Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

The night sky above Zenithar Academy churned in a heavy, suffocating gray.

Snow wasn’t falling, but the howling northern wind blew with increasing ferocity. The freezing air pierced straight to the bone.

From the stone balcony atop the Main Tower, Ethan Valen stood in absolute silence.

The wind violently tousled his dark brown hair, yet the young man didn’t flinch. The thin black shirt clinging to his athletic frame seemed enough to ward off the biting cold.

His deep brown eyes pierced through the night mist, locked straight onto the academy’s main gates.

Down below, a highly unusual carriage had just come to a halt.

A crest of crossed swords and a crown was elegantly engraved on its door. Two black warhorses snorted impatiently, while the flag of the Royal Palace faction fluttered haughtily at its side.

The mechanical chime of the Asmodeus System rang softly in Ethan’s head, followed by a raspy, seductive whisper.

"Fufufu... a bloody invitation from the absolute center of power, My Lord."

Ethan ignored it. A faint smirk briefly carved its way onto the corner of his lips.

Down below, the guard commander scrambled to receive the carriage. A messenger in a dark blue uniform stepped out, handing over a parchment scroll sealed with blackish-blue wax.

With trembling hands, the guard bowed deeply, then sprinted across the courtyard toward the Main Tower.

The first pawn from the capital had officially made its move.

Half an hour later, inside Ethan’s VIP Dormitory.

In stark contrast to the freezing weather outside, the room was toasty thanks to the magical fireplace. The dim candlelight blended with the calming aroma of herbal tea.

Miya Evarett sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.

The petite Elf girl looked utterly restless. Her shoulders trembled slightly beneath her flowing blonde hair.

Her pointed ears twitched, catching the fading echoes of hurried footsteps in the outer corridor before they vanished completely.

Miya’s light purple eyes kept darting toward the sofa. A question was stuck in her throat, but she didn’t dare break the silence.

On the sofa, Ethan was holding the parchment with the blackish-blue wax seal.

No crease on his forehead. No anger, no panic. His dark brown eyes shifted calmly from line to line, reading the implicit threats from the kingdom’s rulers as if skimming a tavern menu.

The letter was an official royal summons.

Ethan was demanded to appear before the capital’s noble council to clarify the status of the Baron Valen inheritance and its border territories. The Palace gave him a two-week deadline.

If Ethan didn’t show his face in fourteen days, his inheritance rights over the Valen title and territory would be re-evaluated—or more accurately, forcibly seized.

Ethan folded the letter with one hand and casually tossed it onto the table right next to his teacup.

"Umm... t-that... who is the letter from?" Miya finally squeaked, unable to hold back her anxiety. Her small fingers gripped the edge of the blanket.

Ethan turned to her with a flat expression. "A tea party invitation from the old dogs at the capital. They want me there in two weeks to discuss my meager assets."

Miya’s purple eyes widened in shock. "Huh? The capital...? B-but, Master... it takes ten days by land to get there from Zenithar! You only have two weeks, you have to leave right now!"

"I’m not going anywhere tonight, Miya," Ethan replied casually, taking a sip of his tea. "If I come running the second they call, I’m just their pet dog. Let them wait."

Miya looked down, biting her lower lip.

Her simple logic as a Healer couldn’t process this insane political game. Defying the Palace was sheer suicide, yet the man in front of her couldn’t care less.

BAM! BAM!

Before Miya could even steady her heartbeat, the door was pounded loudly and swung wide open.

Kaelia von Ashford stormed in.

The fiery red-haired girl was still wearing her immaculate crimson and gold Student Council uniform. However, the usual stoicism she flaunted was visibly cracked tonight.

Her golden-yellow eyes swept the room anxiously before locking straight onto the parchment scroll on the table.

Sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Miya hurriedly stood up. Wordlessly, the Elf girl scurried to the corner of the room, pretending to make herself busy.

Kaelia approached the table, glared at the letter, and then shot Ethan a lethal glare.

"Tch, the news has already reached the professors," Kaelia hissed, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t leak into the corridor. "The Palace summoned you regarding the Valen estate. Tell me you’re not planning to do something stupid like ignoring it!"

Ethan leaned back lazily. "Hmm, and what if I do?"

"Then you’re dragging the Ashford name down with you, you bastard!" Kaelia snarled, slamming both hands onto the table.

Her eyes flashed with fury, though a deep-seated anxiety lurked beneath.

"Everyone knows I’m affiliated with you! If the Palace brands you a traitor, the Southern Faction—my family—will be accused of harboring a rebel!"

A sound political argument. But Ethan knew Kaelia wasn’t here purely for her family’s sake. The effects of the Lust Brand made her care for his safety far more than she was willing to admit.

"So, what’s your advice, honorable President?" Ethan teased, his voice carrying a low, mocking drawl.

Kaelia clamped her jaw shut, fighting the urge to throw the teacup right at his infuriating face.

"We can’t refuse them openly. You need a legal delay that the Palace can’t dispute," Kaelia took a deep breath. "Meet the Headmaster. Request academic asylum."

Ethan offered a faint smile. "A brilliant idea."

That very night, Ethan strolled down the deepest corridors of the Main Tower, far away from the noisy dormitories. His destination was the private office of Zenithar’s Headmaster, Sage Cornelius.

