Chapter 182: You’re so wicked with your plans

The sun hadn’t yet reached its highest point when the rhythmic sound of impacts echoed through the central courtyard of Wykes Manor.

Damon stood in the center of the open space.

Alone.

Barefoot on the black stones, his bare torso covered in a light sweat, he swung the spear with almost hypnotic precision. The weapon cut through the air in long, controlled arcs, the tip describing trajectories too exact to be the result of mere technique. Each step was calculated. Each turn had purpose.

Advance.

Retreat.

Side turn.

Thrust.

The impact of the spear’s tip against one of the training pillars made the air vibrate. The rune-reinforced stone shattered into small fissures—something that shouldn’t happen so easily.

Damon stopped.

The spear still vibrated in his hand.

He frowned.

“…That wasn’t in the calculations.”

He straightened his body and took a deep breath. The air around him seemed denser, as if reacting to his presence. It wasn’t just demonic mana—there was something more structured, deeper, flowing beneath his skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment and refocused.

He felt it.

And then he understood.

“Advanced Level,” he murmured to himself.

Not just that.

He had skipped two entire cultivation levels.

Damon slowly opened his eyes, staring at his own hands as if expecting to see them different. But there were no visible marks. No obvious changes.

Only strength.

A much greater strength.

He swung the spear again, now with more intent. The movement was faster than he anticipated. The air exploded in a dry crack as the tip advanced, creating a visible pressure wave that swept across the courtyard and scattered leaves and dust.

Damon stopped the movement at the last second. His heart pounded.

“…Since when did this happen?”

He rested the spear on the ground and ran a hand through his hair, trying to organize his thoughts. Cultivation didn’t work like that. Skipping levels required years of refinement, absurd resources, or extreme situations of risk and disruption.

Or…

He sighed.

“…Prolonged contact.”

The memory of the previous night came unbidden.

The deep rest.

The constant resonance.

The almost imperceptible, yet continuous, exchange of energy.

Aria.

Ester.

Two women with trained bodies, strong spirits, and absurdly well-aligned energy reserves—each in their own way. It wasn’t just physical intimacy. It was closeness of essence.

Damon let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“This is ridiculous…”

But the facts didn’t lie.

He knelt in the center of the courtyard and planted the spear in the ground beside him. He closed his eyes again and delved deep within himself, analyzing his own core.

Stable.

Condensed.

Deeper.

The energy flow was now smoother, more obedient, as if his body had learned a new language overnight.

“…So that’s how it is,” he murmured. “Continuous affinity accelerates cultivation.”

That explained a lot.

It also explained why certain demonic bloodlines were so obsessed with bonds.

Damon opened his eyes and stood up, picking up his spear again.

“Well,” he said to the empty courtyard. “I won’t complain.”

He resumed his training.

But now… there was something different.

Before, he trained to stay in shape, to avoid rust. Now, each movement seemed to expand something within him. Each thrust further refined his control. Each spin consolidated his newly acquired strength.

His body kept pace with his mind without delay. The metal of the spear felt lighter.

The world, slightly slower.

He executed a complete sequence, advancing across the courtyard at high speed, alternating direct thrusts with lateral variations, using the shaft for short strikes, taking advantage of every inch of the weapon. At the end, he jumped, spun in the air, and plunged the spearhead into the ground with enough force to crack the web-like stone.

Damon landed lightly.

He took a deep breath.

Satisfied.

“If this continues…” he murmured. “I’ll have to rethink my entire progression plan.”

It was then that he heard footsteps.

He didn’t turn around immediately. He recognized the presence even before the sound of the voice.

“Training so early?” Aria called, with that casual tone that never fooled anyone.

Damon spun the spear one last time and rested it on his shoulder before turning around.

Aria stood at the edge of the courtyard, dressed in light training clothes, her sword strapped to her back. Her hair was neatly tied back, but there was a playful glint in her eyes.

“Standard routine,” he replied. “Any problem?”

She crossed her arms, observing the marks on the ground, the damaged pillar, the cracks in the stone.

“…Have you always destroyed half the courtyard like this?”

Damon followed her gaze and scratched the back of his neck.

“Maybe not this much.”

Aria narrowed her eyes.

“You’ve progressed,” she stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Two levels,” he confirmed. “Advanced level now.”

She was silent for a second.

Then she smiled.

“…So it wasn’t just my imagination.”

“Did you feel it?” he asked.

“Of course I did,” she replied. “You were different when you woke up.”

Damon raised an eyebrow.

