Heart Devil [OP Yandere Schizo Ramble LitRPG XD]

Damien exited his goddess's temple, walking out to the wide lobby of the grand cathedral. He had given her a report of the events that happened the previous day. He figured now that he was a hero, keeping his goddess informed of his actions was the natural course of things.

He was quite surprised by the reception he received; he was praised for his swift actions in battle and his unshakable resolve when facing the devil, not listening to a single word. A far better reaction than the criticism and scolding he got from Arden and his teacher.

Aife questioned him on the origin of the summoner; naturally, he wouldn't lie to his goddess. A bond between god and champion was sacred; all in Neel knew that.

But he soon hastily explained that Corrine was just confused and brainwashed by her family to commit such acts, an answer he concluded after much thought. From her perspective, she was probably thinking world peace can only be achieved by submitting to the devils.

A foolish thought in the young hero's opinion, but an understandable one. It's easy to give in when faced with monsters as ferocious as the one he met not too long ago.

He clenched his fists, but it wasn't over yet. Giving up early wasn't the right solution, and he would show her that through his actions.

Strength to rival those things was achievable. The Godschild had done it, his master had once done it, and he would do it too.

If she saw light at the end of the tunnel for the human race, her perspective would surely change. He couldn't rely on the previous generation to show that, given the lax attitude of their top hero Arden, nor could he rely on the generation before them, given his master's power had dropped.

He could only rely on himself, his goddess, and the system for now.

He…he just needed a little more time to defeat a monster like that.

Damien, unaware that the overwhelming defeat from the creature had shaken his confidence, leaving a small space of insecurity, began to grit his teeth at the memory of that beast.

He knitted his brows at the thought of the scene he saw with his master and that monster.

"Not only has her power waned, her will has as well…" He had seen it.

Had they been a few seconds late, his master would have been completely bedeviled and taken the hand of that thing.

His jaw clenched thinking that. He knew his master was vulnerable, but to such an extent?

It took only ten minutes for that devil to weave lies strong enough for her to submit. He had to become stronger, and quickly. An incident like that can only be avoided so many times; he had to protect her at all costs. It was his duty as a student.

It was his duty as a man.

But his thoughts shifted to another piece of information his goddess had trusted him with. Information that made him a little angry at his master for. The goddess had told him Abigail knew this at least a year ago and had not informed him.

His bloodline was special.

Had his goddess not requested a reading on his blood from the seer, leading to the discovery of the record already being available, he probably would have been none the wiser.

But the question was, why would she hide this information?

Why would she hide the fact that he held the blood of House Sunblade? What else was she hiding from him?

Suspicion grew in the heart of the young warrior, bolstered by the honeyed words of his goddess.

'She seems to be hiding quite a lot of things from you, child. You should ask her why she stays locked up in that tower all the time and why she hides a talent like you from the rest of the world, far away from the capital. It seems a little strange, don't you think?'

He was inclined to agree; there seemed to be a side Abigail was keeping hidden from him.

As his suspicions grew, he heard a familiar voice echo out from another hallway a short distance from him.

"Sir Arden, I-I'd like to apologize for earlier. I'm sorry if I came off as a little aggressive in the beginning. I was just so riled up from all that's happened that I-"

"No need. I understand your feelings; after so long, it's easy to go a little wild when given the opportunity. Pent-up feelings tend to do that to a person."

"Wild? Hold on, it wasn't like I was shouting my lungs out and breaking furniture…"

"Yes, wild. Though this time is fine, I kindly ask you to mind your words. Others might have taken offense in that situation."

"Y-yes, I won't speak so roughly next time; I learned my lesson."

"Naturally."

Damien gazed at the red-faced and sweating Abigail and the tall, humbly smiling Arden, his face darkening with each sentence coming from the two.

What the hell were they both doing in Arden's temple? Since when did heroes visit other gods' temples so casually?

And what was this conversation he was hearing?

Riled up? Pent-up feelings? Breaking furniture? Going wild?

He walked over, his steps heavy and his face hardening.

Noticing her disciples' approach, Abigail turned and greeted him. But her eyes were a bit stern; she had to have a thorough talk with this child. He had sworn to a god already, even after her express discouragement. On top of that, he had not told her despite all this time passing.

