.

Six nas.

Soon to be three.

And by next month?

Maybe none.

She smiled quietly to herself.