Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

Ethan Valen’s words echoed coldly through the air of the Throne Room.

Freezing the blood in the veins of every noble who heard them.

The ensuing silence was suffocating, like a bated breath before an executioner. The chessboard had just been forcefully flipped.

Upon the marble throne carved with golden wings, King Evander von Valois showed absolutely no flash of anger. Instead, the peaceful smile on the face of Astrea’s supreme ruler slowly widened.

His clear blue eyes ignited with a much deeper interest—dark and unnatural.

King Evander raised his hand slowly. An absolute signal to commence the trial.

Hundreds of nobles, ministers, and generals stood tall on both sides of the room, forming a human barricade radiating an aura of intimidation. Muffled whispers began to buzz like a swarm of venomous bees.

In the middle of the blue carpet, Ethan Valen stood tall.

He didn’t bow his back a single inch. A high-collared black tunic with silver buttons, draped in a dark calf-length coat, framed his athletic build. His dark brown eyes stared straight ahead, cold and unflinching.

To his right, Kaelia von Ashford stood by his side. Her fiery red hair was tied up high, exposing her slender neck and sharp jawline. A dark red gown embroidered with golden threads forming the Ashford eagle crest wrapped around her figure.

Kaelia’s chin was raised arrogantly, but her fingers clutching the fabric of her gown betrayed the subtle tension creeping through her veins.

Below the steps of the throne, Prince Edward von Valois glared at Ethan from his seat of honor with hatred that practically spilled over. The white-and-gold military uniform he wore was stiffened by his heavy breathing.

Seeing the Ashford daughter standing next to a ”rat from the east” utterly incinerated his ego.

A high official in a golden robe stepped forward to the side of the podium, unfurling a parchment scroll bearing the Crown’s seal.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He tapped his silver staff, breaking the silence.

”Witnessed by the Crown and the High Council of Astrea, this trial is hereby convened to verify the claim of the sole heir to the Far East territory!” the official declared in a firm baritone voice.

”The Valen Family, an old noble house from the borderlands. Their right of inheritance is declared to have met the initial requirements following the verification of graduation from Zenithar Academy and the bloodline authenticity test!”

That statement instantly triggered a much louder wave of whispers.

”Tch, what an insult...”

”An academy brat who reeks of mud...”

Ethan didn’t even blink. Beside him, Kaelia held her breath, refusing to lower her gaze before the nobles of the Capital.

Heavy footsteps suddenly cut across the blue carpet.

Lord Marcellus Veyne stepped out from the ranks of the central faction nobles. The strong-jawed middle-aged man in a dark red robe adorned with medals looked toward the throne, intentionally raising his voice.

”Your Majesty,” Marcellus said in a condescending tone. ”Must we waste the Crown’s time on this joke? The Valen family has long rotted away in their barren lands.”

He glanced at Ethan with utter disgust. ”The eastern territory has barely contributed any taxes for a decade. And now, an academy brat comes empty-handed demanding a title as if he were our equal?”

From his seat of honor, Edward sneered, thoroughly enjoying the character assassination.

Marcellus turned squarely toward Ethan. ”Go back to the academy, Boy. Go play with your wooden swords. This Throne Room is no place for someone who doesn’t even have an army to defend his own land!”

Everyone waited for Ethan to crumble under the pressure. Kaelia bit the inside of her cheek, shooting a sharp glare at Marcellus.

However, Ethan merely rolled his neck slowly. His dark brown eyes locked onto Marcellus’s gaze.

Instantly, Marcellus felt an absolute chill sweep down his spine. Ethan’s gaze was as empty as the bottom of an abyss—the gaze of a predator locking onto its prey’s jugular.

”You doubt the capacity of the eastern lands because we let it rot, Lord Veyne?” Ethan’s voice flowed calmly, yet it sliced through the air like a blade.

”That land is rotting because the silk-clad rats in the Capital are too busy enriching themselves and running away from their duty to protect the borders.”

Ethan took a half-step forward. An invisible pressure forced Marcellus to reflexively retreat an inch.

”...And if you say I came empty-handed, know this. If I intended to jump, I would leap right over your head. Not bow down to ask permission from a velvet-robed coward like you.”

Total silence once again suffocated the Throne Room. The nobles’ eyes went perfectly round. Such audacity bordering on insanity shattered all palace protocol!

Marcellus’s face instantly turned beet red. The veins in his neck bulged wildly. He clenched his fists, ready to scream orders at the Crown Knights.

”Enough, Marcellus.”

Just two words. Soft, yet carrying a gravitational weight that immediately silenced the room.

King Evander still maintained his smile on the throne. However, his clear gaze was locked on Marcellus—a promise of death if the man dared to utter another word.

Marcellus swallowed hard. His anger evaporated, replaced by absolute submission. ”F-Forgive me, Your Majesty...”

He hurriedly bowed and retreated back into the ranks, his face burning with shame.

