Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

The sky was still painted with strokes of dark blue.

Dawn remained reluctant to break as the black carriage continued to carve its way through the road, leaving behind the transit village and the old inn that had granted them sanctuary for the night.

The freezing air outside grew even colder, wringing the moisture out of everything it touched.

In the driver’s seat, the grizzled old coachman pulled his bearskin coat tighter. His leather-gloved hands occasionally tugged at the reins—trying to calm the horses that had been snorting restlessly ever since they set off.

"Sir," the driver’s voice sounded hoarse, nearly swallowed by the wind. "The main road to the west was buried by a landslide a while ago. We have to detour through the old pine forest if we want to get there fast."

From inside the cabin, Ethan’s voice sounded flat. "Take the fastest route."

The driver gave a small nod, then flicked the reins gently. The carriage plunged deeper into the forest.

Inside the cabin, the lingering warmth of last night’s hearth could still be faintly felt.

Elara lay peacefully on the joined seat cushions. Her thin body was bundled in thick woolen blankets, leaving only her pale face exposed as she breathed steadily. Her pale brown hair fell haphazardly, framing a fragile face completely oblivious to the cruelty of the outside world.

Opposite her, Miya sat hugging her leather medical bag to her chest.

The Elf girl hadn’t fully recovered yet. Her light purple eyes were heavy, blinking slowly as she fought off sleep. Her pointed ears drooped limply, a clear sign that her stamina was far from replenished.

Every now and then, she touched the window glass. Not to admire the view, but to feel something faint lingering outside.

"Master Ethan..." Miya mumbled softly. "Outside... there are traces of extremely ancient magic. Like a dead ward."

Ethan turned his head briefly. His eyes were cold, though a faint glint flickered within them.

"The Valen family’s magic," he answered shortly. "Remnants from my father’s era."

Miya fell silent. She didn’t dare pry any further.

The carriage’s bumps grew rougher as the sun climbed higher.

The cobblestone road gradually vanished, replaced by uneven frozen dirt and bulging roots of giant pines.

The snow on the ground slowly thinned out as the forest canopy grew denser. The branches of ancient pines stacked over one another, blotting out the sunlight and creating a dimly lit, eerie corridor.

Along with the shifting landscape, the freezing air carried a different scent through the window cracks.

The smell of wet earth, moss, and... a metallic tang of copper drifting faintly in the air.

Miya’s pointed ears twitched. Her Elven senses immediately caught the anomaly. The petite girl pulled her robe tighter, looking at Ethan with mounting anxiety.

"M-Master..." Miya called out softly.

"Hmm. We just crossed the administrative border," Ethan cut in flatly, not looking away from the window. "We’ve entered the outskirts of the Valen territory."

Miya swallowed hard. This forest didn’t feel like a welcoming road home at all. It felt more like the gaping maw of a savage beast.

A jolt from the carriage caused Elara’s woolen blanket to slip down slightly.

Her pale-lashed eyelids fluttered before opening just a sliver. Her white-filmed eyes stared blankly at the cabin ceiling.

"Brother...?" Elara mumbled weakly, her tiny fingers fumbling in the empty air. "The village bell... The oak tree... are we close?"

The sharpness in Ethan’s eyes melted instantly.

He leaned forward, catching those tiny fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Not yet, El," Ethan answered, his voice dropping into a tender softness reserved only for his sister. "Go back to sleep. The road is a bit rough, but we’re safe."

Miya immediately shifted closer, tucking the edge of the blanket back over Elara’s shoulder.

"I promise I’ll wake you up the moment we actually arrive," Miya whispered with a warm smile, despite the anxious tremor in her voice.

Feeling her brother’s reassuring grip, Elara’s breathing leveled out again. The little girl closed her eyes once more, entrusting her entire life to him.

However, right before drifting off completely, Elara mumbled again.

"Do you remember our oak tree, brother?" she whispered softly. "I want to sit there again... with you..."

"I remember," Ethan replied softly.

The moment Elara fell back asleep, the cabin’s atmosphere froze instantly.

The metallic stench outside grew sharper, seeping in through the vents. Miya hugged her bag even tighter until her knuckles turned white. This forest was far too quiet—no rustling leaves, no chirping birds.

Miya opened her mouth to ask a question, but Ethan shot her a sharp look.

The young man shook his head slightly. Don’t make a sound.

Ethan straightened his back. His left hand rested on his knee, while his right hand slipped into the pocket of his black trousers—gripping his weapon through the fabric.

Miya clamped her lips shut. Her heart hammered wildly, but she forced her body to remain as still as a statue.

To center his focus, Ethan closed his eyes for a split second.

