Strongest Incubus System

The drive back to the mansion was too peaceful.

The afternoon breeze rustled gently through the trees lining the driveway, making shadows dance on the white gravel. The sky was clear, a deep blue, almost offensively serene.

Elizabeth walked beside Damon with her usual impeccable posture, her dark dress billowing elegantly with each step. He, on the other hand, was still absorbing the invisible weight of his new title, the echo of the name ”Count” occasionally repeating itself in his mind as something that hadn’t yet found its definitive place.

That’s when the world tore apart.

The explosion wasn’t just a sound.

It was a physical impact.

The air violently compressed before expanding into a shockwave that swept across the terrain like a wild animal. A colossal roar reverberated through the trees, sending birds taking flight in panic and leaves tearing from the branches.

The earth trembled beneath their feet.

A column of black smoke rose above the treetops.

From the direction of the mansion.

The silence that followed lasted less than a second.

But it was heavy.

Damon was already moving before he even thought. Instinct took over, his blood reacted, mana coursed through his muscles like liquid electricity. Super speed was no longer strange; it was a natural extension of his body.

Elizabeth didn’t need to say anything.

She was already running too.

The world around them blurred—trees turned into green streaks, the path disappeared beneath their feet, the air cut like blades against their faces. The connection between them vibrated intensely, not with fear... but with something far more dangerous.

Fury.

When they finally slowed before the gates of the Wykes mansion, the scene they found was not chaos.

It was massacre.

The main gate was destroyed, twisted as if it had been crushed by brutal force. Parts of the outer wall were cracked. The east wing of the mansion was ablaze, thick smoke spiraling in suffocating waves toward the sky.

The ground was littered with bodies.

Some were murderers.

Others... servants.

The smell of blood was so intense that Damon tasted the metallic taste on his tongue before he could even take a deep breath.

A scream cut through the air.

They looked up in time to see a body pierce the courtyard like a projectile.

Esther.

She crashed against one of the marble columns of the main entrance with devastating force, cracking the stone in two before falling to the ground amidst rubble and dust. Blood trickled down the side of her forehead, and her spear lay broken beside her.

Damon felt something inside him snap.

In the center of the courtyard, Aria fought.

She moved with brutal precision, each strike calculated, blades spinning in deadly arcs. Two assassins were already dead at her feet, but five more surrounded her, coordinated, attacking in almost military synchronicity.

Further back, near the main staircase, Lily—the succubus—was cornered. Her eyes glowed an intense pink, trying to manipulate minds while physically defending herself. But there were too many. At least a dozen surrounded her, black blades gleaming with unstable runes.

And there were more.

Shadows moving across the rooftops.

Snipers.

Mages.

The attack had been planned.

Coordinated.

It wasn’t an attempt.

It was execution.

The world seemed to slow down for a second.

Damon turned his face to Elizabeth.

She was already looking at him.

There was no hesitation.

There was no need for words.

Her eyes weren’t just red.

They were abyssal.

The crimson mist began to spread around his feet, creeping across the ground as if with a life of its own.

The bond between them didn’t vibrate this time.

He roared.

Damon nodded once.

And then they vanished.

The first assassin didn’t even have time to register the change in the air before feeling something pierce his chest. Damon emerged behind him, his hand already thrust through the reinforced armor, his fingers closing around his heart.

He pulled.

The body fell before the blood even hit the ground.

Damon was no longer there.

Aria perceived the movement as a shift in the wind, and in the next second, two of the men surrounding her simply lost their heads. It wasn’t a metaphor. Heads rolled across the courtyard, eyes still wide open.

”Damon,” she murmured, without interrupting her own attack.

Elizabeth raised her hand.

The fog expanded.

Not like before.

This time, it wasn’t elegant.

It was violent.

It surged like a tide, swallowing four assassins at once. Screams echoed as the blood within them answered its call, rebelling against their own bodies.

Veins bulged beneath the skin.

Eyes exploded.

The fog tightened.

The bodies collapsed in seconds.

Lily took advantage of the distraction and dug her nails into an opponent’s face, twisting another’s neck with supernatural agility.

But there were still many.

On the roof, a mage began to conjure.

Damon felt the surge of mana even before the symbol finished forming.

He leaped.

The speed launched him into the air like a shot. He collided with the mage before the magic was released, passing through him and sending them both off the roof in a brutal fall that ended with the conjurer’s body crushed against the ground.

He stood up without looking back.

There was no room for mercy.

An assassin tried to attack him from behind.

Fatal mistake.

Damon spun, grabbing the man’s wrist and crushing him with enough force to reduce bones to dust. Then he kicked him against another, shattering them both in a single fluid motion.

Elizabeth advanced across the courtyard like a queen of destruction.

Each step was accompanied by blood rising from the ground, forming liquid blades that cut through throats, penetrated skulls, and tore limbs.

There was no loss of control.

There was cold precision.

A group tried to retreat.

She clenched her fist.

The blood inside them exploded out like a grotesque flower.

Silence began to spread.

Not because the attack had ended.

But because the attackers were dying too quickly to continue fighting.