The golden-robed official by the podium cleared his throat softly. He raised his silver staff and tapped it three times against the floor.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

”Based on document verification and the absence of legally valid objections, the Crown hereby decrees...” The official read the final section of the parchment. ”...that Ethan Valen is officially recognized and confirmed in his title as Baron Valen, the rightful ruler of the Far East territory!”

Kaelia’s stiff shoulders finally relaxed a fraction. The title was official!

King Evander slowly rose from his throne.

In unison, all the nobles, generals, and ministers bowed their bodies. Only Ethan Valen remained standing perfectly straight, staring at the King.

King Evander descended two steps of the podium, his smile growing warmer.

”It is an honor for the Crown to welcome back the house of Valen,” King Evander spoke warmly. ”In celebration of the restoration of your status, Lord Baron, I personally invite you as an honored guest of the Palace.”

The entire room gasped softly. A direct verbal invitation from the King?

”Tonight, the Capital will celebrate the opening of the Frost Bloom Festival in the main hall,” the King continued. ”And tomorrow morning, the annual tournament at the Astrea Colosseum will officially begin. I expect your presence at both events, Ethan Valen.”

In his seat of honor, Edward’s grip on his armrest was so tight that the gold-plated wood creaked and splintered.

Ethan stared at the King’s peaceful smile. His analytical brain immediately read the anomaly behind this overly warm reception.

”I will attend, Your Majesty,” Ethan replied flatly and coldly.

King Evander’s smile widened further. ”Excellent. I look forward to it.”

The trial was adjourned. The King left the room followed by his personal guards, while Edward stormed off, stomping his feet in fury.

Ethan and Kaelia walked down the long palace corridor. Lesser nobles hurriedly scrambled out of their path.

”That invitation...” Kaelia whispered, laden with anxiety as they walked. ”The King of Astrea never gives personal attention to lower nobles...” She bit her lip. ”This is... weird.”

”Hmm. We’ll talk about this later,” Ethan cut in shortly without looking back.

They arrived at the outer pavilion. Valera Voss was already waiting beside the Valen wooden carriage. Her black leather armor and the Zweihander on her back radiated a savage aura that contrasted sharply with the palace’s elegance.

Valera’s golden eyes scanned Ethan’s body from top to bottom. After ensuring there were no injuries, she gave a stiff nod.

”We head back to the inn,” Ethan commanded.

Late afternoon crawled in, wrapping the Capital in dusk.

Outside the palace walls, the streets of Astrea transformed into a sea of light. The Frost Bloom Festival had begun. Glass lanterns shaped like ice petals were strung along the roads, emitting a beautiful blue and white glow.

From behind the carriage window, Kaelia gazed at the bustling crowds, her eyes suddenly turning melancholic.

”Every Frost Bloom Festival, Mother would always buy me a new red ribbon,” Kaelia murmured softly. ”But after she passed away... Father never took me to see the festival again.”

Ethan, who was leaning back with his eyes closed, merely opened one eye. ”Past memories won’t help you survive, Kaelia.”

From the driver’s seat, Valera’s heavy voice penetrated the wooden walls. ”Tch. I don’t like this place. Everything looks pristine, but it makes my skin crawl.”

Ethan didn’t answer, but internally, he completely agreed with the demonic knight.

The old wooden carriage stopped in front of The Gilded Dove inn. The innkeeper welcomed them with a very deep bow—the news of his Baron title confirmation had spread quickly.

Not even ten minutes into their rest in the White Rose Suite, a soft knock echoed at the door.

Valera accepted a letter sealed with thick red wax bearing an eagle pattern from the trembling hands of a servant, then handed it over to Ethan.

Ethan broke the seal and read the short message inside:

Duke Reinhard von Ashford awaits you. Come before tonight’s festivities begin.

Hearing her father’s name, Kaelia’s face instantly went pale. ”My father? Hah... Why is he asking you to come?!”

Ethan folded the letter back up calmly. ”Valera, prep the carriage again.”

”Tch. After the theater show at the Palace, now it’s time to entertain the bossy Southern nobles,” Valera scoffed lightly from behind the door, flashing a savage grin.

Kaelia glared in annoyance, but her nervousness was too overwhelming to retort.

Night had fully fallen by the time the carriage once again cut through the Capital’s streets.

Inside the silent cabin, Kaelia sat rigidly, constantly wringing her red gown until it wrinkled.

”Ethan...” Kaelia called out hesitantly, her voice trembling slightly. ”If Father asks about... my current status with you, what should I say?”

Ethan’s dark brown eyes opened. He stared intently at Kaelia with dominant intimidation.

”Tell him the truth,” Ethan replied, his voice deep, dominating the cramped space. ”That the daughter he is so incredibly proud of, now belongs to me entirely.”

Kaelia’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson all the way to her ears. She quickly turned her face toward the window. ”Y-You... that’s so unfair! How can I say something that embarrassing in front of my Father?!”

From outside the cabin, Valera’s loud snort could be heard clearly penetrating the wooden boards.

”Well now, Lady Ashford,” Valera sneered mockingly. ”Need I remind you, my hearing is sharper than an ordinary human’s. I can hear your heartbeat jumping around noisily from out here.”

