The Incubus System Chapter 1276. You’re Still My Baby

The Incubus System Chapter 1276. You’re Still My Baby

She reached up and cupped my cheek with one hand. Her touch was warm. Familiar. Comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

“You know,” she said, “there are days I look at you and forget you’re not still a child. Yet… I still see you as one.”

A pause.

Then she added, quieter, “When did you grow so fast?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I blinked and suddenly I had angel wings and a harem.”

She snorted. Like a real, inelegant snort that caught her off guard. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“What? You want me to say I have ‘romantic partners across multiple realms’?”

“That’s worse.”

I grinned. “Too late. This is on you.”

She laughed softly again. But it faded quick. And her eyes… yeah, they darkened.

“I saw you almost die yesterday,” she said.

I froze.

She looked away. “Zatan could’ve ended you.”

“But he didn’t,” I said.

“He almost did. And that ‘almost’ is what terrifies me.”

I exhaled. “I’m getting stronger.”

Another beat of silence.

She touched my chest. Over my heart.

“You’re still my child,” she whispered. “Even when you stand taller than me. Even when your voice deepens. Even when you fight demon lords. You’ll always be my child.”

“I don’t want to be a child forever.”

“I don’t want to bury another son.”

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

That hit different.

“I’m not going to die,” I said.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise I’ll fight like hell not to.”

She nodded. Slowly. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

I squeezed her hand one last time and leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes again, breathing a little easier.

“I’m gonna let you rest,” I murmured. “Just wanted to see you. Make sure you were still here. Still… okay.”

I stood up, but she caught my wrist.

“Ethan?”

I paused and turned around.

“Yeah?”

“…Stay here. Just for a while.”

I blinked.

Something in her voice made me turn. Not tired. Not fragile. Just… asking. Asking like a mother who missed her child but didn’t know how to say it out loud without making it heavy.

“Alright,” I said. Quiet. No hesitation. I sat back on the bed.

She shifted a little, pulling the blanket aside like she’d been preparing this since I arrived. Without a word, she gently tugged my head down to her lap. I didn’t fight it. Didn’t joke.

I just let go.

And laid there.

Like a kid.

Nineteen years old. Harem of warlords and seductresses. Slaying monsters and demon lords. Negotiating with demons and demonesses. Planning succession tournaments with blood and politics. But right now?

I just let my head rest on my mom’s lap.

Her fingers combed through my hair slowly. Over and over. A soft rhythm that hummed comfort straight into my bones. I didn’t say anything. Neither did she. We didn’t need to.

The silence wasn’t empty.

It was full of everything unsaid.

Of all the nights I didn’t come back.

Of the missions she couldn’t follow me on.

Of the shadows I had to walk through alone because the world didn’t care how old I was—just how strong.

“You’re doing a great job,” she said eventually. Her voice was low. Barely a breath.

My eyes were still open.

“You’re doing everything right,” she continued. “Even if the world keeps telling you you’re not ready.”

I didn’t answer.

Because that hit deeper than I expected.

“You should be living a normal life,” she whispered. “Making dumb mistakes, falling in love with safe people, arguing over your future, not…” Her fingers paused for a beat. “Not bleeding for kingdoms. Not carrying the legacy of two worlds on your back.”

I swallowed.

Still didn’t talk.

But something cracked inside my chest—quietly.

“I’m sorry,” she added. “I’m so sorry this is your path.”

I turned my face just slightly. Not to look at her. Just enough to breathe her in closer.

“I don’t mind,” I said, my voice dry. Soft. “As long as I can defend my family… I don’t mind.”

Her hand stilled.

I could feel her breath shake once.

Then her hand resumed brushing my hair, slower now. Gentle. Reverent. Like I was something sacred.

“You remind me of him, you know?” she murmured. “Your father. Not Damon. The other one. Your first.”

I closed my eyes.

“Stubborn. Stupid. Brave. Always trying to carry everyone else.” She chuckled faintly. “He never made it home. But you did. That matters, Ethan.”

I didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

I just let her hand drift through my hair again and again. My eyes closed fully. Not because I was tired. Not really.

But because it felt… nice.

Warm.

Real.

After a few moments, I reached up.

My fingers wrapped around hers—gently, like I was holding a memory. I brought her hand down from my hair and kissed her palm. Slow. Soft. Like it meant something.

Because it did.

She froze for a second. Just a second.

Then I pressed her palm against my cheek and held it there.

Not hard. Not desperate.

Just… present.

I let the warmth sink in. The shape of her hand. The faint scent of lavender and mana. The way her thumb instinctively brushed across my cheekbone, like she remembered doing it a thousand times before, and every time still mattered.

“You’re still my baby,” she whispered, a little shakily.

I didn’t argue.

Didn’t roll my eyes.

Didn’t deflect with a joke.

I just nodded slowly against her hand.

And stayed right there.

In a world that constantly tried to shove a crown on my head and a blade in my hand, this—this moment—was a rare kind of magic.

Just her.

And me.

[Resting…]

[Energy: +3%]

That little notification bloomed and faded behind my closed eyelids.

I almost laughed. Even the damn interface knew I needed this.

Maybe that was the most telling stat of all.

“Stay as long as you want,” she whispered.

“I might fall asleep,” I murmured back.

“Then I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And so, I let go of the world again.

Just for a little while.