Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

The air in the VIP Wing’s Forbidden Library felt completely different from the rest of Zenithar Academy.

​It wasn’t just cold.

​It was heavy.

​Giant mahogany bookshelves towered so high they practically scraped the library’s dome.

Within them lay thousands of grimoires, the research notes of past Archmages, and magical artifacts that ordinary students couldn’t even dream of touching.

​Today, however, someone who previously had absolutely no right to be here was strolling calmly amongst it all.

​Ethan Valen.

​Thanks to his newfound privileges, not a single guard stopped him.

Not a single student dared to question his presence.

​He pulled out a thick grimoire bound in dragon leather.

The title read: Mana Circuit Structures and the Evolution of High-Tier Magic.

​Ethan flipped to the first page.

His eyes scanned the text rapidly, while the voice of the Asmodeus System echoed in his mind.

​"The newly evolved Frost Pheromone holds immense potential for close-quarters combat. However, the ability is still limited."

​Ethan turned the page. "Because of my power?"

​"Correct. Thirty percent of Isolde’s Ice Mana Core was enough to force open new pathways within the Host’s body. But to face the Evaluation Exam in seven days, that power is not enough to guarantee absolute domination."

​Ethan snapped the book shut. "So I need more."

​"Or a new target."

​The library aisle fell silent once more. Ethan leaned his back against the bookshelf.

​"A new target..." He stared at his palm.

"My Mana Circuits have already mutated because of the Sin Mana. Should I look for a different element?"

​"Precisely," Asmodeus replied.

"The Demon Lord’s power does not stem from a single type of magic. Variety. Adaptation. And the absolute ability to take whatever the enemy possesses. Seek out prey with a skyrocketing ego, a grandiose status, and an opposing element."

​Before Ethan could answer—

​Tap.

​The sound of footsteps echoed from the end of the aisle.

​Tap. Tap. Tap.

​The air shifted.

The temperature steadily began to rise. A blistering aura started filling the library.

​"Hmm... so the rumors were true."

​Ethan lifted his head.

Standing amidst the ancient bookshelves was a girl with a piercing glare.

​Fiery red hair cascaded down her.

Her eyes were a striking gold. Her gaze brimmed with absolute confidence.

A dark red uniform accented with gold hugged her figure, complete with an eagle wing crest—the symbol of supreme authority within the student organization.

​The Zenithar Academy Student Council President. Kaelia von Ashford.

​Duke Ashford family.

One of the highest-ranking noble houses that commanded pure fire elemental magic.

And the eternal political rival of the Rosenberg family.

​"So you’re Ethan Valen. The Class F student who suddenly received special treatment from the Vice Principal."

​Ethan closed the grimoire. "Madam President."

He met Kaelia’s gaze without a shred of fear. "Is there something you want?"

​Kaelia offered a faint smile. "Interesting. You’re quite different from the rumors. Usually, people who suddenly climb the social ladder are too busy trying to prove themselves. But you... you don’t even seem to care."

​Ethan remained silent.

​Kaelia crossed her arms. "I’m not interested in your background. Nor do I care what family you come from."

Her golden eyes grew sharper. "I only want to know one thing. How did someone who was previously deemed to have absolutely no future... manage to stop Kurt’s attack using high-tier ice magic?"

​The question hung heavily in the air.

Kaelia observed Ethan.

Searching for a lie.

Searching for a weakness.

​Yet all she found was absolute tranquility.

​Slowly, Ethan’s eyes emanated a crimson glow.

​Eye of Desire.

​The world seemed to slow down for a fraction of a second.

A translucent screen materialized in his vision.

​[New Target Detected]

​Name: Kaelia von Ashford

Status: Student Council President / Heir of Duke Ashford

Mana Attribute: High-Tier Fire

Rank: Peak-Stage D

​[Character Analysis]

​The target possesses an extreme level of self-confidence. Shows a tendency to reject individuals deemed weak. However, beneath this dominant exterior, the target subconsciously yearns for a figure bold enough to absolutely conquer her arrogance. Someone her flames cannot burn. She craves utter destruction before she can truly submit.

​Ethan read through the information.

A subtle smirk formed on his lips.

​"Fascinating."

​Kaelia narrowed her eyes. "What?"

​Ethan slowly walked past the shelves. "This world is full of things that cannot be explained just by scratching the surface. Some secrets... are far more thrilling when you uncover them yourself."

​He let a tiny sliver of his Frost Pheromone seep into the air.

Just a tiny bit, only enough to make the hairs on the back of the girl’s neck stand up.

​Kaelia flinched slightly.

For the first time, her expression shifted. Not in anger. But in genuine surprise.

Because Ethan Valen didn’t bow his head.

He didn’t desperately seek her validation.

He didn’t try to grovel to please her.

It was something she had almost never encountered from anyone else.

​Kaelia quickly masked her reaction. "Hah. Quite the confident one, aren’t you?"

She looked away. "Very well. Then I’ll see for myself whether your little secrets can hold up during the Evaluation Exam."

Her gaze turned deeply challenging. "I’ll be waiting for you in the arena, Ethan Valen."

​Ethan offered a slight, mock-respectful gesture, though his tone was dripping with blatant sarcasm. "It will be an honor, Madam President."

​Kaelia scoffed. Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

Her strides remained elegant. But her mind was no longer as tranquil as before.

​Meanwhile, Ethan simply stood still.

That lethal seed of curiosity had been planted flawlessly.

