Chapter 47: Stagnant

[Name: Damon (no last name)]

[Age: 19]

[Cultivation: Apprentice]

[Race: Incubus]

[Talent: Low]

[Level: 10]

[HP: 500/500]

[STR: 36]

[AGL: 32]

[VIT: 36]

[STM: 30]

[INT: 32]

[DEF: 32]

[Blank Points: 0]

[Skills: Asmodeus’ Touch, Emperor’s Impaling Strike (Lv. 1)]

[Traits: Battle Focus]

[Martial Skill (Swords): Novice]

[Martial Skill (Spears): Novice]

[Cultivation Technique: Crimson Night Eater (Lv. 1)]

Damon looked at his stats with a deep sigh. The system’s translucent window hovered before his eyes, cold and indifferent, cruelly reminding him that a whole month had passed since he’d stagnated at Level 10.

“Damn it…” he muttered, closing the window with a wave of his hand. “A whole month without progress.”

He needed to leave the mansion, absorb new essences, face enemies, earn real experience points… but all of that was beyond his reach. Countess Elizabeth had been clear: he couldn’t leave the estate’s gates without her permission.

And that permission simply wouldn’t come.

Worse still, not even constant sex with Aria—night after night, like an inevitable ritual—brought any progress. No matter the intensity, no matter how much she surrendered herself to him, no matter the deafening moans that pierced entire hallways. All he received was that dry, repetitive message:

[You have absorbed essence.]

Nothing more.

Sitting on the edge of the main staircase, Damon let his body slump back, bracing himself against the steps. His eyes wandered to the high ceiling, filled with ancient paintings that told stories of vampire conquests and wars. The place exuded grandeur and eternity… but to him, it was already beginning to feel like a gilded prison.

He was tired.

Tired of waiting.

Tired of repeating the same routine.

Tired of being at the mercy of a Countess who played with everyone there as if they were pieces on her own private chessboard.

Of course, there was still Ester. His personal amusement, his favorite distraction. Teasing her, eliciting reactions from her that no one else would ever dare attempt, was almost addictive. The silent hatred she directed at him, mixed with the treacherous blush staining her skin, was a delicious fuel.

But even that was becoming… predictable.

Damon sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

I need more.

His mind wandered to his cultivation technique: Crimson Night Devourer (Lvl. 1). A grandiose name for something he had barely begun to explore. This technique required not only carnal pleasure, but also contact with deeper energies: fear, repressed desire, hatred, lust—emotions that boiled deep within people and could be devoured to expand their cultivation.

And suddenly, the answer seemed obvious.

Aria, though delicious, was predictable. She gave herself completely, body and soul. There was no resistance, no internal struggle. Just open, sincere pleasure. Good for the body, but useless for his cultivation.

Ester, on the other hand…

Damon opened his eyes, and a slow smile curved his lips.

Ester was the essence of perfection.

She hated him. She feared him, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She desired something she would never confess, not even to herself. Every look, every word, every tremor of her icy body as he teased her was a feast waiting to be devoured.

Perhaps the key to moving forward didn’t lie outside the mansion. Perhaps it lay right there, right in front of him, disguised beneath layers of coldness and pride.

“You look tired.”

Elizabeth’s voice echoed softly through the hallway, but there was a weight to it that sent shivers down Damon’s spine. He looked up slowly, finding the Countess standing at the top of the stairs.

Her black dress seemed to absorb all the light around her, and each step toward him resonated like the sound of an inevitable judgment. Her deep, piercing red eyes watched him with a calmness that was more dangerous than any open threat.

“Countess…” Damon replied, rising from the steps with a brief bow, but without hiding the weariness on his face.

Elizabeth smiled slightly, that smile that always seemed to hide a thousand secrets.

“A month already, isn’t it?” “Stagnate,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “Stuck, stuck at the same cultivation level, right?”

Damon’s heart skipped a beat. She knows.

“Are you watching me that closely?” he asked, a sarcastic smile escaping his lips.

“Always,” Elizabeth replied without hesitation. She stepped closer, standing just a few steps away from him. Her cold, ancient aura enveloped the hallway, imposing absolute silence. “After all, you’re in my home. Nothing happens here without me noticing.”

Damon clenched his fist.

“Then you know I need to leave. I need to fight, I need to absorb more than…” he paused, hesitating for a second, but finished sarcastically, “…more than Aria alone can offer, it’s no use.”

The Countess’s eyes gleamed.

“Ah… so you’ve noticed,” she murmured, almost satisfied. “Your cultivation technique is insatiable. Easy pleasure doesn’t strengthen you. What you need… is to break down resistance. To destroy emotional barriers. To devour feelings that weren’t offered willingly.”

Damon’s heart skipped a beat. She knows.

“Are you watching me that closely?” he asked, a sarcastic smile escaping his lips.

“Always,” Elizabeth replied without hesitation. She stepped closer, standing just a few steps away from him. Her cold, ancient aura enveloped the hallway, imposing absolute silence. “After all, you’re in my home. Nothing happens here without my notice.”

Damon clenched his fist.

“Then you know I need to leave. I need to fight, I need to absorb more than…” he paused, hesitating for a second, but finished with a wry tone, “…more than only Aria can offer.”

The Countess’s eyes gleamed.

“Ah… so you’ve noticed.” “Your cultivation technique is insatiable. Easy pleasure doesn’t strengthen you. What you need… is to break down resistance. Destroy emotional barriers. Devour feelings that weren’t offered willingly.”

Damon fell silent. That only confirmed what he already sensed.

Elizabeth leaned forward slightly, like a snake about to strike.

“And you’ve already found your target, haven’t you?”

The image of Ester came immediately to his mind: her red eyes filled with anger, her lips pursed in insults, her body trembling as he provoked her… and, beneath it all, that spark she tried desperately to hide.

“Perhaps,” he replied carefully.

Elizabeth smiled.

“You don’t need to be afraid to admit it. Ester is a rock of ice… but even the densest ice can shatter when exposed to the right fire.”

Damon narrowed his eyes. “Are you encouraging me?”

“I’m just observing the inevitable,” Elizabeth replied, taking a step back. “Your path lies before you. It’s not for me to guide it.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and charged. Damon watched her warily, trying to decipher what she truly wanted. The Countess was like an endless web of threads, and he always felt caught in one of them.

But before turning to leave, Elizabeth looked at him once more, and her voice cut through the air like a blade:

“Just remember, Damon. Playing with Esther is playing with both ice and fire. If you’re not careful… you’ll be the one to break.”

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