Chapter 1: Strongest Incubus System!

A star pierced the veil of emptiness.

Alone, she traversed the silence of the Between-Worlds—that forgotten space between galaxies, where even time hesitates to exist. She was small compared to the vastness that surrounded her, but within her… something shone with a power that not even the oldest stars dared to name.

She crossed constellations that had never been named by any civilization. She passed through realms that existed only for moments, where worlds were born and died before they were even seen. She wandered determinedly, carried by a destiny that no mortal force could comprehend.

And then, just as she was about to reach a remote world—far removed even from the boundaries of creation—something stopped her.

Hands emerged from the darkness. Not ordinary hands… but entities in the form of touch. Ancient. Absolute.

They held the star as if it were a forgotten relic.

A voice whispered through the folds of infinity:

“A soul… returning.”

The figure holding her was not made of flesh, nor of light. It was pure meaning, pure purpose. Its eyes—if they could even be called eyes—stared straight at the spark trapped in that star.

“Chaos…” she murmured reverently, sensing what lay behind that soul. “So broken. So precious.”

She held it gently, as if carrying a secret too ancient to speak aloud.

“I understand now. I cannot interfere with you… Reincarnated.”

Her tone was not one of sadness, but of recognition. Like someone witnessing a piece fall onto the board of a war that began before its time—and is still far from over.

“You have a long road ahead of you. So… let’s not call this a farewell, just a goodbye.”

A gleam crossed the entity’s face—an enigmatic smile, gentle and cruel at the same time.

“The war has already begun, little Starscourge… And you will be just one more reason for it to continue.”

She raised the star, as if returning a spear to the battlefield.

“The gods, foolish in their pride, fragmented the Demon God into seven pieces. Fragments used to curb his appetite… and show the world that his authority is beyond all reach.”

She then gently squeezed the star in her hands, as if wishing to protect it… even though she knew she couldn’t.

“But perhaps… with this small good deed…” her eyes flashed, briefly, like collapsing galaxies, “…you can regain control of this world.”

She inclined her face to the light pulsing within the star. “Take my silent blessing, Young Reincarnated.”

And then, with a simple, inevitable gesture… she let go.

The star fell like a tear through reality, cutting through veils and worlds until it plunged into the fate that awaited it.

The world felt a slight shift, but what remained… were only chains…

Chains that dragged across the cold stone floor, producing a metallic sound that cut through the silence like blades.

The boy, no more than nineteen years old, was pulled mercilessly. His bare feet scraped against the rough ground, leaving small trails of blood with each step. There was no strength in his body to resist… only suppressed cries of pain, muffled by cracked and dry lips.

He was thin, almost skeletal, with signs of malnutrition evident beneath his torn and dirty clothes. But his face… even covered in dirt, still carried a trace of strange beauty, like a sculpture abandoned to the elements.

Eyes sunken, but alive. Eyes that, in that moment, silently asked… ’How did I get here…?’

There was no time for answers, or to gather his own thoughts.

Without ceremony, he was forcefully shoved to his knees on the impeccable marble of an absurdly luxurious room.

Golden columns, crimson tapestries, a shimmer of crystal shimmering above his head. The wealth there exuded power, but it contrasted sharply with his wretched state. Like a fly thrown at a royal banquet.

A large man wearing a kind of dark armor—the jailer—exchanged strange words with another man, the latter with a refined and cold appearance, wrapped in an impeccable suit. They spoke in an incomprehensible language, made of sounds that were nothing short of a lucid nightmare.

The man in the suit, with skin as pale as dirty snow, looked away from the conversation and stared at the boy on the floor.

And then he smiled.

A smile that didn’t belong in the world of men. There was something demonic about him. Not in the shape of his teeth or the curve of his lips… but in the sensation he provoked. As if something old, ancient, and hungry had awakened at the sight of him.

Without saying a word, he left the boy’s neck and the chain as if leading an animal. The boy nearly fell as he stood, stumbling as he was dragged out of the room.

The new door opened with a grave creak. On the other side, a completely different room.

And there she was.

A woman.

