Chapter 87
Chapter 87
Episode 87
Aiden gripped the demon's head, pinning it firmly against the ground. Then, he channeled divinity into his grasp.
Sssss—! Black smoke rose as the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Horrified screams erupted incessantly.
The mirrors on the floor vividly reflected Chimurem writhing in agony.
Aiden didn't stop. With his free hand, he relentlessly pummeled the grotesque face, intent on killing it right then and there.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
With each brutal strike, mirrors shattered, and the demon's face melted into pulp.
Chimurem had no choice but to panic. Aiden's combat prowess far exceeded its expectations. It had been told he was a half-baked god—what nonsense.
Chimurem's pupils strained to move downward. Melted flesh pooled like blackened sludge, mixing with shards of broken glass in a sea of dark blood.
At this rate, it would truly die. The demon abandoned any hope of negotiation. The moment it made its decision, it forcibly separated its body and soul.
The violence ceased abruptly. Aiden straightened up, chunks of gore sliding off his fist.
He looked down.
The demon's ruined body twitched as if in post-mortem spasms. But Aiden knew better—it wasn't dead.
Its soul could possess anything in this basement. In essence, this entire space was Chimurem, the source of lust.
To exterminate it, they'd have to destroy the hidden altar—or obliterate the entire place.
Aiden opted for the former. Destroying the basement outright risked leaving the curse unresolved.
Just as he turned to his companions, an unpleasant laugh echoed through the mirrored chamber.
"Young god, I'll grant you one last chance. Return to your lands. The Demon Realm will step aside."
It was telling him to cross the Demon Realm and leave for the continent beyond the sea—the only way to escape without lifting the curse.
From the ceiling mirror, Chimurem continued:
"Of course, since you broke the pact, you must pay the price. Leave the Empress and the Saintess behind. If you do, Lord Pethersarkin has promised not to hold you accountable."
Pethersarkin—one of the Five Demon Lords.
Aiden ignored the demon and walked toward his group. The Empress and Saintess stood frozen, stunned by his overwhelming display of power.
The Empress barely suppressed the tremor in her voice.
"...Is that not one of the Sources? To think it could be so easily..."
It was a relative assessment. Chimurem was a formidable demon—but its opponent was Aiden.
Atraksha smiled.
"Aiden is someone he acknowledged. Mortals don't defeat gods."
Aiden couldn't fully agree. He still felt ambiguous about being a true god. Even now, his strength wasn't extraordinary from a divine perspective—likely on par with Fenrir, a mortal.
Looking back, treating Fenrir like a dog had been a gamble. Back then, Aiden hadn't even attained divinity—one swipe from the wolf could've killed him. As embarrassing as it was, Saya's back had felt reassuringly warm.
Shaking off the thought, Aiden refocused.
"Chimurem is troublesome not because of its strength. This isn't over—stay sharp."
Among Sources, Chimurem's physical abilities were pitifully weak—inferior even to Elpis of Atlantis. But if there was one being more irritating to deal with, it was undoubtedly Chimurem.
The truly annoying part was about to begin.
A sickening laugh dripped from above.
"I see you've rejected my offer."
Aiden didn't respond. Undeterred, the demon pressed on.
"Because of your actions, humans will weep and vomit blood once more."
Yuriel, unable to listen any longer, glared coldly at the ceiling.
"No. It will be your blood that stains the earth black."
Chimurem sneered.
"A filthy wench hiding black desires behind false nobility."
Instantly, every mirror reflected Yuriel. The chamber became a mosaic of her face, capturing every minute shift in expression from every angle.
Aiden gritted his teeth. Then, some mirrors flickered—shifting to display something else entirely.
Chimurem's voice oozed malice.
"The ugly fetishes lurking beneath the Saintess's purity. Come, let us all admire them together."
The mirrors showed a dim bedroom, its curtained bed glowing faintly.
A silhouette formed—a broad-shouldered man. He walked slowly toward the bed.
Pulling back the white drapes, he revealed a pristine arrangement of sacred candles. Beneath cascading platinum hair fanned across the sheets, a figure lay hidden beneath thick blankets.
The man—Aiden—drew closer. The candles illuminated him clearly as he gazed down, then yanked the covers away.
A jewel-like nude was exposed—Yuriel, lightly bound with rope, exhaling tense, heated breaths.
The real Yuriel froze solid.
Aiden swallowed hard and looked at her.
Before he could speak, she stammered:
"...Th-That's not me."
"There's no need to be ashamed."
He couldn't humor her denial. The scene was her actual sexual fantasy—and rejecting it would loop the vision indefinitely.
Only by accepting it would the humiliation end. Aiden knew that well.
