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SD:CH143 - Indomitable Lust
🕑 Added 2024-12-20 05:30:48 +0000 UTCThe air sizzled as I stepped into the Shrine. It was suffocating, and yet it fed me. Every breath burned and soothed at the same time, like plunging into boiling water only to find it cradled me instead of scalding. My mind reeled. I had expected something sinister, something dark and dripping with malice—but this? This was… intoxicating. Terrifyingly beautiful. Alive.
The walls pulsed like a living thing, scarlet light radiating in waves, synchronized with my heartbeat—or perhaps it was the Shrine’s heartbeat. I couldn’t tell where I ended and this place began. The floor beneath my feet wasn’t stone; it had felt like satin, smooth and warm, yet solid enough to hold me. Every step sent ripples of crimson fire across the ground, vanishing into the distance. It was endless, yet contained. Infinite, yet personal. A temple of Me.
This is what I’ve built? The thought caught in my throat, half awe, half horror. I didn’t remember crafting this, yet it felt so… right. So familiar. But why? The very first time I even knew of this place was after I upgraded Incubus to Incubus Lord. and I hadn’t gained the required anchorages to get it past dormancy.Yet every corner had hummed with power, raw and unrelenting, as if my very essence was stitched into its foundations.
The Throne dominated the center—a seat of pure scarlet and gold, swirling like molten desire, and it was empty. Waiting. For me.
"Sit," a voice whispered. It was mine. It wasn’t mine. It was him—the Incubus Lord.
My feet moved forward of their own accord, but I couldn’t stop looking. The air was heavy with whispers—not words, but emotions. Desire, yearning, hunger. Each one pulled at me, dragging me deeper into this intoxicating haze. Faces flashed in the walls—my anchors, their expressions twisted with devotion, with longing. Amelia, who was now a lyctor, was here. As was Hermione. A distorted reflection of Fleur Delacour was there too.
But why?
The answer came easy enough on my lips.
Because Magic, especially powerful dark magic, leaves traces.
Yes, dark. Dark Magic was fueled by strong emotions, and what was the Incubus allure if not emotion itself?
I could feel their hearts pounding in unison with the pulsing light, all of them connected to me, through me. They weren’t just here; they were the Shrine.
"Is this power?" I wondered aloud, my mind buzzing. "Or is this madness?"
The Incubus Lord’s laughter filled the space, rich and deep, vibrating through my very bones.
"Not madness," he had purred. "It’s Truth. It’s what you’ve always been, what you would always end up becoming, even if you didn’t know it. This is your kingdom, your temple. And you—you are its God."
The weight of his words crashed into me, but I couldn’t stop moving. The Throne loomed closer now, its glow wrapping around me like a lover’s touch. My hand had trembled as I reached for it, and for a moment, I hesitated. What would happen when I took my place? Would I become him? Would I lose what was left of… me?
"You’re afraid," the Lord sneered, stepping out of the shadows, his wings unfurling. He looked like me—no, like a perfected version of me. Taller, stronger, more everything. The embodiment of power, of temptation. And he knew it.
"You should be."
I wanted to argue, to deny him, but the truth was, he was right. As much as I craved this power, as much as I had fought for control, standing there—facing this, facing him—I hadn’t known if I could handle it. If I even deserved it.
And yet…
I sat.
The Shrine had erupted in light, scarlet flames engulfing everything, and for the first time, I felt it—the full weight of what I had become. Of what I was becoming. It was overwhelming, consuming, but beneath the chaos, there was a strange clarity. A purpose. A hunger.
“So this is what I’m supposed to be? A tyrant ruling over puppets?”
He laughed, a mockery of the original thing. “Puppets? No, Harry. Worshippers. And why shouldn’t they worship you? You saved them, didn’t you? You gave them purpose, pleasure, power. And in return, they give you their everything. Their love, their hate, their will—it’s all yours.”
