The Damned Demon
chapter-663

Asher returned to his world, his face etched with the weariness of his duties, though the only thing he was looking forward to was his marriage with Silvia tomorrow.

The looming war had cast a shadow over what was meant to be a joyous occasion—the union of his House with House Valentine. Yet, the marriage with Silvia was more than a ceremonial event; it was a symbol of hope, a beacon meant to uplift the spirits of his people in these dark times.

Emerging from his coffin with the early morning light casting long shadows across the room, Asher was greeted by Merina, her presence a warm contrast to the chill of his thoughts. She bowed respectfully, her smile a gentle balm to his fatigue.

"Welcome back, Master," she said, offering him a reinvigorating drink, "Did everything go well? You look a bit tired. Maybe you should take some rest."

Asher accepted the glass with a grateful nod and wrapped his arm around her velvety waist, drawing her close, "So far, so good. But..." His smile faded as his gaze hardened with resolve, "I can't afford to rest yet. Our people and our world are still in danger."

Merina's expression softened with concern as she looked up at him, "Is there any way I can help, Master? Please don't hesitate to use me as you wish."

Asher shook his head gently, his tone warm despite the gravity of his words, "Don't feel as though you're not helping me. You are one of the reasons I can carry on without giving up. Just by being here with me, you're providing more support than you know." He drew her closer, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss while letting his hand roam all over her soft curves.

Merina closed her eyes, savoring his warmth and scent. His touch never failed to melt her soul.

However, as Asher pulled away, a hint of hesitation flickered across her face, "Master, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"What is it?" Asher asked, finishing his drink and letting out a contented sigh.

"Oberon wants to speak with you...in private. He seemed quite desperate and restless," Merina said, her brow furrowed with concern.

Asher's eyes narrowed slightly as a frown crossed his face, "He didn't cause any trouble, did he?"

Merina shook her head quickly, "No. He was surprisingly pleading to see you. I was a bit startled by his urgency and wondered if it was something important."

A cold smile touched Asher's lips, "Finally. About time he came to his senses. Tell him to meet me in my room." He had always been thinking how long it would take for Oberon to break. But it seemed it took less time than he expected.

Minutes later, Asher lounged in his dark yet elegant room, the crimson light of the rising sun casting a warm glow over his flawless dove gray skin. He relaxed into a plush sofa, waiting for a certain someone.

A fragile knock echoed softly on the door, breaking the silence, "Come in," Asher said casually, his tone a mix of expectation and impatience.

The door creaked open, and Oberon appeared, his pallid face framed by long silver hair that flowed back in an untidy manner. His dark red eyes darted nervously around the room before settling on Asher.

"Oberon...I was wondering when you'd be up for a chat with me," Asher said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. He found it quite satisfying to see the once proud and arrogant young lord was long gone and only a husk of his old self was left.

Oberon entered the room, the door closed with a tremulous click. He stood there, paralyzed by the weight of his memories, the very same room where his own descent began—a place that seemed to mock him now with its quiet stillness. Doubts and questions swirled in his mind as he wondered why he summoned him to this cursed room. Was it a deliberate act?

"Why are you standing over there? I thought you wanted to talk. Come over here," Asher said, his tone casual yet commanding. The ease with which he spoke felt like a slap to Oberon's already wounded pride.

In the past, Oberon would have seethed with anger at such insolence, but now, under the weight of his own regret, fear and pain, it was the least of his concerns. With a slight tremor in his hand, he walked toward Asher, his back slightly hunched as if burdened by an invisible weight. He stood before him, a mere shadow of his former self.

"You said you wanted to talk, right? But my neck is aching a bit from looking up. Why don't you lower yourself so that I can look at you comfortably?" Asher's mocking smile was a sharp contrast to the gravity of the situation, as if he enjoyed the spectacle of Oberon's discomfort.

Oberon's fists clenched, but he slowly relaxed them, his face a mask of resignation. He knelt on the cold, hard floor before Asher, the act of submission stinging more than any physical pain could. He had never even willingly knelt before his own father or mother and yet before this alien fiend…

"That's a good boy. Now you may talk," Asher said with a dismissive wave of his hand, his voice dripping with condescension.

Taking a deep breath, Oberon lowered his head, struggling to steady his voice, "I...I have come to realize some things and I wanted to let you be the first to know it."

