Strongest Incubus System-Chapter 183: Next Mission

The interior corridors of Wykes Manor were long and silent at that time of day. Sunlight streamed through the tall stained-glass windows at oblique angles, painting the stone floor with golden and bluish hues. Damon walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, his mind too far away to notice the almost luxurious comfort of the place.

Elizabeth.

He frowned slightly as he turned a corner.

"What do you want so badly..." he murmured to himself, his low voice echoing just enough to be swallowed by the ancient walls. "And why does everything have to be such a damn mystery?"

It bothered him more than he cared to admit. Elizabeth never did anything without a reason. Every word, every invitation, every "possibility" came laden with layers that only revealed themselves later—sometimes too late to turn back.

He let out a slow sigh.

— It almost seems like she’s trying to assemble a harem for me...

The idea arose almost as an inside joke, but it didn’t immediately dissipate.

Aria.

Ester.

Now the succubus.

And, in a way... Elizabeth herself, always there, orbiting, pulling invisible threads with a smile too calm to be innocent.

Damon shook his head.

— Fucking weird — he concluded in a low voice.

At the same time... he couldn’t deny it. There was something comfortable about that dynamic. Something that made him feel less like a tool and more like someone who truly belonged there. It was good. Too easy, perhaps.

And that, in itself, was the nagging feeling.

He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he almost didn’t notice the muffled sound of fabric and an irritated grumble coming from the side corridor. Damon stopped reflexively, turning his face towards the sound.

Aria was there.

She walked with some difficulty, her arms occupied by two large laundry baskets, stacked in a clearly impractical way. One of them was crooked, about to slip, and she was visibly struggling to maintain her balance as she moved forward.

"Seriously..." she murmured, more to herself than to the world. "Who was the genius who decided this was a good idea?"

Before she could even think, Damon moved.

"Aria."

She looked up, surprised, and in that brief moment of distraction, one of the baskets swayed slightly to the side.

Damon crossed the distance in a few steps and caught the basket before it fell.

"Hey—!" she began, frowning. "Damon, you don’t need to—"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted, already firmly grabbing one of the baskets. "Give it here."

"I can do it myself," she insisted, though she didn’t really resist when he pulled the weight from her arms. "—I don’t doubt it," he replied, adjusting the basket against his hip. "But that’s my job too."

She blinked.

"—Yours?"

"—I live here, don’t I?" he said with a half-smile. "So carrying clothes counts too."

Aria stared at him for a second longer than necessary, as if deciding whether to argue or let it go. In the end, she just let out a short laugh.

"—You’re impossible."

"—I’ve heard that before."

She adjusted the remaining basket in her arms and nodded.

"—Come on. The laundry room is this way."

They walked side by side down the hallway, the sound of synchronized footsteps breaking the comfortable silence of the place. Aria walked slightly ahead, leading the way, while Damon watched out of the corner of his eye how she moved—confident, relaxed, like someone who had long since taken ownership of that space.

"You seem thoughtful," she commented suddenly, without looking back.

Damon raised an eyebrow.

"That obvious?"

"A little," she replied. "You get that look when you’re trying to understand someone... or something."

"Hm."

He hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Elizabeth."

Aria slowed down a little, now walking beside him.

"I figured."

"She talks as if she’s always three steps ahead," Damon continued. "As if I’ve already agreed to things I haven’t even fully understood yet."

Aria let out a small sigh.

"She’s always like that." He paused. "But she rarely does anything without thinking about the outcome. And..." she tilted her head slightly, "usually, the outcome isn’t bad."

"’Usually’ isn’t exactly reassuring."

She laughed.

"For someone like you, it should be."

They turned down another corridor, now wider, with open windows letting in the fresh morning air. The smell of soap and clean fabrics began to fill the air, revealing the proximity of the laundromat.

Damon broke the silence again.

"You seem quite calm about... all this."

Aria gave him a quick glance.

"All this" is quite vague.

"You know what I’m talking about."

She remained silent for a few steps. When she spoke, her voice was softer.

"I trust you."

Damon felt a slight tightening in his chest.

"That’s all?"

"No," she replied without hesitation. "But it’s enough to start."

They reached the entrance to the laundromat, a spacious, well-lit area with large wooden tables and neatly arranged piles of folded clothes. Aria placed the basket she was carrying on one of the tables, stretching her arms out afterward, while Damon did the same with his.

