Strongest Incubus System

Ingrivid was the first to move when she realized Damon could already support his own weight, albeit partially. She didn't say anything immediately—she simply leaned over, firmly and precisely placing one of his arms over her own shoulder, lifting him with a controlled movement, without room for hesitation or dramatization. The gesture was practical, almost military, but there was an implicit care, a silent attention to his still unstable state.

Damon let out a small sigh as he was pulled up, his body still heavy, as if each muscle were being readjusted after being hastily disassembled and rebuilt. He supported part of his weight on her, not by choice, but out of momentary necessity, his eyes half-closed as he allowed himself to regain his balance.

"Slowly, genius," Ingrivid murmured, in her usual dry tone, adjusting his posture until he was minimally stable. "He's not quite back to normal yet."

Damon let out a soft, still hoarse, laugh through his nose.

"What an inspiring vote of confidence..."

But even so, he stood firm. He straightened his posture slowly, testing his own body with small movements—shoulders, arms, breathing—like someone checking if all the pieces were still in place.

They were.

Almost all of them.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a more controlled sigh this time, and then turned his face slightly towards the two of them, his gaze now clearer, more present.

"Did you get any answers from Elizabeth?" he asked directly, as if the collapse of minutes ago had been just a small inconvenience in the midst of something bigger.

Morgana, who was still kneeling beside where he had fallen, slowly raised her gaze to him.

And then—

She smiled.

But it wasn't just any smile.

It was… knowing.

"Oh, no, no…" she said, calmly rising, discreetly wiping the remaining blood from her wrist with a nearby piece of cloth. "You're not just going to change the subject like that."

Damon blinked once.

"...hm?"

She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she watched him with an amused glint in her eyes—a complete contrast to the despair of moments before.

"I think the one who needs to explain something here… is you."

Silence.

Short.

And then—

Damon froze.

Literally.

Not physically this time.

But mentally.

His eyes lingered on her for a second longer than usual, as if he were recalculating the whole situation, quickly rearranging what he could—or couldn't—say.

"...explain… what, exactly?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but there was a slight flaw there. Small. Almost imperceptible.

But Morgana noticed.

Of course she noticed.

And then—

She laughed.

Not loudly.

But genuine.

"Ah, Damon…" she murmured, shaking her head slightly as she took a step toward him. "You really think I didn't notice?"

He didn't answer.

But he didn't look away either.

She stopped a few steps away, observing him with an expression that mixed amusement and something softer—almost affection, but with a provocative touch.

"Since when…?" she continued, bringing a finger to her chin as if thinking. "Ah, yes…"

She looked up at him again.

"Since that night."

Silence.

Ingrivid raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly interested now.

Morgana smiled slightly.

"When we… well…" she made a small, vague gesture with her hand, clearly choosing not to go into details. "I saw."

Damon frowned slightly.

"…saw what?"

Her smile widened a little. "The mark," he replied simply. "On your neck."

A pause.

"She was already healing… too fast to be normal."

Damon was silent for a few seconds.

Processing.

Reassessing.

And then—

He let out a small sigh.

"...I understand."

Morgana took another step forward, now completely relaxed, as if that revelation had no weight for her.

"So yes," she continued naturally. "I already knew."

Damon tilted his head slightly.

"Did you know that I…"

"Feed on blood to heal?" she finished, with a slight shrug.

He nodded slowly.

And then—

She gave another smile.

Lighter.

More relaxed.

"It's okay."

Damon blinked.

"...okay?"

"Yes," she replied, without hesitation.

A short pause.

And then, with a clearly provocative glint in her eyes, she added:

"As long as you don't start treating me like… food."

Silence.

Ingrivid turned her face slightly to the side, clearly trying not to react.

Damon raised an eyebrow.

And then—

Morgana leaned slightly forward, getting closer just enough that her intention was impossible to ignore.

"Now…" she murmured, with a half-smile. "In other ways…"

She shrugged.

"You can continue with that."

Silence.

Heavy.

But not tense.

Damon stared at her for a second.

Two.

And then—

A laugh escaped.

Low.

Sincere.

"You're absurd…"

"You like it," she replied immediately.

