Strongest Incubus System

Ester remained silent for a few seconds after the question.

It wasn’t an empty silence. It was heavy, evaluative. The kind of pause that isn’t for thinking about whether to answer, but how—and if it’s worth it.

She rested the base of her spear on the ground and crossed her arms, observing Damon from head to toe. Not like a teacher looking at a student. Like a commander assessing whether someone would survive long enough to justify the effort.

”Teaching this,” she said finally, ”isn’t like teaching posture, or technique, or how not to die in the first five seconds of a confrontation.”

Damon kept his gaze steady, even though his body still protested.

”I figured.”

”Reading the environment,” Ester continued, ”takes time. And it requires absolute concentration. Not moments of focus. Not flashes. Constant. It’s tiring. It’s thankless. And, most of the time, it only rewards you when it goes wrong.”

She took a step forward.

”You’re not exactly known for concentrating,” she added, without cruelty, just as an observation. ”You learn fast. Very fast. But your mind...” — she lightly touched her own temple — ”...is almost always in too much motion.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, still sitting on the grass.

”Hey, that was almost a compliment,” she commented. ”In her own way.”

Damon ignored her.

”I know,” he said. ”And that’s exactly why I need to learn.”

Esther narrowed her eyes.

”Need to?” she repeated. ”Or want to?”

Damon didn’t answer immediately.

He looked around the training field. The grass marked by old footsteps. The weapons resting on their supports. The sky too clear, too calm, as if nothing bad could happen there.

Then his mind returned to the dark street. To the pressure in the air. To the faceless intention. To the voice that came from nowhere.

”I want to,” he finally answered. ”Because it’s useful.”

Esther didn’t seem convinced.

”That’s not an answer,” she said. ”People who ’want it because it’s useful’ give up in the first week. Or they die before that.”

Damon took a deep breath.

”Then I’ll rephrase it,” he said. ”I want to because I don’t want to be caught off guard again.”

Her gaze sharpened.

”You were caught off guard?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t deny.

”I survived,” he simply said.

The wind brushed lightly across the field, swaying the grass and making the leaves of the nearby trees rustle.

Esther stared at him for a few more seconds.

”Why are you insisting on this now?” she asked. ”Not before. Not after. Now.”

Damon squeezed his fingers slightly.

”Because something changed,” he replied. ”And I can’t pretend I didn’t notice.” Lily straightened up slightly, less amused than before.

Ester studied his face. The micro-tensions. The way he supported the weight on his wounded body without complaining. How he didn’t look away.

Finally, she sighed.

It wasn’t an angry sigh.

It was a tired one.

”You two,” she said, without looking at Lily, ”get up.”

Lily blinked.

”Me? But I was just watching!”

”You’ll learn by observing,” Ester replied. ”Or by getting in the way less.”

Lily smiled and jumped to her feet.

”Perfect.”

Ester turned to Damon.

”Teaching this here,” she said, pointing around, ”is no good. Training grounds lie. They’re too predictable.”

She twirled her spear and rested it on her shoulder.

”Let’s go to the forest.”

Damon felt a subtle chill run down his spine. ”Now?” she asked.

”Now,” Ester confirmed. ”Before you overthink it and start making excuses.”

She started walking, without waiting for a reply.

Damon followed her.

The forest surrounding the Wykes mansion grounds wasn’t dense enough to be considered wild, but it wasn’t a domesticated garden either. The trees grew crooked, the ground was uneven, covered with exposed roots, dry leaves, and stones hidden under moss.

It was a place where sounds easily mingled.

Ester stopped after a few minutes of walking and raised her hand, signaling silence.

Damon obeyed immediately.

”First rule,” she said softly. ”You don’t ’look for’ threats.”

She glanced at him sideways.

”You sense when something is wrong.”

”How?” Damon asked, equally quietly.

”By stopping trying to control everything,” she replied. ”Your body already knows how to react. It’s your mind that insists on interfering.”

She crouched down and touched the ground.

”Look around,” she continued. ”What do you notice?”

Damon took a deep breath, trying to concentrate.

”Trees... wind... insects...” he began.

”Superficial,” Ester interrupted. ”Anyone can see that. What’s wrong?”