​Dusk poisoned the capital’s sky with streaks of purplish-red.

​Ethan stepped into Isolde’s office through a secret staff corridor.

The room was dim.

Not a single magical lamp had been lit.

​The Archmage sat petrified in her chair, staring blankly at the stained-glass window.

Her face was ashen.

Her appearance, which was always cloaked in absolute authority, was now a complete mess.

She looked like a fractured ice sculpture ready to shatter at any given moment.

​The incident this morning—slapping and banishing her own flesh and blood just to obey Ethan—had corroded her mental state right down to the root.

​The sound of Ethan’s shoes broke the dead silence.

​Isolde’s shoulders jerked slightly.

She turned her head at a glacial pace.

Her dull, tear-filled eyes met the predatory gaze of her master.

​Without uttering a single word, Ethan walked around the desk.

He stopped right behind Isolde’s chair.

​The young man raised his hand, slowly sliding his fingers through Isolde’s platinum blonde hair.

He caressed the nape of the woman’s neck with a deceivingly gentle touch.

​Thump.

​A warm surge of Sin Mana flowed from Ethan’s fingertips, piercing directly into the Incubus Mark on Isolde’s chest.

An instantaneous explosion of sheer comfort violently clashed with her overwhelming guilt, utterly paralyzing Isolde’s rational nerves.

​"A-ah..." Isolde squeezed her eyes shut.

Her teeth bit down on her lower lip as her body instinctively leaned into Ethan’s hand.

Her pride was utterly dead.

At this point, Ethan’s touch was the only drug capable of soothing the agonizing pain tormenting her sanity.

​"You did an absolutely spectacular job this morning, Isolde." Ethan’s voice vibrated low directly into the Duchess’s ear.

"I know how hard it was for you to punish your own son. You are such a devoted servant."

​Isolde sobbed quietly.

Tears slipped from the corners of her closed eyelids.

Yet ironically, the woman’s body never stopped trembling as it greedily accepted the magical affection from the devil.

​"But in seven days, I will be stepping onto the Tournament stage." Ethan’s hand trailed down slowly, tracing Isolde’s jawline.

"I need a catalyst. A high-tier artifact capable of pumping your ice magic to its absolute maximum within my body. I am certain an Archmage like you has something hidden away."

​Isolde opened her swollen eyes. "T-the Rosenberg artifacts... I can’t. My husband will notice immediately if an heirloom goes missing from the main vault..."

​"Then give me yours." Ethan’s tone was absolute, refusing any counterargument.

"Something personally bound to your own mana."

​Isolde swallowed her total resignation.

With trembling knees, she rose to her feet.

​She limped toward a massive painting in the corner of the room.

The moment her mana-infused finger brushed against the frame, the painting shifted to reveal a hidden magical safe.

​Isolde dialed in the runic combination.

She pulled out a deep blue velvet-lined wooden box, then carried it back to the desk with shaking hands.

​The box clicked open.

​Resting on its cushion lay an ancient silver ring.

A blue sapphire, as clear as a teardrop, sat majestically upon it, intricately carved to form the petals of a rose.

The ring immediately emanated an incredibly dense, freezing aura.

​"This... is the Ice Rose Ring." Isolde’s voice was hoarse, heavy with profound hurt and submission.

"It is an heirloom from my maiden family... my very first masterpiece upon ascending to Archmage. I... I saved it, meaning to give it to Kurt if he ever managed to master the ice element."

​Ethan picked up the ring.

A powerful sensation of resonance instantly shocked his fingertips, calling out to the ice magic he had stolen from its original owner.

​"Absolutely beautiful."

​He slid the ring onto his right index finger.

Instantly, his Frost Pheromone erupted in a wild surge, synchronizing flawlessly with the artifact, multiplying the freezing cold flowing through his veins.

​Ethan looked down.

He wrapped his arm around Isolde’s waist forcefully, yanking the Archmage’s body flush against his own.

​"Your son does not deserve this." Ethan’s voice was barely a whisper, breathing directly against Isolde’s lips.

"Only I deserve it. Don’t you agree, Isolde?"

​With the absolute last dregs of her pride shattered into dust, Isolde nodded slowly.

She let herself be entirely swallowed by the intoxicating scent of the Sin Mana.

​"Y-yes, My Master... only you..."

​While Ethan savored the sweet fruits of domination in the West Wing, in the darkest corner of the boys’ dormitory, Kurt von Rosenberg’s sanity had officially died.

​Kurt sat cross-legged in his utterly trashed room.

The gaze that once brimmed with elite arrogance was now replaced by the stare of a bloodthirsty psychopath.

​His mother’s rejection and the absolute humiliation he suffered in front of hundreds of students had completely murdered his conscience.

​In his left hand, Kurt tightly gripped a glass vial the size of his thumb.

The thick red liquid inside appeared to be boiling wildly, much like burning blood.

​Bloodfire Elixir.

​The most cursed black-market potion in the entire kingdom.

The moment it was swallowed, the liquid would overcharge one’s Fire Aura far beyond the limits of reason.

The price?

Permanent destruction of the mana circuits and their remaining lifespan slashed in half.

​"Seven days..." Kurt whispered.

​His lips trembled as he bottled up his hatred.

His knuckles turned white from gripping the deadly vial so tightly.

​"Just you wait, Valen. In that arena... I couldn’t care less about the rules. To hell with the exams!"

​Wild flames ignited in both of his eyes.

​"I am going to burn you alive until your bones are nothing but ash!"