He didn't deny it.

He just smiled slightly.

And then, finally, he truly relaxed, running a hand over his neck as he let out a lighter sigh.

"...okay," he murmured. "This could have been much more complicated."

"I know," said Morgana.

Ingrivid crossed her arms.

"Are we done with the emotional moment?" she asked dryly. "Or can I get back to the important part?"

Damon looked at her.

And then—

The focus returned.

Instantly.

"Elizabeth," he repeated, now more serious. "Did you get anything?"

Morgana exchanged a brief glance with Ingrivid.

And then nodded.

"We did."

Damon's smile returned.

But this time—

There was no humor.

Only interest.

"Great…" he murmured.

"Then let's get down to what really matters."

Morgana held Damon's gaze for another brief moment, as if assessing whether he was truly ready to hear it—not physically, but mentally—before finally responding. The provocative lightness of seconds ago was still there, but now there was something firmer underneath, something that indicated the subject had changed tone.

"We did manage it," she said, straightening her posture slightly, crossing her arms in a more restrained, more serious way. "And… you're not the only one who thought this was getting too big to handle alone."

Damon didn't interrupt.

But his attention was completely fixed on her.

Morgana took a deep breath once, briefly, as if organizing the information in the right order, and then continued:

"Elizabeth responded."

A pause.

Short.

But charged.

"And she didn't send a long message… or a hint."

Damon's eyes narrowed slightly.

"She said she's coming."

Silence.

But not empty.

Dense.

Focused.

Morgana tilted her head slightly, observing his reaction as she finished:

"In person."

This time, Damon didn't react immediately.

He stood still for a second.

Two.

And then he let out a small sigh through his nose, running a hand through his still slightly messy hair, as if that confirmed exactly something he already suspected.

"…of course she is," he murmured.

Ingrivid slowly uncrossed her arms.

"Did she say anything else?" she asked, practical as always.

Morgana nodded.

"Yes."

Another short pause.

"She said that… if it involves what she thinks it involves—" Morgana glanced briefly at Damon before continuing, "—then it's not something that can be resolved remotely."

Damon chuckled softly.

Humorlessly.

"She's always liked to dramatize entrances…"

"It doesn't seem like dramatization this time," Ingrivid retorted.

He looked at her.

And didn't disagree.

Morgana continued:

"She wants to resolve this… together with us."

The weight of that sentence hung in the air for a few seconds.

Because it changed things.

It wasn't just Damon investigating alone anymore.

It wasn't just a game of curiosity anymore.

Now—

Someone like Elizabeth was getting directly involved.

And that… meant scale.

Damon was silent for a few moments, walking slowly a few steps across the hall, as if each word was being carefully placed in some specific place within his own mind.

"The Duchess…", he murmured, more to himself than to them. "An underworld organization… people trying to eliminate me in the middle of the street…"

He stopped.

And then looked back at the two of them.

"…and now Elizabeth is coming in person."

A small smile appeared.

But it wasn't light.

It was… interested.

"Okay."

He put his hands back in his pockets, his posture returning to normal as if he had never been on the brink of death minutes ago.

"This just got more fun."

Ingrivid rolled her eyes.

"You almost died."

"Details."

Morgana let out a low laugh.

"She also said when she's arriving," she added.

Damon raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I imagine it's not 'in a week'."

"No," Morgana replied.

A small smile appeared on her lips.

"She's already on her way." Silence.

Damon tilted his head slightly.

"…quick."

"As always," said Morgana.

He nodded slowly.

But this time, his eyes held something different.

Anticipation.

"Then I guess we have little time to organize things…" he murmured.

Ingrivid crossed her arms again.

"Or to run away."

Damon looked at her.

And smiled.

"No."

A pause.

"I think I'll stay."

Morgana didn't seem surprised.

Not at all.

"I know."

His gaze briefly drifted to the window, as if he were already calculating the next steps, the next pieces, the next possibilities that would open up with the arrival of someone like Elizabeth.

And then—

He murmured, almost to himself:

"Let's see what happens… when everyone decides to show up at the same time."

The smile returned.

Slow.

Dangerous.

And this time—

Definitely excited.