Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​Inside the Throne Room of the Abyssal Palace Ruins.

Ethan Valen strode up the tiered platform constructed from thousands of skulls and black stones. He halted exactly one meter before the ruler’s long-ruined throne.

His crimson-glowing brown eyes stared intently at the object hovering above the throne.

A Black Horned Crown.

The artifact was forged from pitch-black matter. Two demonic horns curved sharply backward from its sides. It radiated a primordial dark energy so dense that the air around it appeared distorted.

Without a second of hesitation, Ethan reached out his right hand. His fingers brushed the surface of the ancient crown.

The exact moment Ethan’s fingertips touched it... the Horned Crown actually melted.

The solid object liquefied instantly, turning into a dimly glowing, blackish-red fluid. The dense liquid was alive. It moved wildly like a serpent, slithering up Ethan’s right arm, penetrating his pores, and seeping directly into his Sin Mana circuit.

"Ugh—!" Ethan gritted his jaw hard.

An impossibly insane pain scorched his chest for a few seconds. However, it wasn’t a torture that damaged his organs. It was a sensation like a flow of cold magma breaking in—widening, tearing, and compacting every inch of his mana veins.

Once the pain slowly subsided, Ethan pulled the collar of his black uniform shirt wide open.

On his left chest—right over his beating heart—a new tattoo had been permanently etched.

The tattoo was a miniature replica of the Horned Crown. Composed of sharp, pitch-black lines with incredibly elegant blood-red accents. The tattoo pulsed softly, in rhythm with the young man’s heartbeat.

A system chime echoed in his head, but this time its resonance felt vastly different.

[Integration of the Asmodeus Crown (Core Fragment) Successful.]

[Host’s Sin Mana Capacity has increased drastically. Current Status: Peak Rank B (Touching the Threshold of Rank A).]

"You know, My Master..." the voice of the Asmodeus System shattered the silence of his mind.

Her tone still retained its old signature—husky and incredibly provocative.

"That new tattoo on your chest... looks very, very sexy," the System whispered. Her seductive tone couldn’t be hidden in the slightest.

Have you regained your memories? Ethan asked internally. His fingers gently traced the tattoo on his chest. Who are you, exactly?

A momentary silence.

"Only a small fraction of them," the System answered slowly, sounding slightly melancholic. "I am a fragment of the soul that has slumbered within that Crown all this time... Asmodeus isn’t just the name of a system, My Master. It is the title of the Absolute Ruler of Sin."

The woman’s voice dropped into a whisper filled with reverence. "And you... are its new, rightful heir."

Ethan turned around. He left the now truly vacant throne and strode out, walking back down the obsidian highway.

Outside the black metal gates, the Abyssal Guardian—the eight-meter-tall monster forged of rotting demon flesh and black steel—was still prostrating with its forehead pressed submissively to the ground.

The purple magma veins across its giant body pulsed slowly. Its four yellow eyes didn’t even dare to look at the Demon Lord who had just emerged from the palace.

"Rise," Ethan commanded absolutely.

The Rank S monster slowly got up. Its massive body trembled violently, enduring the pressure of Ethan’s Sin Mana, which was now infinitely denser and more terrifying than before.

"Guard this gate," Ethan ordered. His eyes stared coldly at the ancient killing machine. "Destroy without a trace... anyone who tries to descend to this place other than myself. You will remain frozen here until I summon you."

The creature possessed no vocal cords to reply. It simply bowed its head once more in a gesture of absolute obedience.

The monster then walked backward with impossibly heavy steps, positioning itself right in front of the giant gates, locked its combat stance, and froze like a statue of an eternal guardian.

The bottom of this Dungeon was now officially Ethan Valen’s absolute Safe House. A fortress that not even the King of Valois could ever hope to breach.

Ethan focused his mana on the shadows around him.

[Abyssal Stride.]

His body melted perfectly into the darkness. Leaping back to the surface, piercing through the shadow in the sealed steel door’s crevice, and leaving the abyss of death far beneath his feet.

Several hours later. The Star Meditation Room, at the peak of the Main Tower.

The room was still as cold as yesterday. Devoid of artificial lighting, relying purely on the skylight from the glass observatory dome and the ancient mana crystals in the obsidian floor.

The door creaked open without a knock. Ethan stepped inside.

Sage Cornelius was apparently already waiting for him. The old man in the dull gray robe sat cross-legged on the rug, both hands resting calmly on his oak staff.

His blind, milky-white left eye immediately locked onto the figure of the young man who had just crossed the threshold.

"You returned faster than I expected, boy. And miraculously, you are still alive," Cornelius greeted him. His hoarse tone dripped with skepticism. "That is either a very good sign... or a very terrible one."

Ethan didn’t bother to sit down. He stood casually, tucking both hands into his trouser pockets.

"I’ve inspected the bottom of the abyss, Old Man," Ethan stated flatly.

"And?"

"The toxic Miasma isn’t originating from a natural leak in the earth," Ethan wove his half-lie flawlessly. "There is an Ancient Golem from a forgotten era, trapped at the very bottom. Its core crystal is damaged and leaking, producing the purple fog that poisons the entire area."

Cornelius tilted his head slightly. "A Golem? And what did you do to this creature?"

"I sealed it," Ethan answered without blinking. "I used a combination of ice magic to compress its space, then overlaid it with my pure darkness to smother the radiation from its core crystal. The creature will no longer rampage or leak Miasma."

Cornelius tapped his wrinkled fingers against his oak staff. Tap... tap... As a Sage (Tier 6), he could detect lies from a person’s mana fluctuations. Yet, Ethan’s tone didn’t waver in the slightest. The boy’s circuit was incredibly calm, exactly like a frozen lake.

