Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

Ethan strolled casually toward the stone table in the center of the room, coming to a halt directly across from the Duke.

"You want to know who is pulling the strings behind the Serpent’s Tongue, Duke."

Upon hearing the name of the assassin syndicate, Alaric slowly turned around. His pale blue eyes pinned Ethan down. An aura as cold as a glacier instantly choked the air around them.

"Do you realize who you are talking to?" Alaric hissed. His voice was as low as the growl of a territorial beast. "I could end your life before dawn. And there isn’t a single law in this empire that would dare prosecute me over the death of some lowly student."

Ethan didn’t flinch. Instead of backing down, he offered a crooked smirk. His dark brown eyes stared back in a silent, unblinking challenge.

"Of course you can," Ethan replied, remaining far too calm. "But if my head rolls tonight, you will never know which bastard shoved that Bloodfire Elixir down your son’s throat."

CRACK!

Alaric’s massive hand gripped the edge of the stone table. The thick wooden support beneath it shattered instantly, completely unable to withstand the explosive surge of the Duke’s raw power.

"Give me the name," Alaric growled. The veins in his neck bulged fiercely as he fought to hold back his pure, unadulterated rage.

Ethan slowly raised his left hand. His index finger lightly tapped a spot on the map—far to the south, well beyond the borders of the icy mountains.

"This network isn’t being operated from outside the borders, Duke," Ethan stated, dropping a vague breadcrumb. "There is a noble’s lapdog sitting very close to the throne. Someone who would be absolutely thrilled if the Rosenberg family’s military fangs in the North suddenly rotted away."

"I demand a name, Valen."

"Tsk. And I refuse to give it until our stakes are placed on the table," Ethan cut in sharply, staring straight into Alaric’s pale blue eyes. "Think about it carefully, Duke. Who benefits the most if your heir, Kurt von Rosenberg, is permanently crippled?"

Alaric fell silent.

The sharp gaze of the Lion of the North stripped away the youth’s expressions. He searched for any crack of fear or panic. But found nothing. There was only an impossibly cold demeanor.

"You are far too cunning for a mere student," Alaric hissed, his tone now shifting into a heavy, calculating assessment.

Ethan let out a soft chuckle. "And you are far too calm for a father whose son was just poisoned. We both know the truth, Duke... you can’t kill me yet."

Silence reclaimed the room. The freezing aura and thick bloodlust ground against each other, making the very air crackle with tension.

After a few agonizing seconds that seemed to stretch time itself, Alaric slowly released his grip on the shattered table. The giant man walked around it, coming to a halt right next to Ethan.

"You... will keep breathing until my son can walk again," Alaric whispered directly into Ethan’s ear, his voice as cold as a blizzard.

The Duke then strode away, leaving the room.

BAM!

The heavy doors slammed shut with a deafening thud, leaving Ethan all alone to stare at that specific point on the southern map.

"Fufufu... Magnificent, My Lord. You just forced the Lion of the North to sheathe his fangs," the intoxicating, raspy voice of the Asmodeus System echoed inside Ethan’s head.

He merely postponed the kill, he hasn’t submitted, Ethan thought coldly. But that fatherly ego is more than enough to buy me time.

Ethan turned around and stepped out of the War Map Room. The moment the doors opened, he found Valera Voss leaning casually against the wall at the end of the hall.

The exotic-skinned female knight stood tall in her black leather armor. Her massive Zweihander was securely slung across her back as always. Seeing Ethan walk out without missing a single finger, Valera let out a soft snort.

"Hoo, you’re still alive, I see," Valera greeted.

"Of course," Ethan replied smoothly.

The two of them walked side-by-side down the corridor. The passing fortress guards hurriedly bowed their heads, not daring to meet the eyes of the foreign youth who somehow possessed such terrifying privileges within their home.

"Heading straight back to your room?" Valera asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "Or... do you need ’something’ else?"

Ethan didn’t answer. He simply redirected his steps toward the desolate guest wing corridor, heading straight for Miya’s room.

Valera, intimately familiar with her master’s habits, merely raised an eyebrow. She let out a faint sigh and continued to trail behind him.

Ethan’s footsteps halted in front of a wooden door carved with floral vines. Valera stopped right behind him.

"Go back to the intersection. Guard this area," Ethan ordered without looking back.

Valera gave an obedient nod. She turned on her heel, striding away and letting the shadows of the pillars swallow her figure.

As soon as the hallway was empty, Ethan slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

The room was incredibly dim, illuminated by nothing more than a single small candle resting on the nightstand.

On the bed, Miya Evarett lay curled up beneath the thick blankets. Her white silk nightgown clung perfectly to the Elven Healer’s petite curves. Her long blonde hair cascaded in a messy tangle, while her pointed ears gave the occasional, soft twitch.

