Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​DONG!

​The toll of the bell had just echoed when the arena’s obsidian floor shattered.

​Kurt von Rosenberg’s figure shot forward like a meteor.

Explosions of fire erupted with his every step.

The Bloodfire Elixir coursing through his veins forced his Fire Aura far beyond the normal limits of a Bronze Knight.

The energy was wild, unstable, and immediately made the experienced mages in the stands realize that something was terribly wrong.

​"DIE, VALEN!"

​Kurt roared. His body leaped high into the air.

All of the dark crimson flames gathered in his hands, forging a gigantic blade that nearly spanned half the arena’s length.

The sheer pressure from the attack made the air tremble.

​Bloodfire Strike.

​Many spectators instantly held their breath.

For most of them, the outcome of the match was already decided.

Ethan Valen was merely a Class F student.

Meanwhile, his opponent was the heir to Duke Rosenberg, who had just empowered himself with a forbidden elixir.

​However...

​Beneath the shadow of that flaming blade, Ethan didn’t show a sliver of fear.

He simply raised his right hand.

​The Ice Rose Ring on his finger glowed.

​SWOOOSH!

​In an instant, the arena’s temperature plummeted drastically.

A colossal wall of ice erupted from beneath Ethan’s feet.

Its shape resembled the blooming petals of a crystal rose, shielding him from every direction.

​CRAAASH!

​Kurt’s flaming blade smashed into the defense.

A massive explosion shook the arena.

Fire and ice collided violently.

Scalding steam filled the air.

​But as the mist began to clear...

​Everyone fell dead silent.

​Ethan’s ice shield was still standing.

Even Kurt’s full-powered strike had failed to leave a single scratch.

​"What..."

​"What kind of defensive magic is that?"

​Shocked voices erupted from various sections of the stands.

​While the audience cheered hysterically at that impossible defense, an invisible torment had just exploded in the VIP Stands.

​Thump!

​Isolde von Rosenberg flinched violently.

​The moment Ethan pumped his ice magic output to its absolute maximum, the Incubus Mark on Isolde’s left breast responded.

A wave of stimulation slammed into her so hard it nearly ripped her consciousness away.

​An overwhelmingly dense sensation of heat spread from her chest, sliding down rapidly to sear her lower abdomen.

​"Ngh...!"

​Isolde bit her lower lip with all her might, locking away the moan that nearly escaped her throat.

She gripped the velvet armrests of her chair until her knuckles turned deathly white.

Her thighs pressed tightly together beneath her formal gown, rubbing against each other in sheer desperation to stave off the weakness paralyzing her motor nerves.

​Cold sweat instantly flooded her temples and her slender neck.

​"Madam Isolde? Are you alright?" the Head Instructor beside her asked.

He noticed the Vice Principal was suddenly trembling, her breathing completely erratic.

​"Your face is extremely pale and you’re sweating..." another instructor added with a look of concern.

​Isolde squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing heavy.

The feelings of humiliation, sinful guilt, and this insane, forced pleasure were absolutely torturing her.

​"I-I’m... fine..." Isolde replied hoarsely. Her voice trembled.

She forced her eyelids open, staring at the arena with dull, tear-filled eyes. "I am just... extremely worried... about Kurt."

​"Ah, entirely understandable, Madam. This match is completely unexpected," the Head Instructor nodded in deep sympathy.

​The old man was completely oblivious to the rotten truth eating away at the woman beside him.

​However, on the opposite balcony, Kaelia von Ashford wasn’t so easily fooled.

​Kaelia’s golden eyes narrowed sharply.

She observed the icy mist in the arena, then glanced over at Isolde in the opposite stands.

Kaelia’s instincts as a fire element genius picked up on an anomaly.

Every single time the blue glow of Ethan’s ice dome flared brightly, Isolde’s shoulders would tense, and the woman appeared to struggle even more to breathe.

​Hmm... something isn’t right. Kaelia’s heart pounded unconsciously.

That ice magic... it’s as if it’s directly connected to her. Just what exactly are you hiding, Ethan Valen?

​Down in the arena, Kurt landed, panting heavily.

​The bloodfire on his body began to dim.

He stared at the ice dome that was slowly fading, revealing Ethan’s figure.

The young man stood without a single scratch, still with one hand casually tucked in his pocket.

​"H-how is this possible..." Kurt growled.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "My Mother’s magic... you actually stole my Mother’s magic!"

