Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​Inside the small wooden house, Miya Evarett remained frozen in place.

Her white robe fluttered softly in the evening breeze slipping through the gap beneath the door. Her pair of light purple eyes remained glued to the dirt path where Ethan and Valera had disappeared.

The young man’s sentence kept buzzing in her head. "She is my biological little sister."

Miya closed the door. Leaning against the cold wood, she took a deep breath. A man that calm... braved blizzards and wild monster territories not for power or immortality? Only to cure a blind and paralyzed little girl?

She began pacing around her living room, her fingers wringing together nervously. "Biological sister..." she murmured to herself. "Why... why do I care this much?"

She remembered Ethan’s face when he said it. There was no fake smile. Only a raw honesty that felt so foreign. That was what made her waver.

Miya stopped in front of the window. Staring at her own reflection in the glass. Her long blonde hair, her pointed ears, her purple eyes that were usually filled with fear.

"You’ve been hiding for far too long, Miya," she whispered to herself. "Perhaps... it’s time."

Her fear and social panic evaporated. When she opened her eyes, the awkward gleam in her light purple pupils had vanished. Her gaze turned sharp, focused, and as cold as an academic essay. The true gaze of an S-Rank Hidden Sage.

Miya rushed to her workbench. Her petite hands nimbly pulled out leather-bound ancient books. Her quill danced rapidly across her notepad.

"Total circuit paralysis... white film... rejection of dark energy..." Miya muttered. Her brain unpacked thousands of medical journals she had memorized over hundreds of years. The quill stopped. She stared at her notes with a deeply furrowed brow.

"This is not a congenital genetic defect," she whispered. "This is something else."

She turned the page of the ancient book before her, searching for a reference to a similar phenomenon. But the page she needed was torn out. "Why is it always the important pages that are missing..." she groaned in frustration.

Miya stood up, reaching for another book on the highest shelf. Her Elf ears twitched as she stood on her tiptoes. Her petite fingers barely reached the spine of the book. She finally managed to pull it down—along with a cloud of dust that made her let out a small sneeze.

"Archives of the Church of Light... ancient seals..." She read quickly, then stopped. Her eyes widened. "Wait. This isn’t an ordinary seal. This pattern of rejecting dark energy... it’s similar to the angelic seal recorded in the ancient holy scriptures."

But she shook her head hard. "Impossible. That’s just a legend."

She closed the book. Her mind was still spinning, but she decided to continue her research.

​Beneath the darkening gray sky, light snow began to fall again in Dorfyk.

Ethan Valen walked with a leisurely rhythm. His black shirt and dress shoes contrasted sharply with this frozen countryside. His eyes stared straight ahead, but his brain was busy calculating his next chess move.

Behind him, Valera trailed along. Her sleeveless leather armor seemed immune to the piercing frost. Along the way, the knight’s golden eyes cast several glances at her master’s back.

They passed village children playing in the snow. Their crisp laughter filled the air. A mother called her child inside. Valera watched the scene with eyes that were hard to read.

"Do you see something interesting?" Ethan asked without turning his head.

"No." Valera averted her gaze. "It’s just... this village is too peaceful. It doesn’t suit me."

"You prefer a place with blood?"

Valera smirked faintly. "At least there, I know what needs to be done."

"Be patient." Ethan kept walking. "There will be blood again."

Valera’s lips twitched with an itch. Her instincts fought the urge to ask about that ’important person,’ but she held it back firmly. Her head was filled with giant question marks.

They arrived at Granny Marta’s house. The door immediately swung wide open.

"You’re back! Come inside quickly, it’s getting colder out there," the old woman welcomed cheerfully.

Ethan gave a respectful nod, flashing a polite smile. "Sorry to trouble you again, Granny. It seems we have to wait a few days for the healer’s answer."

"Hahaha! I’m actually glad. Just use the spare room in the back, there’s a small fireplace. Rest up for now, I’ll make more soup tonight."

Suddenly, Lina appeared from the kitchen carrying firewood. Seeing Ethan, the braided girl’s cheeks instantly flushed as red as a ripe tomato.

"B-Brother Ethan... you’re staying here?!" she exclaimed happily, then hurriedly covered her own mouth.

Valera, who had just set down her Zweihander, turned her head. She stared at the village girl flatly, yet radiated a thick killing intent. "Why do you look so happy, brat?"

Lina flinched. Her shoulders shrank in horror. "I-I’m... just glad we have guests..." she squeaked, then ran to the back, using the excuse of preparing blankets.

Granny Marta chuckled softly. "I’m sorry, Lina is just shy around handsome young men."

Ethan merely gave a slight nod. Meanwhile, Valera sneered dismissively, a smirk she instantly wiped clean the moment Ethan glanced at her.

​That night, the small dining room was illuminated by an oil lamp.

Smoked meat potato soup was served once more on the wooden table. This time Lina sat with them, though she took the furthest seat and her eyes never managed to meet Ethan’s for more than two seconds. Valera ate with military speed, finishing two bowls before the others were even halfway done.

