Strongest Incubus System-Chapter 225: Test your strength.

Damon opened his eyes slowly, expecting the usual weight of his body, that lazy resistance of muscles after sleeping too long.

It didn't come.

Instead, he felt… nothing.

No pain. No stiffness. No tiredness.

"Hmm…", he murmured, frowning.

He sat up in bed too quickly.

So quickly that, for a second, the world seemed to lag a whole step behind him, as if reality had stumbled trying to keep up.

Damon blinked. "…Okay."

He looked around the room. Empty. The bed impeccably made, the arcane lamps off, Elizabeth's tea absent. No sign of servants, nor of Aria, nor of Lily. Absolute silence.

He ran a hand over his arm.

His skin was cold, smooth… too firm.

"This isn't normal," he commented to himself.

Damon put his feet on the floor and stood up.

Or tried to. The movement was so slight he almost lost his balance—not from weakness, but the opposite. It was as if gravity had decided to go easy on him specifically.

He took a step.

Just one.

And suddenly he was in front of the door.

He didn't walk.

He didn't cross the room.

He didn't feel the space between the bed and the wall.

He simply… arrived.

The air behind him still felt displaced, as if it had been pushed back belatedly.

Damon stood motionless, staring at the dark wood of the door a few inches from his nose.

"…," he breathed deeply. "…I didn't do it."

He looked back.

The bed was on the other side of the room.

Far across.

"No." He shook his head. "No, no, no. That was a coincidence. A reflex. An illusion. Post-vampire trauma."

Convinced of absolutely nothing, he reached out with extreme care and grasped the doorknob.

"Slowly," he murmured. "Like a normal person."

He turned the doorknob.

The door came off.

It didn't open.

It didn't creak.

It didn't give way.

It simply… detached itself from the frame with a dry CRACK and lay in his hand, whole, heavy, absurd.

Damon froze.

The mansion hallway lay before him, wide and silent, with a servant standing a few feet ahead, holding a tray.

The two stared at each other.

Silence.

The tray trembled.

Damon looked slowly at the door in his hand.

Then he looked at the servant.

Then at the door again.

"…good morning?" he tried.

The tray fell.

The employee turned on his heels and ran off as if death itself had just asked permission.

Damon stood there, clutching a ripped-off door, the night wind calmly entering the room.

"…okay," he said to no one. "This is definitely new."

He tried to put the door back in place.

He pushed.

The wall creaked.

He pulled back immediately.

"No, no, no! Stop!" he whispered to his own arms, as if they were naughty children.

Damon took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Control. Focus. You're not a battering ram."

He tried to gently support the door against the wall.

It sank a few inches into the stone.

"…I break everything now."

The realization came accompanied by a heavy silence—broken seconds later by hurried footsteps.

Aria appeared in the hallway, her hand already on the hilt of her sword.

"Damon?! What was that bar—"

She stopped.

She looked at the empty door frame.

Then at Damon.

Then at the door embedded in the wall as if it had been thrown by a drunken giant.

"…," Aria blinked. "…why are you holding the door?"

Damon opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"I… turned the doorknob."

Aria was silent for exactly three seconds.

"You ripped the door off," she corrected.

"Technically," he replied, too seriously, "it came with me."

Another silence.

Then Aria took a deep breath, rubbing her face.

"How many days were you unconscious again?"

"About… three?"

She nodded slowly.

"Right. So you woke up with absurd strength, illegal speed, and no sense of limits."

"When you put it like that, it looks bad."

Aria pointed to the wall.

"That's bad."

Before Damon could answer, firm footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Elizabeth appeared.

Elegant as always. Calm. Impeccable.

She looked at the scene.

The empty door frame.

The destroyed door.

The cracked wall.

Damon standing in the middle of the chaos, holding half the doorknob as if it were a dangerous object.

She raised an eyebrow.

"…you finally got up," she said.

"Yes," Damon replied immediately. "And I swear it wasn't on purpose."

Elizabeth walked to the broken door, touched the wood with two fingers, assessing the damage.

"Hmm," she murmured. "Initial control… nonexistent. It's complicated."

She looked at Damon.

"Congratulations. Your physical strength has increased more than I expected. Much more, it usually takes a while to increase like this." "Is this good or very bad?"

"Both."

Damon let out a defeated sigh.

"I can't even leave the room right now."

Elizabeth smiled slightly.

"You can," she said. "Just don't touch anything else."

He immediately raised his hands. "I promise not to interact with the world."

She turned to Aria. "Have this fixed."

Aria nodded, still staring at Damon as if he were a walking architectural problem.

Elizabeth started to walk away, but stopped.

"Oh," she added, without looking back. "Damon?"

"Yes?"

"Today we begin control training."

He swallowed hard.

"…with doors?"

"With everything," she replied calmly.

Damon looked at his own hands.

"…I'm going to apologize to the entire mansion."

The forest near the mansion was unlike any other Damon had ever seen.

It wasn't just dense—it was ancient.

The trees rose too high, trunks as thick as columns, their intertwined canopies forming a natural roof that filtered the sunlight in golden and green beams. The air was fresh, humid, teeming with life. Each step seemed to echo something that observed, but did not judge.

Damon stood among the exposed roots of a colossal tree when he sensed her presence even before seeing her.

Elizabeth emerged from the shadows with the naturalness of someone who belonged there.

She wasn't wearing her usual elegant dresses.

