Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​The silence in the East Wing courtyard felt suffocating.

​Dozens of elite noble students, who usually walked with their heads held high, were now standing frozen in place.

No one dared to speak.

​Their gazes were fixated on a single figure.

​Ethan Valen.

​On the grass, scorched by Fire Aura and frozen by ice crystals, Kurt von Rosenberg was still on his knees.

His right arm was encased in a thick layer of ice, jutting out in the shape of crystalline thorns.

A terrifying, bone-chilling cold continuously radiated from the block of ice.

​"O-oh my god... Young Master Kurt!"

​One of his followers finally snapped out of his shock. He sprinted over along with two other guards.

​"My Lord, your arm! If we leave it like this for too long, the frostbite will permanently damage your mana circulation!"

​They hurriedly helped Kurt to his feet. But the young noble didn’t hear a single word.

​"Let go of me! Let go!" Kurt babbled hysterically.

​His eyes remained glued to the spot where the ice rose had materialized.

That spell.

That structure.

That mana flow. It was all far too familiar.

​His face lost all its color. Pale with sheer terror and confusion.

​"Impossible... That was my Mother’s magic... how did he... where did he—"

​"Young Master, we need to get you to the medical wing immediately!" his guard shouted in a panic.

​Ignoring Kurt’s struggles, they practically dragged the young Bronze Knight away from the courtyard.

Leaving behind dozens of witnesses who were still unable to process what they had just seen.

​Meanwhile—

​Ethan didn’t even bother to look back.

​He simply turned around and ascended the stairs to the VIP building. The magic-reinforced steel doors slid open, then sealed shut behind him.

​Click.

​The ambient noise from outside vanished instantly. The room was perfectly silent.

Zenithar Academy’s VIP training facilities weren’t just ordinary training grounds.

The walls were lined top-to-bottom with soundproofing runes and mana barriers.

No sound.

No interruptions.

No surveillance.

​Ethan walked to the center of the expansive room, which boasted a polished obsidian floor. His reflection was crystal clear on the pitch-black surface.

​"Did you see his expression just now, System?"

​A faint smile graced Ethan’s face. A dark chuckle escaped his lips.

​"He looked like a puppy that just got kicked. What a truly beautiful look of despair."

​The sensual voice of the Asmodeus System caressed his mind. "Satisfying, isn’t it? But do not get too complacent, Host. Your existence has now drawn attention. The instructors, the academy council, and potentially even Duke Rosenberg’s faction will begin to make their moves."

​Ethan merely shrugged.

​"Let them look all they want. I am no longer a rat they can stomp on."

​His gaze turned icy cold.

​"Besides, I need to test the limits of my new toy."

​Ethan closed his eyes.

He summoned the Sin Mana from within his veins, channeled it into the Incubus Mark linked to Isolde, and then siphoned a portion of his stolen ice magic.

​But this time, Ethan didn’t mold it into a shield or a projectile.

He fused it with his innate magic: Aroma Manipulation.

​A thin mist began to materialize around him.

At first, it was just a dark vapor. But seconds later, the room’s temperature plummeted drastically.

Freezing air spread from the floor until it filled the entire chamber.

An intoxicatingly thick and sweet aroma crept in unseen along with it.

​A crimson holographic screen flickered in the air.

​[Energy combination analysis initiated.]

[Elemental synchronization detected.]

[Processing potential ability evolution...]

​[New Skill Created: Frost Pheromone]

[Status: Passive / Active]

​Effect: Fuses the influence of Sin Mana with the characteristics of high-tier Ice Mana. This aroma not only assaults the target’s mental desires, but it also gradually freezes the mana circuits of anyone who inhales it. Opponents will be paralyzed by a crippling blend of pleasure and bone-piercing cold long before they even realize they are being weakened.

​Ethan opened his eyes.

He scooped up a handful of the mist with his fingers, a wicked smirk on his lips.

​"Battlefield control. A silent killer. It’s a perfect match."

​While Ethan was experimenting with his new powers, a storm was raging in the West Wing.

​BAM!

​The doors to the Vice Principal’s office were kicked open violently.

The two silver-armored guards outside didn’t even have a chance to stop the intruder.

​"MOTHER!"

​Kurt barged in.

His right arm was now freed from the ice, wrapped heavily in magical bandages glowing with a faint green light—preventing permanent nerve damage.

​His breathing was heavy. His blond hair was a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot, practically burning with overflowing emotion.

​Behind her ebony desk, Isolde flinched violently.

​The Archmage hadn’t actually recovered yet.

Her silk blouse was still clinging to her skin, drenched in cold sweat from Ethan’s recent ’long-distance attack’.

She had only just managed to catch her breath when her son barged in like a complete madman.

​"Kurt?!" Isolde hissed.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the bandages on her son’s arm.

Her maternal instincts automatically took over. "What happened to you? Who did this?!"

​Kurt stumbled forward. He glared at Isolde with a deeply accusatory, borderline hysterical look.

​"Are you seriously asking who?! It was Ethan!"

