Strongest Incubus System

Damon walked through the narrow city streets with tranquil steps, as if he were just another masked nobleman returning from an ordinary night of entertainment, but his relaxed posture concealed a sharp attention that analyzed every detail around him with almost automatic precision, from the echo of footsteps behind him to the way shadows moved between the dimly lit alleys.

He slightly adjusted the mask on his face, pulling it up a little higher with a casual gesture, while letting out a low sigh, clearly more bored than worried, as if the situation had become too predictable to truly arouse any real tension within him.

"Seriously..." he murmured, running a hand through his hair as he slowly turned onto a more deserted street, where the lighting was even more scarce and the silence more present. "It’s kind of cute that you think I didn’t notice."

His steps didn’t slow down.

But they didn’t quicken either.

He continued walking as if he were just talking to himself, though his voice was perfectly audible to whoever was following him, echoing faintly between the surrounding stone walls.

"I mean... I understand, work, orders, that whole thing..." he continued, shrugging with a slight smile that couldn’t be fully seen because of the mask. "But I’d really prefer to get this over with quickly."

There was a brief silence after that.

But not because there was no one around.

But because they were waiting.

Testing.

Probably trying to decide the best moment to act.

Damon rolled his eyes slightly beneath the mask, clearly noticing the hesitation.

"Look, I have commitments, you know?" he said, finally stopping in the middle of the street, slowly turning around, though his eyes still didn’t focus directly on anyone. "My wives should be arriving from their trip soon, and it would be kind of rude of me to be late because you decided to play hide-and-seek."

The wind blew lightly through the alleys, carrying with it a dense silence that no longer seemed natural.

And then—

Movement.

A shadow shifted.

Then another.

And yet another.

Figures began to slowly emerge from the sides, from the rooftops, from the dark entrances between the buildings, all discreetly dressed, but with postures that betrayed training and clear intentions.

Damon observed this with a slight tilt of his head.

"Ah... finally," he murmured, almost satisfied. "I thought I was going to have to call you again."

He put his hands in his pockets, completely at ease, while quickly analyzing the group around him, counting numbers, assessing distances, movement patterns, possible leaders.

"Let me guess..." he continued, with a slightly amused tone. "You work for the house, right? Or... maybe for someone more curious?"

No one answered.

As expected.

But that didn’t matter. Damon gave a small smile beneath his mask.

"Alright... no need to speak."

He took a step forward.

And the air—

Shifted.

Not explosively.

But noticeably.

As if something invisible had begun to slowly expand around him, pressing down on the environment with a silent, yet utterly dominant presence.

"Let’s do this," he said calmly, tilting his head slightly. "You attack me, I deal with it quickly, and everyone gets on with their lives."

A pause.

Short.

"Especially me."

One of the men moved first.

Quickly.

Directly.

A blade gleaming in the dim light as he advanced without hesitation.

And then—

Damon sighed.

"Okay..."

He raised his hand slightly.

And the world—

Stopped.

Not completely. But enough.

The man’s movement stalled mid-advance, as if he had collided with an invisible wall, his body trembling slightly as he tried, in vain, to continue.

The others froze for a second.

Confused.

Alarmed.

Damon tilted his head, observing it with an almost critical air.

"You really should choose your targets better," he commented, taking another step forward, completely unconcerned as he passed the motionless man, as if he were just an object in the way.

His gaze swept over the rest of the group.

Now—

Much more attentive.

Much more cautious.

"Last chance," he said, in a calm but firm tone. "Go back and tell whoever sent you that... this isn’t the kind of trouble they want."

Silence.

No one moved.

But the hesitation—

Was visible. Damon let out a small sigh.

"Yeah... I didn’t think so."

He lowered his hand slowly.

And, in the next instant—

The invisible impact swept through the space like a silent wave, throwing the men against the walls, the floor, any nearby surface, with a precise, controlled force, but enough to end any attempt at confrontation before it even truly began.

The dry sound of bodies hitting stone echoed through the street.