Instead, she wore a simple white button-down blouse, with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms, and tight, dark trousers that clung perfectly to her body. The outfit was discreet… and absurdly dangerous. There were no jewels, no ornaments. Just her.

And yet, the world seemed to organize itself around her presence.

Damon swallowed hard.

"You look… different," she commented.

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly.

"Less queenly. More predatory," she replied. "It's more appropriate for today."

She walked to a natural clearing, where the ground was firm and the trees spaced far enough apart to create space.

"Stay there," she said, pointing to a specific spot. "Don't move until I tell you to."

Damon obeyed immediately.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. The gesture was subtle, but Damon perceived the hidden effort there—a constant restraint, like someone forcibly maintaining an intact dam.

"We don't have much time," she began. "My condition isn't ideal yet."

"You don't need to force yourself," Damon said immediately. "We can—"

"No," she interrupted, firm but not harsh. "You need to understand now. Before your body decides to learn on its own."

She turned completely to face him.

"Vampires don't evolve like other races. It's not gradual. It's… cumulative."

She raised her hand, closing her fingers slowly.

"Each transformation unlocks layers of the body and mind. Strength, speed, perception… everything grows together, but rarely in balance."

Damon frowned.

"So that's why I almost turned into a missile inside the mansion."

"Exactly."

Elizabeth began to walk in circles around the clearing, her steps light, almost silent.

"Super-strength is the first thing you notice," she explained. "Because it doesn't ask permission. Your muscles now obey your will directly, not biological limitations."

She touched the trunk of a nearby tree.

With two fingers.

She didn't push.

She didn't punch.

She just pressed.

The trunk split with a deep crack, like old wood being ripped from the inside. The entire tree slowly tilted before crashing to the forest floor with a muffled thud.

Damon's eyes widened.

"That—"

"—that was minimal control," she finished. "If I had applied real force, the impact would have been… less polite."

She continued walking.

"Super-speed comes next. It's not just running fast. It's existing faster."

She looked directly at Damon.

"You've felt the world slow down, haven't you?"

He swallowed hard and nodded.

"Like everything is in… slow motion."

Elizabeth smiled slightly.

"Because it is."

She took a step forward.

And disappeared.

There was no strong wind. There was no loud sound. Just a sudden displacement of air, as if space had been cut.

Damon blinked.

Elizabeth was behind him.

"You—" he spun too fast, almost tripping over himself. "How— when—"

She reappeared in front of him, then to his left, then to his right.

Each movement was so precise that it didn't lift a leaf from the ground.

"Uncontrolled speed is self-destruction," she explained, appearing in front of him again. "You can shatter against the environment before you even realize it."

She stopped.

Damon gasped—not from physical exertion, but from sheer shock.

"That's not running," he murmured. "It's… breaking distance."

"Good definition."

Elizabeth raised her hand again.

"Now, reflexes."

She closed her eyes.

For a full second.

Then, without warning, a rock flew toward her, hurled with absurd force—Damon didn't even see where it came from.

Elizabeth tilted her head an inch.

The rock grazed past, shattering as it hit a tree behind her.

Another came.

Then another.

Then five at once.

Elizabeth didn't open her eyes.

She moved between them as if dancing, each gesture minimal, economical. A sideways step. A shoulder turn. A bow of the head.

No rock touched her.

When it all ceased, she calmly opened her eyes.

"Vampire reflexes aren't reaction," she said. "They're anticipation. Your body acts before your mind formulates the thought."

Damon's mouth was agape.

Literally.

"…this is insane."

"It's inevitable," she corrected. "And dangerous." She walked toward him again, now more slowly. A slight weariness was beginning to show in the stiffness of her shoulders.

"Your body is changing faster than normal," she continued. "Probably because of your hybrid nature. Incubi already deal with unstable energy. Vampirism just… amplified it."

Damon took a deep breath.

"So I'm a walking bomb."

Elizabeth smiled slightly.

"A conscious bomb," she said. "That's already an advantage."

She stopped a few steps from him.

"But understand this, Damon. All that you've seen…"—she gestured toward the forest—"is basic."

He felt a chill run down his spine.

"Basic."

"Yes."

She closed her hand slowly.

"Ancient vampires don't just break the physical world. They impose their presence. They bend will. They silence entire fields simply by existing."

Damon swallowed hard.

"And you…?" he asked hesitantly. "What level are you at?"

Elizabeth held his gaze for a few seconds that were far too long.

"Enough that I don't need to prove it," she replied.

She then looked away, taking another deep breath. This time, the effort was visible.

Damon stepped forward immediately.

"Enough," he said. "You've shown more than enough."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You still haven't—" 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

"I understand," he interrupted. "And you're clearly pushing yourself beyond what you should."

For a moment, Elizabeth seemed surprised.

Then… she smiled.

Not the sharp smile.

Not the queenly smile.

But something genuine.

"You learn quickly," she said. "That's good."

She took a few steps back, resting her hand on a tree.

"That's enough for today."

Damon nodded, still trying to reorganize everything he had seen.

He looked at his own hands.

Then at the forest, destroyed in minute detail, all around him.

"So…" he began, his voice a little hoarse. "All this… will it ever be normal for me?"

Elizabeth glanced at him over her shoulder.

"No," she replied. "You'll just stop being scared."

Damon let out a nervous laugh.

"…great."

She started walking back towards the mansion.

"Walk back," she said, without looking back. "Slowly. Feel the ground. Learn where your body ends."

He followed her obediently.

But inside…

Damon's jaw dropped.