Aiden lingered at the corner of the banquet hall, his fingers curled loosely around the stem of a crystal goblet.

The wine within was dark and heavy, a bitter vintage that clung to the tongue and burned faintly on its descent. He sipped it not for pleasure, but for the rhythm of the act—for the illusion of composure while his golden eyes never strayed far from the duke.

Augustus. The venerable noble wrapped in velvet and authority. The man who carried both the weight of a title and the shadow of corruption.

Aiden's lips tightened as the memory returned unbidden. Augustus bore the same mark—tainted. Just as Sabrina once had.

Sabrina…

He had torn that affliction from her with his own hands, with his own body, with a brutal and desperate claiming that shattered chains invisible to all but him.

But Augustus? No amount of strength or intimacy could unweave what bound that man.

Why?

Why could he free one and not the other?

Aiden's thoughts turned cold, analytical, but a pulse of heat lingered beneath them—anger, confusion, a suspicion that twisted like a thorn in his chest.

The Curse

[Tainted

A curse labeled on someone for easy manipulation, done in servitude to the demon who devours.]

The words scrawled across his mind's eye, not written but branded, as if the world itself whispered through hidden threads.

Aiden's lip curled. So that's it. Like a leash, tied to a beast I cannot see.

His laugh came low, humorless. "Same as my own charms," he thought, "except my chains are silk, my whispers honey. Easy manipulation, easy surrender."

But the system was not silent.

[Notification: The curse from the Devourer is slowly being devoured by the essence of Lilith.]

[Lilith smiles towards the weakness of the curse.]

A shiver rolled through him. He tilted his glass, watching the red surface catch the glow of chandeliers. "Thank you, I guess," he murmured inwardly, though his tone dripped with suspicion.

Gratitude never sat cleanly on his tongue. "But the important matter… our oh-so-dear duke is in league with a demon. What the hell do I do about that?"

His gaze flickered across the hall, toward Sabrina, radiant yet fragile amidst the courtly whirl.

I'm worried for her now.

[Notification: Sabrina is within full possession of Aiden. No holy or unholy affliction can break that chain.]

His jaw slackened. "…Should have told me that sooner."

The Knight

Around him, the nobility laughed and glittered, their jewels catching light like false stars. Perfume hung in the air, heavy and sweet enough to choke.

Aiden's eyes fell to the sword at his hip—the new blade, gifted with the title of knighthood, gleaming with a polish that mocked his unrest.

Once, he would have felt pride. Once, he might have basked in the applause, raised a toast to his own ascent.

But when the ceremony ended, when the final applause faded into clinking glasses, he had only one question left:

What now?

The thought echoed. Hollow. Endless.

What was next?

And then the answer had risen, sharp and cruel as iron.

Climb the staircase. Nobility. Power. The whole cursed game.

His teeth ground together. He had chased wealth before. In another life, in another world, he had grasped millions with greedy hands, only to lay it down and drown in novels and empty dreams. A fortune wasted on indolence.

But here?

"…It's different now," he muttered, low enough that no one heard. If I don't rise, I'll grovel. And I hate groveling to my very bones.

Yet another voice whispered inside him. A softer, mocking undertone.

No. Be true, scumbag. It's not power you want. You want to serve.

Aiden froze. Serve? His mind balked at the word.

Serve who?

The answer came unbidden.

The duke. Serve him, and you will rise. Serve him, and your wishes will be granted.

The thought slammed into him like cold iron against flesh.

His goblet slipped an inch in his hand before he caught it, wine sloshing dangerously near the rim. "What the fuck?" he barked aloud, sharp enough to snap the heads of nearby nobles in his direction. Their laughter faltered, replaced by puzzled glances.

Aiden hunched slightly, teeth bared in a grin too sharp to be polite. "That shit won't work on me," he muttered, defiance thick in his veins.

And then—silence.

Devouring

[Notification! Your essence has devoured the Devourer!]

[Congratulations, you are no longer tainted.]

[Congratulations, Lilith is pleased, as she tastes the essence of another demon.]