He took a step toward her. As the scene progressed, her face paled further.
"I-I would never...!"
Finally, she collapsed, covering her eyes.
Chimurem's mockery continued, its laughter mingling with the moans from the mirrors—a blasphemous symphony.
Aiden knelt beside her, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Destroy them... Please..." she whimpered.
Unfortunately, that wasn't possible. Physical interference would harm the soul of the vision's subject—exactly what Chimurem wanted.
Aiden spoke calmly.
"Endure it. Accept it. Only then will it end. Face it head-on."
For Yuriel, it was an unbearable demand. She knew she was being a burden, but this was too much.
Aiden smiled faintly—uncharacteristically—and shrugged.
"Mine will be shown soon enough. Compared to that, yours is almost cute."
Yuriel didn't understand the word "cute," but the tone suggested something trivial.
Aiden murmured:
"I could make it real for you."
Yuriel, still hiding her face, flushed crimson to the tips of her ears.
Mortified enough to want to die, she also wanted to carve out her traitorously fluttering heart.
The Empress approached, chuckling.
"Yuriel, is your fantasy that modest? Lust knows no bounds. Even a peasant could defile me in my dreams—yet yours remain saintly even in your mind."
Atraksha grinned.
"When it's my turn, you might faint from shock."
Perhaps because everyone else acted unfazed, Yuriel forced herself to look up—desperately wishing she could vanish.
Her face burned as she stared at the mirrors. Tears of shame streaked down her cheeks. Her gaze, fixed on Chimurem, seethed with hatred.
The Apostle of Annihilation slowly opened her eyes.
One of the divine gifts she'd received upon becoming Aiden's follower. Both "Saintess of Hypocrisy" and "Disciple of the Profane" were still incomplete.
Aiden studied her briefly, then checked her status screen—confirming the ability had activated.
She was now a being who had to go berserk at the sight of demons.
Proof: The mirror's scene faded from her mind, replaced by pure rage toward Chimurem.
Of course, there was nothing she could do yet.
Aiden knew how hard that fury was to suppress. Channeling divinity to his fingertip, he pressed it to her forehead.
"Regain your composure first. I'll help you vent later."
He considered letting her land the final blow. The Apostle of Annihilation, upon fully awakening, devoured Sources. He was curious what she'd achieve—and had no qualms about granting her the opportunity. He owed her that much.
As the light touched her, Yuriel gradually calmed. Aiden's overwhelming divinity made it possible.
From above, Chimurem frowned irritably. Though Yuriel still trembled with shame, she no longer looked away from the mirrors.
This woman was a lost cause. The demon shifted targets—to the Empress.
The mirrors now showed her surrounded by hundreds of men, leisurely stepping on their backs in stiletto heels.
Wine glass in hand, the mirrored Empress wore a look of supreme satisfaction—one mirrored by the real Empress, entirely unbothered.
Even as the scene grew explicit, she remained unfazed.
Raphelia smirked.
"Hundreds of males, yet none can satisfy me. The men of the Empire need to step up."
Chimurem scowled, then glanced at Atraksha—only to dismiss her. The Moon had endured this before.
That left Aiden—but instinct said it was pointless. He'd watch just as impassively as now.
This quartet was disgustingly resistant to lust. Just one crack would've made things easy.
Glaring murderously at Aiden, the demon slowly vanished.
"Thank god."
Aiden was honestly relieved. He could've endured, but the embarrassment was another matter.
Yuriel shot him a sidelong glare.
Once again, she was the only one exposed and robbed of dignity. Worse, if she'd known Aiden's tastes, she might've gained an edge over Saya—but now, that chance was lost.
Suddenly, Aiden's gaze shifted upward. The bottom of Yuriel's status screen, still open, flashed yellow.
He reflexively scrolled down—reading her updated thoughts.
Yuriel noticed and shrieked:
"Y-You promised not to read it!"
"I didn't mean to. But if the chance arises, I'll tell you. Let's move."
With that, Aiden kicked the chamber's outer wall with tremendous force.
Glass and debris rained down. Having breached the gate, they could proceed.
Dust flooded the air as a vast, reddish-brown cavern came into view. An iron chair sat at its center, surrounded by grotesque tools—some decipherable, others incomprehensibly monstrous.
Aiden turned to the group.
"Wait here."
He strode inside, shattering three of the four iron chairs with his bare hands before sitting in the last one.
Clank— Metal restraints slithered out, binding him completely.
Crimson demonic energy coalesced before him, displaying a number:
One week's worth for four people.
The time Aiden had to endure.
Leaning back comfortably, he closed his eyes.
"Do your worst, maggot."