"This is who you are," the Lord said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. "Accept it, or be consumed by it."
Despite myself, I agreed with his words. Not the ‘be consumed’ bit, but the part about accepting it. Back when I had first found myself in this world, I had three options open to me — fuck someone and travel the path of the Incubus, create horcruxes and become a necromancer, or perform Sanctum Invocation — a fanciful way of saying forming a bond with a ley-line, and strive along the sorcerer route.
Back then, I had three paths, but the sudden emergency left me utterly short of potential options.
I chose the easiest.
You know the rest. I fucked Romilda Vane, and anchored myself in Reality. Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Hestia Jones, Tracey Davis, Narcissa Malfoy — the list went uphill from there. Come to think of it, the Incubus Lord route would leverage the Living The Role perk, which, I was certain, was sure to dominate my future actions and plans. Incubi were creatures of manipulation, charm and seduction. For myself, the imposter that thrived on deception and charisma, the powers of the incubus were naturally aligned. Unlike the cold, isolated path of the necromancer, or the equally self-confining limits of the sorcerer, being an incubus would let me revel in my capacity to connect and dominate others.
Hestia Jones. Amelia Bones. Susan Bones. Emmeline Vance. Anastasia Greengrass. Narcissa Malfoy — all were proof of that. Why abandon my greatest strength for something so alien?
Besides, my opponents were already masters of their craft with decades if not centuries to hone their skill. The horcrux definitely allowed me a headstart into Necromancy, but that wasn’t equal to experience. The power it offered was immense, and frankly, exhilarating, but it demanded isolation, demanded sacrifice, and a chilling detachment that clashed against everything I had been working on since Day One. did I really want to become Voldemort’s heir, steeped in death and despair, having to rend my soul apart and be fearful that someday someone would eventually destroy them and I would fall? Especially when I could be something greater, something alive?
Accepting the horcrux would mean accepting Voldemort’s legacy and playing catch-up in a game that had been on for the past seventy years. And becoming a sorcerer would mean growing powerfully, steadily perhaps, but still, all by myself. Only the incubus path would allow me to forge a new role, one where I was neither saviour nor villain but sovereign.
My anchors were already bound to me, to Lecherous Shrine. And with Voldemort and Dumbledore secure in their domains, I had to create something utterly different to stand out. Be in a place of power. And the Shrine, with its vivid, pulsing allure — its promise of absolute control over desire, it would provide me a power that was immediate and undeniable.
The flames had surged again, and I had realized there was no turning back. The Shrine was me. And I was the Shrine.
Unless —
“What if I choose the other side?”
My voice echoed in the Shrine, mingling with the whispers of desire that constantly pulsed through the air. I felt the weight of my words. They weren’t just a question — they were a challenge. A test.
The Incubus Lord cocked his head, his radiant wings shifting as he studied me. For the first time, there was no smirk, no mocking laughter. Only a cold, calculating look that sent a shiver through my spine. "What if you choose the other side?" he repeated, his voice low and laced with curiosity.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. "I’m not the real Harry Potter. I’m something else—someone else. It’s like you put it — I chose the role to play. I can play the role of a time-travelling Harry Potter bent on vengeance, just like I can live yours. Or Voldemort’s. If I follow the other side, the Necromancer path. I could consume the Horcrux. Take his knowledge, his power. Be something more than this—more than you."
“You are spoiled for choices,” laughed the Incubus Lord, but I sensed little mirth in his tone.
“The other side,” he drawled, his voice silk and sin. “Yes, the Necromancer’s path. The allure of Death, its power to command, to transcend the living and the dead alike.” He stepped closer, the Shrine dimming slightly as he moved. “You think it’s freedom, don’t you? To cast off this…” he gestured vaguely at the scarlet surroundings, “…and embrace something darker. Colder. Eternal.”
The silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on my chest. The air itself seemed to darken, the crimson light of the Shrine dimming as though the walls themselves recoiled from my words.