“Different how?”

Aria shrugged.

“More… stable.” She looked away for a moment. “And stronger.”

He chuckled softly.

“That explains a lot.”

She took a few more steps closer.

“Elizabeth wants to talk to you,” she said then. “Again.”

Damon sighed, but didn’t seem bothered.

“I imagine.”

Aria tilted her head, studying him.

“…She noticed it too,” she said. “Your aura is different.”

“Great,” he replied. “Nothing like attracting unwanted attention early in the day.”

She smiled slightly.

“Relax. In Mirath, getting stronger is never a problem.” She paused. “As long as you know how to deal with the consequences.”

Damon set his spear down and walked over to her.

“And you?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

Aria hesitated for a second.

“I am,” she replied. “Just… tired.”

He smiled slightly.

“Strange. I feel refreshed.”

She snorted.

“Idiot.”

But the tone had no real weight.

They walked together toward the mansion entrance.

Before crossing the archway leading inside, Damon looked one last time at the cracked courtyard, at the marks left by his training.

Something had changed.

Not just his strength.

But the pace at which the world was beginning to respond to him.

And, it seemed, Elizabeth had already noticed it too.

“Let’s see what she wants now,” he murmured.

Damon walked silently through the mansion’s inner corridors, the sound of his own footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. The aura of the place always seemed the same—too calm, too ancient, as if each wall knew more than it let on.

The door to Elizabeth’s office was ajar.

He knocked once, out of habit.

“Come in,” came her voice, calm as always.

Damon pushed the door open and entered.

Elizabeth was seated behind her desk this time, some scrolls arranged with excessive precision, a cup of dark tea resting beside her. She looked up as he crossed the threshold and smiled, assessing him from head to toe with barely disguised interest.

“You’re different,” she commented. “More… dense.”

“I’ve moved on,” he replied, getting straight to the point. “Two levels.”

Her smile widened, satisfied.

“I figured. Take a seat, Damon.”

He pulled up a chair at the front of the table and sat down, resting his elbows on the arms of the seat, relaxed but alert.

“So,” he said, “what’s the mission this time?”

Elizabeth let out a low, genuinely amused laugh.

“You really don’t waste any time.”

“It’s usually more efficient,” he replied. “And considering our history, I like to know what I’m getting into.”

She brought the cup to her lips, took a small sip, and then set it down on the table again.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s not a bad mission. Nor is it dangerous.” Her eyes gleamed slightly. “And, for once, you really don’t have to worry.”

Damon raised an eyebrow.

“That’s usually the part where something explodes.”

“Not this time.”

She leaned forward, crossing her fingers on the table.

“You only need to do one thing.”

Damon waited.

“Feed the succubus.”

Silence fell over the office like a physical weight.

Damon blinked once.

Then twice.

“…Feed,” he repeated slowly.

Elizabeth nodded, without any embarrassment.

“Yes.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

She smiled slightly.

“You know exactly what that means.”

Damon stared at her for long seconds, assessing whether this was a provocation, a test… or just Elizabeth being too direct.

“You’re talking about an energetic bond,” he said finally. “Intimate exchange.”

“I am,” she confirmed. “Her condition is worse than it appears. The currents didn’t just drain mana. They left her malnourished at an essential level.” Elizabeth’s expression lost its light tone for a moment. “Without proper nourishment, her body might recover… but her essence won’t.”

Damon ran a hand over his face, letting out a slow sigh.

“…And you decided I’m the solution.”

“I didn’t decide,” Elizabeth corrected. “You are.”

She stood and walked around the table, stopping a few steps from him.

“You’re a stable incubus, with control, experience, and—now—an advanced core. More importantly,” she added, “you don’t see her as a resource.”

Damon looked away for a moment.

“That still needs to be her choice,” he said. “Not mine. Not yours.”

Elizabeth nodded immediately.

“Of course. Nothing will happen without clear consent.” She paused. “But she already feels your presence. Your resonance has calmed her since the moment you took her out of the cage.”

He was silent, remembering the light touch on her horns, the recognition in her eyes.

“She needs time,” he murmured.

“And you will give it to her,” Elizabeth replied. “That’s not an order. It’s a possibility.”

She sat back down, watching him intently.

“There will be no pressure. No immediate deadline.” Her lips curved into a subtle smile. “But if you accept… you’ll be helping more than you realize.”

Damon took a deep breath.

“You’re so wicked with your plans,” he murmured, scratching his head. “I’ll see with her.” He said.

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