Demon Lord: Erotic Adventure in Another World-Chapter 479: The Village buried in the Snow - Forggoten Past

The soft crunch of hooves was the only sound left in the world.

Snow fell in slow, lazy spirals. The wind had quieted, but that didn't make the cold kinder. If anything, the silence made it worse—like the air was holding its breath, waiting.

Asmodeus rode atop Lumina's back, his gaze fixed forward. White blanketed everything—endless and perfect, as if nothing had ever touched this place.

Not even the wind dared disturb the untouched hills of powdery frost stretching before them. Even their demon horses had stopped snorting. Just slow, trudging steps through snow that came up past their knees.

"We're close," he murmured.

Levia's voice came back through the soft white haze. "You feel it too, My Lord?"

He nodded once.

Ahead, black spires rose from the earth—half-sunken ruins, jagged and uneven. What looked at first like the skeletal remains of trees were broken poles, ancient stone torches, frozen solid and buried waist-deep in snow.

It didn't seem demonic, but human, or at least that's what Asmodeus thought to himself... Their group passed through the eerie graveyard, which time had forgotten.

Asmodea leaned back, stretching as she peered down and noticed something faintly buried in the snow. "Huh… that's not a rock."

Vinea said nothing. She dismounted, walking silently through the snow, her dark cloak dragging behind her like a shadow with weight. Her gloved hand reached out, brushing a thin layer of snow from the object.

Underneath was a sign, half-shattered: "Redbrook. Population 1,404."

"…A village," she mumbled.

"It was," Levia answered, her voice reverent. "I've read about this place. It vanished during the last war. No one ever found it again."

Asmodeus scanned the area. "Because it didn't vanish. It froze."

The buildings—what remained—stood like brittle bones. Roofs collapsed in, windows shattered, walls warped and split from frost. One home had a door swinging open slowly on rusted hinges, creaking every few seconds, then pausing like it had to catch its breath.

Lumina's foot crunched against something beneath the snow. She halted. Her eyes narrowed.

Asmodeus climbed down from her back.

"What is it?" Vinea asked.

Lumina tilted her head. "The snow's not normal here. It's… heavy."

"I feel it too," Levia said, now kneeling.

The group gathered around as she scraped at the snow beneath them. Each sweep of her hand uncovered something strange—an unnatural glow, dull and pulsing red like a buried ember. The light formed a jagged arc, then another.

"It's a mark," Lumina whispered. "Runes."

Vinea stepped back, hand going to her blade. "This is a trap."

"No," Asmodeus said. He knelt beside the exposed runes, brushing the last layer of frost aside.

They were unmistakable now. An arcane circle, etched into the stone beneath the snow. The glyphs were old—demonic, but not common. He recognised a few. One resembled a mouth. Another a mirrored eye.

Then a faint tremor—barely more than a vibration. A sound so soft it might've been imagined: a heartbeat. Slow, wet, distant.

Asmodea's lips parted. "I don't like this, darling. This place is making my wings cramp."

Levia pressed her palm to the mark, testing it with a flare of light. "It's active, but dormant. No trigger—yet."

Then it moved.

A single glyph lit up like burning coals, and with it came a sharp crack, like ice splitting from deep underground.

"Don't touch it!" Vinea barked—but too late.

The circle pulsed once, and a thin needle of red lightning lashed out, biting into Levia's wrist. She gasped, recoiling, clutching her arm. Blood spilled onto the ice, sizzling where it touched the glyphs.

Asmodeus stood.

Then, from the open sky above the ruined village, a woman's voice whispered—not from around them, but inside their heads.

It was low, smooth, and intimate.

"...You finally touched me."

No one moved. The horses snorted and shivered, but none ran.

The voice sighed, soft and sensual. "I wondered how long it would take. I thought perhaps you were avoiding me, Asmodeus…"

His eyes narrowed.

"Who!?" he shouted.

However, then she took the momentary image of a familiar shape... "Riel...?"

The wind stirred just enough to lift a curtain of snow into the air. It twisted, swirling in a circle above the sigil, taking the vague shape of a feminine figure—no face, no features, just curves in frost and smoke.

Lumina tensed, strands of silk gathering between her fingers.

The voice chuckled.

"You've changed… You smell different now. I wonder…" The snow-figure tilted its head. "Was it the spider that did it? Or the flower? Or perhaps… the princess?"

Levia's eyes flared.

The snow woman tilted forward as if sniffing. "You all smell like him."

No one responded.

She giggled. "Good. That means I was right to wait."