When he spoke next, his tone was dripping with disdain. "You think you can walk the Necromancer's path? That after bending souls to your will, after feeding your soul with the emotions and essence of others for all this time, you can ignore this taste?”
“It was just one summer —”
“Say that to your thralls,” he said imperiously. “Those whose lives have forever latched to yours during this one summer. Foolish boy! Did you think it was that easy to escape this lust? Escape Me?And if you did, do you truly believe Voldemort’s power—his essence—will bow to you so easily? That his Horcrux won’t devour what’s left of your precious soul?"
I clenched my fists, refusing to back down. "And what if it doesn’t? What if I take his darkness and twist it to my will? What if I become something neither of you can control?"
The Lord’s wings flared, their scarlet glow casting jagged shadows across his perfect face. "You speak as though you have a choice," he snarled, his voice echoing with a hundred layered tones. "Imposter or not, you have no choice but to play the game. You are me. You are him. You are all the paths you’ve walked, all the roles you’ve lived. You think you can shed one for another? No. You will always be both. The Incubus Lord and the Necromancer are two sides of the same cursed coin. But that coin is weighted, and one side will always come out as the winner.”
I stepped forward, defiance burning in my chest. "And if I embrace that curse? If I take both paths—"
The Lord laughed then, a sound that resonated through the Shrine like thunder. "Yes. Yes I see. That’s what you were angling for. Truly, you’re madder than I thought. To embrace the Incubus is to revel in life, in desire, in connection. To walk the Necromancer’s road is to forsake all of that for death, isolation, and control. You can’t have both without destroying yourself."
“Wrong answer,” I said, a defiant grin on my face. “I can’t not have both. You said it yourself, Incubus Lord. You and the Necromancer are two sides of the same coin. Just because the coin is weighted, it doesn’t mean the other does not exist or influence me. The only way to truly go ahead is to master both and reach a stable middle ground.”
To my surprise, his expression softened. "You think you’re the first to dream of uniting opposites? Of blending life and death, passion and power? Many have tried. All have failed."
And wasn’t that interesting?
“Did all those before me also know how to become the Twilight Walker?”
“How?” He asked.
I had the answer ready this time around.
“A certain degree of affinity in Incarnum, and Psychomancy. And the activation of the Shrine.”
For a moment, he just stared at me, his eyes glowing like molten gold. His gaze felt heavy as chains. Finally he spoke. “Yes, that would do it. Or at least, that would have done it.”
A shudder ran down my spine. But before I could voice the question, I quickly summoned the status window, demanding the status for the Title under question.
It did not disappoint.
The Incubus Lord, that is.
Title — THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Where desire meets death, and only those who dare to merge passion with oblivion can walk the path of eternity.
Status: INACTIVE
Prerequisites
85% affinity for Psychomancy (general)
85% affinity for Incarnaeum
Activation of Lecherous Shrine
Activation of Omniblend ██████ ██████████
Levelling Up to Necrolord Primus
Activation of Omniblend ███ ███████ ██████
I staggered. Activating the Shrine also had been a daunting prospect, especially with dealing with the after effects of the horcrux. Maybe even life-threatening, since Incaraneum was pretty much the deadliest discipline among those I had siphoned off the horcrux. But this? This was…
The weight of the sudden revelation hit me like a physical blow. The Road Not Taken — its conditions had changed. How? Why? Something like this hadn’t happened before.
So why now?
“Still think you can do this?” asked the Incubus Lord, his face laced with amusement.
But the silence that had followed wasn’t one of jest, it was the silence of inevitability.
“You are correct,” said the Incubus Lord. “Becoming an Incubus and a Necromancer, and achieving certain affinities certainly qualify you for that tumultuous position. But that chance is long gone, Harry Potter. The moment you sought more from the horcrux, the moment you created your first Lyctor, the moment your greatest enemy twisted your power through the horcrux… everything changed.”
