Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​In the middle of the snow-covered courtyard of the West Wing, Duke Alaric tossed a heavy object into the air.

Clink!

Valera caught the object single-handedly. It was a pure gold badge engraved with an ice wolf.

It was the Symbol of Absolute Executioner Authority. A limitless, direct mandate from the Duke to do anything, to anyone, in order to wring out the truth.

"Use it. Shatter the rules of this academy if you have to," Alaric growled. His eyes radiated the desperation of a father intertwined with the absolute wrath of a tyrant. "Find out who poisoned my son."

Valera flashed a wide, feral smirk. She clipped the badge onto the leather belt of her armor. "I will do so with the utmost pleasure, My Lord."

At the same time, inside a VIP room in the Main Tower.

Ethan Valen stood in front of a full-length mirror. He buttoned his black uniform shirt with chilling composure.

His body had recovered a hundred percent. In fact, his mana circuit felt infinitely denser and more robust after simultaneously absorbing Isolde’s pure ice and Kaelia’s fire all night long.

Just as Ethan’s fingers were adjusting his collar, a soft, seductive chuckle echoed inside his skull.

"Ufufu... Your body has indeed healed, my handsome King," whispered the voice of the Asmodeus System.

The woman’s husky tone sounded incredibly close, as if she were literally breathing against Ethan’s earlobe from behind. "But I think... you forgot one tiny little detail."

What do you mean? Ethan replied internally.

"My ’Sin Concealment’ skill is indeed absolute. I can hide your mana signature even from the eyes of a blind Sage," the System teased. "But, my magic cannot conceal the scent of sin you just left on the bodies of your two sweet servants. Be careful, My Master... there is a wild hound currently sniffing out the scent of their sweat as we speak."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. His hands, still adjusting his collar, stopped mid-air.

Isolde and Kaelia had just left his room ten minutes ago to return to their respective posts. If what the system said was true...

A faint smirk, incredibly thin and entirely lethal, slowly blossomed on Ethan’s lips.

BANG!

The mahogany doors of the Vice Principal’s office were kicked open without a single knock.

Isolde von Rosenberg, seated in her grand chair, jolted slightly.

The Archmage’s body was actually still incredibly sensitive. Her lower back ached slightly, and the residual heat from the all-night Dual Cultivation with Ethan was still surging wildly beneath her pale skin.

She had just breathed a sigh of relief at returning to her bureaucratic routine, but the arrival of the figure in the doorway instantly froze the blood in her veins.

Valera swaggered inside.

The exotic, dark-skinned female knight showed absolutely zero gestures of respect. Her steel boots stomped heavily, tracking dirt onto the room’s expensive carpet.

Her golden-yellow eyes glared sharply at Isolde. Exactly like a savage predator locking onto its prey.

"Valera," Isolde hissed, her tone freezing. She fought desperately to summon back her arrogant Archmage mask. "Where are your manners?"

"Manners are for those who lack killer instincts, Madam Duchess," Valera shot back. Her deep, masculine voice dripped with condescension.

Instead of standing politely across the desk, Valera kept walking, circling Isolde’s workspace. She brazenly invaded the Duchess’s personal space.

Isolde swallowed hard. She forced her expression to remain flat, but her heart began to beat faster. She absolutely loathed this woman. Valera was Alaric’s wild hound, a beast who could never be leashed by political intrigue.

Valera leaned her face in toward Isolde’s slender neck. Her nose sniffed the air slowly.

Sniff...

Isolde’s eyes widened slightly. The black rose root tattoo beneath her gown pulsed warily, as if sensing the threat.

"A very elegant scent of ice roses. A rare perfume from the North," Valera murmured. Her voice flowed like the low growl of a wolf. "But strange... there is another scent lingering underneath."

Valera leaned one hand on the back of Isolde’s chair. Completely boxing the Duchess in from the side.

"Sweet sweat. A lingering heat trapped in your pores. And... a highly unfamiliar masculine scent."

Cold sweat trickled silently down Isolde’s neck. She had to clench both her hands tightly beneath the desk to keep them from trembling.

She smells my Master’s pheromones! Isolde’s mind screamed in panic.

"You smell exactly like a whore who was just crying and begging in another man’s bed, Duchess," Valera whispered bluntly, stabbing straight to the core without beating around the bush. "Not the scent of a grieving mother whose son is in a coma."

That statement slammed into Isolde like a steel sledgehammer.

For a split second, Isolde’s sanity and defenses nearly crumbled into nothingness. However, the terror of disappointing her Master was infinitely greater. Her survival instincts exploded. The ego of the Archmage peaked.

WHOOSH!

The room’s temperature plummeted to dozens of degrees below zero in the blink of an eye. Ice crystals materialized, coating the surface of the desk.

The Duchess stood up roughly, glaring at Valera with a freezing, pure wrath.

"Watch your filthy mouth, you wild hound!" Isolde snapped. Her eyes radiated an undeniable killing intent. "You accuse me of adultery while my son is fighting for his life?! If it weren’t for my husband’s gold badge on your hip... I would freeze your tongue and cut it off right this second!"

Yet, Valera didn’t budge an inch.

Even as the tips of her short hair began to frost over from Isolde’s ice aura, the muscular knight only smirked wider.

"Hoo... is that so? Forgive my terrible sense of smell then, My Lady," Valera chuckled cynically.

