Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

The crimson light shrouding the obsidian altar slowly faded.

The red glow vanished bit by bit, leaving behind a faint gleam that washed over Ethan Valen’s face.

In the place that was supposed to be his grave...

He had instead acquired a new life.

The agonizing pain that had previously shattered his ribs vanished without a trace. His charred skin, burned by the Fire Aura, had completely healed as if he had never been injured.

In exchange, something foreign flowed beneath his every pulse.

Warm.

Dense.

And wild.

Sin Mana.

An energy so pure that the mana he had possessed all this time felt like a muddy puddle compared to an ocean.

"Host... do not misunderstand."

The woman’s voice echoed inside his head once more.

Soft.

Seductive.

Yet, beneath its softness hid an absolute authority that left no room for defiance.

"Your original mana circuits have been shattered for a long time."

"From the very beginning, you never had a chance to become a mage like them."

"You will never grow stronger through conventional means."

Ethan clenched his fists.

The sensation of weakness that had haunted him all this time was gone.

All that remained was a power he had never felt before.

"Then..."

"How do I get stronger?"

Instantly, a blood-red holographic panel materialized before him.

[Asmodeus Growth Mechanism]

The Host can only increase their power, mana capacity, and Rank by exploiting, subjugating, and absorbing energy from female targets who have been Marked.

The higher the target’s status, power, and arrogance, the greater the power the Host acquires when their mental defenses crumble.

The voice whispered once more.

"In short, my darling..."

"You are the most perfect parasite to ever exist."

"You don’t need to spend decades training."

"You just need to make them yield."

"Make them kneel."

"Make them willingly surrender everything."

"And then, take it all."

Silence enveloped the chamber for a few moments.

Then, the voice spoke again.

"Start with the woman who most deserves your retribution."

"The woman who allowed all your suffering to happen."

The corners of Ethan’s lips slowly curled up.

Kurt’s image flashed through his mind.

That arrogant face that had crushed his father’s ring.

Followed by another figure.

Isolde von Rosenberg.

The Academy’s Vice Principal.

An Archmage.

And Kurt’s mother.

The woman who, for years, had turned a blind eye to all of her son’s cruelties.

"How do I get out of here?"

"The wall behind the altar is merely an illusion."

"Walk."

"Your stage is waiting."

Ethan turned his head.

The seemingly solid stone wall rippled when his hand touched it.

He stepped right through it.

The illusory mist parted.

An ancient, winding stone staircase stretched upward before him.

Without hesitation, Ethan began his ascent.

With every step he took, it felt as though he was leaving a part of his old self behind.

The weak Ethan.

The Ethan who always kept his head down.

The Ethan who could only swallow insults.

All of it was left at the bottom of the abyss.

As he reached the top of the stairs, an old stone door greeted him.

He pushed it open slowly.

CREAAAK...

The crisp morning air immediately washed over his face.

The eastern sky was beginning to be painted with streaks of orange.

He stepped out of an old, forgotten mausoleum tucked away in a corner of the Academy’s rear gardens.

His uniform was still in tatters.

Dried bloodstains still clung to his entire body.

At a glance, he looked like a corpse fresh out of its grave.

But now...

His chin was held high.

His gaze was completely calm.

It no longer harbored even a shred of fear.

He had barely taken a few steps away from the mausoleum when two guards in silver uniforms blocked his path.

An ice rose crest was clearly engraved on their chests.

"Tch."

One of the guards clicked his tongue.

"Stop right there, Valen."

His eyes swept over Ethan’s condition with blatant disgust.

"We’ve been looking for you since dawn."

"The Vice Principal demands your presence immediately."

Ethan stared back.

In the past...

He would have been trembling before the Rosenberg family’s guard dogs.

Now...

His heart didn’t even skip a beat.

"Walk."

Just a single word.

Deadpan.

Void of any emotion.

The marble corridors of Zenithar Academy were still empty.

The sound of their footsteps echoed between the towering walls adorned with magical engravings.

A few minutes later, they stopped in front of a set of mahogany double doors.

The crest of an ice rose entwined with a sword was grandly carved into its surface.

Without waiting for an invitation...

Ethan turned the doorknob.

And stepped inside.

The moment the doors opened...

The room’s temperature plummeted drastically.

Ethan’s breath plumed into white mist.

The office was spacious and extravagant.

Black bookshelves towered all the way to the ceiling.

Ebony furniture filled every corner.

Behind a massive desk, a giant stained-glass window offered a panoramic view of the capital, still shrouded in the morning mist.

And there...

Sat a woman.

Isolde von Rosenberg.

Her beauty was icy.

Her platinum blonde hair was tied up high, exposing a pale, slender neck.

A pair of ice-blue eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses stared at Ethan without a shred of warmth.

The overwhelming aura of an Archmage filled the room.

Her mere silence was enough to strip an ordinary person of their courage.

Isolde set down her quill.

She intertwined her fingers on the desk.

She waited.

Usually, any student called to this office would be trembling.

Keeping their head down.

Begging for mercy.

But...

A second passed.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Ethan remained standing tall.

His gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.

Isolde’s eyebrow arched slightly.

Why isn’t this brat bowing his head?

"Sit down, Valen."

Isolde’s voice was as sharp as the winter frost.

Ethan walked over unhurriedly.

He pulled out the chair in front of her desk.

And sat down casually.

He leaned back.

Crossing one leg over the other.

Acting as if he were visiting the home of an old acquaintance.

The corner of Isolde’s eye twitched.

In an instant...

A thin layer of frost began creeping across the edges of the window.

"I didn’t summon you here to tolerate your insolence."

Her gaze trailed down to Ethan’s blood-soaked uniform.