He frowned.

Silence.

For a few seconds, nothing came.

Then...

”The birds,” he said slowly. ”They’re too quiet.”

Ester raised an eyebrow slightly.

”Good,” she said. ”Continue.”

Damon closed his eyes for a moment.

”The wind is coming from the north... but the leaves of that tree are moving in another direction.”

Ester smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly.

”Better.”

She stood and walked a few steps, deliberately stepping on dry branches. The sound echoed too loudly.

”What does that tell you?” she asked.

”That someone walking like that wants to be heard,” Damon replied. ”Or doesn’t care.”

”Exactly.” She turned to him. ”Now imagine the opposite.”

She took a few more steps.

No sound.

”This is more dangerous,” she said. ”Always.”

Lily, a few meters behind, watched with unusual attention.

”This is frightening,” she commented quietly. ”I like it.”

Ester ignored her again.

”Absolute concentration,” she said to Damon. ”It doesn’t mean tension. It means presence. Here. Now.”

She pointed at his chest with the tip of her spear.

”You disappear from your own head during combat. That makes you fast... and blind.”

Damon swallowed hard.

”How do I avoid this?”

Esther looked around.

”You’ll miss,” she replied. ”Many times. And it will hurt.”

She took a few steps back.

”Now...” she said, her voice suddenly colder, ”...pretend I’m trying to kill you.”

Damon’s eyes widened.

”Here?!”

”Especially here.”

She lunged forward without warning.

Damon raised his spear reflexively, but something was different. He didn’t think. He didn’t calculate.

He felt it.

The air shifted.

The ground beneath his feet was too unstable to the right. He moved to the left instinctively, and the tip of Esther’s spear passed where his chest would have been a second before.

She didn’t stop.

She attacked again.

Damon almost fell, but he remained standing.

He didn’t win.

But it didn’t fall immediately either.

Esther stepped back after a few movements, watching him with renewed attention.

”You have potential,” she said. ”That’s a problem. People with potential survive long enough to be hunted.”

She lowered her spear.

”If you’re going to learn this...” she added, ”...you’ll need to forget who you think you are in combat.”

Damon breathed heavily, but nodded.

”I’ll do it.”

Esther stared at him for a long moment.

”Then we begin tomorrow at dawn,” she said. ”Every day. In the forest. Until you stop thinking... or stop breathing.”

Lily clapped softly.

”Oh, I’ll love that.”

Damon, tired, sore, and strangely determined, just smiled slightly.

Dawn arrived shrouded in a low mist, thin enough not to obscure the forest, but dense enough to make it seem strange. The trees seemed taller at that hour, their dark trunks still damp from the night’s dew. The air carried the scent of cold earth, crushed leaves, and something too alive to be comfortable.

Damon arrived at the agreed-upon meeting point a few minutes early.

Not out of exemplary discipline. Out of an inability to sleep properly.

He was leaning against a tree, stretching his aching shoulder from the previous day, when he sensed a presence before hearing any sound.

Esther emerged from among the trees without announcing anything, her spear resting on her shoulder, her step silent as if the forest had learned to move with her.

She assessed Damon from head to toe.

”You survived the night,” she commented.

”It was a close call,” he replied. ”My bed tried to kill me.”

Lily appeared soon after, descending from a branch with an almost offensive lightness.

”I slept wonderfully well,” she said. ”I dreamt you tripped and fell into a river.”

Damon sighed.

Ester ignored them both.

”There’s no fighting today,” she said. ”If you try to fight, you’ll fail.”

Damon raised an eyebrow.

”That’s... encouraging.”

”Today,” Ester continued, ”is basic.”

She walked a few steps into the forest and stopped in a small natural clearing, where the trees were spaced far enough apart to let the sunlight in in uneven beams.

”Aura detection,” she said. ”If you don’t know who’s around you, everything else is irrelevant.”

Damon took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill his lungs.

”How many auras do you sense right now?” Ester asked, without turning her face.

He instinctively closed his eyes.

Silence.

Not absolute silence, but the usual kind: wind, insects, leaves.

”...None,” she finally answered. ”Nothing but the two of you.”

