“From the beginning, various demonic races intermingled, their descendants refining and distilling their bloodlines to create a single, ultimate lineage—the Maltrix bloodline. A lineage that is not merely a family but a collection of powers, rooted in countless origins, bound together into one.”

An old, raspy voice echoed through the silent, dimly lit grand cathedral.

The speaker, clad in priestly attire adorned with countless jewels, stood before them. His entire body was covered in white cloth, a color that symbolized purity—if one ignored the massive horns protruding from the sides of his head. The fabric concealed his face entirely, except for his mouth, where sharp, shark-like teeth gleamed in the candlelight.

“The Progenitors of this family acquired abilities unseen before in Hell—unique, terrifying, absolute. To preserve their strength, they imposed strict laws: chastity, isolation, and the practice of breeding exclusively within their bloodline. No impurity was ever allowed to taint it.”

His voice reverberated through the vast cathedral, his words filling the air like a decree of fate. The cathedral itself was a masterpiece of infernal craftsmanship, adorned with intricate decorations and demonic statues that immortalized the great ancestors of the Maltrix lineage. High above, a massive chandelier, absurdly large, dangled from the impossibly tall ceiling, constructed from bones and skulls—the spoils of countless wars. The ceiling paintings depicted the conquests of the Maltrix family, their victories over other demonic clans, their rise above all.

The demonic priest raised both hands and, with a voice that shook the air, declared, “For thousands of years, the Maltrix bloodline has never faltered, never degraded, never weakened. It has only grown stronger, evolving beyond all limits.”

“The Maltrix family monopolized this power, crushing their adversaries, surpassing the so-called ‘noble’ bloodlines that dared stand in their way. This lineage remains untainted—free from the filth of lesser beings who would defile its purity.”

Two figures stood beside the priest.

On one side, a tall male loomed, his golden hair cascading like sunlight. Four prominent horns rose from his head, curving with menacing elegance, while long, elf-like ears peeked from beneath his silky locks. His deep red eyes gleamed with unsettling intensity, and his beauty was androgynous, so flawless it could ensnare the hearts of men and women alike. He wore a black tuxedo, intricately adorned with shimmering embellishments that reflected the dim light.

Beside him stood a woman draped in an elegant white bridal gown, her face concealed behind a delicate veil. Yet, despite its obscuring presence, her allure was undeniable. Every graceful contour of her body exuded an intoxicating beauty, her form so alluring it would make any man drool like a dog.

The priest’s voice rang out once more.

“And now, the new generation of the Maltrix bloodline shall uphold their ancestors' legacy, becoming an enduring part of its greatness, further elevating this family's prestige.”

His gaze swept over the pair as he proclaimed, “Hell itself shall grant its blessing to this sacred matrimony. May their talents merge, strengthening this mighty lineage, ensuring its continued dominance for generations to come.”

Then, for the first time, the priest fell silent. His gaze shifted toward the empty pews, the absence of an audience stark against the grandeur of the cathedral. He sighed.

“A shame. A glorious occasion, yet no witnesses.” He turned back to the couple. “But no matter. I, as priest, shall oversee this sacred ritual and bear witness to the oaths that you shall swear before Hell itself.”

The priest’s tone grew solemn.

“These vows are not mere words but sacred promises, binding and unbreakable. They invoke Hell as their witness and enforcer. To break them is to commit blasphemy of the highest order, a crime punishable by the wrath of the Abyss itself.”

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He paused, his voice heavy with warning.

“Be certain that the oaths you make today shall dictate the course of your lives forever.”

A tense silence followed, allowing the bride and groom a moment to choose their vows.

The groom was the first to speak.

“I, Malgrith Maltrix, take Selveria Maltrix as my wife, and I, with Hell as my witness, vow to be her husband for as long as I desire.”

His words were calculated, precise. A declaration that granted him full control—free of responsibility, free of devotion. It was not a vow of love. It was ownership.

Selveria chuckled.