​"Stealing is such a harsh word, Kurt." Ethan’s voice drifted calmly from behind the mist.

"I prefer to call it... a gift. Or more accurately, a dowry."

​"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

​Kurt roared once again.

He forced the remaining dregs of the Bloodfire Elixir in his veins, fully intending to detonate his own heart for one final suicide attack.

​However, just as he opened his mouth, drawing a deep breath to pump his mana...

​Cough!

​Kurt’s eyes widened in sheer horror.

A lethally freezing cold suddenly pierced his lungs from the inside.

​He had only just realized that the thin, sweet-smelling mist blanketing the arena this whole time wasn’t a side effect of the magical clash.

It was the Frost Pheromone.

​The mana circuits inside Kurt’s body froze over in a matter of seconds.

His boiling blood, fueled by the forbidden elixir, now violently collided with the eternal frost seeping through his pores and his breath.

​Kurt’s body convulsed violently.

The blood-red flames enveloping him were extinguished without a trace.

​"B-bleargh!!"

​Kurt vomited a mouthful of black blood mixed with ice crystals onto the obsidian floor.

He fell to his knees, both hands supporting his violently shivering body.

​The cheering of the crowd came to a dead halt.

Absolute silence froze the Main Coliseum.

​Thousands of eyes stared in utter disbelief at the heir of the Rosenberg family, who was now kneeling and vomiting blood in front of a Class F student.

​The click of Ethan’s boots tapped softly against the ice floor, echoing to break the silence.

He strolled over casually, stopping right in front of the dying Kurt, who was enduring unimaginable pain.

​With a slow, deliberate motion, Ethan leaned down.

​"Do you know what your problem is, Kurt?" Ethan’s voice was low, calm, yet heavy with pressure.

"You believe far too much that your status makes you untouchable. You call everyone trash because you’re terrified that one day, someone will prove you aren’t special."

​Kurt’s jaw clenched.

​"And now the entire academy sees the reality." Ethan leaned in a fraction closer.

"The person you trampled on... is the one who brought you down."

​Kurt’s eyes trembled.

Fury.

Shame.

Disbelief. It all blended into one.

​But Ethan wasn’t finished.

​His hand roughly grabbed Kurt by his blond hair, forcing the young man to look up and meet his eyes—which were now radiating the absolute crimson glow of a Demon Lord.

​"Y-you... what did... you do to me..." Kurt groaned hoarsely. Black blood dripped from the corner of his chin.

​Ethan leaned his face in, bringing his lips directly to Kurt’s ear.

The cruelest smile was etched onto his face as he whispered the exact words designed to eternally murder the young man’s soul.

​"Do you know why your Mother was willing to give me this heirloom ring, Kurt?"

​Kurt went rigid.

​"Because last night... your Mother was on her knees beneath my feet. She cried, she begged, and... she moaned my name."

​Kurt’s eyes bulged so wide they nearly tore.

It felt as if his heart stopped beating that exact second.

​"N-no... impossible... MY MOTHER WOULD NEVER—"

​"Look me in the eyes, parasite." Ethan’s grip on Kurt’s hair tightened.

"Your Mother belongs to me now. From the tips of her hair, all the way to your family’s prized ice rose magic."

​Ethan smirked.

​"And you? You are nothing but a stepping stone she won’t even shed a tear for."

​The last thread of rationality in Kurt’s brain snapped instantly.

The shock, the terror, the humiliation, and the agonizing physical pain of his shattered mana circuits... it all melted into one fatal psychological blow.

​Kurt’s breath hitched.

His pupils rolled to the back of his head.

His body instantly went completely limp.

​The arrogant young man fell unconscious.

​The medical team immediately rushed in.

The judges stood up with grave expressions.

​But Ethan couldn’t care less.

​He released his grip.

Stood up straight.

He completely ignored the judges and the medical team who had just snapped out of their shock and were now screaming as they ran into the arena.

​In the midst of the chaos beginning to erupt, Ethan slowly looked up.

His gaze pierced through hundreds of meters of distance, locking with absolute precision onto the figure of Isolde von Rosenberg in the VIP Stands.

​The grand woman met his gaze.

Isolde’s breathing was ragged, her body trembling faintly, and her pair of teary eyes radiated absolute fear blended with complete submission.

​Ethan’s lips moved soundlessly, mouthing a single word that Isolde could easily read from afar.

​"Mine."