Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​"I am ready, My Master."

Isolde’s whisper sounded full of despair. However, Ethan Valen remained calm. To Ethan, the Archmage’s surrender was merely a sign that their agreement had been reached. He neither smiled nor showed any satisfaction.

The Demon Lord immediately shifted to his objective.

"Begin, Miya," Ethan commanded briefly.

Hearing that absolute baritone, Miya flinched softly. The Elf girl immediately straightened her posture and began healing the dying Kurt.

On the other side of the room, Isolde froze. Her fingers squeezed tightly together in front of her stomach. The tears from her previous crying had yet to dry.

Meanwhile, Ethan leaned casually against the stone wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His brown eyes monitored every corner of the room with absolute composure.

Upon the bed, the healing process began.

Miya extended both her palms right over Kurt’s chest. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath.

Instantly, the Crimson Radiance ignited. A soft red magical light radiating warmth flowed from the Priestess’s palms, piercing through Kurt’s shirt without burning the fabric. That corrupted yet healing light crept inside, tracing Kurt’s mana circuit network that was as tattered as broken threads.

Miya’s pale face turned exceptionally serious. Her pointed ears occasionally twitched, listening to the fluctuations of the patient’s heartbeat.

This process could not be rushed. Miya wasn’t healing an external wound; she was reassembling thousands of glass shards inside his blood vessels without being allowed to tear the surrounding tissues.

It only took a dozen minutes before cold sweat began to flood the Elf’s temples.

Isolde watched the process with heart-wrenching anxiety. Time and again the heels of her shoes lifted, her maternal instincts thrashing to get closer, but she held herself back desperately so as not to disturb the healer’s magical concentration.

In his corner, Ethan didn’t move an inch. Standing as still as a marble statue.

One hour. Two hours passed.

Waiting in torturous silence, Isolde grew increasingly restless. Her hands continuously wrung the hem of her gown until it was a wrinkled mess. Her icy blue eyes didn’t leave Kurt’s face for a single second. Every time her son’s breathing sounded heavy, Isolde’s shoulders tensed in horror.

"Control yourself, Isolde," Ethan reprimanded suddenly, his voice as cold as ice. "Tch. Your anxiety is disrupting the flow of mana in this room. Do not distract Miya."

Reprimanded by her master, Isolde bowed her head. "F-forgive me..." she whispered hoarsely.

Beside the bed, Miya spoke up. "He... is responding to the repairs," she said softly, trying to soothe the tension. "His core circuit is starting to fuse."

That report successfully quelled a bit of the storm of anxiety in Isolde’s chest. The mother let out a long exhale.

Yet time continued to crawl mercilessly. Beyond the stained-glass windows, Granderer’s sky turned completely dark.

The room’s atmosphere grew increasingly tense.

The Crimson Radiance light from Miya’s palms now dominated the room. Isolde, no longer able to stand still, began pacing slowly, walking back and forth with mounting frustration.

Miya drew a long, heavy breath. Her petite face was now exceptionally pale and exhausted. But she refused to give up.

"Hah... I still have enough power left," Miya muttered to herself to maintain her focus.

Ethan opened one eye, glancing at his healer who was pushing herself to the limit. "Make sure you don’t die a foolish death throwing your life away in front of me, Miya."

The sentence was spoken in a threatening tone, but Isolde cast a brief glance at Ethan. The Archmage realized that beneath the Demon Lord’s cold threat, there was an incredibly possessive care for the Elf healer. A proof that the young man protected his pawns.

Time seemed to freeze. Until finally, in the fourth hour of the healing process...

Twitch.

Kurt von Rosenberg’s index finger twitched softly.

That small twitch spread to his other fingers, followed by a long, much deeper intake of breath.

Isolde jolted violently. "Kurt...!" she shrieked involuntarily.

On the bed, Kurt’s body shifted restlessly. His forehead furrowed deeply, his head tossing left and right as if fighting a nightmare.

Miya immediately increased the intensity of her magic, pressing down on Kurt’s chest. "Please do not panic, Madam!" Miya pleaded, trembling as she contained the mana surge. "His circuit is trying to adjust to the new blood flow!"

But that logical warning was no longer effective.

Isolde was in absolute panic. The woman broke through the instructions, standing extremely close to the side of the bed. She covered her own mouth with both hands. Tears streamed down like a river once again upon seeing her son moaning in pain.

In the corner of the room, Ethan was no longer leaning. He stood tall. His eyes locked straight onto Kurt. His prey was waking up.

Slowly, Kurt von Rosenberg’s eyelids fluttered open.