Ethan pushed the door shut. He turned the lock at an agonizingly slow pace.

Click.

A sound that faint was more than enough to jolt an Elf’s instincts. Miya woke up with a start. Her eyelids flew wide open.

The moment her purple eyes caught Ethan’s tall silhouette near the door, Miya hurriedly scrambled backward. She pressed her back against the headboard, frantically pulling the blankets all the way up to her neck.

"M-My Lord?! W-Why are you here?" Her voice trembled, hijacked by sheer panic.

Ethan didn’t answer. His dark eyes locked onto Miya as his fingers began undoing the buttons of his black shirt, one by one. Incredibly slow. Psychologically agonizing.

Miya’s purple eyes widened in absolute horror. "Master, w-wait! We were assigned separate rooms. If any of the servants saw you come in here—"

"That is exactly why I locked the door," Ethan cut in smoothly.

His black shirt was now completely unbuttoned, exposing his broad chest and the faint, menacing glow of his Horned Crown tattoo. Ethan stepped closer, climbing onto the bed. The mattress sank heavily beneath his weight.

Ethan’s large hand snatched Miya’s wrist, forcefully pulling her petite frame closer in a way that permitted zero resistance.

Miya trembled violently. She wanted to resist, but her muscles betrayed her entirely. Everything instantly went limp beneath the absolute command of the Lust Brand curse rooted deep within her soul.

Ethan reached out with his free hand. He touched Miya’s cheek, softly caressing her smooth jawline.

"You look absolutely terrified, Miya," Ethan whispered, his face now hovering dangerously close to the Elf’s pointed ear. "But unfortunately... your body could never lie to me."

A single teardrop welled up in Miya’s eye. A terrifyingly familiar, scorching heat suddenly flared across her left thigh. From beneath the white silk, a bright crimson glow ignited, its magical roots spreading to form the pattern of a thorny rose.

"A-ahh..." Miya let out a stifled gasp. A sudden wave of intense pleasure hammered into her mana circuit, resonating fiercely with Ethan’s touch.

"Because you are mine," Ethan whispered huskily, letting his lips softly graze Miya’s slender neck. "And I am in the mood to remind you of that fact, after enduring such an incredibly boring evening with these Northern dogs."

Ethan’s hands began to roam possessively. He slipped the straps of her silk nightgown down, touching Miya’s bare skin. His touch wasn’t just a simple caress; he was channeling highly concentrated Sin Mana that directly attacked the Elf’s nerve endings, reducing her to helpless, breathy moans.

Miya bit down hard on her lower lip, desperately fighting to keep her voice from breaking.

"Shh..." Ethan gave her pointed ear a light bite in warning. "Keep your voice down. The walls of this fortress aren’t as thick as you might think."

Right at that very second, from the hallway outside the door...

Tap... tap... tap...

The sound of a servant’s footsteps was approaching.

Miya’s heart felt like it was going to explode. She was seized by absolute panic. Yet, instead of stopping, Ethan’s hands roamed even deeper and bolder. He delivered a brutal stimulation that forced Miya’s back to arch rigidly.

"Mmph...!"

"Be quiet," Ethan commanded softly, his tone heavy with absolute dominance.

Miya covered her face with both hands. Tears slipped free, streaking down her flushed cheeks. She choked back a long whimper, feeling the absolute limits of her sanity being violently torn apart—caught right between the terror of being discovered by the servant outside, and the maddening waves of euphoria crashing from her Lust Brand.

The servant’s footsteps slowly faded away, eventually swallowed entirely by the long corridor.

The moment the tension passed, Miya lost every remaining ounce of her strength. Her petite frame collapsed limply against Ethan’s broad chest, gasping greedily for air like a drowning victim.

Ethan smirked in the dim light. His hand gently stroked the Healer’s blonde hair, which was now damp with sweat.

"You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?" Ethan whispered provocatively.

Miya shook her head weakly. Her face was flushed crimson with an unbearable sense of shame, absolutely incapable of meeting her master’s eyes. However, the crimson glow on her thigh that still pulsed rhythmically proved that Ethan’s words were the absolute truth.

A few hours later, Miya fell fast asleep from sheer, extreme exhaustion. Her petite body still gave the occasional, faint shiver beneath the thick blankets.

Ethan sat at the edge of the bed. He grabbed his black shirt from the floor, pulling it back on with efficient movements.

His dark brown eyes stared coldly toward the frost-covered window. His mind was crystal clear once more, rearranging the pieces on the Northern chessboard that now rested entirely in the palm of his hand.

Without making even the slightest sound, Ethan stepped out of the room. The door clicked shut softly behind him. The howling blizzard outside the fortress that night swallowed his trail, securing yet another dirty secret within the walls of Granderer.

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