And then—

Silence again.

Damon adjusted his sleeve slightly, as if he had just dealt with a minor domestic inconvenience, before resuming his walk in the opposite direction, without even looking back.

"Honestly..." he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "Interrupting my path like that... how rude."

He took a few more steps, the tranquil pace returning immediately, as if nothing had happened.

"Now then..." he continued, running a hand through his hair. "Let’s see if I still make it in time."

Damon had taken only a few steps after leaving behind the bodies scattered across the alley, his rhythm already returning to normal, his mind reorganizing priorities and calculating the time he still had before reuniting with his companions, when something... changed.

It wasn’t a movement.

Nor a presence.

It was... sound.

But not an ordinary sound.

It didn’t come from a specific direction, nor did it carry the natural echo of the narrow streets. It simply... appeared. Invisible. Penetrating. As if it had been inserted directly into his head.

And then—

Impact.

A sharp, distorted noise, impossible to fully describe, pierced his ears like a blade, vibrating inside his skull with brutal intensity, instantly shattering his concentration as if it were glass.

Damon stopped.

Or rather—

His body froze for an instant.

His eyes widened beneath the mask.

And then—

"—GHK...!"

The sound escaped his throat involuntarily, almost a choking gasp, as his hands instinctively rose to his head, pressing his ears as if that could block it out.

It didn’t work.

On the contrary.

The sound seemed to come from within.

Deeper.

More invasive.

"AAAA—!"

He fell to his knees with a dry impact against the stone floor, his body arching forward as the pain exploded inside his mind, pulsing in uncontrolled waves, each frequency seeming to tear something different inside him.

It wasn’t just physical pain.

It was disorientation.

It was interference.

His vision trembled, blurring for a second, the shadows around him seeming to distort, as if the world itself were vibrating off-axis.

"What— the hell... is this...?" He tried to speak, but the words came out broken, faltering between heavy, irregular breaths.

The sound increased.

It changed frequency.

Higher-pitched.

Deeper.

More... precise.

As if it were being tuned specifically for him.

Damon clenched his teeth even tighter, his body trembling slightly as he tried to maintain some kind of control, but his ability—that overwhelming presence that once dominated the environment—was... unstable.

Fragmented.

The invisible pressure around him wavered.

It fluctuated.

It disappeared for an instant.

"No..." he murmured with difficulty, trying to force himself to stand, but failing as another wave of the attack swept through his mind, causing his muscles to contract involuntarily.

He fell with one hand on the ground, bracing himself to avoid collapsing completely, his breathing heavy and irregular, his heart racing in a way that was unusual even for him.

Someone... was prepared.

Someone knew.

The sound ceased for a brief second.

Just long enough for him to breathe—

And then it returned.

More focused.

More ruthless.

Damon let out another low grunt, his eyes closing tightly as he tried to regain any kind of mental control, any fragment of concentration he could use to react.

"—Tch... sonic... attack..." he muttered through his teeth, his mind still working, still analyzing even under that absurd pressure. "Straight to the system..."

Clever.

Extremely clever.

He tried to stand up again—

But his legs gave way.

His body fell partially back down, kneeling, one hand still pressing into the ground while the other gripped the side of his head tightly.

And then—

Footsteps.

Different.

Lighter.

More controlled.

Approaching.

Damon slowly opened one eye, his vision still blurry, trying to focus on the direction from which they came, even with the sound still distorting everything around him.

"...so..." he murmured, with a weak smile, clearly forced through the pain. "It wasn’t just those idiots..."

His breathing came out heavy.

But the smile—

Even so—

Remained.

"Interesting..."

Damon was still on his knees when the pain began to recede—not completely, never completely—but enough for his consciousness to stop being swallowed by that impossible noise and to gradually begin to organize itself into something functional. The world around him seemed distorted, as if it had been bent and crumpled by invisible hands, the streetlights trembling in his vision while a persistent buzzing echoed inside his head, deep, irritating, like a residue of that absurd aggression. His fingers still pressed his temples tightly, as if he could rip the sound from within his own skull, and his breathing came irregularly, heavily, broken by small involuntary spasms.