"Oh? Is that so? What kind of enlightenment might you have acquired while holed up in your little mansion?" Asher's tone was laced with derision, his amusement evident.

Oberon cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet Asher's gaze, "I have realized my crimes and wrongdoings towards you. I also don't hold any resentment for how you have punished me for everything I did. But I beg you...please let go of my mother. Everything she did was for me. She doesn't deserve to pay for what I did.."

Asher's laughter filled the room, a sound that echoed off the walls and deepened Oberon's unease. When the laughter subsided, Asher's voice was soft but edged with cruelty, "Haa, how touching. A son begging like this to protect his mother. I never expected this from you. I suppose you must dote on her just as much as she does on you."

Oberon's heart tightened as he spoke through gritted teeth, "You have taken everything from me and I promise not to hold it against you. But please...my mother is the only one I can consider as family. Please don't take her away from me. Haven't I suffered enough?"

Asher's face twisted into a disdainful sneer, "Look at you... even echoing the same pleas as her. It seems that 'like mother, like son' is true in your case."

Oberon's eyes filled with confusion and fear. Why would his mother speak like that? Was she truly enduring suffering at his expense? What was this fiend doing to her?

Before he could voice his doubts, Asher's expression turned cold, the warmth of the earlier mockery replaced by icy detachment. He planted his foot firmly on Oberon's forehead, pressing down his broken figure, "Suffered enough? Not even a year has passed since you became a half-cripple. And even then, you've been enjoying luxury and safety in this castle every day, unlike the alien crippled boy you tortured in this very room for over a decade. What kind of suffering would you call that, where every day you made him feel as if death would have been a mercy?"

Asher's words struck with the force of a physical blow. Oberon's breath hitched as the full weight of his past deeds bore down on him, the room spinning with the stark contrast between his current plight and the suffering he had once inflicted.

Oberon's chin quivered as he opened his mouth, his voice trembling with desperation, "Please... Please have mercy... I am willing to do anything as long as you can spare my mother from this."

Asher's lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. "Oh? Really? Are you willing to risk your life for your mother?" His eyes glinted with cruel amusement, as if savoring the twisted irony of the moment.

Oberon swallowed hard, the lump in his throat rising like a heavy stone. He knew he was at the mercy of a man who had little reason to show any. The thought of his mother's fate, hanging precariously, spurred him to ask, "What do you want me to do?"

Asher's gaze sharpened, his voice taking on an almost casual cruelty, "First, tell me something. You remember the Supreme Temptress, Kira, right? You went over to her almost every night with your tongue out. So tell me... what did she do with you whenever she invited you or Edmund over to her room?"

Oberon blinked in confusion, the unexpected question catching him off guard. He racked his brain, trying to piece together the nights spent under her alluring presence, "I... I don't know... I just somehow ended up too drunk after just one drink, and the next thing I knew, I woke up refreshed as if I had a pleasant night with her. She is just very good at making men feel good," he said, his voice betraying a hint of nostalgia for her seductive presence.

Asher's face contorted with anger, "You idiot!" he snarled, his frustration palpable. Without warning, he delivered a brutal kick to Oberon's side, sending him sprawling to the floor. The sound of the impact reverberated through the room, mingling with Oberon's startled gasp.

Confusion and shock clouded Oberon's gaze as he looked up from the floor, unable to comprehend his misstep.

Asher's voice cut through the fog of his thoughts, "You and any men she might have invited to her room were giving her our guarded secrets for free. I always suspected it because of how well-informed she was. But to think all of you idiots couldn't stop thinking with your dicks for even one second. Do you have any idea the kind of danger you've helped foster in our kingdom all these years?"

Oberon's breath hitched. He could barely manage a stuttered, "I... I had no idea. How... How could she do that so easily?"

Asher's contemptuous look was like ice on a winter's night, "She is the last fucking Caleumbra. Don't tell me you don't know how dangerous their kind can be or did you miss your history classes. They can put you in a trance and make you say whatever they want to know. It's so easy for them to create illusions in your mind that don't feel any different from reality. Just with this, I could have your ass executed."

Oberon's eyes widened in horror, "No... please... I will do whatever it is to make up for all this. All I beg for is just one chance to prove myself.