Granny Marta refilled Ethan’s soup while chatting. "A traveling merchant stopped by once. He said there’s a grand magic academy down south called Zenithar. Are you from there, lad?"

Ethan nodded politely. "Yes, Granny. I study there."

Lina gathered the courage to ask, her voice quiet. "Are you... a mage, Brother Ethan?"

Ethan smiled faintly. "A little."

Valera, who was sipping her soup, suddenly choked. "A little," she coughed softly, barely audible. Her master had just crushed a Royal Prince barehanded, shattering his ribs in front of hundreds of nobles—and he called himself a "little" mage.

Ethan cast a brief glance at Valera. She hurriedly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pretending nothing had happened.

After dinner, Lina cleared the plates with swift movements. As she took the bowl in front of Ethan, her fingers nearly brushed the young man’s hand. Her cheeks immediately heated up. "S-sorry!" she whispered, then fled into the kitchen.

Valera watched the whole thing with a deadpan stare. "That brat," she muttered softly.

They then occupied the back room.

​The scent of pine sap wafted through the room.

Valera sat cross-legged on the woven carpet, her back against the wall, the Zweihander within reach. Her armor was removed, leaving only a thin sleeveless shirt. The golden spiraling rose tattoo pulsed dimly in time with her heartbeat.

Across the room, Ethan sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes stared blankly at the blazing fire, but Valera knew her master was dissecting thousands of plans.

"My Master," Valera called out, breaking the silence. "May I ask a question?"

"Speak."

"That terrified little healer... can she be trusted? Hah... she practically almost ran away just from seeing me."

Ethan fell silent for a moment. "She is the only entity completely unaffected by my Sin Mana pheromones," he answered flatly.

Valera’s eyes widened. She knew full well how absolute and horrifying her Master’s mental manipulation was. If a girl that small could resist it...

"Then..." Valera swallowed hard, pushing the limits of her curiosity. "The important person you mentioned, My Master... who is she?"

The movement of Ethan’s eyes stopped. He turned his head slowly.

His brown eyes locked onto Valera’s golden ones. There was no killing intent. No crimson glow threatening to torture her tattoo. But the coldness in that stare was far more freezing than a blizzard in the Eastern Woods.

"That is none of your business, Valera."

An absolute boundary that a bloodhound must never cross.

Valera’s breath hitched. Her ego instantly dropped to its knees. "I understand, My Master. I was insolent," she said, bowing deeply.

The knight asked no more. She regulated her breathing and fell asleep in a matter of minutes, maintaining the vigilant posture of a true soldier.

Leaving Ethan alone. He went back to staring at the fire.

"Fufufu..." An elegant, husky voice suddenly echoed in his head. The Asmodeus System. "You learned something new today, My Master. Restraining yourself from forcibly shattering an opponent’s mind? Tch. That is not your style. Yet you did it."

Ethan listened in silence.

"That Elf healer is different. Your pheromones failed. Your manipulation was neutralized. Intimidation only makes her turtle up. To earn her loyalty... you were forced to use pure honesty. And you know what? It worked beautifully."

I wasn’t forced, Ethan replied calmly in his mind. I chose honesty as a strategy.

The System chuckled softly. "Of course. But pay attention, My Master... you have never been that honest with any piece on the board. Valera, you broke. Isolde, you extorted. Kaelia, you crushed. But Miya? You lowered your ego and gave her the truth. That is what makes this situation so fascinating."

Ethan didn’t deny it. He rose from the bed, walking over to the small window in the room. In the distance, he could see a small speck of light beneath the old oak tree. The oil lamp in Miya’s house was still lit.

"You haven’t slept either," Ethan murmured.

"Are you thinking about her?" the System asked.

"I am thinking about my sister. Miya is merely a tool to save her."

"Of course. Merely a tool. That is what you keep telling yourself."

Ethan didn’t answer. But he remained standing at the window, staring at the distant light, until it finally went out. Only then did he return to his bed.

​At the same time, beneath the old oak tree.

The oil lamp on Miya’s workbench was still lit. The petite back hunched over a giant ancient tome. Her hands nimbly jotted down cross-references. Occasionally she chewed on the tip of her quill—her little habit when thinking hard—then went back to writing rapidly. Her blonde hair swayed gently.

In her notepad, Miya underlined a conclusion.

"Highest probability: Ancient Seal. Not a congenital circuit defect. Requires direct analysis of the patient’s mana fluctuations."

Miya set down her quill. Her eyes stared at the wooden door.

For hundreds of years, she had hidden from civilization. She didn’t know whether the strange traveler’s story was true or not. However, her empathy thrashed wildly. There was an innocent life suffering because of that damned seal.

Miya closed her ancient tome. She had made her decision.

Tomorrow, she would verify her theory. And perhaps... for the first time in her century-long exile... she would leave this village.

The northern night marched on, awaiting a tomorrow that would alter the Healer’s destiny forever.

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