My Lust System: I Inherited The Sin Of Lust And His Three Wives

Damian’s judgment upon the once untouchable Hale family sent his fame soaring to heights people could scarcely imagine. Across the United States, his name became synonymous with integrity, courage, and justice that could not be bought. Yet, astonishingly, the verdict itself was overshadowed only days later by another announcement. News broke that Faceless of the Ministry of Love had personally visited Sophia Morales and her daughter Emily on the following Sunday.

The entire world understood the significance of that visit.

No official statement had even been released, yet millions of people had already reached the same conclusion. The Ministry had no reason to involve itself with the Morales family unless it intended to help the little girl.

If Faceless truly restored Emily’s missing leg, then humanity would witness something modern medicine had never accomplished. It would not merely be another miracle attributed to faith. It would be undeniable proof that a power beyond science had intervened.

The implications were terrifying.

Religious organizations watched anxiously. Governments quietly dispatched observers. Medical institutions prepared statements while privately hoping the rumors proved false. Even people who had never believed in anything supernatural found themselves refreshing their phones every few minutes, waiting for confirmation.

Everyone understood this was a defining moment.

Either the Ministry of Love would ascend beyond every religious movement in recorded human history, or it would collapse beneath the crushing weight of impossible expectations.

The entire planet buzzed with anticipation, and Damian could feel every bit of it.

Seated cross legged atop the roof of his mansion, Damian had once again assumed his twelve foot form. His enormous frame overlooked the sprawling estate below while the evening breeze rolled gently across the mountain. He sat silently with his eyes closed, allowing himself to bask in the countless emotions directed toward him. Hope, curiosity, admiration, anticipation, gratitude, fear, envy, all of it flowed endlessly toward him like invisible rivers feeding his existence.

Every passing second sent another wave of euphoric pleasure coursing through his body.

His breathing became slower.

His heartbeat steadied.

A faint smile gradually formed across his face.

”Now imagine how much better you would feel when you have two or more planets under your control. You would live with a pleasurable feeling several times stronger than this for the rest of your life,” Hazel said softly.

She lay comfortably beside him with her head resting upon his lap, gazing upward at his face from below. In this position she could admire every sharp angle of his jawline and the peaceful expression he rarely showed anyone. Slowly she reached upward, brushing her fingers gently across his cheek as though committing every detail to memory.

”Great. Let’s do it,” Damian replied as one of his massive fingers gently stroked her cheek.

His gaze drifted beyond the estate. Hundreds of security personnel continued their patrols across the enormous property. Cameras rotated silently. Vehicles moved through designated checkpoints. Since the attempted assassination, every inch of the estate had become a fortress.

”After this world, we should make a quick stop at Velmora before heading into the real universe,” Damian said.

A bright smile spread across Hazel’s face.

”You are interested in your new home?” she asked with a light giggle.

Damian nodded without hesitation.

Who would not be curious?

A kingdom built upon lust, pleasure, indulgence, and freedom from human morality. It was also the safest place he could possibly stand now that nearly every powerful force in existence had begun watching him. More than anything, he wanted to see the Underworld with his own eyes and understand how civilizations ruled by demons actually functioned.

”It’s nice knowing you are not homesick anymore,” Hazel whispered.

She gently guided his head downward before pressing her lips against his. Their kiss was brief and affectionate, carrying none of the desperation that had once defined their relationship. For a few peaceful moments, the noise of the world disappeared entirely.

Far beneath them, the estate remained busy.

Far above them, the evening sky gradually surrendered to night.

Meanwhile...

Deep within the Underworld, inside the territory known as Devourhold, silence ruled over an immense obsidian chamber illuminated only by crimson crystals embedded within towering pillars. Every wall seemed alive with ancient carvings depicting endless feasts, monstrous beasts, and civilizations swallowed whole.

Standing near the center of the chamber was a towering humanoid whose entire body appeared forged from black living exoskeleton. Tendril like strands replaced ordinary hair, writhing slowly behind his head as though alive. Thick armored plates covered his limbs while an elegant black and white fur cloak rested across his broad shoulders, giving the monstrous figure an appearance that was simultaneously regal and terrifying.

Belial.

His crimson eyes remained fixed upon Jugra.

The once proud Ifrit looked pitiful.

His throat had been completely torn apart.

Large sections of his body had been melted away by divine flames that continued leaving blackened scars impossible for ordinary regeneration to heal. Every breath sounded strained, each one accompanied by a low wheezing noise as he struggled merely to remain alive.

Without speaking, Belial slowly extended one hand from beneath his robe.

Dong!

A deep bell echoed throughout the chamber.

The sound itself seemed to possess substance.

At once, a viscous crimson substance erupted from Jugra’s ruined body. It spread rapidly, wrapping around every inch of him before gradually hardening into a massive cocoon. Pulses of red light flowed across its surface every few seconds like the steady beating of an enormous heart.

The regenerative cocoon had begun its work.

”Ibaraki-dōji clenched both fists until his claws dug into his own palms.

”Bachi... Mudhhibb...”

Those two names carried unbearable weight.

Belial’s expression darkened as memories of Earth’s battle resurfaced.

”Sol...” he growled quietly. ”You have gone too far this time. I will not allow you to walk away from this unscathed.”

A burst of laughter echoed throughout the chamber before the sound itself seemed to materialize from empty space.

”I look forward to seeing how you plan to accomplish that.”

Sol’s amused voice filled every corner of the chamber.

The instant those words appeared, Ibaraki-dōji’s face turned deathly pale.

He stopped breathing.

He stopped blinking.

He prayed only that the God speaking would never acknowledge his existence.

Belial hissed in annoyance but wisely chose not to answer.

He understood their difference better than anyone.

Sol could injure him.

Humiliate him.

Beat him senseless whenever an opportunity presented itself.

Yet Belial possessed no comparable means of retaliation.

Unlike Wrath, who could confront Sol directly, Belial occupied the unfortunate position of being powerful enough to survive yet far too weak to threaten him.

It was a humiliating balance that had existed for ages.

”And now we have another human problem to deal with,” Belial muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

His gaze shifted toward the cocoon surrounding Jugra.

”How the hell does he even steal powers?” His voice became colder with every word. ”What exactly did you leave behind, Lin Qui?”

For the first time in countless years, uncertainty entered Belial’s thoughts.

A human carrying the inheritances of Lust, Asura, and Bathin simultaneously should not exist.

Yet Damian had done far more than inherit them.

He had mastered them.

And that frightened even a God.