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The Demon Goddess: If I can’t have love, I want power

#multiplemc #urban #immortality #demon #villain #smut [the cover is commisioned!!!] “By this, you are hereby declared to be reborn as a kind and beautiful girl for the fifteenth time," the judge pronounced the final judgment on Elara Olivia Sullivan's life. "I object!" Elara retorted firmly. Having already experienced fourteen lifetimes as a kind and beautiful girl in the mortal realm, Elara had yet to find happiness. Instead, her existence was riddled with suffering and betrayal. While in the realm of spirits, she regained all memories from her past lives – memories that were not of joy, but of anguish. Pain, an ever-present companion, had etched itself into her very essence. Betrayal. Deceit. Promises made without an ounce of intention to fulfill them. With each cycle of rebirth, she had endured the weight of these burdens, her heart becoming a repository of scars that spanned across ages. "I yearn for something different, something powerful." disclaimer: - 18+ above, please be wise - explicit content will be cautioned at the begginingbof chapter - the cover is commissioned

Tizzz · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
48 Chs

The Catalyst

Octavius, consumed by resurging memories and bitterness, unleashed a torrent of anger. "This man... I remember now! I recall how he strikingly resembled someone when he grew older! Damn it! Anything related to that family is the king of my nightmares. Insane bastards!"

Sergoth was taken aback. If his master usually maintained a demeanor of cold indifference, calm, and lethality, this was an exception.

Octavius seethed with anger, his eyes piercing into Viktor's image, his breath erratic, and he appeared disheveled.

In that moment, Sergoth felt a growing fear, realizing that a human could indeed appear more demonic than the demon itself.

Octavius's rage morphed into a profound sense of fear. His entire body trembled, the pallor of his skin taking on a bluish hue as if struck by a fever.

"That wretched young man! Why is he still alive?! That pampered child who has never experienced hardship should have perished long ago. Instead, he disturbs my peaceful life—well, not that it was ever tranquil, considering you're always silent in here." Octavius pointed to his head, the dwelling place where Sergoth imprisoned the souls he had seized.

"Are you sure you're alright with this, Master?" Sergoth inquired cautiously.

Despite Octavius being insufferable, he was the only human bound to him, capable of providing everything Sergoth needed in the human world. The advantages of their contract were substantial.

"Leave me for a moment. The appearance of this kid has elevated my depression." Octavius signaled with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Sergoth stood frozen in front of the office door, hesitant to speak. Sergoth's recollection mechanism traversed back to the past, immersing him once again in the initial moments when he forged a connection with Octavius.

Octavius snapped, "What's keeping you here? Go!"

The keenness of his intellect, which could cut through the fabric of reality, now stood the risk of momentarily blunting, caught in the snare of his Master's inability to break free from the shackles of his own history.

"Ah, the despicable human. He has snatched away everything. Is he trembling at the thought of retribution, a vengeance so dreadful? Hahaha, undoubtedly. It's the harvest he must reap for sowing corpse flowers in another's backyard."

Sergoth made a swift decision to depart, opting not to linger in the aftermath of his Master's anger.

His movements were a display of remarkable speed, precision, and accuracy as he deftly slipped away.

In his realm, the red-skinned demon sought comfort in the company of female demons. Seated upon a luxurious throne, exuding arrogance and the most unsavory demeanor imaginable, he found solace within the confines of his own dominion.

A sultry demoness beside him purred, "Troublesome, isn't he? Your human master."

Sergoth chuckled, his voice resonating with a sinister undertone. "Oh, he's a tangled mess. But the benefits of our pact are undeniable. Now, let's indulge in the pleasures of this realm, my dear temptresses."

Octavius, seething with restrained fury, muttered to himself, "No such thing as revenge! That rodent must be eradicated before it can unleash its foolish antics." His voice echoed through the room, a mix of frustration and determination.

"No! Even if not! Viktor's behavior, fundamentally, is not something that can topple and obliterate my business empire, myself, and...?" Octavius grumbled loudly, hurling his antique glass mercilessly.

In the midst of his internal turmoil, a conflict emerged within Octavius. Were family ties truly insignificant for someone like him?

What caused Octavius to harbor such profound fear of Viktor's seemingly trivial influence?

Was it an emotion akin to regret, or was he unnerved by the prospect of exposing a concealed side of himself?

Octavius continued pacing, the ambient light casting elongated shadows. The question lingered, haunting him: Why did Viktor, a seemingly insignificant figure, have the power to disrupt Octavius's meticulously constructed world?

As Octavius grappled with these internal conflicts, the echoes of the shattered glass resonated.

In a moment of introspection, Octavius found himself wrestling with emotions he had long kept at bay.

The fear of Viktor's influence acted as a catalyst, reflecting Octavius's unease about the unpredictable turns that life could take.

***

As the encroaching darkness slowly enveloped the earth, consuming all momentarily illuminated, an air of mystery and trepidation saturated the surroundings. The full moon, radiating its brilliance, cast an ethereal glow on the world.

Within Octavius's chamber, the ticking of the clock echoed as the sole attempt to animate the atmosphere, yet it struggled to dispel the profound darkness that lingered so potently.

Octavius's two pairs of unwavering eyes extended an invitation to Sergoth, heralding a conversation—more serious and weighty than any they had shared before.

"Take a seat, Sergoth," Octavius commanded, his tone carrying a gravity befitting the moment. "We delve into matters that demand the utmost discretion."

Sergoth, the demon in Octavius's service, bowed slightly and assumed a seated position, his eyes glinting with otherworldly intelligence. "What secrets of the mortal realm seek our attention, Master?"

Octavius leaned forward, his gaze piercing through the dimness. "Some of my informants have gathered details about this boy—where he lives and his current state."

"Oh, really? They're not as lazy as I am, it seems," Sergoth replied nonchalantly, his tone carrying a hint of disdain.

"Seems that way," Octavius said coldly, emphasizing that Sergoth's cheerfulness wasn't always welcomed warmly. "This is no time for jests, Sergoth. The boy holds a connection, a thread to a past we need to unravel."

Sergoth leaned back, his eyes gleaming in the shadows. "And what past might that be, Master? The tapestry of human lives is often woven in intricate patterns."

Octavius's fingers steepled in front of him as he spoke, each word measured. "The past that ties him to an incident, one that may have ramifications for our interests. We need to know more, and I trust you to unveil the secrets concealed in the shadows."

Sergoth's grin widened. "Unraveling secrets is my specialty, Master. Consider it done."

"Jansen, my son, is becoming more of a problem. I also want to know everything about that young man, Viktor, including his plans and alliances with Malphas."