Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​The darkness in the corner of the Main Tower’s VIP room swirled wildly, forming a dense vortex that defied the laws of nature.

From the maw of that shadow, an incredibly heavy footstep echoed, followed by the figure of Ethan Valen stumbling out.

THUD!

The moment Abyssal Stride was deactivated and his body interacted with the normal laws of physics again, Ethan instantly dropped to his knees, slamming into the plush carpet of his room.

An impossibly insane agony—thousands of times worse than having his ribs pulverized by a hammer—detonated simultaneously across his entire nervous system.

Ethan clutched his chest tightly. He opened his mouth, vomiting a clump of blackish-red blood onto the floor.

"Ugh—! Haa... haa..."

Ethan panted in extreme, ragged gasps. Cold sweat drenched his face, which had suddenly turned as pale as a corpse.

Inside his head, the voice of the Asmodeus System echoed. Her tone was no longer merely seductive; it was laced with a sharp, piercing warning.

"I told you so, didn’t I, my stubborn Master?" the System whispered. She sounded exactly like a woman sighing while scolding her lover. "Your mana circuit might have touched Rank B, but your physical vessel is still too fragile. Leaping a hundred kilometers back and forth in a single night... that is tantamount to ripping the veins straight out of your heart."

The System clicked her tongue softly. "Push yourself like this one more time, and you will rot to death before you even get to touch that Prince of yours."

"Shut... your mouth..." Ethan hissed hoarsely. He tried to force himself to stand, but both his legs were paralyzed, stubbornly refusing to respond. His strength had been utterly drained to the very last drop.

"My Master?!"

A stifled shriek shattered the silence of the room. The door to the en-suite bathroom was thrown wide open.

Isolde von Rosenberg, wearing only an obscenely sheer white silk nightgown, frantically rushed over to Ethan.

Right behind her, Kaelia von Ashford—still clad in her thoroughly wrinkled student council uniform—scrambled forward with a deathly pale face. The two women had indeed been ordered to stand by and await his return.

Seeing their absolute Master drenched in blood and trembling violently on the floor, total panic instantly swallowed their sanity whole.

"My Master! What happened?!" Kaelia threw herself to the floor beside Ethan. Tears immediately welled up in the Fire Queen’s eyes. She touched Ethan’s arm and gasped in shock. "Y-your body is freezing! Like ice!"

"Step aside, Lady Ashford!" Isolde commanded in an authoritative tone.

The ego of an Archmage took over once more. Isolde radiated a blue icy glow from her palms. "His circuit is frozen from the friction of spatial bending! If you use fire on him now, our Master’s veins will rupture from the extreme temperature shift. Let my ice stabilize his pulse!"

"Absolute bullshit, Madam Isolde!" Kaelia fired back just as fiercely.

Her golden eyes flashed with fiery anger. Her ego as an Ashford heir exploded seeing a Rosenberg woman try to dominate her in a critical moment. "His body is dying from the cold! He needs my Crimson Sin Fire to trigger cellular regeneration from the inside! Your ice will only numb him and kill his vital organs!"

"Shut your mouth, child! Your understanding of mana circuits is limited to that of an academy student!"

"And your understanding nearly killed your own son!" Kaelia shot back ruthlessly.

BZZZZT!

Amidst the lethal debate between the Northern and Southern factions that nearly sparked a magical duel right inside the room... Ethan’s trembling hands suddenly shot out.

Grab!

One hand roughly grabbed the collar of Isolde’s silk gown. The other tightly gripped the collar of Kaelia’s uniform.

Ethan yanked both women simultaneously, bringing their faces mere centimeters away from his blood-stained visage.

"Silence... both of you," Ethan growled slowly.

His crimson eyes glared at them interchangeably. An absolute dominance that instantly crushed the two women’s egos. "How dare... you... bicker in my presence."

Isolde and Kaelia held their breath in unison.

A suffocating fear, combined with the absolute obedience demanded by the seals embedded in their bodies, melted their anger into dust. Both immediately bowed their heads deeply.

"F-forgive your servant, My Master..." Isolde whispered, trembling. Deathly pale as she realized her insolence.

"Pardon my audacity..." Kaelia sobbed softly, biting her lip.

Ethan released his grip. He took a deep breath, fighting the throbbing pain in his chest. "Take off your clothes. Sit in front of me."

The two women didn’t protest a single inch.

With swift and incredibly obedient movements, they stripped off their clothes. Letting Isolde’s pale skin and Kaelia’s flushed skin be purely exposed under the room’s dim light. The fire-rose tattoo on Kaelia’s stomach and the black rose root tattoo on Isolde’s back pulsed in rhythm, responding to their Master’s presence.

"Isolde... place your hands on my left chest. Slowly channel your pure ice to cool my Sin Mana core," Ethan commanded with a heavy, demanding voice.

He rolled his neck, glancing at the Fire Queen. "Kaelia... place your hands on my back. Flow your fire into my kidneys and spinal cord to pump the production of new blood cells."

The two women looked at each other for a brief second. Tossing aside the past egos of their families, they gave an obedient nod.

Isolde pressed her palms, as soft and cold as snow, against Ethan’s broad chest. Meanwhile, from behind, Kaelia embraced Ethan, pressing her palms, as warm as a hearth, against the young man’s back.

An incredibly extreme healing Dual Cultivation session... began.

Isolde’s pure ice and Kaelia’s blood-red fire slowly seeped through Ethan’s pores. As the two diametrically opposed elements met, fused, and were controlled within Ethan’s mana circuit, the agonizing pain torturing him gradually faded.

Ethan’s cold sweat evaporated into the air. Replaced by a heat that was simultaneously soothing and incredibly sensual.

