The Incubus System Chapter 1125. The Demon Lord's Regret

The Incubus System Chapter 1125. The Demon Lord's Regret

Lord Damon’s PoV

Back then, he hadn’t felt anything. No remorse, no hesitation. Erebus had been a threat to the balance of the three worlds. His mind had been twisted by hatred, by years of suffering in the human world. He had wanted nothing more than to bring chaos, to burn the laws of the realms to the ground and reshape them in his own image. And Damon had stopped him. It had been necessary.

And yet…

His fingers curled into fists at his sides. Now, after all these years, after meeting Ethan—his descendant—something felt different. The weight in his chest wasn’t something he was used to carrying. It wasn’t regret. He didn’t regret what he had done. Erebus had made his choices, and those choices had led him to this fate. But perhaps… he regretted that it had come to this at all.

Perhaps he regretted being too late.

Too late to stop Erebus from becoming what he became. Too late to find him in this world before he was broken beyond repair. Too late to be the brother he should have.

He took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving the monument.

Lord Damon wasn’t a sentimental demon. He had seen too much, done too much, to waste time on emotions that no longer served him. And yet, standing here, he felt something stir inside him. A feeling he couldn’t quite name. He had never regretted his choices—regret was for the weak—but this? This was something different.

“You know…” His voice was quiet, almost conversational as if he were speaking to the wind. “You really have a good lineage.”

He could almost imagine Erebus standing next to him, his usual sharp grin in place, arms crossed as he listened. They had never been the type to have deep conversations, even when they were on the same side. But if Erebus were here, what would he say? Would he laugh? Would he be proud? Would he spit in Damon’s face for even speaking to him now, after everything?

“Ethan is a hard worker…” He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wasn’t sure what to call him. Descendant? Son of your blood? No, that wasn’t quite right. He finally settled on the only word that made sense. “Nephilim.”

The word tasted strange on his tongue. It wasn’t a term he used often. For so long, the lines had been clear—demons, angels, humans. Separate. Defined. But Ethan had blurred those lines, and in doing so, he had forced Lord Damon to acknowledge something he had long tried to ignore.

“Yes…” he murmured, rolling the thought over in his mind. “He is a Nephilim now.”

His gaze flickered down to the monument again, to the inscription etched into the stone.

“You should be happy, brother,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Your bloodline still exists. And now… now it carries my son’s power as well.”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t far from one either. “I guess that means both of our descendants will lead the demon world. Quite fair, right?”

He exhaled, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.  The very bloodlines that had once warred against each other were intertwined. His son, Ethan—Nephilim, demon, human, something more—was proof of that.

He wondered if Erebus would have seen the irony.

Then a voice cut through his thoughts.

“You don’t look familiar here.”

Damon turned, his gaze shifting toward the source of the voice. A young man, perhaps the same age as Ethan, stood a few feet away, his eyes fixed on the monument. His attire was casual—jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket—completely different from Damon, who stood there in a sharp black suit that made him look more like a mafia boss than a visitor.

But what caught Damon’s attention wasn’t the man’s relaxed posture or his youthful appearance. It was the faint aura of angelic power that clung to him, unmistakable and irritatingly familiar. A demon hunter. And this one was stronger than that clumsy Ethan’s friend.

Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn’t particularly impressed. Compared to the hunters of the past, this one was nothing special. Strong, yes, but nowhere near the level of those who had once fought in the old wars. He was no warrior. More like a guard dog with sharper-than-average teeth.

“I came from a faraway place,” Damon said, his voice smooth and measured. “Just arrived to visit my son. Since he was busy with his mother, I decided to check this monument.”

The young man scoffed, crossing his arms. “Still a mama’s boy, huh?”

Damon let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Not really. It’s my wife who loves to spoil him.” He tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “She almost lost him in the past, after all. I can’t blame her.”

The young man, still staring at the monument, let out a small breath. “Yeah… I get that.” He paused, then glanced at Damon. “Nathan,” he said, introducing himself.

Damon raised an eyebrow. “Damon.”

Nathan smirked. “Just Damon?”

Damon smirked back. “Just Nathan?”

Nathan shrugged. “Fair point.” He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and nodded toward the monument. “So, what’s your interest in this place? Most people don’t stop to read old plaques unless they’re history nerds or weirdos.”

Damon’s gaze returned to the stone slab. “Call it curiosity. It’s been a long time since I was here.” His voice was calm, steady, but there was an edge to it. He didn’t expect the human to understand.

Nathan stood beside him, his posture casual but his gaze sharp, watching Damon with an interest that was just a little too keen. “Since when?”

Damon glanced at him, eyes gleaming under the faint glow of the city lights. “I have no obligation to explain it to you.”

Nathan smirked. “True.” He rocked back on his heels, his gaze flickering over Damon as if sizing him up. “Your name though… sounds a lot like the name of a certain demon lord in the past. Was that intentional?”

Damon didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Nathan let out a low whistle. “So what? You trying to freak people out? Make them scared of you?”

“They should be afraid of me,” Damon said smoothly, not even bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.