What's more, ever since their return from the battle, he was acting more elusive and headstrong. It seemed the words of whoever branded him were holding more weight in his mind than his teacher.

"Hello Damien, listen, I think we need to discuss a few things." the wizard said directly. Not beating around the bush any longer.

Hearing that and seeing her stern eyes, Damien felt a small rage burn in his heart. He wasn't an idiot; he had heard these words spoken to others enough times in his hometown. Whenever a noble rode through town or a drifting adventurer made a stop, this phrase became quite popular between couples.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

In the end, the two would typically split. Especially if the person saying it was a woman.

Damien was an observant youth.

"What were you doing in Arden's temple?" He answered flatly.

"H-hm?" Caught off guard by the sudden question, Abigail's stern face cracked. She couldn't tell him the information they went over, at least not yet. And she wasn't used to lying to her student, so her nervousness rose.

She decided to use her go-to, beating around the bush.

"We… we were just discussing things about the last battle." She turned to Arden, hoping for aid.

"Indeed." He said simply. Not even bothering to say more.

Abigail wanted to curse this guy out. He clearly didn't intend to lie for her.

Seeing the furtive glances of his teacher to the chisel-jawed Arden, Damien felt the flame in his heart ignite violently. He knew when she was trying to dodge an answer, his vision reddening as he pieced together the 'truth'.

He interrogated further. "What were you talking about then?"

"I…I…" Abigail glanced away. Trying to think of the right words, though she said she would be sterner, building the resolve didn't come in a day. So instead of directly telling him it was a conversation she could not speak of, she floundered.

This did not help the situation she had no clue she was currently in.

Damien pushed further, his voice righteous and demanding. "Why are you all sweaty?" essentially exposing her, not giving her an out.

But hearing this question, Abigail became indignant. She knew she was sweaty; everyone knew. And it was embarrassing; she just barely recovered from her mana circuit burnout! Walking around so much after recovering would obviously have this outcome! Where was the sensitivity?

She roared. "Why are you bringing something like that up? Isn't it natural? Everyone sweats!"

The young warrior's face was dark at the angry reply. A cornered dog does indeed turn to bite. He needed no more answers.

'So it's like this.' He turned to glare at Arden, his former idol. Who would have thought Arden too was a lecher? In hindsight it made sense; a hero that allows a devil to lead him by the nose was bound to have more than a few cracks.

Arden was a little confused at the youth's viciousness; he was getting a lot of glares lately. But he remained patient. Teenagers did indeed have hormones raging all over the place, he decided to inquire, a smile ever present.

But in the eyes of the youth, the humble smile of the half-angel looked more like a mocking sneer.

"Problem, child?"

The words struck the young man like a lightning bolt. The bastard was now mocking him. Sure, he was still two years away from being an adult, but that didn't mean his master was ripe for the taking!

Though unofficial and not expressly said, it was tacitly obvious who she belonged to! But now this guy thinks he can swoop in and do as he pleases?

He wouldn't sit here and take it; he wasn't your regular commoner!

Damien rested his hand on his sword and spoke, his voice chilly to the bone. "I challenge you to a sword match, Arden."

~~~

Central Continent, Kradel Kingdom Border, City of Gomorrah

Ramsus sat by his daughter's bed, perched on the edge of a velvet-cushioned chair, his jeweled fingers clasped tight like a man gripping the edge of a cliff.

It had been a day since their swift return; Corrine had told him of her encounter with assassins cornering her and Chauncy on their way back to their lodgings.

When she returned to their room with their butler slung over her shoulder, he knew things were not good.

But as she was going into detail about the whole situation, his daughter had suddenly collapsed, leaving the city lord even more distraught. So he did what he thought was best.

Spend mountains of money and return to the safety of their territory. With a group of assassins on the loose within the capital targeting his daughter, there was no way he would seek a healer there.

So, in the dead of night, he called up his second attendant to ready the carriage while he carried Corrine and Chauncy down.

He paid off dozens of guards and mages to allow them to use the wide-area transport array during closed hours, sending his entire carriage through to the other side. He chucked jingling bag after bag to each checkpoint tower, ensuring he stopped no more than a minute.

By sunrise, he was well within his territory.

But his worries did not cease. Both Chauncy and Corrine were still out cold, with no sign of waking up.

Chauncy brought him worry, but his daughter brought him fear. He had an idea about what was happening to her, but he didn't dare believe it.

He looked over at the sleeping girl, the soft glow of the fireplace's flickering light casting a shadow across his face, making the bags under his eyes seem far deeper.

His daughter lay still, drenched in sweat as her breaths came out shallow and strained. Faint black veins could be seen slithering beneath the surface of her pale skin, with a pink glow subtly intensifying and dimming with every heartbeat.

The city lord knew this was no ordinary sickness. He was well read on the sight before him.

The signs of transformation, the signs of a contract.

"God's be damned!" he whispered angrily. Her escape seemed to have come with a cost. An entity of a higher realm had offered her assistance, and the child had accepted. But Ramsus knew nothing of the price, knowing gold would not cure this.

He took a towel from the arm of his chair, wiping the sweat from his daughter's small brow. His teeth clenched at the sight of a small sigil burned faintly on the girl's chest, half visible where the silk nightdress cut low from the moisture.

It pulsed like a second heart that didn't belong. The sigil lit with mockery as the child fought to endure the changes happening within her. Ramsus watched it helplessly, brought low by a pact he hadn't signed, yet couldn't escape.

How could this have happened so suddenly? Everything was going as expected. He looked at the item sitting on the nightstand, a black chalice engraved with wailing beasts and two curled, protruding horns. An unsettling piece of tableware to the uninitiated, but to his family, a priceless shield and guiding light.

The relic: Baphomet's Sip.

The lord looked to the chalice with hope, his spirit pleading with the cup to hear the call of his family's plight. But the cup stayed silent, despite the presence of another devil's energy invading his old territory.

He felt like the world was actively working against him. He had the relic but none of the ingredients to summon their guardian for assistance. And now time was of the essence with an unknown devil looking to make use of his daughter.

Ramsus would not trust a devil that would offer a deal to a little girl at her lowest. He would not put faith in the idea of benevolence, not in the current world they lived in. He had met the greed devils that now flood the continent; he didn't dare assume the devil that contracted with Corrine did it out of the kindness of their heart.

He sagged down in his seat, staring at the fireplace. He needed to gather those ingredients as soon as possible; with some luck, he could get the house guardian to break the deal his daughter was tricked into before the devil came to collect.

But for now, he would wait for his daughter to awaken once more. Thankfully, it seems she was extremely talented. Usually a warlock transformation takes weeks to gradually start, not minutes.

'That or she made a deal with a devil carrying supreme blood.' He chuckled to himself, finding a small bit of comfort at the absurd thought of an entity like that targeting his precious pumpkin for no reason.

If they still even exist at this point.

Only one warlock in history was recorded to have made a deal with a devil over four stars. Of course, that warlock family was completely wiped out during the crusades. The pantheon would take no chances with a family that made a pact with 'supreme' blood.

Bang

As he tried to distract his thoughts, trying to bury his anxiety deep down while he waited, the door burst open.

"My lord!" A young maid hurriedly entered, an uncommon scene. "Forgive me, an Inquisitor from the neighboring town is at the gate. She says it's urgent. She's asking to speak with you. Now."

Ramsus turned his head slowly, the flickering lights of the furnace illuminating the rising fury in his eyes. His voice was low and dangerous as he answered. "An Inquisitor?" he growled, standing halfway from the chair. "Now? Does she think I have time to trade pleasantries while my daughter is bedridden?"

What was this nonsense? Since when did those blowhards take the time to pass through his city? If anything, they took the extra time to take the long way around on their casual strolls.

The maid flinched at the harsh words, but she stood firm. "She says it concerns… the young miss."

For a moment, Ramsus froze, the temperature dropping within the room.

So they already know. As to how, it did not matter.

His hands curled into fists. He could command battalions. He could buy courts. But he could not silence the 'righteous' blades once drawn towards his city.

He had done well keeping the peace for his territory due to his exports and innovations, but if the pantheon thought his land was growing past an acceptable level of strength… A war could ensue.

He glanced to the bed, where the small warlock lay.

So they seek to take his daughter away, most likely in the name of 'stability'. His jaw clenched at the thought. Did they think he would allow that? That he would trust she wouldn't be put down the second they crossed the boundaries of this city?

'War, huh…'

He stood up, adjusted his tie, and straightened his back.

With a hardened face, he spoke once more. "Lead the way."