Yet, amidst the dead silence, memories of the past infiltrated his mind uninvited.

A memory of a simple stone house in the Valen borderlands. An old, barren oak tree standing in a front yard overgrown with weeds.

Near an open wooden window, a dark-brown-haired boy sat reading a worn-out grimoire. He never ran around with the village kids. His eyes had been cold since childhood, only occasionally glancing outside to monitor his surroundings.

Then, the sound of small, dragging footsteps echoed.

A little Elara appeared, feeling her way along the wall with her failing vision. Without a word, a young Ethan closed his book and guided his sister to sit by the window.

Seeing his sister by his side, a faint smile—incredibly thin and fragile—carved its way onto Ethan’s lips.

The memory shifted to an afternoon beneath the oak tree. Young Ethan sat reading, while the other village kids laughed in the distance. Elara approached holding a small flower, asking if it was purple. Ethan said yes, even though he wasn’t sure.

Then, a memory of Elara trying to cast magic. Her hands trembled, but no light appeared. Ethan held her hands, comforting her. "You’ll get the hang of it later."

Another memory: his father sitting near the hearth, pointing at magical lines drawn in the air. "You don’t need to speak much. You just need to think sharply."

Then came the freezing winter storm. The front door was blown wide open. His father walked in carrying a filthy, shivering little girl. "She has nowhere to go. From now on, she lives here."

Young Ethan watched from the corner of the room in silence. He didn’t ask questions. He merely assessed whether the presence of this stranger would pose a threat to his sister.

Then, those dark times arrived. His father and mother passed away. Elara’s illness worsened. Her eyes deteriorated until she went completely blind. Young Ethan never cried in front of anyone. He simply held Elara’s hand tighter.

And finally, that night arrived. The night before Ethan left the Valen estate for Zenithar Academy. Elara was no longer in the house—she had been moved to the Holy Sanatorium.

Young Ethan stood in front of the old house that had grown hollow. He looked back one last time, staring at the grand oak tree, and whispered to the wind.

"I’ll be home soon."

Ethan opened his eyes. His fist clenched so tightly that the muscles in his arm bulged.

"Fufufu... what a pity," the raspy voice of the Asmodeus System whispered, echoing right in the depths of Ethan’s mind. "You used to be able to smile so genuinely. Just look at you now."

"Tch. Shut up," Ethan replied coldly in his mind. "I don’t need your nostalgic rambling when we’re being hunted."

The system chuckled softly, before its voice faded back into the darkest recesses of Ethan’s consciousness.

Opposite him, Miya noticed Ethan’s clenched jaw. The Elf girl looked down, hugging her leather bag even tighter.

The forest was utterly dead. The birds had vanished. Even the wind seemed too afraid to pass through.

Outside, the horses whinnied in panic. They tossed their heads wildly, outright refusing the driver’s commands.

"M-Master..." Miya squeaked, her voice trembling. "The birds... their voices are gone."

"I know," Ethan replied calmly, completely devoid of panic. His eyes swept across the pitch-black corridor of trees up ahead.

Ethan exhaled slowly. His left hand touched his chest—right over the Horned Crown tattoo.

He channeled his Sin Mana smoothly. The dense energy crept through his veins with absolute control. His eyes remained dark brown, withholding their crimson glow so his explosive Aura wouldn’t harm Elara inside this cramped space.

Ethan pulled the window curtain back just a fraction.

"Miya," Ethan called out softly.

"Y-yes, Master!"

"Get ready. But do not wake Elara yet," Ethan instructed, his voice as cold as ice.

Miya gave a jerky nod. Her trembling fingers reached for a glass potion vial.

The carriage finally arrived at a dead-end crossroads that was slightly open, completely surrounded by the towering ancient pines.

Suddenly, the old driver up front yelled in panic. "Whoa! Hold! Hold it!"

The horses thrashed wildly, letting out loud whinnies before coming to an abrupt halt. They refused to move a single inch forward.

"Stop right here," Ethan commanded from inside the cabin. His voice carried absolute authority.

The carriage came to a dead stop. The silence fell even heavier, suffocating the air.

One second. Two seconds.

From behind the dark thicket on the right, a heavy growl echoed. The sound vibrated through the earth, followed by the rasp of coarse breathing reeking of drool and dampness, and giant footsteps crushing the frozen pine branches.

CRACK.

The massive trees shuddered violently, nudged by a massive entity lurking just behind the darkness.

Ethan didn’t flinch. He turned his head slowly toward Miya, his eyes reflecting the slivers of light spilling through the window cracks.

"Wake Elara up," Ethan ordered coldly, his hand now gripping his weapon tightly from inside his pocket. "Now."

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