Tall, impeccably poised, draped in a Victorian gown as black as the abyss. Her hair was ivory white, falling in soft waves to her waist. Her eyes, cold and intense, studied the boy as if he were a rare piece in a private collection.

She was beautiful. So beautiful that he gasped. The words died before they even tried to come out, rendered meritorious by a muffled, useless stutter. His feet gave way, and he fell to his knees once more, not from external force—but from sheer inability to react to her profound presence.

There was something sadistic in her smile. But also… a strange gentleness. As if she had been waiting for him for a long time.

Then, do nothing, an ethereal light flickered in the air.

A metallic sound, like broken bells ringing in unison, reverberated through the room.

And a message appeared before the boy’s eyes, as if written in the very fabric of reality…

[Starting…]

[Welcome to Pandora]

The shimmering message hung in the air, pulsing with an ethereal glow, as if made of liquid light. The boy’s eyes widened and he recoiled instinctively, his heart racing in panic.

But… neither of the two adults in front of him seemed to notice.

Not even a reaction.

The man in the suit continued with that same blasé smile, and the woman—the beautiful, imposing figure before him—merely watched him with analytical eyes. To them, he had done nothing more than stare at his own reflection.

The message, however, had changed.

[Providing universal language pack]

[Processing…]

[’Universal Language’ installed in user data]

A level of heat shot through the base of his skull, as if an invisible needle had been inserted directly into his mind. He gasped, staggering.

And then everything changed.

The murmur of the room. The sound of the man. The words, previously distorted and unrecognizable, now made sense.

“I brought the product as you requested, Lady Elizabeth,” the man said with an air of satisfaction, tugging hard on the chain around the boy’s neck, making him almost fall again. “Of course… you asked for it in good condition, but getting an Incubus these days is harder than it looks.”

The boy blinked. ’Incubus?’

He barely knew what he was doing. His lips trembled, but he remained silent, his mind racing.

Elizabeth crossed her arms, her black-gloved nails drumming against the silk of her dress. Her gaze seemed fixed on the boy—or rather, on the “product.”

“I said… in good condition, Edmund. This,” she dismissively designated, “is not good condition. This is… malnourished.”

Edmund drew his hands together defensively, smiling irritably. “Now, now, no bullshit, my dear. I made an excellent deal with you. I had to pull him from the Slave Auction, you know? It caused quite a… stir. A lot of powerful people were quite upset.”

“I don’t care about that,” she cut him off coldly. “Even if he went to the auction, I’d buy him anyway.”

She moved, the heels of her boots echoing through the room. Her every step seemed to echo inside the boy’s mind, which trembled at her presence. Elizabeth crouched with predatory grace, reaching eye level.

“And now you’re here…” Her voice sounded like poison-stained silk. “I hope you’re as interesting as you seem.”

Elizabeth stared at the kneeling boy for a few more seconds, as if tasting his existence with her eyes. Then her voice echoed, soft and sharp as sharp silk:

“Do you have a name?” The question was very simple. But in that silence, it was almost a sentence.

The boy opened his mouth… but nothing came out.

His lips moved slowly, hesitantly, as if the words were buried under a thick layer of fear and oblivion. A hoarse sound escaped his throat, more a broken moan than any attempt at communication. He tried again… and again… but only a painful hiss emerged.

Elizabeth frowned slightly. Her fingers, pale and elegant, moved carefully to touch his throat.

The touch was cold as ice.

But what lingered next… wasn’t just cold.

It was strange. Dense. The air around her seemed to tremble, distorted like heat on stone, but the sensation was the exact opposite: suffocating, heavy… as if something ancient had awakened. The light in the room dimmed subtly. The white bangs that fell over her face darkened in the shadows, partially hiding her eyes, but still revealing the fierce red glow that burned there.

Elizabeth straightened slowly.

“They cut your vocal cords,” she said, her voice low, almost a whisper, but reverberating with restrained fury.

Then something changed.

An unusual presence gathered around her, like a silent storm. The woman’s aura took shape, almost tangible—a dark, beautiful swirl, as if the darkness itself had fallen in love with her and followed her faithfully.

