Lewd System: Every Scream and Moan is EXP

Chapter 252: Chapter 252 : The Broadcast of Some Sins

Every single gaze in the room was locked on Jax. Anger. Horror. Disbelief. But above all, they were petrified.

His confession had done what no army could. It had frozen the most powerful people in the world in their seats.

Everyone except one.

The Martial Academy head stood up. His massive body uncoiled from the chair like a weapon being drawn.

He launched himself at Jax with lightning speed, his bulk tearing through the heavy table between them as if it were made of wet paper. Splinters and documents scattered in every direction.

His bicep wrapped around Jax’s throat before anyone could blink. A deadlock choke. The kind designed to crush windpipes and end conversations permanently.

Jax was in pain. The pressure on his neck was monstrous. But he wasn’t resisting. His arms hung at his sides. His eyes darted from one figure in the room to another. And behind that massive bicep squeezing the life out of him, he was smiling.

Lysandra wanted to stop it. Sylvie too. But how? On what grounds? The man had just confessed to killing multiple professors. Intervening now would be political suicide for both of them.

The Elf King watched with visible satisfaction. Jax’s closest buddy in the room, as always, showing his love in the most heartwarming way possible.

”Your life ends here,” the Elf King said.

Jax took a deep, struggling breath. The words came out crushed and broken between the pressure on his throat.

”You think... the story... ends like this?” He wheezed. ”How... amusing. You haven’t... even clashed... with my ego yet.”

And then he sank his teeth deep into the martial head’s arm.

The room twitched. Every figure tensed. Hands went to weapons. Mana flared. They were ready for a fight. Expecting him to pull an ace from his sleeve. Some hidden trump card that would turn the room upside down.

But it didn’t come.

What came instead was blood pouring from Jax’s mouth. And a smile so bloody, so wide, so utterly unhinged that it could scare the devil into attending church.

Then slowly, the grip on his throat started loosening. Not from pain. Not from the bite. The martial head’s attention had shifted. His eyes were no longer on Jax. They were fixed on something beyond the glass window of the VIP box.

He released Jax completely and walked to the edge of the room. To the glass. Looking down at the arena below where massive projection screens displayed something that hadn’t been there moments ago.

A demon with broken horns. Crying. Emotional. Looking directly into the eyes of whoever’s perspective the projection was being shown through. Beside him, a human woman lay on a bed. She had just given birth.

The demon hugged the woman. Tears of happiness streaming down his face. Then he picked up the child. Carried her with the clumsy, over-careful hands of a first-time father who was terrified of dropping something so small.

And then he ran. Through the entire village. Carrying his daughter like she was the most valuable thing the universe had ever produced.

Telling every person he passed that he had a daughter. That he was a father now. That his child was a literal goddess.

The emotion radiating from him was unmistakable. That foreign, overwhelming feeling of someone who had truly won in life. Who had found something worth more than power, more than thrones, more than the blood of his own race.

And the worst part, the part that made every viewer’s chest tighten, was that this feeling was coming from a demon.

That was why the martial head had released Jax. Not out of mercy. He simply didn’t care about the boy anymore. He could kill him anytime. But whatever was playing on those screens demanded his attention first.

The others followed his gaze one by one. Standing from their seats. Walking to the glass. Looking down at the projections being broadcast to the arena.

And in that moment, Roxana arrived at the VIP box entrance. Trailing behind her were the other students. Astrid. Elira. Seraphina. And Zharina, who had apparently decided this was worth attending for entertainment purposes.

Roxana’s eyes scanned the spectators watching the screens. Then found Jax.

”Professor Jax, I did what you told—”

Her words died.

Her eyes went wide in horror as she took in his face. Covered in blood. Not just blood. He grinned at her and spat onto the ground. What landed wasn’t just red liquid.

There was flesh in it. Chunks. As if he had taken a bite out of a beast and hadn’t bothered swallowing.

She was completely confused. Her throat tightened as she gulped and slowly, in almost mechanical motion, turned her head toward the screens to see what had everyone so fixated.

The other students followed. Then Zharina.

And then the show began for them too. The truth. The harsh, painful, unfiltered truth. Not just playing for the people in this room but being broadcast across the entire world.

With each frame, understanding settled in. Who the demon was. Who the mother was. Whose eyes were showing them all of this.

They saw the real story of Azrakh Vorlach. The most powerful demon in rumored history. But the perspective they were being shown painted something entirely different from the monster the world had been taught to fear.