The circle flared again, brighter this time, casting their shadows in long, warping streaks across the broken snow. The snow-voice dropped lower—sultry, nearly a whisper: "You're even more beautiful than I remember."

Asmodeus exhaled slowly, and rather than grasp his axe, he instead stepped forward.

***

Asmodeus stepped into the light of the glowing circle as the snow shifted around his boots, and the crimson light swallowed his calves like fire without heat.

The snow-phantom tilted its head again, responding to his presence with a ripple of pleasure that sent a gust of warm air brushing over the group. It made Asmodea shiver—though not from cold.

"Oh~ how many times have I dreamed of this moment," the voice said, softer now, more delicate, as if it feared scaring him away. "Endless nights of cold, frustrating… agony, forced to watch you from afar."

Levia's hand tightened on the hilt of her blade, her other arm still red and raw from the lightning bite.

Unable to accept the situation, she gritted her teeth. "How long have you been watching us?"

The voice didn't answer her. It ignored her entirely.

"You were thinner back then," the voice said to Asmodeus. "Weaker. Still trying to decide what kind of man you wanted to be." Her body twisted around his body, her cold hands touching his chest, his arms like icy brands.

It paused.

"But look at you now. You don't ask permission anymore, you don't need to."

Asmodea clutched his arm suddenly, squeezing herself against his side with unspoken urgency. "She's watching everything, darling. She could've seen last night. She did see it."

"Good," the voice said. "I enjoyed that part."

Asmodea flinched like she'd been struck. "You filthy—!"

"Asmodea," Asmodeus murmured, "don't."

He didn't look at her because this creature was connected to the demon queen. His eyes were locked on the phantom, on the way it swirled leisurely in the wind, never forming a true face—just lips, eyes, shapes. A suggestive but incomplete one, like a memory barely recalled.

The snow around the sigil began to melt.

Not in patches, but in perfect circles.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёnovelkiss.com.

The more he approached and listened, the hotter it became. Steam rose from the earth, the temperature rising unnaturally fast. Snow evaporated into mist. The scent of blood magic, faintly metallic and sweet, filled the air.

Levia stepped forward. "She's not just speaking. She's binding. This spell is more than projection—it's a gateway."

Lumina's hairs bristled. "She's using our emotions to fuel it." She recognised the magic, knowing how dangerous this binding spell could be.

The phantom shimmered. "You haven't touched me yet, Asmodeus. I'm right here. My skin… my lips… my throat. Don't you want to know how I taste? How I feel?"

"You're not real," Vinea snapped. "This is a cheap illusion. You're just lonely and desperate."

"Oh, little Vinea. Do you know how he looks at you?" The voice was suddenly cold. Jealous. "You try so hard to stay composed, but I saw the way you bounced on him, pleasured him and begged him for more. Even the sound you made when he made you climax."

Vinea's face flushed red—not with embarrassment, but fury.

"I will cut your tongue out if you speak of that again."

"I don't need a tongue," the voice purred, "to make him come."

Levia's sword was halfway out of its sheath when Asmodeus finally moved.

He stepped into the centre of the circle while remaining calm. The light throbbing and flaring brighter—welcoming him.

"Darling?!" Asmodea grabbed at him, but he was already walking forward.

He crouched, placing his bare hand flat against the sigil's heart. Steam hissed around his fingers, the red glow dancing up his arm in coils like serpents. The circle didn't reject him. It sucked him in.

The phantom stilled.

Asmodeus looked up, eyes locked on the swirling face of the snow-formed woman, and said clearly:

"You'll have to do more than whisper to seduce me."

His voice killed the wind, his words like a sharp blade, cutting the blizzard apart. The phantom froze utterly still for the first time.

Then it shuddered like a lover had caressed it.

A sound like cracking ice echoed through the ruins, sharp and clear. The sigil burst into flames—not real fire, but magic fire, crawling up his chest in a spiral before branding a glowing red mark into the skin over his heart.

It burned part of his marking, forcing itself to fuse with the tribal markings that covered his body.

The phantom dissolved into a violent spiral, scattered into a mist of glittering frost.

The circle vanished, shattered into pieces along with the female figure.

And all that remained was the faint scent of heat in the air… and the echo of the Demon Queen's laughter, breathless, shaken as if she had finished a marathon.

"…So that's how it is," she whispered.

Then silence, almost like a bizarre fever dream just ended. But the heart-shaped symbol embedded in Asmodeus's chest still throbbed, proving that it wasn't.

He didn't like it.

The mark made it feel like her cold hands were still stroking along his chest, muscles and body.