His vision was still incredibly blurry. He blinked, focusing his retinas that had been asleep for so long. The first face captured by his sight was a platinum-haired woman crying.

Kurt’s dry lips moved weakly. "M... Mother...?"

His voice was terribly hoarse and trembling, nearly lost to the silence of the room.

Hearing that faint call, Isolde von Rosenberg’s final defenses shattered into nothingness.

She dropped to her knees at the side of the bed. Disregarding the noble etiquette she had guarded her entire life, the Duchess embraced her son’s neck. She hugged Kurt tightly, burying her face into the crook of her son’s neck, and wept uncontrollably like an ordinary woman.

"Forgive me... forgive me, Kurt," Isolde’s cries broke out. Her voice was filled with a pure, heart-wrenching regret. "Forgive me for never being there for you before... for letting you end up like this... Mother is here, son... Mother will never leave you again..."

The embrace felt incredibly warm. Sincere. Filled with the absolute affection of a mother who had nearly lost her own flesh and blood.

Why...? Why is Mother... crying for me? Didn’t she... never look my way before?

Inside that embrace, Kurt froze.

All the muscles in his body went stiff. This warmth was very foreign. For his entire life, his mother had been an Archmage as cold as ice, who only looked at him as a political tool and measured him by his achievements. And now, that figure of ice was crying while hugging him tightly.

Kurt felt like a confused child unsure of how to respond to this sudden outpouring of affection.

Slowly, with hands that were still trembling and weak, Kurt tried to lift his arms. He wanted to return the embrace of the woman he loved so much. He wanted to hug his mother back.

However... before Kurt’s fingers could even touch the back of Isolde’s gown...

Ethan Valen moved.

The young man’s steps were incredibly light, closing the distance almost soundlessly. Like a ghost stepping out of the darkness, Ethan was already right by Isolde’s side.

Without a second of hesitation, Ethan reached out his hand. He grabbed Isolde’s wrist, then forcefully pulled the woman away.

The pull was not rough, it didn’t hurt Isolde’s skin, yet it radiated an authority of strength that was impossible to resist. Strong enough to forcibly tear a mother’s embrace away from her newly awakened son.

Isolde jolted violently, losing her balance. "M-My Master...?" Isolde called out with an expression of immense confusion, tears still dampening her cheeks.

Ethan didn’t answer the call. The young man pulled Isolde’s body flush against his chest, tilted his head down, and immediately crushed his lips against the woman’s.

A slow kiss. Incredibly deep. Radiating an aura of ownership.

Isolde flinched in shock with widened eyes in the first second. However, the Lust Brand on her back pulsed brutally. The curse binding her soul and body to the Demon Lord reacted. Furthermore, this was part of her promise. Isolde did not resist.

"Nnggh..."

An incredibly humiliating little moan escaped Isolde’s red lips, swallowed up within the kiss.

The woman’s body trembled violently. Instead of pushing Ethan away, both of Isolde’s hands actually crept upwards. She squeezed the young man’s black shirt, seeking an anchor so her limp body wouldn’t collapse to the floor.

Ethan deepened his kiss ruthlessly, forcing Isolde to part her lips. Clarifying his claim of ownership over everything in that room.

On the other side of the bed, Miya froze.

Her healing magic had been severed since Kurt regained consciousness. Now, the Elf’s face was as red as a boiled crab. Her eyes widened in disbelief seeing the obscene scene occurring right in front of her nose. She immediately looked away, squeezing the hem of her robe in absolute shock.

And upon the bed... Kurt witnessed everything.

His gaze, which had just been filled with emotion and warmth, now slowly cracked, like a mirror smashed by a sledgehammer.

His hands, which had reached out trembling to hug his mother... now fell limply, hitting the bedsheets. Kurt’s lips parted slowly, but not a single syllable came out of his suddenly parched throat.

Kurt’s eyes widened to their absolute limits, recording every detail of that sanity-shattering scene.

He saw his mother—the Duchess Rosenberg, as cold as ice and untouchable by anyone—now in the embrace of Ethan Valen. The F-Caste youth he used to trample on. He saw his mother not resisting in the slightest, even returning that young man’s insane kiss a moment after calling him ’My Master’.

Kurt von Rosenberg’s world, his arrogance, and the entire pillar of his sanity crumbled into dust at that exact second.

Ethan Valen was still savoring his possessive kiss on Isolde’s lips. Yet in the midst of that long embrace, the young man’s brown eyes slowly opened and shifted.

He turned his gaze. Staring straight into Kurt’s eyes, which were brimming with absolute despair and devastation.

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