Lewd System: Every Scream and Moan is EXP-Chapter 242: The Fuckin Truth[2]

But Azrakh had made his decision.

He broke both his horns. Tore off his wings. Severed his own claws. And stood before his people with blood running down his face and said words that were recorded in demon history.

’If my race and my power will stand in front of my dreams, then I won’t need them anymore. I will give up my power as well. In blood oath.’

Cleenah had always taken every tale featuring Azrakh as virtuous and dismissed it. Fabricated propaganda. Lies designed to make a monster look noble so he could infiltrate human lands and continue his evil in the shadows.

But now she was seeing him.

The same person she had cursed. The same one whose name she had spat on a thousand times.

Holding his daughter with a tenderness that couldn’t be forged. Laughing at a child’s potato drawing. Teasing his best friend about the demands of a four-year-old.

She was seeing the truth.

The projection shifted.

The warm golden light of the festival bonfire filled the screen. Villagers dancing. Laughter echoing. The little girl’s perspective looking up at the flames with wonder.

Then the angle of the fire changed.

Because the flames were no longer from the bonfire.

They were rising from the rooftops of the village houses. Orange. Angry. Consuming everything.

There was panic. Screaming. Shadows moving across the sky.

Demons had invaded the village. Some flew from one house to another, tearing through roofs, searching for people. Others dragged villagers from their homes. Some stood in formation around Lilith’s family, blocking every escape.

The little girl was trembling. Her tiny hands gripping her mother’s clothes so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

Her mother’s arms wrapped around her, shielding her from the horrors.

And in front of them stood Azrakh. Shielding them both with his body. Unarmed. Powerless. But unmoved.

One demon stepped forward. His voice carried authority.

"Lord Azrakh. I ask you to step aside. We need offerings for our god. We don’t have time for this. You know well what happens if we fail to satisfy their hunger. They will remove their protection from us."

Azrakh’s voice was steady. "I refuse to sacrifice any of my people. As long as I stand here, I will protect them."

The demon smiled. "Oh, do you still think you can do that? Without your power, you are useless. And if you still refuse, if you still choose this stubbornness, then I will take your life with my own hands."

His smile twisted.

"Honestly, I won’t hesitate. Because I truly hate you. Because of you and your family, we retreated. Despite being this close to world domination."

Azrakh clenched his fists.

"You speak of world domination as if it’s something glorious. As if ruling through fear and blood is worth celebrating."

The demon sneered. "Pathetic. You’ve become soft. Weak. And that’s why I will end your stupid life here."

Then the battle began.

Azrakh fought with nothing but his fists. His bare body against armored demons. Without his power, without his wings, without his claws, he was exactly as the demon had said.

Useless.

But he fought anyway.

He brought down several of them through sheer brutality and willpower alone. Fists cracking against demonic armor.

His rock hard forehead slamming into skulls when his arms gave out. Using his body as a weapon when his body had nothing left to give.

Then he stopped. His body had reached its limit.

He turned to his wife and Lilith.

He was a ruin. Bleeding from everywhere. His knuckles were ripped open, bone visible beneath the torn flesh. Bruises covered every inch of him. Blood poured from his forehead where he had used it as a battering ram.

He spoke to his wife. His voice was soft. Gentle. As if they were alone in their home and not standing in a burning village surrounded by death.

"Take Lilith. Run. Find Lysandra. She told me recently that she’s risen to a respectable position. If you reach her, she will help."

His wife’s tears were falling freely. "But what about you? We can leave together—"

Azrakh pulled her in and kissed her. Locking her lips for the last time.

Long. Tender. The kind of kiss that carried an entire lifetime in its silence.

Then he knelt to Lilith. Pressed his lips to her tiny forehead.

And turned away.

"I will not abandon my people. I will fight until the end. And if the gods show mercy, we will meet again soon."

He ran back toward the flames. Toward the screaming. Toward certain death.

Hiding his tears so his daughter wouldn’t see.

While Lilith’s mother carried her in the opposite direction, they heard screams from Ren’s house. Different from the others. Desperate in a way that stopped both of them in their tracks.

They rushed inside.

Rosaline had given birth. On the floor of her burning home, surrounded by chaos, she had brought a child into the world.

And a demon was holding the newborn by its cloth. Dangling the crying infant like a trophy.

"An infant. The gods will be pleased with this offering."

Rosaline was on her knees. Begging. Screaming. Reaching for her child with hands that couldn’t reach.

Ren was unconscious on the ground beside her. Blood pooling beneath his head.

Then the tiny girl ran.

Lilith bit the demon’s leg. Her small teeth sinking into his calf with every ounce of strength her four-year-old jaw could produce.

The demon snarled and grabbed her by the collar, lifting her off the ground.

In that instant, Lilith’s mother swung a hammer at the back of his skull.

The impact was devastating. The demon’s grip failed. Both Lilith and the newborn tumbled to the ground.

Lilith scooped up the crying baby. Held the child against her tiny chest and started running on legs that could barely carry her own weight, let alone another life.

The demon recovered. Turned to pursue the fleeing mother and daughter.

But one leg was grabbed by Rosaline. Her fingers locked around his ankle with the grip of a woman who would die before she let go.

And the other leg was seized by Ren. Barely conscious. Using the very last of his strength in one final act.

Lilith reached her mother. Handed over the crying child with shaking arms.

In the projection, for just a moment, the child’s face was visible.

Cleenah saw the features. The tiny nose. The shape of the eyes. The unmistakable resemblance.

Her mind connected the dots.

One by one. Slowly. Then all at once.

A new sensation of horror built inside her chest. Rising from her stomach. Crawling up her throat.

She felt like puking.