"Thank you," she said finally, looking at him with a genuine smile.

"You’re welcome."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—just too full of unspoken things.

"Damon," Aria called suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Whatever Elizabeth is planning..." she crossed her arms, leaning on the table, "don’t forget one thing."

"What?"

She looked directly at him.

"You still have a choice."

He nodded slowly.

"I know."

But, as he said this, Damon couldn’t help but think that, in that place, surrounded by such intense people and paths that opened up too quickly, choosing might be the hardest part of all.

Aria seemed to sense the weight of that thought, because she softened her tone.

"And, for what it’s worth..." she smiled slightly, "you’re not alone in this."

Damon returned the smile, discreetly.

"Good to know."

They stood there for a few more seconds before Aria clapped once, as if to dispel the tense atmosphere.

"Right. Before someone shows up and gives us more trouble, I’d better finish this."

"Want some help?"

"Not now," she replied. "But..." she leaned a little closer to him, "come by later. We can talk."

He nodded.

"Agreed."

Damon turned to leave the laundry room, his thoughts a little more organized than before. Elizabeth was still an enigma. The future, an unknown full of dangerous possibilities.

But, at least for now, he had allies. And, strangely, that made the weight of it all a little easier to bear.

Damon left the laundry room and followed the outer corridors that led to the training yard. The metallic sound of clashing swords and short orders shouted in the distance betrayed the routine of Wykes’ knights. That part of the mansion always had a different energy—rawer, more honest.

He walked slowly, his thoughts swirling in circles.

The succubus.

It wasn’t the fact that she was a succubus that bothered him. He had dealt with creatures of all kinds, some far worse. The problem was the how.

"Feeding."

The word seemed too simple for something so laden with implications. Damon knew exactly what it meant in practical terms, but he also knew that, for someone who had spent time chained, drained, and treated like an object, it could sound like just another elegant form of exploitation.

"Damn it..." he murmured, running a hand over his face.

He needed to talk to her. Make it clear that there was no obligation. That it wasn’t an order from Elizabeth. That she could say no—and that no would be respected without question. The problem was where to begin.

"Hey, I need to feed you energy, but only if you want to" didn’t exactly seem like a good approach.

Damon let out a heavy sigh and ended up sitting on one of the wide stone steps leading to the secondary training field. From there, he could see the knights practicing formations, lances aligned, movements coordinated. There was something comforting about that disciplined repetition.

He rested his elbows on his knees, interlacing his fingers.

"Elizabeth really doesn’t make things easy..." he grumbled.

Deep down, he knew that part of the reason this had fallen on him was simple: he didn’t see the succubus as a "means." Nor as a "tool." That didn’t make him special—it only made him decent. Still, the responsibility weighed heavily.

As he watched one of the knights mistime a thrust and be immediately corrected, Damon felt something different.

A slight tug.

Non-physical.

Internal.

His body stiffened for a moment, and his eyes narrowed.

"Hm?"

Before he could react, a translucent interface formed before his eyes, floating discreetly, invisible to anyone else.

[INTEGRATED SYSTEM — NOTIFICATION]

Damon took a deep breath.

"It’s been a while since you’ve shown up..." he murmured.

The interface changed, lines of text rearranging themselves.

[MISSION ACTIVATED: "ESSENTIAL RESONANCE"]

[DESCRIPTION:]

A demonic affinity entity is in a state of severe essential malnutrition. Stabilizing its essence is necessary to prevent permanent collapse.

[MAIN OBJECTIVE:]

Establish an initial consensual energetic bond with the entity identified as the Imprisoned Succubus.

[SECONDARY OBJECTIVE (OPTIONAL):]

Ensure mutual trust before the exchange begins.

[IMPORTANT CONDITIONS:]

— Explicit consent.

— Absence of direct or indirect coercion.

— Minimum emotional stability of the entity.

[REWARDS:]

— Further consolidation of the demonic core.

— +1 permanent increase in Essence Control.

— Potential Affinity Unlock: Shared Resonance.

[WARNING:] Forcing the process will result in mission failure and stability penalties.

Damon read everything silently, once. Then again.

"Of course this becomes a mission..." he sighed.

Still, something in that description reassured him more than he expected. The System not only allowed refusal — it demanded consent. Trust. Stability.

"At least you agree with me" he said softly, as if the System could hear him.