The unbearable heat had already started spreading from Salavira’s lower abdomen, and his body, already ripe, quickly began to… react, his limbs going weak. In the end, he could only press against Asmodeus’s shoulder to avoid sliding down the wall.
An indescribable restlessness and uncontrollable excitement and anticipation were crazily devouring the last bit of Salavira’s rationality. Their lips had barely touched when his resistance turned into a more welcoming gesture.
Asmodeus only let go of Salavira’s lips, which had turned red and swollen, after a while.
He supported Salavira’s thighs and buttocks, preventing him from falling to the ground. The action seemed gentle and considerate, but the strength in his hands and the look in his eyes were anything but.
“Salavira, aren’t you happy now? Those people who used to ignore you, or even treated you like a pretty ornament, are finally kneeling before you with admiration. You’re overjoyed, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t… mmph!”
Salavira wanted to explain, but in his current state, it was hard to form a complete sentence. He barely started speaking when…
Of course, Asmodeus wasn’t expecting an answer from Salavira. Watching the person in front of him gradually sink into… he laughed maliciously and sarcastically:
“Salavira, look at you now. The noble and holy Holy Son, worshipped by humans, looks just like those trained slaves in a brothel!”
With that, the strength in his hands suddenly increased—
“Rip—!”
The sound of fabric tearing echoed, and the exposed skin was soon covered by the cool evening breeze and the scent of dust.
Salavira couldn’t help but shiver, his consciousness barely clearing up a bit. He gasped for breath while trying to pull away Asmodeus’s wandering hand: “You… can’t…”
Not here…
At least… at least change the place.
—Salavira wanted to say that, but he was in such discomfort that his words came out broken, and in the end, the sentence twisted into something else entirely.
He only felt a sense of weightlessness, followed by a familiar voice in his ear: “I can’t? Salavira, it seems I’ve been too gentle with you.”
With those words, Salavira’s body arched sharply, his head thrown back, mouth agape as he gasped, tears streaming from his vacant eyes like a swan about to drown.
Everything before him blurred into a haze, and the last shred of rationality reminded him that they were in the middle of ruins, where people repairing houses could pass by at any moment. If they saw him like this, the image he painstakingly built would…
No, absolutely not.
“Asmodeus…” Salavira clung to the demon’s shoulder, pleading with a sob, “Not here…”
But the demon didn’t slow down or grant his request just because of a mere plea for mercy. Instead, he became even more relentless.
“Not here?” He sneered, “Salavira, so you care so much about your image in the eyes of humans…”
Salavira was rendered speechless by him, and as soon as he opened his mouth, it was a sound that made one’s face flush and heart race.
Asmodeus couldn’t help but press him for a few more kisses: “Keep it down, Salavira. This place is bustling with people. If someone hears us here… what do you think they’ll think?”
The threat was effective, and Salavira immediately bit his lip, swallowing those sounds, and then glared fiercely at Asmodeus.
The latter, instead of being intimidated, became even more excited, stirring up a more turbulent wave that soon drowned Salavira’s last bit of rationality…
(Editor, they’re actually just playing with water…)
Asmodeus was actually deceiving Salavira. The place he brought him to was particularly secluded, with no one passing by.
After all, he didn’t want humans to see Salavira in such a beautiful state.
However, at that moment, he suddenly sensed a prying gaze—
And that gaze wasn’t nearby but came from the distant city wall.
This gaze made Asmodeus extremely displeased. He didn’t care who the spy was or what their purpose was. An invisible force moved with his will, precisely targeting the source of the gaze in an instant—
“Crash—!!”
On the city tower, a brown-haired youth looking into the distance through a long tube sensed something and immediately dropped the tube, rolling to the side. But he was a step too slow, and shattered glass pierced his eye, quickly drawing blood.
Yet the youth seemed unfazed, only sighing with some reluctance: “Tsk, still got discovered.”
He sucked in a few breaths through clenched teeth, feeling his way down the city tower.
This brown-haired youth bore a five-point resemblance to Karl, but compared to the usually carefree resistance leader, this youth was more refined in both appearance and attire, standing out among the generally shabby resistance members.
“Miguel!”
A call came from not far away, and Miguel looked with his remaining eye to see Karl waving at him.
“You trying to sneak off while everyone’s busy again? Last time you disappeared for days without a word, you really worried us!” Karl nagged as he walked over to Miguel, stopping abruptly when he saw the bloodied eye, “Holy God above, how did you get hurt like this in such a short time?!”
“It’s nothing, just a fall. I’ll get the military doctor to bandage it,” Miguel replied evasively, then impatiently shooed him away, “Aren’t you busy? What are you doing here?”
“Because you never let me rest easy? Let me see, how bad is it?”
“Come on, it’s really nothing. Instead of wasting time here, you should squeeze more military funds from those noble lords. From what I see, the ransom they promised last time probably doesn’t even cover half a month’s expenses for them.”
Karl’s thoughts immediately shifted to the military funds, shocked: “Half a month??”
Two million gold coins was already an astronomical figure to him, but to these wealthy nobles, it only covered half a month’s expenses??
He suddenly felt a bit dizzy, almost toppling over. Steadying himself against the wall, he gritted his teeth and turned to go back to extort more from the nobles locked in the shack.
Before leaving, Karl didn’t forget to remind his brother about his injury: “Make sure to see the military doctor! Don’t let a small injury drag on and leave a scar like your brother.”
“Got it, got it,” Miguel replied dismissively.
Once Karl was out of sight, Miguel’s obedient demeanor faded, replaced by a hint of indifference and nonchalance. He turned his head, taking one last look at the city ruins under the setting sun.
In some secluded corner in that direction, the demon of hell was having a secret rendezvous with the Holy Son of the temple.
Or rather, in Miguel’s eyes, it was the dark lord punishing his disobedient slave. Even if it cost him his sight, it was worth catching a glimpse.
…
The sun gradually set.
And the night belonged to the demon.
Salavira felt himself continuously rising and falling in an endless tide, the deep darkness blinding him, leaving him only able to sense certain parts of his body being…
This sense of loneliness and helplessness tormented him, making him instinctively reach out for something to cling to. So he groped and wrapped his arms around the neck of the person in front of him.
Even though he knew in his heart that this person was the very culprit who had tormented him to this state…
It was around midnight when this long ordeal finally neared its end. Salavira, like a ragdoll, collapsed weakly onto the gravel-strewn ground.
The stones were hard and uncomfortable, but Salavira had no strength left to move even an inch.
Asmodeus stood before him, putting on his wrinkled clothes piece by piece, as if he hadn’t been the one… just moments ago.
He looked down quietly at the person kneeling on the ground, barely clothed, while scenes of humans kneeling before this person flashed in his mind.
The stark contrast tormented Asmodeus’s nerves, stirring a cruel pleasure and excitement within him.
He bent down, branding a mark that sealed magic power on the ankle of the person who was barely conscious, then lifted him into his arms and turned to walk towards the outskirts of the city.
But he wasn’t taking Salavira back to hell.
He had changed his mind.
Wasn’t this person revered as the Holy Son by humans, placed on a pedestal? Then he would personally drag him down from that pedestal and, together, they would slowly… sink into the mire.