The man—Edmund—took a step back.

“W-Wait, Elizabeth, I… I have no choice!” he stammered, raising his hands. “The boy screamed too much! The transporters were complaining and they fixed it! I just… I just wanted to preserve his value!”

The boy clapped a hand to his head.

A sharp pain pierced his mind like a knife through glass.

Screams… chains… a male voice laughing… and the sound of something hot being stabbed into his throat.

His body trembled. The memory was fragmented, indistinct, but cruel. The taste of metal in her mouth, the burning smell, the dull ache in her neck…

When she managed to open her eyes again, the world had already changed.

Elizabeth was lifting Edmund by the neck with one hand. His feet dangled in the air, and he struggled, his hands trying in vain to pull her away. It was as if he were trying to pry out cast iron with his bare fingers. His eyes were wide, his face turning red, then purple.

“The contract… is broken,” she said, her voice cold, unhurried. “You sold me something damaged. Did you really think… I wouldn’t care about something like that?”

Edmund tried to speak, but only gurgled. The whirlpool around her grew, as if responding to her displeasure.

Then, with a simple squeeze of pale fingers, and no expression of effort…

Crack.

The dry sound was followed by a horrible snap, and Edmund’s neck exploded in a shower of crimson. His body fell like a lifeless doll, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Elizabeth turned gracefully onto her back, wiping a splatter of blood from her face with her gloved palm. Her eyes returned to the boy, as if nothing had happened.

Elizabeth stood in the fresh pool of blood, her eyes fixed on the kneeling boy. A smile slowly widened on her lips—a twisted, beautiful, insane smile. There was no compassion there. No sadness. Only a feverish enthusiasm bordering on madness.

“The world…” she said, opening her arms as if embracing the truth itself, “is too cruel.”

Her voice danced between melody and threat. She walked toward the boy with light, almost floating steps. With each step, the aura around her seemed to grow—a reddish haze that rippled in the air like living smoke.

“Only the strongest survive.” Her eyes burned like embers, and a crackling sound ran through her hands. “And I… have no interest in the weak.”

She held out her hand.

A blood-red glow grew in her palm, enveloping her fingers as if they were made of pure, cursed energy. Then she wrenched her fingers open—and the handcuffs exploded.

A sharp, metallic sound split the air. The chains disintegrated into sparks, molten fragments ricocheting across the marble floor.

The boy gasped, bringing his wrists to his eyes, the iron marks still burning into his skin.

Before he could react, she was crouched before him.

Elizabeth ran her hand through his tangled hair, observing the straw hue, as if caressing him. But there was no ordinary tenderness in that gesture. It was possessive. Almost maternal. And deeply unbalanced.

Her madness seeped through her pores, scented with black roses and fresh blood. And yet… it was mesmerizing.

“I’ll give you a voice,” she whispered, her lips almost touching his ear.

“I’ll give you a stronger body.”

“I’ll give you a name.”

“I’ll give you… a life.”

Each sentence came with more intensity, like an incantation. And then, she stopped, pulling back just enough for her eyes to meet his.

Her eyes.

The boy froze.

Within each of Elizabeth’s irises, there was a heart beating—literally. Two small, pink, beating hearts, one in each eye. They weren’t reflections. They weren’t illusions. They stared back at him. As if part of something larger. As if something inside her was watching… hungrily.

He couldn’t look away. He was trapped. Lost. Like an animal before a serpent.

Then, something cut the air with inhuman sharpness.

A new message appeared before his eyes, in letters as black as fire:

[You have received a blessing. Accept your fate.]

The letters pulsed like a heart. Like the hearts in her eyes. As if the world itself stood still, waiting for his answer.

The boy felt the thin air. His throat burned, even without making a sound. The pain in his wrists slowly faded, increased by a growing heat that spread through his chest.

“I will call you Damon,” she said, smiling, and walked on. “If you want a new life, come with me. Or wait to be captured again.”

The boy simply stood up, ran with difficulty, and kept pace behind her…

“Good choice, Little One.” She said…

[You have permission to use the ’Strongest Incubus System!’]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep