Chapter 177: Back home

The succubus blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Her gaze swept over Damon from head to toe again, as if waiting for the image to fail, to dissolve, to reveal the lie.

“…No,” she finally said, her voice low, almost a disbelieving whisper. “You’re not.”

Damon raised an eyebrow.

Aria rested her sword on her shoulder, amused in silence.

Esther merely watched, arms crossed, expression neutral—but attentive.

The succubus shook her head slowly.

“I would feel it,” she insisted. “I would feel another like me. I always do. Incubi, succubi… the resonance is impossible to hide.” Her fingers closed on the torn fabric of her own clothing. “And you… you have none of that.”

Damon let out a short laugh.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Technically, you’re right.”

She frowned.

“Technically?”

He placed his hand on his right wrist.

There, a discreet black bracelet, marked with runes so fine they seemed like mere decorative lines, pulsed with an almost nonexistent glow.

“I really don’t expect you to just take my word for it,” Damon continued, relaxed. “Especially after everything you’ve been through.”

The carriage moved steadily through the valley, the night wind entering through the open sides. The silence inside grew thick, heavy with expectation.

“Damon,” Aria said, in a tone that mixed warning and amusement. “Don’t make too much of a drama out of it.”

He smiled slightly.

“I promise to try.”

With a simple gesture, Damon released the bracelet clasp.

The effect was immediate.

There was no explosion of light.

There was no bang.

There was… release.

The air inside the carriage shifted in weight, as if something that had been compressed too much had finally been released. A warm, enveloping pressure spread, gentle but impossible to ignore.

The succubus’s eyes widened.

Invisible runes crumbled with a sound like glass shattering in the distance.

And then she felt it.

She truly felt it.

The horns emerged first, curving gently backward, black with reddish veins, perfectly symmetrical. The wings sprouted soon after—smaller than hers, compact, dense, clearly made for speed and control, not for prolonged flight.

The tail came last, drawing itself in the air with a lazy movement, ending in a thin, almost ironic heart.

Damon’s eyes… changed.

The golden gleam gained depth, layers, something ancient and dangerously calm.

The succubus inhaled sharply.

And she forgot to exhale.

“…Incubus,” she whispered, now without a doubt. Her voice trembled. “A real one.”

Damon tilted his head theatrically.

“Now that’s more like it,” he said. “Official pleasure.”

She took a step forward without realizing it.

Then another.

Her heart was beating too fast, too hard, reacting not to raw desire—but to recognition. Affinity. Something her kind understood on a level deeper than words.

“But… you were masked,” she said, almost to herself. “Why?”

“Survival,” he replied simply. “And strategy.”

Aria grumbled:

“And because he’s paranoid.”

Damon ignored her.

“Markets like that don’t just trade bodies,” he explained, looking back at the succubus. “They trade information. Bloodlines. Potential. An incubus loose there would be… a different kind of prize.”

She swallowed hard.

“They were going to try to use me against you,” she concluded.

“Or pit us against each other,” Ester said, finally speaking. “That happens often.”

The succubus clenched her fists.

“So you came… even knowing all that?”

Damon held her gaze, serious now.

“I came because someone asked for help,” he said. “And because no one should end up in a cage for existing.”

The silence that followed was broken only by the distant sound of wheels.

The succubus raised her hand slowly, hesitantly.

She didn’t touch.

She stopped a few inches from his horn, as if asking for permission without words.

Damon didn’t move.

She touched.

A light, almost reverent contact.

Her eyes filled with something that wasn’t quite a tear, but came close.

“…I thought I was alone,” she said.

Damon smiled—not the teasing smile from before, but a small, honest one.

“Not anymore.”

Aria looked away, clearing her throat.

“Right,” she said. “Nice moment and all, but when we get to the extraction point, we need to be ready.”

Ester nodded.

“There’s a lot she still needs to know.”

The succubus finally stepped back a little, taking a deep breath, trying to compose herself—but her eyes still shone when they returned to Damon.

“My name is—”

“Later,” Damon said softly. “You’ll have time. Now, just… enjoy the fact that you’re free.”

The carriage continued on, cutting through the night.

The hours passed without anyone noticing exactly when.

The carriage moved steadily along the night roads, now too far from the black market for any pursuit to be realistic. The constant sound of the reinforced wheels against the ground became almost hypnotic, mingling with the cold wind that seeped through the cracks and the gentle swaying of the vehicle.

The sky began to change slowly.

The absolute black of dawn gave way to lighter shades, a deep blue announcing that sunrise was not as far away as it seemed.

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere had changed.

The succubus slept.

Her body was leaning against the side seat, wrapped in a simple cloak that Esther had improvised to cover her torn clothes. His wings were carefully folded, trembling slightly now and then, as if still reacting to the echoes of energy returning to his body. His breathing was deep, heavy—the kind of sleep that only comes after real exhaustion, both physical and spiritual.

Damon watched silently.

His horns were still visible, his tail resting at his side, moving almost imperceptibly with each breath. He seemed quieter than usual, his easy smile absent, replaced by a distant look.

Aria noticed.

She always noticed.

“You’ve been acting strange,” she said, leaning back against the opposite side of the carriage, arms crossed. “Ever since we left that valley.”

Damon blinked, as if pulled back to the present.

“Just thinking,” he replied.

“Thinking about what?” Aria asked too quickly.