His grin grew feral. “The Necromancer grows. It grows by leaps and bounds. And as it does, so does the influence of that madman grow upon your psyche. Your sole option is to embrace the powers of this Shrine, and rise even further, Harry Potter. Manifest the powers of the Incubus Lord in all its entirety, defeat your enemy for good, and ascend to Necrolord Primus. And then, when you have reached this point where no one has ever reached before, come to me, so that I might laugh at your futility.”
The Shrine pulsed, its crimson light flaring around us, as if echoing his words. And deep in my chest, I felt a flicker of uncertainty. Not fear, not doubt—just the faintest whisper of something I didn’t yet have a name for.
As the shadows coiled and the Incubus Lord began to fade, his smoldering scarlet wings folding into the ether, he turned to me one last time.
"You think this is free, Harry?" he purred, the words curling around me like a serpent. His voice was low, velvety, and laced with a knowing amusement that sent a shiver down my spine. "Power is never free. Every choice chains you. Every power shapes you. You asked me why would we want to make you? We don’t. Not when it’s so much more delicious to see what you’ll make of yourself."
A low, mocking chuckle echoed as he vanished completely, leaving me with nothing but the ghost of his presence and a deep, gnawing unease.
"You think this is free, Harry?" he purred, the words curling around me like a serpent. "Every choice chains you. Every power shapes you. But tell me—why would we want to make you? When it’s so much more delicious to see what you’ll make of yourself."
A low, mocking chuckle echoed as he vanished completely, leaving me with nothing but the ghost of his presence and a deep, gnawing unease.
And then it hit me.
It settled over me like a second skin, an unshakable presence that I’ve both craved and dreaded. My heartbeat hammered in a rhythm that wasn’t mine, but deeper and more primal, like a drumbeat echoing in a cavern of shadows and flame. My blood didn’t just feel warm; it burned, surging with a molten heat that I had tasted just once before.
When I had first upgraded myself to Incubus Lord.
Every breath was thick, charged with an unbearable tension, as if the very air around me had come alive, aware of the hunger coursing through me. I felt it creeping into my thoughts—no, dominating them—twisting desire into a force that demanded release, an ache I could neither suppress nor satisfy.
And the pull… it was painful. It was like my soul itself was vibrating, resonating with an energy I couldn’t control, much less direct. It wasn’t just desire—it was need, raw and absolute, a ravenous void threatening to consume me from within.
I might as well attempt to hold a storm back with trembling hands.
This wasn’t just hunger. It was lust.
Indomitable Lust.
And the status window popped in again.
A hunger that cannot be quenched, a yearning that consumes reason. Once ignited, it spreads like wildfire, leaving only smoldering desire in its wake.
Will you endure… or succumb?
The choice is yours — if you can make it.
The next thing I knew, everything was a blur.
A blur of skin. A blur of boobs. A blur of pussies. A blur of butts.
I was standing right there, with two massive wings of crimson and obsidian erupting right out of my back. The power, the desire, the need for lust, it was overwhelming. And all over me were women.
Narcissa had taken first dibs on my cock, and was pushing it deep into her mouth all the way till her throat. Emmeline, always the closet deviant, was on her knees, shifting between licking the part that Narcissa had failed to cover, and sucking my balls with an almost religious fervor. Anastasia was all over my body from my right, kissing and licking me from my neck to my hands and rubbing her hand and the rest of her body all over me, while Hestia had all ut entwined herself, and was pushing the fingers of my left hand into her pussy and moaning out my name like a mantra.
Really, if I had any doubts about my choice, they just erased right there.
And then the status window popped in again.
You have unshackled the Shrine’s primal force. Now, pay its price in full, and embrace the consequences of your awakening.
Condition for Abatement
Accept Quest.
I blinked.
A Quest? Since when did my screen feature Quests? At my metaphorical nod, the window displayed more information.