For Isolde and Kaelia, directly channeling mana into their Master’s body—which absorbed it like a black whirlpool—delivered an incredibly intoxicating feedback stimulation.

Both women’s breathing turned ragged and erratic. The friction of their skin against Ethan’s recovering body brought forth soft, continuous whimpers that echoed, filling the room throughout the night.

That night, two women from warring factions cast their egos aside. Uniting purely to serve, satisfy, and heal the one and only man who now held the chains to their souls.

Morning sunlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating the now-messy VIP room.

Ethan opened his eyes. He took a deep breath. Fresh air filled his lungs without any stabbing pain. His body felt significantly lighter, much more energetic. His mana circuit had now perfectly adapted to the load capacity of Rank B.

On his right and left sides, Isolde and Kaelia were fast asleep, their bodies slick with sweat. Both were exhausted after a full night of draining their mana and stamina to nurse Ethan.

Ethan rose slowly, putting on his bathrobe.

Right at that moment, the movement on the mattress caused Kaelia to wake up. The Fire Queen rubbed her golden eyes. Realizing Ethan was awake, she hurriedly pulled the blanket to cover her body, then knelt on the mattress with deep respect.

"Good morning, My Master," Kaelia greeted incredibly softly. Her face now radiated nothing but the warmth of a loyal servant. "Has your body fully recovered?"

"Much better thanks to you two," Ethan replied. He briefly caressed Kaelia’s cheek, making the girl close her eyes to enjoy it. "What’s the situation outside this morning?"

Hearing the question, Kaelia smiled. A smile that was satisfied, relieved, and a little cruel.

"Exactly as you predicted, My Master. Absolute hysteria has just broken out at the Valois Residence," Kaelia reported. Her eyes sparkled as she recounted her future husband’s suffering. "This morning, Prince Edward threw a tantrum and destroyed all the furniture in his study. The ten elite Light Guard knights he dispatched last night... have vanished without a trace."

Ethan smirked faintly. He poured water into his glass and took a slow sip.

"Palace security eventually found bloodstains and torn scraps of armor in the Eastern Pine Forest," Kaelia continued, shivering in awe. "There were no traces of human magic. They concluded that the unit was ambushed by a pack of Abyssal Wolf monsters migrating from the north due to the blizzard."

Ethan took another sip of his water. Perfect.

No one suspected the involvement of a mage, much less an academy student. The deaths of the ten Silver Knights were purely deemed a natural catastrophe.

"Prince Edward is currently scared half to death," Kaelia said. Her tone was laced with degrading mockery. "Losing ten elite knights without a sound in what should be a safe territory... His ego is shattered to pieces, and his paranoia has peaked. He’s even forbidden anyone from entering his room today."

"Let him rot in his fear," Ethan whispered.

His eyes glared sharply at the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at his own reflection. The reflection of a low-caste youth who had now officially targeted the kingdom’s crown.

"Fear will make your Prince act recklessly. And the exact moment he makes a mistake... we will step on his head."

While the Valois Faction was gripped by blind panic, in the courtyard of Zenithar Academy’s West Wing, a different kind of tension was slowly reaching a boiling point.

Duke Alaric von Rosenberg stood firmly in the snowy courtyard in his white bear-fur cloak.

The hardened face of the Master Knight (Rank S) looked incredibly grim. His son was still in a coma. His wife kept disappearing from his side under the bullshit excuse of ’managing academy bureaucracy’. And his instincts as a veteran fighter smelled something incredibly foul hiding behind the academy’s walls.

Because of that, Alaric had summoned his ultimate weapon.

Someone who didn’t give a damn about academy politics. Someone who couldn’t be fooled by bureaucracy, and possessed tracking instincts that defied conventional magical logic.

From the direction of the main gates, the steady tread of leather-plated steel boots could be heard approaching.

Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.

A woman casually strolled through the snow fog.

Her appearance shattered the northern nobles’ beauty standard of being pale and fully covered up. The woman was in her early thirties. She radiated a mature charm that was incredibly wild, feral, and lethal. Her skin was a dark, exotic brown, glowing with health under the morning sun.

Her brown hair was cropped extremely short, only covering half her ears. The cut gave off a masculine vibe, yet strangely, it only accentuated her jawline, which was exceptionally beautiful and captivating.

She wore light black leather armor that deliberately exposed her arms. Her biceps and abdominal muscles were perfectly sculpted—not the stiff muscles of a bodybuilder, but the lean, sharply defined muscles of an apex predator who lived for the hunt.

Slung across her back was a Zweihander (Greatsword) so massive it would be too large for two grown men to lift together.

Valera.

Captain of the Rosenberg Faction’s Executioner Squad. The Bloodhound.

"You summoned me, My Lord Duke," Valera said.

Her voice was hoarse, deep, and carried a masculine aura, yet it harbored a wildly sensual breathiness at the edge of every word. She bowed, taking a knee on the snow in front of Alaric.

"Valera," Alaric greeted. His aura softened slightly seeing his best executioner arrive. "How long will it take you to find the mastermind who ruined my son in this academy?"

Valera slowly raised her face. She didn’t answer immediately.

Her golden-yellow eyes narrowed. Her nose twitched, taking a deep sniff of the academy’s freezing air like a she-wolf analyzing the scent of the plains.

Valera’s thick lips slowly parted into a smirk, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth.

"There is a scent of blood being covered up in this place, My Lord," Valera whispered. Her voice flowed like a thrilling, low growl.

The Executioner stared straight toward the Main Tower. "Give me three days. I will drag whoever is hiding behind this academy’s shadows... and snap their neck right beneath your boots."

A threat of pure physical violence had just been unleashed. And its target, completely unbeknownst to her, was the Demon Lord himself.