[Lilith wants more… Lilith wants more… Lilith wants more.]

His breath stilled. She wants more?

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?" His thoughts spiraled, brittle, frantic. "I'm not gonna—"

Pain struck.

It was not a stab, not a burn, not anything human. It was a storm of knives beneath his skin, every nerve lashing with fire. His knees buckled. His lungs caught. A familiar pain.

"Not again…"

He staggered, each step toward the balcony a mountain climb. Stone columns blurred in his vision. His hand groped for the railing, stone biting his palm.

"You whore," he hissed through clenched teeth. His voice broke, ragged, dripping with agony. "You trying to kill me again?"

"Fucking whorrrree…" Aiden's voice tore out of him, ragged, broken, as his fingers clawed into the cold stone railing. His nails scraped white dust into his palms, knuckles cracking under the strain.

"You want to fucking kill me again?"

The pain surged. Not a stab, not a cut—worse. Every tendon felt like it was being pulled apart, sinew by sinew, stretched until it should snap.

Fire licked through his veins, raw, blistering. His chest heaved like a drowning man's, but air only scorched him further.

"Fuckkkk—it hurts! It 'fucking hurts'—stop! Stop!" His voice cracked, echoing off the marble.

Spit flew with every gasp. His knees buckled, but he stayed upright by sheer defiance, forehead dripping sweat onto the rail.

The torment doubled. His back arched violently, muscles spasming as if invisible hooks dragged at his spine. Blood began to run in slow, sticky streams from his nose, painting his lips red.

"Bitch!" he spat, voice shaking, eyes glowing with sudden, violent crimson.

"I don't like… being 'ordered'—" he coughed, hacking iron from his throat, "—if I give you something… then I need something 'back!'"

[Lilith scolds you for undermining her authority…]

His vision blurred. His ears rang like cracked bells.

"Cunt!" he roared, before agony cut him down mid-syllable. His body convulsed. His muscles burned, fibers tearing like rope under flame, and he crashed to the floor, stone biting into his cheek. "I ain't… your slave, cunt!"

[Lilith judges you ....]

[Lilith smiles…]

And then—silence.

The torment vanished so abruptly it left him shaking, gasping like an animal dragged from slaughter.

His nose dripped steadily, blood pooling against his teeth, but his throat was 'clear'. His chest drew air again—jagged, wild, but sweet.

He spat crimson onto the stone, clutching at his ribs as though to hold them in place. His eyes flicked wide open, burning gold against the shadows.

And the system's voice returned.

[New Mission]

Mission:

The night stirs. Demons roam. Track them. Tear out their essence. Devour until silence falls.

Reward for Completion:

Crowned with High Incubus Dominion.

The obedience of all lesser fiends who crawl in the dark.

[Penalty for Failure:

When the days expire, torment will return—an excruciating fire that gnaws your soul until only ashes remain.]

Aiden's breath rattled in his chest, lips trembling as laughter crawled up unbidden.

"Heh…" He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it across his jaw like war paint. "So that's it… hunt or burn."

His smile sharpened, crooked and feral.

"Fine, Lilith. I'll hunt. But I'll do it my way."

Aiden's breath ragged, he read the words through the haze.

"Fuck. All because of this fucking demon," he muttered, fists trembling against stone.

But then—a touch.

Gentle, steady. A hand upon his shoulder, pulling him upward.

"Hey....," a voice echoed through the roar in his ears. Feminine, clear, tinged with worry.

His focus sharpened, reluctantly. The warmth of healing seeped into him—an aura of calm that spread like water over fire.

He lifted his head.

And there she was.

Her hair a fall of pure white silk, veiled partly beneath a gown's hood, but no fabric could hide the luminescence of her presence. Her eyes—crystalized blue, sharp yet merciful—locked onto his.

His heart faltered.

"No. No, why…"

The recognition gutted him.

The heroine. The saintess. The one from the cover of the webnovel he read.

His pulse thundered.

"Why is she here?"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.