"That trash you spent all night protecting!" Kurt roared.

​He slammed his left hand onto his mother’s desk.

​"Not only did he get VIP access, but he used magic! And not just any magic, Mother..."

"He used your aura and your ice rose!!"

​Isolde’s blood ran cold. Her pale face drained of whatever color it had left.

​That boy... he didn’t just summon my magic to torture me from afar... he flaunted it right in front of Kurt?!

​"Mother, answer me!" Kurt snapped. Tears of pure frustration welled up in his eyes.

"How could that piece of trash use our family’s ice rose?! Have you been secretly training him?! Betraying me?!"

​Just as Isolde opened her mouth to speak, an agonizingly searing heat burned her left breast.

​The black rose tattoo beneath her skin throbbed violently. An absolute warning from the Incubus Mark.

​Ethan’s command tore through her mind.

​"Make sure Kurt loses all his privileges... Make him fall... If you fail, I will have you begging on your knees in front of the entire academy."

​Isolde’s body trembled faintly.

An impossible choice.

Defending her son meant inviting the wrath of the demon who now held her body and reputation hostage.

She simply couldn’t let the secret of her Mana Congestion and her subjugation leak to the Duke’s ears.

​Scraping together what little strength she had left, Isolde swallowed hard. She closed her eyes for a split second.

When her eyelids fluttered open, her maternal warmth was completely dead, replaced by the eternal gaze of a glacier.

​SLAP!

​The sharp sound exploded through the soundproof office.

​Kurt’s head was violently thrown to the side. He stumbled backward, clutching his left cheek, which now bore a bright red handprint.

His mouth hung slightly agape. An indescribable shock paralyzed his tongue.

​His mother... had just slapped him?

​"Shut your worthless mouth, Kurt."

​Isolde’s voice was flat. Devoid of any emotion. Yet it radiated a suffocating, murderous aura that sucked the air out of the room.

​"M-mother...?" Kurt parroted, utterly in disbelief.

​"You barge in here like a lunatic. Throwing around ridiculous accusations that an F-caste student can somehow wield the Rosenberg family’s highest-tier magic?" Isolde stood up. Staring her son down from head to toe with a look of pure disgust. "Just how far are you willing to drag your father’s name through the mud?"

​"I’m not lying!" Kurt argued, trembling.

The tears finally spilled from his eyes. "He used the ice rose! Hundreds of students in the East Wing saw it!"

​"And then what? Are you trying to tell me that I willingly handed over my magic core to a lowly Baron’s brat?!" Isolde cut in sharply.

"You are hallucinating, Kurt."

​Isolde leaned forward, spewing venom that was actively torturing her own soul.

​"You lost to a student you called trash. And because your ego is far too fragile to accept defeat, your pathetic brain conjured up a magical illusion just to justify your own weakness!"

​Those words pierced straight through Kurt’s heart. Far deeper than the slash of any sword.

​"You lost because you are weak. You lack training. And instead of looking in the mirror, you come crying to me," Isolde continued without a shred of mercy.

Even as inside her chest, her heart was screaming and bleeding.

​"Get out of my office. Do not dare show your pathetic face to me again until you are worthy of bearing the Rosenberg name. Get out!"

​Silence.

​Kurt’s bloodshot eyes now stared at his mother with absolute, hollow emptiness.

There was no longer a glimmer seeking shelter.

The world that had pampered him his entire life crumbled with a single slap.

​"I understand."

​Kurt’s voice was hoarse. There was no more yelling.

​"You’re exactly the same as Father. Neither of you ever actually cared about me. You only care about your reputation."

​Without looking back, Kurt turned around.

The mahogany doors slowly clicked shut, sealing away a bone-chilling silence.

​The exact moment her son’s shadow vanished, the Archmage’s defenses completely shattered.

​Isolde’s knees lost their strength. She slumped back into her chair.

The very hand she had just used to slap her son was trembling violently.

She gripped her blouse, right over the Incubus Mark that had now returned to a dormant state.

The tears she had been choking back all this time finally spilled over, dampening her pale cheeks.

​She had just crushed her own son’s soul with her bare hands.

​Meanwhile, inside the dead-silent VIP Lounge.

​Ethan sat comfortably on a velvet chair, gazing through the glass window toward the academy’s main plaza.

​At the peak of the bell tower, a massive magical projection had just unfurled.

Its golden text glowed defiantly against the morning sky.

​[OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: The Annual Magic Evaluation Exam will be held in 7 days. All 1st and 2nd-year students are required to participate in the Ranking Tournament at the Main Arena.]

​Ethan leaned his head back, crossing his legs casually.

​"Seven days..." he muttered.

​A lethal smirk slowly carved its way onto his face. His eyes reflected the golden glow of the announcement with wild ambition.

​"The Annual Evaluation Exam. An open stage in front of the academy council, the nobles, and all the Dukes."

​Ethan whispered to the silence.

​"The absolute perfect place to uproot the Rosenberg family’s arrogance... once and for all."