“That’s it? Is this the part where you force me into a vow so submissive that this entire ceremony becomes nothing more than a luxurious way to brand me as your slave?”

Malgrith met her gaze without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Selveria glanced down at the cuffs on her wrists. The mythical steel shimmered with thousands of runes, their glow pulsating in waves, suppressing her strength with each passing second. The gemstones embedded in the cuffs siphoned her Miasma, leaving her powerless—unable to chant, unable to resist. The craftsmanship was exquisite, unmistakable. Only a relic stolen from the royal family’s treasure vault could be this potent.

Her eyes trailed downward, to the cathedral’s floor. Beneath her, an intricate magical diagram stretched in all directions, its complexity beyond measure. She lifted her gaze, scanning the walls, spotting identical markings—each larger and more elaborate than the one at her feet.

Even her gown was a prison. Hundreds of tiny gemstones and artifacts woven into its fabric bound her in ways she could not yet comprehend. The sheer extent of these restraints—the overwhelming number of curses placed upon her—spoke volumes.

Any lesser demon and greater demons would be dead by now.

Selveria spoke “I admit it that you cornered me, but you should be aware that my will it still my own. You can never control me in this state. This curses you have given to me only binds me.”

“You can never control my speech and make me have an oath to Hell.”

Malgrith responded “I know.”

Malgrith spoke again, his voice quieter, laced with something almost fragile.

“From the moment we were born, we were rivals.” His eyes darkened with distant memories. “Our family’s expectations were suffocating. They saw us not as children, but as competitors. They forced us to fight, to tear each other apart for their approval. To the victor, favor, power, privilege. To the loser… disgrace.”

A bitter smile curled his lips.

“No matter how hard I tried, I could never catch up. I wasn’t enough. Our brothers and sisters outshined me at every turn. I was the one left behind. And those were the most painful years of my life.”

His gaze locked onto Selveria’s.

“I was drowning… until you came along.”

His voice wavered.

“You were the only one who saw me—not as a rival, but as something more.”

He took a shaky breath.

“There were times when I was close to ending it all. But you saved me. You gave me purpose. You pushed me forward. You made me believe I could be more.”

His fists clenched.

“Your words… I remember every single one of them. The things you might have long forgotten… they have never left me. And they never will.”

His voice trembled now.

“We made promises… so many promises.”

He looked upward, as if seeking those memories in the vast emptiness above.

“To stand together, always. To defy fate. To choose our own path. To marry—not out of obligation, but as a bond forged by our own will.”

His gaze softened, his expression almost reverent.

“That promise about marriage… that was my favorite, Selveria.”

A tear slipped down his cheek.

“This moment… it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Every hardship, every battle, every sacrifice—I did it all for this. For us. To prove that my life meant something. That I won.”

He reached for her veil, lifting it.

Crimson eyes. Golden hair. Elf-like ears.

Perfect.

His fingers brushed against her cheek.

He leaned in, closed his eyes and prepared to steal her lips— Those luscious lips that is more tempting than the apple in the Garden of Eden.

Malgrith stood in awe of her beauty. Every hardship he endured, every scheme he orchestrated—all of it had led to this one perfect moment. Fighting and manipulating his siblings for succession; spending endless weeks groveling before noble families to solidify his name; establishing countless businesses to amass power; and paying a fortune to enchanters, witches, blacksmiths, and alchemists—all to forge the relics that would bind Selveria. And now, it was all worth it.

He came closer to her face and felt her breath touching his face, he smell those delectable aroma yet somehow he was also able to feel a breath touching his ears.

His body tensed. He opened his eyes and saw her face—her blush. He felt joy as that his act made her do that but she wasn’t looking at him.

She was looking behind him.

His eyes moved towards the priest.

The priest had a terrified face which was looking at his direction.

“Hello.”

A voice whispered in his ear.

Malgrith turned, and golden eyes greeted him.

Then, pain. A sharp, merciless pain in his chest.

Malgrith's body fell down on the marble floor with his blood oozing like a fountain and guts scattered out.