And then—

A voice.

Not external.

Not physical.

But present.

[Update complete.]

The phrase emerged in his mind with an artificial clarity, completely detached from the surrounding chaos, as if it had no consideration for the moment it chose to appear. Cold. Precise. Indifferent.

Damon closed his eyes tightly, slightly grinding his teeth as he let out a short, humorless laugh.

"...seriously?" he murmured, his voice low, hoarse, laden with irritation. "Now?"

For a second, he almost expected a response.

It didn’t come.

Of course not.

Because it never responded.

It was always like this—it appeared, informed, disappeared, as if operating on a level completely disconnected from his immediate reality.

"This isn’t the time for that..." he muttered, still pressing the side of his head, trying to stand, his body still unsteady, his senses scrambled.

And then—

It came again.

Stronger.

Much stronger.

The sound didn’t just hit.

It invaded.

This time it wasn’t an isolated pulse—it was a continuous wave, a sustained attack that cut through the air and pierced Damon’s ears like vibrating blades, tearing away any attempt at focus, crushing his senses with brutal violence. The scream that escaped him wasn’t contained this time—it was pure instinct, raw, laden with real pain as he brought both hands to his ears, pressing hard, as if he could stop the sound from entering... even knowing it was already too late.

His body gave way again, his knees hitting the ground with a dry impact, his muscles contracting involuntarily as his vision flickered between light and dark, the world around him fragmenting into disjointed flashes.

But this time—

He reacted.

Not perfectly.

Not elegantly.

But he reacted.

His eyes forced open, even with the pain, even with the ringing that seemed to want to crush his thoughts, and he forced his body to move, turning sideways at the exact moment another blast crossed the space where his head had been an instant before. The air vibrated with the passage of the attack, slightly distorting the surrounding environment, as if reality itself had been pressed by that absurd frequency.

"...okay... this is new..." he muttered through gritted teeth, his breathing heavy, his eyes now focusing with difficulty.

He couldn’t fight like this.

Not in this state.

Then—

He shifted.

Without hesitation.

His body dissolved into a dark blur, fragmenting into a compact cloud of bats that dispersed into the air in a swift, fluid motion, escaping the direct line of attack while the sound continued to vibrate in space. The small winged forms moved a few meters away before regrouping, condensing back into their human form on a nearby, higher structure, far from the exact point of impact.

Damon landed with a slight imbalance, one hand bracing himself on the surface to keep his body steady while still breathing irregularly, his gaze finally fixing on the source of it all.

And then—

He saw her.

A woman.

Her blonde hair reflected the dim streetlights, contrasting with the tight-fitting dark leather clothing that functionally, not decoratively, enveloped her body—it wasn’t aesthetics, it was equipment. Every detail screamed purpose, movement, combat. She stood a few meters away, her posture firm, absolutely stable, as if the chaos around her had no effect on her.

But most importantly—

It was her gaze.

Cold.

Calculated.

Focused exclusively on him.

And then Damon noticed something even more interesting.

The silence.

Because now... there was no sound.

No attack.

No vibration.

She was observing.

Assessing.

Waiting.

Damon slowly brought his hand to his ear, still feeling the echo of pain pulsing there, and let out a small, muffled laugh, more disbelief than genuine humor.

"...right..." he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he stared at her. "You’re definitely not the type to send an invitation before showing up."

He straightened his body carefully, still feeling the aftereffects of the attack, but slowly regaining control, his eyes now much more alert, much more dangerous.

"That sound trick..." he continued, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, as if testing his own condition. "I have to admit... it hurt like hell."

A pause.

And then—

The smile returned.

Slow.

Dangerous.

But now... different.

"But now that I know you’re there..." he finished, relaxing his shoulders slightly, although every muscle was ready to react at any moment. "The conversation gets more interesting."