Asmodeus wasn’t planning to meet Salavira immediately. Their first reunion had been a bit rushed, and he thought that their second meeting should be more grand, just like their first encounter a thousand years ago on a battlefield littered with corpses.
However… Asmodeus regretted that Salavira probably wouldn’t appreciate such a scene now. He had mingled with humans for too long, picking up too many of their bad habits. Humans’ idea of grandeur often involved fine wine, music, and dance.
As for something that could satisfy these… Asmodeus suddenly remembered hearing from the humans in the city about an auction ball happening in three days. He guessed that this was the reason Salavira had come to this place. He would definitely attend.
…
Three days later, at the central castle.
The ball attracted celebrities from all walks of life. Solent’s usually low-key and quiet castle was bustling with excitement tonight. Countless gentlemen and ladies dressed to the nines, indulging in this unprecedented feast. Yet, none of them realized that their lives were already hanging by a thread—
In the corners, where the lights and moonlight couldn’t reach, darkness was quietly surging, ready to turn into a deadly blade at any moment. The entire castle had become a massive trap set by demons, and the ignorant people were still dancing wildly within it.
And the unsuspecting prey stepped in as midnight approached.
But at this moment, the demon on the second floor suddenly froze when he saw his prey, and even the surging darkness in the corner paused for a moment.
Then, Asmodeus laughed—
He never expected Salavira to enter the ball in such a manner.
A black satin-cut women’s gown.
Even more like a beautiful black swan about to be slaughtered than Asmodeus had imagined.
The reason for Salavira’s attire wasn’t hard to guess. It was simply to hide his true identity in the mixed crowd, to prevent anyone who had seen him from recognizing him and causing trouble with the church knowing he hadn’t perished in hell.
And indeed, he hid his identity well. Among everyone present, only Asmodeus recognized him.
But… his outfit was just too beautiful.
The black, smooth satin clung to his body, revealing only his fair, bare shoulders and seemingly fragile neck.
He looked like a pearl tainted by mud, a moon fallen into hell.
Asmodeus watched him for a long time, and the thought of turning this place into a slaughter feast gradually faded. He gently swirled a glass of red wine, and with a thought, changed into a suit that matched the person.
He thought he should invite him for a dance first.
Asmodeus beckoned a waiter, placing the wine glass on the tray: “Deliver this glass of wine to that beautiful… ‘lady’ below, and tell him the owner of this castle wishes to invite him for a dance.”
…
At this moment, in the dance floor.
The Holy Son was so beautiful and ethereal, so noble and untouchable. In this extraordinarily luxurious dance floor, which also harbored the world’s filthiest desires, it wasn’t just the demon who had his eyes on him.
Salavira didn’t want to cause unnecessary trouble, so he casually accepted an invitation from someone who approached him, about to take the offered drink.
The wine shimmered with a bright amber color under the dazzling lights, exuding a rich aroma mixed with fruitiness, clearly a fine vintage. Yet, Salavira inexplicably felt there was something strange about the taste, and the undisguised desire in the eyes of the person offering the drink made him uncomfortable.
But it didn’t matter. After all, he had demonic power within him now, so even if there was something wrong with the drink, it wouldn’t affect him.
So Salavira took the glass from the person.
Suddenly—
“Crash!!”
The glass shattered without warning!!
The liquid within trickled down Salavira’s fingers, soaking the lace gloves he wore, and finally drenching the smooth hem of his dress.
Before Salavira could react, he sensed a strong presence, like a venomous snake poised to strike its prey in a dense jungle!!
He quickly looked around, seeing nothing, yet the gaze clung to him like a shadow.
“Miss.” A waiter holding a glass of red wine suddenly approached, his eyes flickering with a strange red light.
He bowed respectfully to Salavira: “This is a drink from the gentleman upstairs. He asked me to tell you that the owner of this castle wishes to invite you for a dance.”
The castle’s… owner?
Charles?
No, that’s not right… Although there was no reason, Salavira instinctively dismissed the thought. He stared at the gently swaying red wine in the glass, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.
The person who had initially approached him slinked away upon hearing the “castle owner” title, leaving only the waiter and Salavira standing in the corner, the atmosphere slightly awkward.
After a while, Salavira suddenly chuckled, not sure if it was directed at the waiter or the person watching him from the shadows: “Since it’s the owner’s gracious invitation, how could I refuse?”
He took the glass: “Lead the way.”
…
The distance between the first and second floors of the castle was quite high. Salavira followed the waiter up the spiral staircase for a while before finally reaching the second floor.
Compared to the revelry in the dance floor, it was much quieter here, likely the castle owner’s usual residence.
However… whether the current resident was still the castle’s owner was unknown.
The waiter led Salavira to a room’s door and then left. Salavira stood at the door with the wine glass, not entering immediately. Instead, he summoned the dagger forged from his soul, hiding it in his sleeve.
He raised his hand to knock—
But before he could touch the door, it opened, and an invisible force pulled Salavira inside, slamming the door shut with a “bang—!” Salavira was then pinned against the door by someone!!
Everything happened in the blink of an eye, leaving no time to react.
The room was unlit, pitch black, making it impossible to see anything. But even without sight, the familiar scent told Salavira who had him pinned against the door—
“Asmodeus!” He gritted his teeth, gripping the dagger tightly.