Kaelia flinched. Her embarrassment mixed with immense exasperation.

Seeing Kaelia’s reaction and hearing Valera’s mockery, a low, husky chuckle escaped Ethan’s throat. A rare laugh that showed just how much he enjoyed his absolute dominance over the girl in front of him.

Ethan’s low, raspy chuckle slowly faded, swallowed by the rhythmic clatter of the Valen carriage’s spinning wooden wheels.

Inside the dim cabin, the lingering tension had thawed. However, the awkwardness that replaced it successfully sent a deep crimson blush flushing across Kaelia von Ashford’s face.

The fiery red-haired girl turned her face away toward the window. She refused to meet Ethan’s dark brown eyes—the eyes of the man who had just claimed absolute ownership over her.

Her fingers tightly clutched the fabric of her dark red gown. Valera’s mockery from outside the cabin still echoed vividly in her ears. Kaelia refused to reply, busy gathering the remaining scattered pieces of her pride.

The carriage slowly departed the quiet peripheral streets, entering the heart of the noble district of Astrea’s Capital.

The night of the Frostbloom Festival now truly displayed its charm.

Blue and white glass lanterns hung suspended above the main avenue, crisscrossing like a luminous spiderweb over the city’s marble cobbles. Ice-flower engravings on every brass lantern post reflected the light, creating the illusion of frozen snow suspended in midair.

Capital citizens passed back and forth dressed in their finest attire, laughing and dancing in neatly orchestrated harmony. Far too neat.

Kaelia’s golden-yellow eyes stared melancholically at the lanterns. A brief flash of sorrow flickered across her gaze.

Shadows of her childhood flashed in her mind—walking down these very streets, holding her mother’s hand tightly while gazing at the lanterns in total innocence. But now, those brightly lit streets felt terribly cold and foreign.

On the opposite seat, Ethan leaned back composedly. His dark eyes were half-closed.

He was utterly unaffected by the Capital’s glitz and glamour. To him, the lanterns and the citizens’ laughter were nothing more than cheap stage props. His mind was already locked onto the political chess pieces awaiting him at the end of the road.

”Hmm. We’ve entered the main domain of the Ashford family, My Lord,” Valera Voss reported from the driver’s seat.

The female knight’s tone was no longer mocking. Her voice was low and sharp, brimming with vigilance.

Hearing that, Kaelia reflexively straightened her back. The remaining flush on her face vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, rigid aristocratic mask.

She took a deep breath, locking away her childhood memories tightly. Now, she had to prepare to face a far more suffocating reality: her father.

The clatter of hooves and the creak of wheels slowed down. The carriage turned away from the main avenue, entering a vast courtyard.

”Whoa, easy there,” Valera muttered, pulling back the reins. The carriage came to a stop right in front of the monument of absolute power belonging to the Southern Faction.

Duke Ashford’s temporary residence in Astrea made no attempt to conceal its wealth. The white-and-gold marble estate glowed under the lanterns. Giant pillars were adorned with intricate rose vine carvings. Upon its iron gates, the emblem of a colossal golden eagle with outstretched wings seemed to scrutinize anyone daring to step inside.

Two male servants in dark uniforms hurried forward.

Valera leaped down first. She landed silently, her black leather armor creaking faintly. Her golden eyes immediately scanned every corner of the porch, calculating the number of guards hiding in the shadows of the pillars.

Her left hand rested casually on her hip, but the veins on the back of her hand were primed to draw her Zweihander at a moment’s notice.

A servant pulled the cabin door open.

Ethan’s black leather boot stepped onto the marble ground.

Kaelia followed him down. Her feet touched the porch, her eyes sweeping over the main entrance instantly.

No honor guard. No line of welcomers. And most importantly... her father did not step out to greet them.

Only servants. It was a blatantly clear political statement: Ethan Valen was not an equal guest worthy of being greeted at the front door.

A white-haired senior servant stepped forward and bowed respectfully, ignoring the old wooden carriage that stood in stark contrast to the Ashford opulence.

”Good evening, Lady Kaelia. Lord Valen,” he said formally. ”His Grace the Duke is awaiting you both in his private tea room on the ground floor. Please follow me.”

Ethan glanced sideways at Valera, giving her a barely perceptible nod.

Understanding her master’s body language, Valera immediately struck her left chest with her fist. She took a step back, taking up a guard position near the main entrance with her arms crossed.

”I shall await you here, My Lord,” Valera grinned savagely, glaring at the Ashford servants as though they were merely prey running across her path.

Ethan and Kaelia stepped inside.

The moment the double oak doors shut, the Capital’s night air was replaced by the warmth of a luxurious interior. Thick scents of sandalwood and sweet wine hung heavy in the air. Deep red wool carpets muffled their footsteps over the polished mahogany floor.

The senior servant stopped in front of a beautifully carved door, knocked twice, and swung it open.

”Lady Kaelia and Lord Ethan Valen have arrived, Your Grace,” he reported before stepping back and closing the door from the outside.