As he pushed open the heavy gothic wooden door, damp air and the pungent scent of black incense immediately greeted him.

The circular room was filled with towering bookshelves, crammed with thousands of ancient archives and parchments. The lighting was extremely dim, relying solely on candles scattered in the corners.

In the center of the room sat Sage Cornelius.

The old man wore a simple gray robe that looked oversized on his frail frame. His thinning white hair hung loosely.

Cornelius set down his quill pen as Ethan entered.

"Hmm, I figured you would come, Student Valen," Cornelius spoke, his raspy voice dripping with magical authority. "Have a seat."

Ethan pulled out the wooden chair across from him and sat back. "I’m sure you already know why I’m here."

Cornelius’s right eye stared straight ahead. "A letter with a blue wax seal. A shallow political test."

The old man continued, "The capital wants to see if you’re greedy enough to come and claim the inheritance, or foolish enough to reject it outright. This isn’t just about the Valen territory, Ethan. It’s about how much of a threat you are."

"And I need you to delay their little game," Ethan replied bluntly.

Cornelius let out a long sigh and leaned back. The old man knew exactly what kind of monster was sitting right in front of him.

"I can issue an official reply on behalf of Zenithar Academy," Cornelius said slowly, tapping his wrinkled finger on the desk.

"I will state that you are an active student under my supervision, currently undergoing intensive medical recovery and mandatory academic evaluation. The law of academic asylum will put that summons on hold for at least a month."

Ethan gave a slow nod. "More than enough."

"But remember this well, Valen," Cornelius’s voice suddenly grew heavy, his right eye sharpening. "This delay is merely buying time. The longer you refuse, the more cautious the Palace becomes. You’re just building a dam right now. When it breaks, you better be ready to withstand a much deadlier flood."

Ethan merely responded with a cold smirk. "I’m very much looking forward to that flood, Headmaster."

The next morning, light flurries of snow blanketed Zenithar’s courtyard.

Despite the freezing weather, crowds of students were packed around the main notice board. They whispered and exchanged gossip in hushed tones. The rumor of the Palace summons had completely blown up.

From behind the glass window of the VIP Dormitory, Miya watched the spectacle. Her sensitive pointed ears picked up snippets of their conversations from afar.

"They say Valen was summoned directly by the King!" "Ha, it’s definitely a trap. If he goes to the Capital alone, he’s dead meat." "But I heard the academy put a hold on his departure. Valen is such a coward!"

Miya bit her lip, her blood boiling at the insults hurled at her master. The Elf girl turned around.

Ethan was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, casually reading a copy of Cornelius’s delay letter. His face was utterly calm, showing not a single ripple of emotion.

"Hmph... M-Master..." Miya hesitantly spoke up. "The students outside... they’re taking it too far. Some are saying you’re defying the palace, but the rest... they’re just insulting you."

Ethan didn’t lift his gaze from the parchment. "Tch, let the mutts bark, Miya."

Miya tilted her head, confused.

Ethan lowered the parchment, looking at Miya with an intimidating gaze.

"As long as they only whisper behind my back and don’t dare look me in the eye, they’re irrelevant. True power isn’t measured by how many people praise you, but by how terrified they are to make a move against you."

Ethan offered a faint smile. "Words can’t kill. Only blades and intent can."

Miya fell silent, absorbing those cold words that felt like absolute law.

As late afternoon approached, the dark clouds rolled even lower. The biting wind blew more brutally, sweeping away the leftover snow on the tower roofs.

Ethan stood on the Main Tower’s balcony once again, staring at the cobblestone road in the distance. His game with the Palace might be delayed, but the political chessboard never stopped moving.

Another carriage came into view, approaching the gates of Zenithar.

This time, it was a matte black color adorned with intricate pure gold ornaments. Engraved on its door was a wide-winged eagle clutching a sword—a high-tier noble carriage belonging to the Southern Faction.

The carriage of the Ashford Family.

From the balcony, Ethan watched the carriage door open. A tall man stepped out with the grace of a true aristocrat. A thick brown fur cloak draped over his body, and his dark brown hair was combed meticulously.

Even from a distance, a faint, calculating smile was visible on his face—the signature smile of a diplomat accustomed to slitting political opponents’ throats with sweet words.

Ding!

"Ah... the Southern Faction is making its move. It seems Duke Reinhard doesn’t want his precious asset falling into your hands. The envoy pawn has arrived," Asmodeus’s voice echoed.

Ethan’s eyes tracked the movement of the Ashford envoy as he was directed toward the main reception hall.

Twenty minutes later, when Ethan was back sitting in his VIP Dormitory, a soft knock came from the door. An academy staff member entered with a pale face, bowing deeply.

"A-apologies for the intrusion, Student Valen," the staff member stuttered. "A special envoy from Duke Ashford’s Estate has arrived. He requests your and Lady Kaelia’s presence for a closed-door meeting in the VIP Reception Hall."

Ethan rested his chin on the back of his hand, staring coldly at the staff member. Deep in his chest, a spark of anticipation began to brew. The Palace had sent its threats, and now the Southern Faction had unleashed its diplomat.

A faint smirk finally blossomed on the Sin Mana user’s face.

"Tell the Duke’s envoy," Ethan said quietly, "I’ll be right down."

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