"I’m sure you know exactly why you were called here."

"After your cowardly stunt in the dungeon last night."

"Cowardly stunt?"

Ethan let out a soft chuckle.

The tone of his laugh was steeped in mockery.

"Oh..."

"You mean when your pride and joy destroyed my family heirloom and tortured me half to death?"

A heavy silence blanketed the room.

For a split second...

Isolde’s breath caught in her throat.

No student had ever dared to utter such words right to her face.

"Watch your mouth, Valen."

The oppressive weight of her icy mana flooded the room.

The air around Ethan felt as if it were freezing solid.

"What happened last night was a result of your own recklessness."

"You lost control."

"You ran away into the dungeon."

"Kurt tried to stop you."

"And you got injured in an accident."

"That is the truth."

Ethan laughed again.

But this time, it was softer.

Deeper.

"The truth?"

"Or a fairy tale spun to save the Rosenberg family’s reputation?"

"Quite classic."

SLAM!

Isolde’s palm slammed onto the desk.

The porcelain cup beside her instantly cracked before freezing into ice crystals.

Her mask of composure was starting to crack.

"I didn’t bring you here to bicker with a lowly Baron’s brat!"

She opened a drawer.

Took out a sealed parchment folder.

And tossed it squarely in front of Ethan.

"Sign it."

"It’s a non-disclosure agreement."

"You will not breathe a word about last night’s incident to anyone."

"Especially not to the Royal Council."

Isolde’s glare grew infinitely sharper.

"In exchange..."

"Your entire tuition will be fully covered."

"Your family will receive enough gold to lift them entirely out of poverty."

She paused for a moment.

Before continuing in a voice that was magnitudes colder.

"But if you refuse..."

"Just one word from me."

"Your family on the border will be erased before the first winter blizzard hits."

"Choose wisely."

It was a flawless threat.

Just the name ’Duke Rosenberg’ was enough to make most nobles lose their nerve.

Isolde leaned back in her chair.

She was certain Ethan would scramble for the quill.

However...

Ethan didn’t even lay a finger on it.

He just looked at her.

Their gazes locked.

"How amusing."

Ethan’s voice was barely a whisper.

"Is the Rosenberg family truly that terrified?"

"To the point where a mighty Archmage has to bribe a lowly student..."

"...just to keep her husband from finding out how rotten his own son is?"

Isolde’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.

Her heart skipped a beat.

How...

How could this brat possibly know that?

The moment Isolde’s focus wavered...

A crimson gleam flared in Ethan’s eyes.

"System."

"Activate Eye of Desire."

The world shifted.

Everything else faded into the background.

Only Isolde remained crystal clear.

A blood-red panel expanded right above her head.

[TARGET LOCKED]

Name: Isolde von Rosenberg

Status: Vice Principal / Duchess

Rank: Ice Element Archmage

[Vulnerability Analysis]

Mental Fragility: 78%

Mana Congestion: Internal freezing of the chest meridians due to the overuse of Ice Magic and prolonged emotional suppression.

Effect: Agonizing pain every midnight.

Fear Factor: The target harbors a deep-seated terror of her tyrannical husband.

Beneath her icy exterior, the target secretly yearns for warmth, freedom, and someone capable of shattering the chains of authority binding her.

[System Recommendation]

The Host’s Sin Mana is capable of melting the target’s mana blockage.

The target is teetering on the edge of despair.

Ensnare the target.

The panel vanished.

Ethan’s smile slowly contorted.

It was no longer a thin smile.

It was the grin of a predator that had finally found its prey.

"Sign it."

Isolde’s voice cut through the air again.

Slightly louder this time.

"Or I’ll freeze the blood in your veins right here and now."

But instead, Ethan picked up the parchment.

Folded it neatly.

And slid it into the pocket of his torn uniform.

"I accept your offer."

Isolde let out a quiet breath of relief.

"Good."

"At least you still have some sense—"

She paused.

Her brows furrowed.

"Wait."

"Why did you pocket it?"

"A contract involving my family’s lives deserves a more thorough reading."

Ethan stood up from his chair.

He adjusted his bloodstained collar.

Now...

Isolde had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

"I’ll return it tonight."

"Personally."

"In this very room."

Ethan’s voice dropped to a low register.

Warm.

Yet carrying an inexplicable, suffocating pressure.

"Besides..."

"I have a feeling that agonizing pain in your chest will return before nightfall."

Isolde choked on her breath.

Her eyes widened in absolute shock.

Her body froze stiff.

That secret...

No one knew about it.

Not even Duke Rosenberg.

How is it possible...

How could this boy possibly know?

Seeing the shift in her expression...

Ethan knew.

She had taken the bait.

"I’ll be here tonight."

Ethan offered a slight bow.

The motion seemed flawlessly polite.

Yet the smirk on his lips was practically dripping with mockery.

"Make sure to leave the door unlocked."

Without waiting for an answer...

He turned around.

The mahogany doors clicked shut slowly behind him.

THUD.

The sound echoed in the office, which now felt infinitely emptier.

Isolde was still rooted to her seat.

Her hand unconsciously pressed against her left breast.

Her breathing grew ragged.

For the first time in years...

She felt genuine fear.

Not of the Duke.

Not of her political enemies.

But of a student she had always considered trash.

Meanwhile...

Out in the Academy corridor, Ethan walked with composed steps.

Wisps of thin red smoke drifted from his palms.

Carrying a faint, cloying, sweet scent.

Intoxicating.

Yet holding a lethal, hidden threat.

Ethan stared straight ahead.

His wicked smile slowly returned.

"Wait for me tonight, Duchess..."

he whispered softly.

"I’ll show you..."

"...exactly what it feels like to surrender control."