She finally took a step back, casually brushing the ice dust off her leather armor. "I was merely making sure. Enjoy your grief, Duchess. I will look for your son’s killer elsewhere."

Valera turned around casually and swaggered out of the room.

The moment the door thudded shut, Isolde immediately slumped back into her chair. The Duchess panted heavily. Her legs trembled, feeling as weak as jelly.

That little performance had successfully drained the very last dregs of her mental energy.

That woman... she truly is a monster. My Master must know about this.

Elsewhere, inside the Valois Residence.

CRASH!

The sound of shattering glass echoed shrilly, accompanied by Prince Edward’s ragged breathing. His study was completely wrecked. Vases, paintings, and parchments lay scattered across the floor.

On his desk, which remained miraculously intact, lay a letter bearing the red wax seal of the Main Royal Court.

A direct letter of reprimand from the King.

The disappearance of ten elite Light Guard knights in a single night—despite being officially claimed as a monster attack—was a devastating blow to the Valois faction’s military reputation. The King implicitly questioned Edward’s competence as the heir to the throne if he completely failed to secure a mere peripheral academy territory.

"Damn it! Damn it all!!" Edward cursed, kicking his mahogany chair until it snapped.

His personal aide stood trembling in the corner of the room. "Y-Your Highness... what should we do? The Northern Faction is starting to whisper behind our backs that you have lost your fangs..."

Edward’s blue eyes were bloodshot. Paranoia and sleep deprivation were eating away at his sanity. His incredibly fragile ego refused to accept this invisible defeat.

He needed an instant political foothold. A display of power to silence the nobles who were beginning to doubt him.

"Prepare an announcement," Edward hissed. His voice trembled, dripping with forced ambition. "Contact Sage Cornelius and the Duke Ashford’s representative. My official engagement to Kaelia von Ashford will not wait for her graduation!"

The aide’s eyes widened in horror. "B-but Your Highness, according to tradition—"

"To hell with tradition!!" Edward snapped frantically. "I need the Ashford Family’s power to stabilize my position in the palace right now! The official engagement banquet will be held tomorrow night in the academy’s Main Hall. Anyone who opposes it... consider them a traitor to the crown!"

That insane piece of news spread with hurricane speed to every corner of the academy within hours.

In the Student Council room, Kaelia dropped her quill upon hearing the announcement. Her face turned as pale as a sheet of paper. Her body shivered violently, struck by absolute terror.

An official engagement tomorrow night?

That meant she would be forced to sign a magical blood oath in front of the royal priest. If that holy blood oath collided with Ethan’s demonic Lust Brand sealed in her womb... she would die on the spot from internal bleeding!

"I have to see My Master..." Kaelia whispered in a panic. She immediately sprinted out of the room, completely ignoring the bewildered stares of the other council members.

Meanwhile, in a third-floor corridor of the Main Tower.

Valera walked with heavy, thudding steps. Occasionally, she rubbed her neck, which still felt numb from Isolde’s ice aura.

Her feral instincts screamed that Isolde was hiding a massive secret, but she had no physical proof other than a "scent." She needed another clue to drag before the Duke.

As she turned a corner into an empty intersection, Valera’s nose suddenly caught something.

Sniff.

The scent of wild pines. Morning dew. A very natural, utterly unremarkable aroma typical of a low-class mage or a bottom-caste student.

However... the hairs on the back of Valera’s neck suddenly stood up on end.

Her animalistic instincts—which had accompanied her in surviving thousands of life-and-death battles—suddenly shrieked a single warning word in her brain: DANGER.

There was something unbelievably, unspeakably horrifying hiding neatly behind that peaceful scent of pines.

Without a second thought, Valera deliberately quickened her pace and violently rammed her shoulder into the young man walking casually from the opposite direction.

Thud!

"Get your weak body out of my way, Trash," Valera growled ferociously.

With lightning speed, her hand instantly grabbed the collar of the young man’s black shirt. She lifted him slightly off the ground, employing the pure physical intimidation that usually made nobles wet their pants.

However, the reaction Valera expected never came.

The young man didn’t struggle. He didn’t gasp. He didn’t turn his face away in fear.

Ethan Valen merely lowered his gaze. Staring straight and calmly into Valera’s golden-yellow eyes. The young man’s hands were even still tucked casually inside his pockets.

The moment their eyes locked directly... Valera’s breath hitched in her throat.

Behind the young man’s brown eyes, Valera found absolutely zero traces of a student’s panic.

She saw a bottomless abyss. A profoundly dark crimson glint swirled slowly at the base of Ethan’s pupils. Radiating the absolute arrogance of an apex predator at the very top of the food chain.

A clear system chime echoed inside Ethan’s head.

[Potential Target Detected: Valera (Rosenberg Faction Executioner Captain)]

Threat Level: A (Gold Knight)

Status: Possesses high immunity to illusion and political manipulation.

Critical Weakness: Absolute Physical Dominance. (Will only submit to a Predator far more savage than herself).

Ethan tilted his head slightly.

A lethally demonic smirk formed on his face, entirely unfazed by Valera’s powerful grip on his collar.

"Forgive my clumsiness, Lady Knight," Ethan whispered.

His voice was incredibly soft, incredibly deep, yet its vibration successfully rattled Valera’s eardrums. "But... if you don’t take your rough hand off my shirt in three seconds... I will snap both your wrists."