An image far better than the demons who called themselves human.

The spectators watched Lilith’s childhood. The lovely moments. Her tiny hands in her father’s grip. The laughter. The village that loved her regardless of her blood.

Until the day that changed everything.

They saw Azrakh’s sacrifice. His fists against armored demons. His broken body standing between his family and death. The kiss. The forehead press against his daughter. The run back toward the flames.

They saw everything that followed. Lilith protecting a life that wasn’t hers, just as her father was doing on his end. Both knowing it was suicide. Both choosing it anyway.

They saw her use her demonic power for the first time. The power the world called cursed. Used to save her mother and a child. A four-year-old’s fists crushing a demon’s throat so her family could survive.

They saw her life after. Hiding in the shadow of Lysandra. But still finding ways to be alive. Making things brighter around her. Making people smile. Carrying a darkness inside that she refused to let touch anyone else.

Then fate played its hand again.

She was alone once more. Her mother murdered. Her brother killed. And this time there was no one to hold her.

She started to break. A lively, innocent girl suffering a fate she never deserved began to crack from the inside. Her inner demons started to swallow her whole.

She became distant. Barely speaking. Barely smiling. Barely feeling those happy emotions anymore. Because deep down she knew they wouldn’t last. That they would only create the same ruthless cycle that would end up consuming the people she cared about.

She started cursing her own blood. And the demon inside her fed on every curse. Whispering that she never deserved this life. That she was born for slaughter, power, and dominance. Nothing else.

It took over her head and body whenever she lost herself. Each time requiring Lysandra’s direct intervention to pull her back.

Until she saw a dream. A figure of a man standing against everything. Making her cycle of pain beg for mercy.

The world watched her pursue that figure. Fight for his side when he had a bet with Professor Zharina. Use the demonic power she cursed, the power she swore she would never touch, just to make sure he won. Knowing her body would either break or be consumed by her other half.

The projections ran until this morning. Before the match. Before the chaos. Before everything fell apart.

Then they ended.

And a new projection took over.

Cleenah’s perspective.

The spectators saw everything. Her childhood. The farewell. The Holy Order taking her away. The letters. The news of her village vanishing. The transformation from a girl who loved her parents into a ruthless paladin whose entire existence served one purpose. Revenge.

They saw what she did in pursuit of it. The misunderstanding that led to the alley. The destruction of a mother’s life. A child’s life. Her own brother’s life.

They witnessed it all. Including which hands were behind today’s events.

A vision showed Cleenah and the Pope together. Planning. Plotting. The Pope feeding her an idea that would not only eliminate a demon threat but exponentially increase the church’s influence over the world. Two birds. One shackled girl. Zero mercy.

Every detail laid bare. Every whispered conversation. Every calculated move.

Then the projection ended. And one final broadcast took over.

Jennifer. The Saintess. Her face filling every screen across the world.

She spoke.

”Oh my fellow citizens. I, the Saintess, blessed by the Goddess Benigore and serving as her mere messenger, wanted you all to see the truth with your own eyes.”

Her voice was calm. Clear. Carrying the authority of someone who answered to a power above every throne in this room.

”The same girl you might be cursing today is the same girl Goddess Benigore wanted to protect. To shield. And for that purpose, she used me as her messenger to guard that child.”

She paused.

”I know what you might be thinking. A goddess protecting a demon? But look deep into your hearts and tell me. Who is actually the demon here?”

Another pause. Longer.

”The Goddess also wished for the church to be cleansed of the evil that has been forming within its holy walls.”

Inside the VIP box, the Pope was sweating. Rivers running down his temple. His composure, his practiced serenity, his diplomatic mask, all of it melting under the heat of a truth he couldn’t outrun.

He turned slowly. His voice barely holding together.

”What’s going on? There is no way—”

He didn’t finish.

A sword came from behind him. Fast. Final. The blade entered the center of his forehead, cut through his skull, and continued through the back of his head.

His body was pinned against the glass wall of the VIP box. The glass didn’t break. But the sword pierced clean through it, holding his corpse upright like a mounted decoration.

His eyes were still open. His mouth still forming the word he never got to complete.

-x-X-x-

[A/N: Huge thanks for the Golden Tickets — tony_adams_4787, Leo_Muhammad_17, Ultimahsseum, Mario_1359, and Milk_Man_4767! Your support means a lot and keeps this story going.]