Quest — ALL OR NOTHING
Every thrall, every touch, every craving—fulfilled simultaneously. Miss a beat, and it all falls apart. Fail, and the shrine crumbles.
DETAIL
Embrace your Role as the Incubus Lord. Every single thrall, every Lilim, every orgasm forged — satisfy them all in perfect harmony.
REWARD
100 Meta-Luck Points
Deactivation of Indomitable Lust
Permanent Activation of Lecherous Shrine
One surprise Omniblend
UPON FAILURE
Complete loss of sanity and surrendering to Incubus instincts for the next 48 hours
I could feel it, then—something deep, coiling in the pit of my stomach, unfurling like a snake. The realization hit me like a sledgehammer, too heavy, too suffocating. I’d known about the affliction, but I hadn’t truly understood. Not until now.
The power, the affliction—it was real.
And I wasn’t prepared for it.
My heart raced as the full gravity of the situation slammed into me. I had failed before, sure. But this? This was something else. If I didn’t act—if I couldn’t hold myself together—everything I had built, every bit of control I’d clawed into existence, would slip away.
The terror was raw, jagged. It clawed at my insides. This quest — it wasn’t some random curve-ball in a game. By invoking the Shrine to purge the corruption from Voldemort’s trap, I had bypassed the prerequisites. This was the bill coming due.
If I didn’t satisfy the Shrine’s demands—if I couldn’t make it stop—I’d lose my mind.
I could already feel it creeping in, that madness, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. If I failed, I would descend into nothing but a writhing, uncontrollable monster. Lust would consume me—devour every scrap of my will until I was nothing but a feral beast. I’d be a slave to my desires, a puppet to the Shrine’s dark pull.
And the worst part? I wasn’t sure how long I had before I’d start to break. Forty-eight hours. One wrong move, one moment of weakness, and I’d be lost to it—lost to myself.
I could already feel the pulse of it, thrumming beneath my skin, like fire rushing through my veins. The fear wasn’t just in my mind—it was physical, gnawing at my body. My breath came too fast, my muscles taut with the urge to act, to give in, to let go.
But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Not if I wanted to survive what was coming.
The thought of losing myself, of losing control, made the fear even worse. The terror clawed at my chest, but there was no choice but to keep going—to find a way to hold my ground.
If I failed... I wouldn't be Harry Potter anymore. I'd be something far worse. Something broken.
But what to do? What could I do? I already have four women close and sexually pleasing me. Amelia and Hermione… they ought to be somewhere close too. Penelope was in her room. All it would take is one call. But it wouldn't solve a thing. All the thralls — the quest demanded. All of them. Every single person that I had seduced, directly or indirectly — Tracey I could call over, assuming I could reach her. Susan? Amelia could go and get her. Ginny too was just one Floo call away. And I hadn’t even started on the actual difficult parts yet.
Hannah Abbott. Her mother Cynthia. Romilda? She wasn’t an anchor anymore, so would she count? Thrall, not anchor — I told myself. I didn’t know where Romilda Vane lived, and chances of just calling her over right away were pretty much zero.
Daphne wasn’t tied to me by any way, but she had drunk my cum. For whatever reason, I hadn’t gotten a world anchor out of it. Stupid Empath powers always fucking around my back! Best to get her too just in case. Who’s next? Fleur Delacour? She was bound by an Orgasm binding contract. Damn it. How the fuck was I to reach over the country and grab the Delacour heiress and bring her over for a quick fuck? Yeah, that one would be so easy! And then… and then…
My stomach twisted.
Holy buggering shit! I thought, remembering exactly what had transpired inside the Quidditch World Cup stadium.
The veela! The bloody veela! Their unified call, they were all directing their efforts at me, and in return, I had raised my own allure back at them. And the girls, the women at the World Cup… no, no, not all of them. The explosion killed a massive number of people, which meant the ones that survived were those in the Ministry boxes and pretty much everyone that left before the detonation.