Ester nodded slowly.

”It was the ”Expected.”

She turned to him.

”Now spread your Qi.”

Damon frowned.

”Spread... how?”

”Like you’re breathing with your whole body,” she replied. ”Don’t push. Don’t force it. Just... let it out.”

She made a gesture with her hand, as if opening something invisible.

”As far as you can.”

Damon hesitated for a moment, then closed his eyes again.

He took a deep breath.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, slowly, he relaxed the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding. The sensation was strange, like loosening a muscle that had always been contracted. The Qi began to flow, not like an explosion, but like a gentle warmth expanding from the center of his body.

First, he felt himself.

His pulse. His blood. His internal rhythm.

Then... something else.

It was too subtle to be described with ordinary words. Like a light, spreading pressure, touching things without actually touching them.

He opened his eyes, confused.

”I... feel space,” he said. ”But I can’t say what.”

Ester watched intently.

”Continue,” she said. ”Don’t try to identify it yet.”

Damon breathed again and let his Qi expand further.

That’s when something changed.

Small variations began to emerge in that ”space.” Almost imperceptible points, some warmer, some colder, some stable, some in constant motion.

He swallowed hard.

”There’s... a lot,” he murmured.

”How much?” Ester asked.

Damon hesitated.

”I don’t know how to count it,” he said. ”It’s... too much.”

Ester smiled slightly.

”I sense fifty-four different auras in this ray,” she said. ”That includes insects.”

Damon’s eyes widened in surprise.

”Fifty-four?”

”Now fifty-three,” Lily added casually. ”I just accidentally crushed something.”

Damon stared at her.

”You’re awful.”

”I know.”

Ester ignored the exchange.

”Qi is everywhere,” she explained. ”In creatures large and small. In plants. In people. Even in certain objects, if they’ve been exposed long enough.”

She touched the trunk of a nearby tree.

”That doesn’t mean everything is a threat,” she continued. ”But it means everything leaves a trace.”

Damon closed his eyes again, trying to focus.

Gradually, he began to distinguish patterns. Some presences were stable, almost motionless. Others vibrated, restless. Some appeared and disappeared quickly.

”Those... those little things that never stop moving,” he said. ”Are they insects?”

”Mostly,” Ester confirmed. ”They have weak, but chaotic Qi.”

”And those heavier... spots?” Damon asked. ”More constant.”

”Larger animals,” she replied. ”Or people.”

Damon felt an involuntary shiver.

”And you?”

Ester tilted her head.

”You still can’t quite sense us,” she said. ”We’re not trying to be noticed.”

Lily smiled.

”I am,” she said cheerfully.

Damon concentrated.

And then he felt it.

Lily’s aura was... spread out. Too bright in some spots, almost playful, as if it were never completely still.

Ester’s was the opposite.

Compact. Dense. Controlled to the point of seeming like a solid void.

Damon opened his eyes abruptly.

”This is...” He searched for the word. ”Scary.”

”Good,” said Ester. ”It means you’re starting.”

She took a step forward.

”Now comes the hard part.”

Damon sighed.

”Of course it does.”

”Maintain this,” she said. ”While you move. While you think. While you fight.”

She pointed to the ground.

”Stay here. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t gather your Qi.”

Damon obeyed.

”I’ll walk,” said Ester. ”Lily too.”

He heard light footsteps. Then, nothing.

His world turned to diffuse sensations.

The wind. The leaves. The presences.

Then... a change.

Something approached from the left. Slow. Deliberate.

Damon turned reflexively.

Ester was there, less than a meter away, watching him.

”You felt it,” she said.

”I thought so,” he replied, his heart racing.

”You thought wrong,” she corrected. ”You were sure of it.”

She stepped back.

”That difference,” she continued, ”is what keeps you alive.”

Lily reappeared on the other side of the clearing.

”That’s fascinating,” she commented. ”He seems less lost than yesterday.”

”Less lost is still lost,” Ester replied.

She turned to Damon.

”Today, you’re just going to feel,” she said. ”No fighting. No reacting.”

She stared at him seriously.

”Learn this, and ambushes cease to be surprises.”