A ghostly blue flame ignited in mid-air, illuminating the small area by the door, allowing Salavira to see Asmodeus’s smiling face.
Though to him, that face was utterly detestable.
“You’re not surprised to see me?” Asmodeus raised an eyebrow.
Salavira tightened his grip on the dagger, sneering: “Two years ago, everyone who knew me in this city was almost dead. Among the nobles below, few have seen me. Who else but you would be bored enough to ask me for a dance?”
Asmodeus sighed regretfully, shaking his head as if it was expected: “Salavira, you really have no idea of your own charm.”
“Hmph.” Salavira snorted, ignoring the nonsense, tossing the wine aside, and suddenly attacking with the dagger aimed at the demon’s vital point!
“Crash—!”
The wine glass shattered, the scent of red wine exploding in the room, mingling with a faint hint of blood—
A long cut appeared on Asmodeus’s neck, blood seeping out.
He was momentarily shocked, but then a hint of delight appeared in his eyes. He immediately conjured a long sword from shadows, blocking Salavira’s next strike!
The clash of blades produced a grating sound, the powerful magic from the collision shattering everything in the room, causing the entire second floor to tremble.
Salavira frowned, thinking that if they continued fighting like this, the castle would soon become ruins, ruining his plan to infiltrate.
He clicked his tongue, taking advantage of a gap in the fight to set up a concealed barrier outside the room, isolating the space from the castle.
The demon, seeing this, seemed to misunderstand, his expression turning cold: “Salavira, you really care about those foolish ants!”
With that, he approached Salavira with unimaginable speed, his raised sword enveloped in terrifying magic, slashing down fiercely!
Salavira was startled, barely dodging, but still inevitably getting injured.
The beautiful dress was slashed open from the thigh, blood flowing out, a strand of hair cut off, giving him a disheveled yet beautiful appearance.
Salavira clicked his tongue, showing no hesitation, tearing the dress along the tear—
“Rip—!”
His fair leg was fully exposed, a garter seeming a bit tight, squeezing the slightly plump thigh, blood seeping into the fabric, staining it red, with more trickling down.
A wounded beauty, clothes in disarray.
It was an alluring and decadent scene.
But Salavira gave no one a chance to admire, gripping the dagger tightly, quickly attacking Asmodeus again with a speed hard to catch with the naked eye!
After the demon’s slash, Salavira calmed down.
This avatar wasn’t as powerful as he imagined, at least, he could handle it.
“Clang—!!”
The clash of metal produced a crisp sound, but this time Salavira wasn’t testing, using full strength, instantly slicing the demon’s sword in two!
Asmodeus showed surprise, but without hesitation, released the sword and retreated, trying to distance himself from the opponent.
—But it was too late.
Salavira was faster than he imagined, in less than a blink, the dagger changed direction, stabbing towards his chest!
Even dodging, Asmodeus’s clothes were torn, revealing a deep wound on his chest! Crimson blood splattered, the metallic scent overpowering the room’s rich wine aroma, dizzyingly intense.
This was a not-so-strong avatar, and now, with severe blood loss and the pure, powerful force on Salavira’s dagger, Asmodeus began to feel faint.
A moment’s delay led to his complete defeat.
When Asmodeus came to, he was lying on the ground, Salavira straddling his waist, leaning down, pressing the dagger to his throat.
The dim firelight illuminated Salavira’s stunning face, making Asmodeus momentarily dazed, so much so that even with his life in the other’s hands, his first thought was…
Their position seemed a bit too intimate.
Even a thousand years ago, he had never seen Salavira like this, disheveled yet strong, sharp. These words were so contradictory, yet perfectly blended into a captivating beauty on him. Asmodeus watched quietly, unable to look away.
The blade at his neck cut another wound, the sharp pain sparking a thought—
If Salavira could remain as vulnerable, as easy to manipulate as before, perhaps… it wouldn’t be so bad.
Thinking this, Asmodeus regretfully chuckled:
“You’ve won again.” He sighed, unwilling, “Not killing me immediately, do you have something to ask?”
Salavira said nothing, pressing the dagger harder against the flesh beneath him: “Tell me, where is Charles?”
Charles?
The demon was slightly stunned.
An unfamiliar name.
But he could tell it was a human name.
Jealousy and anger surged: “Another human, Salavira, why do you always care about these lowly ants?”
“None of your business.”
Asmodeus was choked, then mockingly laughed, glancing at the spilled wine: “None of my business… Ha, Salavira, you probably don’t know what accepting someone’s drink at this ball means, do you?”
Salavira was taken aback, genuine confusion on his face.
He truly didn’t know.
But more than that, he was puzzled why Asmodeus suddenly brought up this topic?
“You don’t know? Let me tell you.” Asmodeus snorted, “At this ball, accepting someone’s drink means you will…”
“Spend the night together.”
The last words were lowered to a teasing whisper, making Salavira’s heart skip, a faint blush spreading on his face.
“So Salavira, you see, those lowly humans are so ugly, filthy, why continue to stand by them?”
Asmodeus manipulated a small black tendril, carefully wrapping it around Salavira’s waist, his voice like a temptation:
“Come to me, Salavira, after all, we are the same kind, aren’t we?”