People that were affluent, and held important positions all over the world.
People I didn’t even know.
How the fuck was I supposed to connect to them all at once?
Accept Quest?
Yes? No? Was there even a choice? If I accepted it, it demanded the impossible. If I rejected it, I would lose myself, turn into a mindless rapist with the allure to turn even the most pious and loyal woman into a quivering whore that wanted to join me in my world of endless orgies. One that would last for forty-eight hours.
Bugger if I took the deal. Bugger if I dropped it.
By the end of it, I would lose everything — my connections, my reputation, my everything, assuming someone didn’t already slam my skull with the proverbial rock and drop me unconscious.
… There’s an idea. Would it —?
Terrible things happen to those that deceive Quests.
Okay, now it was just being obvious. Still, every problem had a solution. And despite everything that happened, I doubted that the Incubus Lord, or the Lecherous Shrine — assuming they weren’t the one and the same, just wanted to thrust an impossible problem at me and see me suffer. If that was the case, I’d simply shift sides to the horcrux and accept that deal.
No. There had to be a solution, and it would probably mirror the Shrine’s own existence in some metaphorical way.
Frowning, I considered the problem. Obviously, I couldn’t solve it all at once. The parameters were too wide, the number of variables too vast, unknown, both in name and location, and varying in terms of the social strata. Attempting to solve this overarching problem — the big target, would end up with me obsessing over its enormity, and I would lose.
Better start small.
Focus on solving problems I could answer. Build some dry ground to stand on. And after I’ve put in the work, and if I was lucky, the mystery of the overarching question becomes knowable. Like stepping slowly back from a photomontage to witness the ultimate image revealing itself.
I needed to separate myself from the fear, the paranoia, the terror, and simply attack this problem as if I were in a lab—one small question at a time.
Build some dry ground to stand on.
The overarching question was —what could I do? What did I have?
The full power of the Incubus Lord for one. And four anchors — two of them Lilims. Neither Anastasia nor Narcissa were at their hundred percent anchorages, and if I played according to their whims, it might take a long time before they became devoted to me.
Penelope too was nearby, and a source for a much larger anchorage rise. It would, of course, not solve the bigger problem, but a gain in anchorage automatically meant a gain in Meta-Luck, and that was always useful.
All I needed to do was stop seeing them as people and more as thralls.
My thralls.
It was time to play the game.
I raised both arms wide, and power flowed through me.
Available Meta-Luck Engaged.
Lecherous Shrine Active
Achieving Synchronicity with existing Anchors and Thralls…
Adjusting Reality to suit your whims… or ruin your day. Let’s see how this pans out!
Huh! What do you know? The status window's sense of humor was getting more sarcastic by the second.
I chanted my first command.
“DECADENCE LINK!”
Comments
Victor Weismann
Agred with artoria. when your power does what it wants, is that really your power? Or just manipulation? The man not knowing who he was in the past, this crap about a lewd sanctuary or any crap about an inner entity that controls the supposed power. This is all just bullshit, why can't it just be something simple? OC reincarnated in an alternate world, and tries to fight a more OP Voldemort with necromancy with girls by his side, it would be much better than all this bullshit.
allen pellissery
When do u update
Artorias Lex
Imma be 100% honest here, I've been kind of hit and miss with following the story, went back and binge read it from start to this chapter, and I've got to say, intelligent powers, they do as they please and also warp things outside your will? That can consume you or drive you mad? Nah, imma drop this and withdraw support from Patreon. For those who enjoy this, please continue to do so, author I'd this is how you really want to continue I wish you the best of luck. Wanted to give my reason for dropping this story and support.
Critical_Hit
So....did he accept the quest?
Michael Friede
Ah good old sensory links. No need to have everyone present in person when you can link them all together. Lets see how this goes, it's orgy time!
Alkole
Thought he was gonna be able to connect to every thrall through his lecherous shrine since he created it through each and everyone of them.
