LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 31: d'Raventhorns
As soon as Lilith left the room, Aiden sighed in relief, thinking he finally had some peace. But then he heard the faint sound of shuffling. He turned, startled, to see Zepharion weakly climbing onto his bed. Her movements were unsteady, her breathing shallow, but her crimson eyes still burned with an intensity that made him pause—a mix of anger, despair, and something utterly broken.
"Zepharion?" Aiden said cautiously. "What are you doing? I'm supposed to be resting."
She didn't answer immediately. Her trembling hands reached for the ties of her top, but her actions were hesitant, faltering. Tears streamed down her face as her voice cracked. "Why are you stopping me, human? Isn't this what you wanted? To see me broken? To see me humiliated?"
She removed the buttons from her white long sleeve. With each button she removed, her trembling hands kept shaking. The irony wasn't lost on her—once, as a man, she had commanded her harem to do the very same for her amusement. Now, she performed the act herself. Her large breast that could only be called well endowed was revealed in it's full glory without a bra. Any demon that would see her in this state would've been excited but not for Aiden.
Aiden froze, his heart sinking as he processed her words. Unlike her, his voice remained calm. "Zepharion, stop this," he said firmly.
But she kept going, her hands shaking as they fumbled at her clothes. "I'll do whatever you want," she said through clenched teeth, the tears now flowing freely. "Anything, as long as you promise to end this... to end me. Just don't let my family see me like this." Her voice cracked into a sob. "Please."
She stopped moving suddenly, her hands dropping to her sides, as if she'd given up entirely. "There's no escape from your spell, is there? I've already tried. I can't fight you. I can't run. So at least… at least let me vanish. I'd rather disappear than live like this."
Aiden stood motionless, the silence between them heavy. He didn't need to speak; the spell that binds her with him tells the story of her anguish. Her despair, humiliation, and hopelessness seeped into him like poison, raw and overwhelming. It churned in his gut, twisting his insides as if it were his own pain.
He wanted to hate her. He remembered vividly how she punished Seraphina, the cruelty she'd shown without hesitation. He knew she'd have done worse if he hadn't intervened. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to be hostile now. He couldn't look at this shattered version of her and see her as a threat. She was vulnerable. Miserable. Broken.
"Zepharion," he said softly, "stop."
She stiffened at the command, her entire body freezing in place, obeying him against her will. Her red, tear-streaked eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, all at once, the words she'd been holding in spilled out.
"Don't pity me," she hissed, her voice trembling with anger and grief. "This is Hell. This is where the strong thrive and the weak crumble. This is what happens when you're born into this cursed existence. I grabbed the short end of the stick, and this is my fate. A doll. A joke. A failure." She choked on her words, her sobs punctuating every other sentence.
"I was strong," she continued, her voice rising. "I spent years honing my strength, climbing to the top. I earned my power with blood and fire, with every ounce of my being. And then you—you human—took it all away in an instant! Do you know what it's like? To wake up one day and realize you're nothing? That everything you worked for, everything you are, is gone?"
Aiden stayed silent, letting her pour out her pain.
"You don't even deserve this power! You didn't earn it! You're weak, pathetic, sentimental. That's why humans are nothing in this place. Nothing! You'll never understand what it means to fight for survival every day, to live knowing every person you meet might stab you in the back!" Her voice cracked again, and she slumped forward, her energy draining. "And now I'm just... this. A doll. A pretty little pet with no purpose."
Aiden's path to survival was undeniably linked to the power he had stolen from Zepharion. Aiden had only taken half of Zepharion's strength. Taking only half of Zepharion's strength meant Aiden had inherited some of the most vital attributes of his former tormentor, but it wasn't a full transfer. He hadn't gained all of Zepharion's combat experience, nor had he absorbed the full breadth of the demon's physical conditioning. While it granted him unmatched potential, it also left him in a constant state of flux—his body was being reshaped, his muscles strained under the weight of powers that were not his to begin with.
Her sobs grew louder, her shoulders trembling as she cried harder, her words becoming less coherent. "I hate this. I hate you. I hate myself. I just want to disappear. Let me disappear."
Aiden's chest tightened as he listened. He wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort, but nothing he could think of felt right. He knew she didn't want pity, and she didn't need hollow words. So instead, he came closer to her and did the only thing he could think of.
He wrapped his arms around her.
Zepharion stiffened at the contact, her sobs catching in her throat. For a moment, it seemed like she might push him away, but she didn't. Slowly, hesitantly, she let herself collapse against him, burying her face in his shoulder as the tears continued to flow.
Aiden held her silently, feeling her pain as if it were his own. He didn't try to justify his actions or argue with her. He simply let her cry, his grip firm and steady as if to anchor her in this moment.
This went on for what felt like an eternity. When her sobs finally began to quiet, Aiden whispered, "I'm sorry."
Zepharion didn't respond. She just stayed there, leaning against him, too exhausted to argue anymore. And for the first time since meeting her, Aiden felt like he'd glimpsed the person behind the mask of strength and cruelty—a person who'd been broken by Hell long before he ever came along.
The d'Raventhorn family, a name whispered in reverence and fear throughout Hell, has stood as a pillar of martial excellence for over 3,500 years. Their legacy is one of bloodshed, discipline, and an unyielding pursuit of perfection in combat. A noble family with unmatched respect for strength, the d'Raventhorns have dedicated themselves to mastering every form of weaponry known in Hell. Their ancestors were relentless in their research of martial arts, both ancient and new, constantly refining their techniques and pushing the boundaries of physical and mental prowess.
From swords to spears, daggers to polearms, the d'Raventhorns have wielded them all with deadly precision. They have trained entire armies, sculpting soldiers not just into warriors, but into living weapons, capable of defeating foes far greater than themselves. Their obsession with martial prowess has become their defining trait, and their training methods are revered for their rigor and brutality.
Over the centuries, the d'Raventhorns have hosted gladiatorial events and mock battles, designed to test and perfect their techniques in real combat scenarios. These events are not mere spectacles but rigorous trials, where warriors fight to the death in brutal displays of strength, skill, and strategy. The family holds such events to celebrate and honor strength—whether it's in the form of gladiators, soldiers, or members of the family itself.
Aiden's mind lingered on this as he read about the d'Raventhorns in Lilith's library, knowing that, with the stolen powers from Zepharion, he had only six months to catch up to the level of skill and strength that this family revered. In Hell, where might makes right, he understood that if he wished to survive, he had to develop his own abilities—not just with the miasma he had learned to control, but through mastering his own physical and mental limits.
The pressure was intense, but Aiden knew that failure would not be an option. Hell had no tolerance for weakness. The d'Raventhorns would view his efforts with disdain unless he could prove that he could hold his own and fight back against whatever dangers Hell threw at him.