Ester tried to rise from the rubble, clutching her side.

Damon appeared beside her.

”Stay,” he said firmly.

She tried to argue.

But his gaze made her stop.

It wasn’t just fury.

It was a promise.

He returned to the fight.

Aria finished cutting down the last opponent before her, breathing heavily. Her eyes met Elizabeth’s in the center of the courtyard.

The Countess was covered in crimson splashes that weren’t hers.

She slowly raised her gaze.

There were still three left.

They were retreating toward the destroyed gate.

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly.

Damon was already moving.

He appeared in front of them, blocking their escape.

One of them tried to throw a smoke bomb.

Useless.

Damon struck him before the object even touched the ground, breaking his spine with a single blow.

Elizabeth appeared behind the last one.

The mist enveloped the man like an embrace.

”You chose the wrong place,” she murmured.

His body disintegrated from the inside out.

Silence.

Complete.

Only the distant crackling of flames in the east wing of the mansion and the heavy sound of the breathing of those still alive.

Damon stood still for a second in the center of the courtyard.

The blood on the ground began to spread slowly among the stones.

Elizabeth walked towards him.

Her gaze swept over the scene.

Assessment.

Count.

Confirmation.

”All dead,” she said, her voice low.

He nodded.

The bond between them still vibrated intensely, but now mixed with something else.

Guilt.

Not for killing.

But for not having been there sooner.

Aria approached, wiping the blade on the clothing of one of the enemies.

”They came prepared,” she said. ”It wasn’t a small attempt.”

Lily leaned against the stairs, taking a deep breath.

”They came to exterminate.”

Esther finally managed to stand, supporting herself on the broken spear.

”They knew you were out.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment.

The crimson mist began to spread again, this time slowly, covering the courtyard.

But now it wasn’t to attack.

It was to collect.

To cleanse.

To erase traces.

She absorbed the blood of the enemies with methodical coldness, leaving only empty bodies.

Damon looked at the partially destroyed mansion.

The courtyard still reeked of death.

Smoke from the east wing rose in dense spirals, carrying the smell of burnt wood mixed with the iron of freshly spilled blood. The marble columns were cracked, the garden ruined by explosions, and bodies scattered like discarded pieces of a brutal game.

Elizabeth stood in the center of the destruction, the crimson mist still slowly creeping around her feet, gathering the last traces of enemy blood. Her dark dress was marked by splashes that weren’t hers, but her posture remained erect, untouched.

Her eyes scanned the scene not like someone traumatized.

But like someone who had just received a challenge.

”That was a statement,” she said, her voice low, too controlled for what vibrated beneath.

Damon stood beside her, his fists still clenched, his breathing heavy not from exhaustion, but from the energy that still burned within his chest. He also looked at the wreckage—at wounded Esther, at Aria silently cleaning the blade, at Lily leaning against the stairs trying to steady her breathing.

The mansion.

Their home.

Violated.

He nodded slowly.

”Then let’s answer.”

The sentence came out simply.

Directly.

Naturally.

But Elizabeth shook her head.

Slowly.

Almost imperceptibly at first.

”No,” she said.

He turned to face her.

What he saw was not hesitation.

It was something far more dangerous.

Her body trembled.

Not from fear.

Not from weakness.

It was restraint.

Her skin seemed almost to vibrate beneath the surface, as if something too vast was pressing to get out. Her red irises had deepened into a darker shade, almost black in the center.

”I’m going,” she continued.

The air around them began to feel heavy.

The mana in the atmosphere responded to her presence, compressing subtly, almost imperceptibly, but enough to make the burnt leaves on the ground tremble.

Damon frowned.

”Elizabeth—”

She raised her hand.

Not to attack him.

But to stop him from continuing.

”You stay here.”

Her voice wasn’t cold.

It was firm.

It carried a decision that had already been made before it was even verbalized.

He took a step toward her.

”That’s not how it works. They came after us.”

”They came after me,” she corrected.

The bond between them pulsed violently, reflecting the emotional storm she kept trapped beneath her elegant surface.

”They knocked on my door.” — Her voice dropped a tone. — In mine.

There was something possessive in the way she said it.

Not just territory.

People.

Damon felt the weight of that pierce the bond.

And he also sensed what she didn’t say.

She was furious.

Not the elegant fury that dissolved men into mist.

But something ancestral.

Something linked to the noble blood that now ran in her veins.

”If I go with you,” he began.

”You’ll delay me.”

The answer came immediately.

Not cruel.

But honest.

The silence that settled between them was dense.

The trembling in her body increased slightly, her fingers twitching at the sides of her dress. Tiny crimson particles began to detach from her skin like luminous dust, dissolving into the air.

She was on edge.

And she knew it.

”I’ll be back,” she said, lower now.

Not as a romantic promise.

But as a strategic guarantee.

She took a step back.

The ground beneath her feet darkened as the mist began to expand more intensely. The air grew heavy, saturated with ancient, dense mana. The shadows around her seemed to lean toward her.

Damon grasped her arm before the process was complete.

The touch was firm.

The bond exploded in sensations.

”Don’t delay,” he said.