More importantly, Cornelius utilized his spatial sensitivity. His instincts confirmed that the Miasma fluctuations from the bottom of the abyss had indeed subsidized drastically over the last hour. There was evidence supporting the boy’s story.

The Sage still felt something was amiss. His ancient instincts screamed that a far more massive secret was being hidden by this young Devil. However, since he himself lacked the darkness affinity to descend and check it, Cornelius was forced to swallow the report.

"I see," Cornelius finally murmured. "In that case... our pact is active as of this second. You have fulfilled your end by cleansing that anomaly."

Cornelius stood up slowly, supporting his frail body on the oak staff.

"I will ensure not a single noble dares to touch you, Ethan Valen. That is my business. Your business... is ensuring no further threats awaken from beneath this academy."

Ethan smirked faintly. Their relationship was now officially locked as political associates exploiting each other. Not friends, let alone true allies.

"Good," Ethan replied. He turned around, preparing to leave. "I have other matters to attend to. If you need something, don’t summon me. I will come to you myself."

Without bothering to wait for an answer, Ethan strode out of the Star Meditation Room.

The moment the door closed again, Cornelius stared longingly at the empty doorway. The old man let out a heavy sigh. His wrinkled face was weighed down by a tremendous burden of consideration.

"I don’t know what kind of devil you actually found down there, Boy..." Cornelius murmured to the silence of the room, "...but may the Gods forgive me for letting you live today."

That night, in the Vice Principal’s Office.

The room was illuminated only by the flicker of a small fireplace and a dim crystal lamp on the desk. Isolde von Rosenberg sat in her grand chair.

Her platinum blonde hair was pinned up perfectly. Her gold-rimmed glasses reflected the candlelight as her icy blue eyes scrutinized a stack of documents. Her navy-blue silk gown was buttoned tightly to the base of her neck, hiding the dark secret on her back securely.

Suddenly, the wooden door to the room creaked open slowly. Ethan stepped inside.

The exact second Ethan’s presence touched the Archmage’s senses, something extreme occurred. The residual pure demonic energy from the Asmodeus Crown recently integrated into Ethan’s chest... unintentionally emitted an incredibly powerful resonance.

Isolde jolted violently in her chair.

Clack! The quill in her hand slipped and fell, staining the parchment on her desk.

The sprawling black rose root tattoo across her flawless back reacted instantly. The faint purple glow that was usually hidden now flared blindingly bright, radiating light right through the silk fabric of her gown.

Isolde gripped the armrests of her leather chair tightly. Both her thighs reflexively squeezed together hard.

The Duchess’s breathing instantly turned ragged, her chest heaving in a chaotic rhythm. "M-My Master... ahh... w-what is..." Isolde whimpered, stifling her moan.

Her mature body trembled violently, struck by a massive wave of arousal that slammed into her nerves entirely without warning.

In just two long, silent strides, Ethan was already behind Isolde’s chair.

The young man placed both palms firmly onto Isolde’s rigidly tense shoulders. Instead of worsening the situation, Ethan channeled a fraction of his dominant Sin Mana—taking control of the wild resonance and forcibly stabilizing it from the outside.

That cold, yet incredibly protective touch worked like a divine antidote.

The agonizing turmoil on Isolde’s back slowly subsided. Her rose root tattoo dimmed again, hiding obediently beneath the fabric of her gown.

Isolde let out a long, still-trembling exhale. She leaned her head back, resting it against Ethan’s body.

"Forgive your servant, My Master..." Isolde whispered weakly. "Your aura today feels... infinitely denser and more extraordinary than usual."

"There is no need to apologize," Ethan whispered. His baritone voice flowed deep and intoxicating. "Have you completed my task?"

Hearing that question, Isolde immediately forced herself to swallow the remaining arousal and returned to professional mode. Her Archmage instincts took over.

"I have, My Master," Isolde reported. Her voice stabilized, though her face was still flushed red. "The covert medical team I dispatched has successfully retrieved Lady Elara from the Holy Sanatorium."

Ethan’s eyes widened slightly, though he fought hard to conceal his immense relief.

"They are utilizing the academy’s old underground routes to evade Valois palace detection," Isolde continued, detailing her report. "Lady Elara’s condition has been remarkably stable during the journey. The mana crystal medication you sent last month fortified her physical constitution quite well."

Isolde tilted her head, looking up at Ethan from behind her gold-rimmed glasses.

"I have prepared a secret VVIP room in the North Wing. That facility falls purely under the jurisdiction of the Academy Council, which I hold absolutely. Not even my husband Alaric, or Sage Cornelius himself... will be able to access that place without my stamped approval. Lady Elara will arrive... tomorrow night."

Ethan fell silent for several seconds. That news flowed like pure water in the middle of a desert. The most terrifying burden that had been obstructing and chaining his sanity... had finally been lifted.

Slowly, Ethan stepped forward to the side of her chair. He leaned down, then wrapped his arms around Isolde’s slender waist from behind.

Ethan’s lips whispered softly, nearly brushing the Duchess’s earlobe.

"You executed your task flawlessly, Isolde."

Isolde squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her heart pounded erratically. It was an incredibly rare compliment from the Demon Lord.

Ethan released his embrace and turned his back on Isolde, walking toward the giant stained-glass window in the room.

The young man gazed out at the night scenery of Zenithar Academy, which was beginning to be blanketed in a thin layer of snow. Far on the eastern horizon, the grand lights of the Valois Royal Capital twinkled arrogantly.

Ethan smirked faintly. His eyes refracted a lethal crimson glow against the reflection of the glass.

His blind angel would be by his side tomorrow night. And once Elara was safely within his absolute protection... there wouldn’t be a single noble in this world—be it a King, a Duke, or a Prince—capable of stopping the Devil from seizing everything.