A person stabbed Malgrith’s body, which now lay lifeless on the floor. His body oozed blood like a fountain, and his organs were scattered across the marble floor. Yet, that gruesome sight didn’t stop this person from continuing to butcher him. In quick succession, the already scattered remains burst open like a pi?ata, spraying blood and flesh throughout the cathedral—onto the altar, the statues, and even the ceiling.
The priest stood frozen in shock, overwhelmed by the sheer malice of this person’s miasma. Before he could recover, the person raised his arm and grabbed the priest by the neck, hurling him against the floor. Cracks spread across the marble upon impact. Before the priest could even groan, the figure lifted his boot and brought it down with force, shattering the priest’s ribs. The sickening crunch of breaking bones and the priest’s agonized screams reverberated through the cathedral. Yet, despite these awful, disturbing sounds, Selveria did not hear them.
Selveria was in another world right now. In her mind, all she could hear was the romantic music she had listened to before. She watched this figure as if time had slowed, her vision filling with glitter and floating hearts—completely unbothered by the blood splattered across his face as he mercilessly slaughtered two people in front of her.
His name was Aiden.
Aiden was not normally like this. He had once lived as a powerless human in Hell, a mere plaything and jester for Selveria, meant to entertain her. But now, that same human had become a demon—one with great power, blessed by Hell itself. Thick black horns protruded from his head, and his eyes burned with an intense golden flame.
At first, he had been ridiculed, scorned as nothing more than a weak human. Yet, he endured. He survived in the pit of snakes—that was Hell’s society. It was like watching a small prey animal desperately avoid being devoured by carnivorous beasts, only to adapt and rise to the top. Now, to those who dared glance at him, he was no longer prey. He was terror itself—a living nightmare, a man whose mere presence could crush the will of even the strongest demon.
But to certain powerful demoness heirs, he was something else entirely.
Selveria remembered the way they whispered and giggled, their faces flushed with admiration. In their eyes, he was not just a powerful demon noble—he was the demon they desired.
And that, of course, included her.
She watched him, his face still splattered with blood. Aiden sensed her gaze and slowly looked up to meet her eyes. Selveria’s breath hitched, her stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling. A blush crept onto her cheeks, and for the first time, she felt butterflies. This was foreign to her. She had always remained cold and indifferent to the many suitors vying for her hand, yet none of them had ever made her feel like a love-struck teenager the way Aiden did.
His obsessive gaze both terrified and excited her.
Aiden reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. A jolt ran down her spine. The thought that this once powerless human could make her feel this way was almost absurd.
He leaned in, intending to steal a kiss. Her pride refused to let him take it so easily, but her body was far more honest. She told herself that she couldn't really stop him, given that she was still bound by the cursed artifact.
A silver bridge of saliva connected their lips as they parted.
“Forgive me for not arriving sooner,” Aiden murmured.
Selveria responded, “These artifacts created an artificial environment that tricked my body into forced hibernation while keeping my consciousness intact. My body believed that remaining in this state was the most beneficial option.”
“Of course, there were drawbacks. The moment that idiot harmed me, the effect would break, setting me free. In fact, if you had given me just a little more time, I could have rendered all of this completely useless.”
Aiden sighed. “Even if I knew you didn’t actually need my help, that wouldn’t have stopped me from being mad. You know how obsessed I am with you.”
He kissed her again, as if confirming she was truly there. His hand trailed downward, causing Selveria to let out a loud moan that echoed through the cathedral. But Aiden was not indulging in desire—his fingers were undoing the cursed artifact binding her. He ripped each piece away, letting them fall to the ground with metallic clinks.
Now that the rescue was over, it was time to deal with the perpetrator.
Aiden turned, his golden eyes burning with rage.
“I finally cornered you, Athritis.”
“It’s Azrathis,” Selveria corrected.
Aiden didn’t miss a beat. “I finally cornered you, Azrathis.”
Selveria sighed. “His name is Malgrith.”
Aiden gave her a suspicious look. “…I swear his name is Azrathis Maltrix. Selveria, don’t try to fool me.”
Selveria raised a brow. “You killed my brother Azrathis days ago.”
Aiden frowned, thinking hard about this newly acquired information.
“In my defense, there’s been a lot of bloodshed lately,” he muttered. “I had to deal with other noble families, so I didn’t exactly have time to remember all their names that they boast about… but I don’t regret killing that Athritis or whatever his name was. After all, he was still your brother, and we both know all your brothers are competing for your womb.”
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Selveria’s expression darkened. “Azrathis had no intentions of desiring me.”
Aiden scoffed. “I didn’t expect you to say something so naive. The blood flowing in your brothers’ veins drives them to—”
“Azrathis was adopted.”
“…Hmm. Makes sense.” Aiden didn’t bother arguing further.
For the first time, a twinge of guilt pricked at him. He knew Selveria didn’t love any of her brothers and wished for their deaths, but… perhaps not all of them were trying to woo her.
‘I should respect my in-laws,’ he thought to himself.
Aiden sighed. “Okay, I apologize if he was actually close to you. I may be a bit possessive when it comes to those trying to wed you. To avoid another mistake… besides Azrathis, is there any other brother—”
“And sisters.”
“…siblings that are not—”
“Uncles and aunts.”
Aiden let out an exasperated sigh. “Is there anyone in your family who isn’t trying to make you their personal breeding livestock?”
Selveria smirked. “Well, you killed the last decent one, so no, there isn’t.”
Aiden deadpanned.
‘I take back what I said. They’re all dead to me.’
Selveria could practically hear his thoughts.
“If you want to stop my family from actively trying to breed me, you might have to end the entire Maltrix bloodline,” she said nonchalantly.
Aiden’s expression darkened, then twisted into a confident smirk.
“That won’t be a problem.” He pulled her closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “With you and me… we’ll be busy reviving the Maltrix bloodline ourselves.”
Selveria could only blush at this statement and imagine spewing out 70 children out of her womb with the her and Aiden's likeness.
Aiden felt something and turned his head. Aiden saw a swirling miasma, which converged into a single point—the very spot where he had thrown the priest earlier. It was a quick, instinctive spell cast, and before the explosion could fully form, Aiden had already moved, positioning himself in front of Selveria to shield her from the blast.
A brilliant flash of purple and red struck Aiden’s back. A deafening boom reverberated through the cathedral, shaking the heavy chandeliers overhead. Flaming debris scattered across the marble floor, toppling statues and splintering worship benches.
The priest wasted no time. He seized Malgrith’s corpse and dragged it toward the cathedral’s massive doors. His fingers gripped the doorknob, desperate to escape—
But before he could turn it, a towering wall of ice erupted from the ground, sealing him and Malgrith inside.
Terror gripped the priest as he turned back. His flames had already begun to die out, flickering uselessly against the oppressive force in the room. His gaze landed on the broad, imposing figure of Aiden. Though standing far away, the mere presence of the man sent a chill down his spine. Slowly, Aiden turned to face him.
“Nice spell, nerd. Now check this out.”
Aiden reached behind him and pulled out an comically large sword—seemingly out of nowhere. That thing was too big to be called a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy, and too rough, it was more like a large hunk of iron. With a single hand, Aiden lifted the sword and hurled it with immense force.
The priest barely had time to react before the blade cleaved through him, splitting him clean in two. May he rest in (each) piece.
Aiden’s sharp eyes caught a movement—Malgrith, still alive, rising from the ground on one arm. His body was already regenerating, flesh knitting itself together at an alarming rate.
“Well, he wouldn’t be a Maltrix if he couldn’t survive that,” Aiden muttered.
Malgrith was undoubtedly a prodigy. Under normal circumstances, he would have healed from such an attack in seconds. However, something about Aiden’s strike had disrupted his regeneration—an unnatural, potent force slowing the power he had spent years cultivating.
Malgrith’s gaze swept the ruined cathedral, landing on the shattered remnants of the artifacts he had painstakingly collected. Years of effort—gone. His hands clenched into fists, rage boiling beneath his skin. He had been so close—so agonizingly close—to making Selveria his.
He had contingencies, he had plans, he had prepared for everything.
Everything… except Aiden.
His frustration erupted into a furious roar. “You—how dare you! Do you have any idea what I sacrificed!?”
He was on the very verge of greatness, inches from his goal. He had millions of plans—
A massive, dark shape slammed into him mid-sentence.
The force crushed him against the marble floor, his breath ripped from his lungs. Whatever hit him was heavy—immensely heavy—and it took all his strength just to lift his head. His once-proud face now scraped against the stone as he struggled to glare up at Aiden.
Aiden smirked. “That’s a bicorn. His name is Umbracorn.”
Malgrith’s pupils dilated with terror.
Unicorns were known as pure, gentle creatures—at least, according to Earth’s myths. But in reality, they were far from harmless. Some legends spoke of unicorns stealing maidens, charming them, draining their energy, or using them in rituals for their own mysterious desires.
And then there were the bicorns.
Bicorns were strong, well-fed beasts—because they devoured cuckolded husbands, men whose wives had been unfaithful to them.
Malgrith was not technically Selveria’s husband.
But he had claimed her. He had wanted her. He had lost her.
And in the eyes of the bicorn, that was enough.
His eyes flicked to Selveria, desperate, searching for even a shred of sympathy.
What he saw shattered him.
Her expression was one of pure ecstasy.
He had never seen her look like this before. He had witnessed her smile, yes—but never truly. Even in those rare moments, there was always something distant, something cold beneath the surface.
But now?
Now, she was alive.
And it was because of him—the very man Malgrith had once looked down on.
A human had done what he, a Maltrix noble, never could.
Jealousy twisted inside him, more intense than any he had felt toward his siblings. It burned.
But before he could wallow in his humiliation, he felt something else—something resting uncomfortably between his cheeks.
He went rigid.
The bicorn was still pressing down on him.
And he could feel its long, nineteen-inch phallus nestled dangerously close.
Realization hit him like a lightning strike.
Oh. Oh no.
He had dreamed of losing his virginity. He had envisioned this night a thousand times.
But never like this.
Meanwhile, Aiden’s attention had already shifted.
He turned to Selveria.
Beautiful. Deadly. A monster just like him.
His smirk softened.
She was a psychopath, capable of unspeakable violence.
And he loved her for it.
He didn’t want to fix her.
He was worse.
A distant memory surfaced—his mother’s voice, gentle and warm:
"Aiden, be happy. No matter what you do in life. Cherish it. It’s yours, after all.”
Her words had followed him, even into the depths of Hell.
Aiden’s lips curled into a soft murmur. “I’ll make sure you’re happy, too. Even in this Hell, I’ll give you the life you deserve.”
Selveria let out a low, teasing laugh. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? That you’re the one saying that now. Do you remember how you dismissed my advice?”
Back then, he had scoffed at the very idea of finding joy in a world that wanted him dead. He had seen nothing worth cherishing in a place filled with bloodshed and monsters.
And yet—
Here he was.
And here she was.
The fire in his eyes burned brighter.
He didn’t care what Hell threw at him next. He would face it head-on.
Because in this twisted, infernal realm, he had found something he never thought possible.
A life worth fighting for.
Their gazes locked, a silent promise passing between them.
Horrified screams of a man experiencing his first (and last) night of horse sex was ignored.