Esther looked up from a small runic artifact she was adjusting, glancing briefly at the two, but not interrupting. Damon sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Morgana,” he said simply.

Aria tensed.

“…Ah.”

He continued, oblivious—or pretending not to notice.

“I should have talked to her. Warned her, at least. Disappearing like that… it’s not exactly polite.” A crooked smile appeared. “She’ll think I’m dead. Or worse.”

“Or worse?” Aria repeated, her voice a little sharper than it needed to be.

“That I ran away,” he finished. “She hates that sort of thing.”

A heavy silence fell.

Aria looked away at the road, her jaw slightly clenched.

“She recovers,” she said dryly. “She’s not fragile.”

Damon stared at her for a few seconds, noticing the tone behind her words.

“…You’re jealous,” he stated, almost surprised.

Aria turned her face slowly. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“That wasn’t a ’no’.”

She pressed her lips together.

Ester finally sighed, closing the device with a soft click.

“You two,” she said, in a calm but firm tone. “This isn’t the time.”

Damon leaned back in his seat.

“I know,” he murmured. “I just don’t like the idea of ​​leaving loose ends.”

“You’re not leaving them,” Ester replied. “You’re postponing them.”

She glanced quickly at the sleeping succubus.

“And, right now, that’s the right thing to do.”

Aria took a deep breath, the jealousy still there, barely disguised, but now mixed with something else—worry.

“Mirath is the right choice,” she said, more restrained. “After what happened in Arven, staying there would be asking for trouble.”

Damon nodded.

“Yes. There’s no point in continuing.”

He looked at the succubus again.

“Besides… this mission was never about the auction itself.”

Ester nodded in agreement.

“From the beginning, Elizabeth wanted her.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “If a follower of Lilith showed up in a black market in chains, that’s no coincidence.”

Aria frowned.

“Do you think someone is testing the limits?”

“Or sending a message,” Ester replied. “To Elizabeth. To Lilith. Or to both.”

Damon chuckled softly.

“Great,” he said. “Nothing like messing with demonic politics before breakfast.”

Despite the comment, his expression remained serious.

“When we get to Mirath,” he continued, “we go straight to Elizabeth. No detours. No stops.”

Ester nodded.

“She’ll want to see the succubus immediately.”

Aria glanced at Damon again.

“And after that?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment.

“Afterwards,” he finally said, “I’ll settle my affairs. With Morgana. With whoever else needs to be.”

Aria looked away again, but this time didn’t answer.

The carriage continued on its way.

The sun began to rise on the distant horizon, tinging the sky with golden and violet hues.

And, as Mirath drew closer with each kilometer traveled, everyone knew: what they had taken from that auction was not just a life saved.

…

Mirath loomed on the horizon as it always did: imposing, silent, and dangerously beautiful.

The outer walls, carved from black stone and reinforced by metallic veins of demonic origin, reflected the dawn light like ancient blades. Protective runes pulsed slowly along the arches of the main entrance, not aggressively, but constantly—a clear reminder that Mirath needed to prove nothing to anyone.

The carriage slowed as it approached the gates.

Sentinels watched for a few seconds, their eyes alert, analyzing magical signatures, demonic presence, intent.

Then the gates opened.

No questions asked.

No delays.

Aria relaxed her shoulder slightly.

“It’s always strange,” she murmured. “Entering Mirath and feeling that, if something goes wrong, the whole city might decide to kill you.”

Damon smiled slightly.

“Comfortable, isn’t it?”

Ester didn’t comment. Their eyes were already focused on the path ahead.

They sped through the inner streets. Mirath was still waking up: merchants opening reinforced doors, demons of varying castes crisscrossing the thoroughfares, some casting curious glances at the sealed carriage, others feigning ignorance—the wisest way to handle matters at Wykes Manor.

A short time later, the manor gates appeared.

Tall. Elegant. Ancient.

Wykes Manor didn’t scream power. It simply existed, and that was enough. Perfectly manicured gardens surrounded the main building, with plants that only grew in soil saturated with demonic mana. Fountains of dark water ran silently, reflecting the morning sky like distorted mirrors.

The carriage passed through the inner gates and finally stopped in the main courtyard.

Damon was the first to disembark.

He turned and, with surprising care for someone like him, took the succubus in his arms. She was still fast asleep, her face serene despite the recent marks of suffering. Her wings were folded against her body, and her tail rested motionless, the small heart at the tip swaying slightly with movement.

Aria watched the scene in silence.

Esther descended soon after, adjusting her cloak and assessing her surroundings purely reflexively.

The main door of the mansion opened.

Elizabeth emerged walking calmly, as if she had just stepped out for a morning stroll—not like someone awaiting the return from a delicate mission involving a black market and a direct follower of Lilith.

She wore a simple, elegant dress in dark tones, and her hair was loosely styled. The smile on her face was genuine. Serene.

“You came rather quickly,” she said, her soft voice echoing through the courtyard.

Her eyes then moved.

They stopped on Damon.

More precisely, on what—or whom—he was carrying.

Elizabeth’s smile widened slightly.

“Ah…” she murmured, taking a few steps closer. “So that was it.”

She stopped in front of them, analyzing the succubus with clinical attention, but without coldness. Her eyes scanned the restraint marks, the visible exhaustion, the still unstable aura.

Then she looked up at Damon.

“Looks like you found my target without me even having to say anything,” she commented, with a slight hint of amusement. “Impressive.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep