CHAPTER 55: CH 55: THE DAMNED DEMON - PART 4

Lucian gasped as his body shrank, bones cracking and muscles tearing themselves apart to return him to his original child form.

The sensation was unbearable, like every nerve was being set on fire before freezing over again.

His knees buckled, and he staggered forward, gripping his chest as he sucked in shallow breaths.

Pain flooded every inch of him.

The system’s cold, mechanical voice rang in his head.

[Warning. Host has overdone it. Severe internal injuries detected. Use of magic must be moderated. Continuing at this pace risks permanent damage.]

Lucian scoffed and waved off the words as if they were nothing more than annoying noise.

"Shut up. This doesn’t affect my debt, and it won’t kill me. I’m fine."

Of course he wasn’t fine. His body ached so badly he could barely move, and his vision spun with dizziness.

But he had achieved what he needed—he had forced his body to grow, even if only for a few minutes, so he could unleash his true power. Enough to save Jamie.

That was all that mattered.

He exhaled shakily, forcing himself upright. His small feet crunched against the snow as he walked toward her limp body lying in the frost.

She looked pale, her lips dry, her chest rising and falling so faintly it was hard to tell if she was even breathing.

Lucian crouched beside her, brushing snow off her cheek.

"She’s alive."

Relief softened his expression for a fleeting moment before the ache in his chest reminded him of his own weakness.

He tried to lift her, but his arms trembled violently, and his legs gave out beneath him almost instantly.

"Damn it."

He muttered, collapsing beside her. His limbs felt like dead weight, drained of all strength.

With a sharp inhale, Lucian tilted his head toward the shadows hovering above him.

"Fairies. Bring her back to base."

The air rippled with soft giggles. Tiny orbs of light materialized, flitting around Jamie’s unconscious body.

The fairies whispered among themselves in childlike voices, amused by the sight of their master sprawled in the snow.

"Stop laughing."

Lucian snapped, his tone sharp despite his weakness.

At once, the fairies quieted, though their twinkling glow seemed to pulse with mischief.

Still, they obeyed, lifting Jamie carefully with threads of magic and carrying her away toward the valley.

Lucian exhaled once more, letting the silence of the storm settle over him.

He could have left it at that. But something gnawed at his mind—the monster.

That thing was unlike anything he had faced before. Its body was malformed, grotesque, yet the aura it gave off was undeniable. Not demonic. Not natural.

No.

It was divine.

Corrupted, twisted, but unmistakably divine.

Lucian pushed himself back onto his feet, his small body trembling from exhaustion, but his curiosity was stronger than his pain.

Slowly, he walked back to where the creature had fallen. The snow was stained black from the remains of its burned flesh, the air heavy with an acrid stench.

He crouched, narrowing his eyes.

"This... magic..."

It pulsed faintly, like lingering smoke after a fire. The energy reached for him suddenly, lashing out like invisible claws, sharp and hostile.

Lucian didn’t move.

The system shielded him, its presence wrapping around his core like an iron wall. The divine energy sizzled against it before crumbling into nothingness.

[Threat neutralized.]

Lucian tilted his head, expression unreadable. "Interesting."

But as the system’s barrier dispersed, so too did the remains of the monster.

The blackened corpse flickered once, twice, and then simply vanished—gone as if it had never been there at all.

Lucian stood alone in the clearing, snow falling softly around him.

"System, can you track the magic?"

He said flatly.

[Negative. All traces have been erased. This phenomenon does not align with known monster classifications.]

Lucian frowned. His gut tightened, not with fear, but with anticipation. Whoever had created that thing had wielded divine magic.

A level of divine magic high enough to rival his own system.

And that was no coincidence.

He let the thought simmer in silence before finally turning back toward the valley.

Far away, in a world separated from the storm, music drifted through a vast ballroom.

Golden chandeliers lit the hall with a warm glow. Velvet curtains shimmered.

Dozens of people dressed in elegant gowns and tailored suits danced gracefully across the polished marble floor, moving to the rhythm of soft violins.

Their smiles were fixed in place, faces flawless, movements mechanical yet elegant.

On a raised throne at the far end of the ballroom sat a man.

He was young in appearance but carried an ancient stillness about him. His crimson eyes glimmered faintly as he leaned against the armrest, chin propped against his hand.

He stared down at the dancers without expression, his thoughts elsewhere.

The music swelled. The dancers spun.

The man’s grip tightened around the glass in his hand. Without warning—

Crack!

The crystal shattered in his palm. Red wine spilled down his fingers, dripping like blood onto the marble.

The music halted. Every dancer froze mid-step.

Silence blanketed the hall.

Dozens of eyes turned toward the throne, wide and fearful, but none dared to move.

"So, Lilith is dead, huh? Looks like one of my siblings has finally decided to act. A war is about to break out soon."

The man looked at his hand, shards of glass glinting against pale skin. For a moment, his expression was blank. Then, a low laugh escaped his lips.

It started soft. Amused.

Then it deepened, echoing through the hall like the growl of a predator.

The frozen dancers stood perfectly still, their faces stiff, their chests unmoving, as though they were nothing more than lifelike dolls waiting for their master’s command.

The man’s crimson gaze swept over them lazily, as though their fear was entertainment in itself.

"Interesting."

He murmured to himself, his smirk widening.

He rose from the throne, his movements graceful, deliberate. The heavy silence of the hall clung to him, thick and suffocating, but he didn’t spare the dancers another glance.

As he walked away, his boots echoed against the marble floor.

The dancers remained frozen in place, eyes wide, breaths trapped in their throats, bodies locked in a grotesque imitation of life.

And when the grand doors shut behind him, they did not move.

Not a single one.

After all, Mammon, the Demon King of Greed had just exited the hall.