Chapter 279

"They got away,"

Mart thought.

"Kill them, punish them so they understand the power of your Wrath."

Mart knew it well: that voice inciting his fury was none other than the voice of "Satan of Wrath."

He knew this because of one of the lucid dreams he’d had in the past after reading the book titled *Demonic Hearts*.

The voice inciting Mart was growing weaker and weaker.

In the same way, the impulse Mart had felt when he let himself be carried away by the defining trait of Wrath was waning.

But still, there was wrath within him.

A wrath that gradually mingled with his lucidity.

"Do you want to lose what you love?"

"If not, kill—wipe out those who dare to provoke your anger."

"Punish them..."

In Mart’s eyes, still the color of fiery orange, the troops of the Barantrense army of the Republic of Argariz were reflected.

To Mart’s eyes at that moment, those demons looked no bigger than ants.

But in the eyes of those demons, the Marquis seemed like a nightmare—or worse.

Wrath and clarity.

Mart clenched his right fist.

He was about to attack.

An orange and red aura appeared around his hand.

But that aura was enveloped by an ominous color.

One of Mart’s eyes turned completely red.

A wicked smile appeared just as Mart was about to deliver his powerful blow.

...

A demon—pale-skinned, with three brown horns, tall and burly, clad in silver armor adorned with black symbols—wore a cloak on his back bearing the symbol of a lion with three horns and three eyes. He exclaimed in a firm voice:

"Retreat, now!"

That demon was one of the Baratrense commanders.

And he didn’t have to think twice to understand the meaning behind Marquis Sevec’s intense murderous intent.

The other Baratrense commanders followed suit.

"Run! Quickly!"

"Get away!"

The low-ranking demons ran in terror; though it seemed chaotic, their retreat was somewhat orderly.

You can’t ask for more from frightened demons.

They hurried to retreat in three different directions.

The military camp was about to be abandoned.

Among the low-ranking demons, some were still moving slowly.

The goal was to escape, hoping the marquis wouldn’t be able to attack them all at once.

But Mart had no intention of letting them escape at that moment.

...

In his crib, little Persec Sevec was holding onto the bars and babbling unintelligible words while waving one of his little arms.

"My little one, what’s wrong?"

The beautiful Isirid entered the room and picked up her little son.

The baby was pointing with his rattle in the direction where his father was.

Isirid smiled and kissed the little baby on the forehead.

"Everything will be all right; your father will win."

The little one continued to babble, now pointing toward the window.

It wasn’t that the baby had any deeper understanding beyond his age; it was his pure demonic instinct that longed to see and witness his father using the "cursed energy."

"When you’re older, my mischievous little one, your father and your grandfather will teach you everything you want to know. Right now, it’s dangerous."

Tears of resignation welled up in the little infant’s eyes, and he hid his cute face against his mother’s chest.

..

In one of Isirid’s delicate hands lay a red locust with black wings that had appeared when the little baby had caused one of her locusts to absorb the cursed energy possessed by the fly Mart had created earlier.

"I won’t destroy your pet—just don’t get into any mischief."

The baby, who had tried to get his locust to leave the room, now looked tenderly at his mother, hoping she would give the locust back to him.

...

The three-horned Baratrense commander leaped into the sky in the direction the marquis was standing.

The other two Baratrense commanders followed him; all three were manipulating a demonic artifact that created a demonic barrier.

The three-horned commander summoned a heavy sword, but it was already too late—they were unable to get close to the marquis.

Mart Sevec threw a punch into the air, unleashing a powerful shockwave toward the location where the troops of the Republic of Argariz were stationed.

The shockwave, shrouded in a reddish-orange fire speckled with sinister patches, charred all the troops; only one smoking figure fell to the ground, still alive.

The three-horned Baratrense commander was unharmed despite the smoke rising from his uniform.

But all around him, everything was stained with a dark, foul-smelling color.

"Go and tell your Republican Council that if they decide to declare war, I will not stop until I have completely annihilated them."

The Baratrense commander felt an unfamiliar fear as he watched Mart Sevec walk away until he disappeared from his field of vision and perception.

...

"Who are you?"

Mart murmured those words just before the power granted by his Wrath ceased entirely.

Beyond the borders of the Sevec Marquisate, in human territory, a "powerful perception" directed at Mart arose.

He remained calm, ready to activate one of his "Capital Traits" if necessary.

However, the perception vanished as soon as Mart uttered those words.

Mart entered his luxurious, spacious room.

Menna approached him and embraced him.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, my dear Menna," Mart kissed Menna on the forehead.

A trace of blood appeared on Menna’s forehead after that kiss.

Blood was flowing from Mart’s tear ducts, nose, mouth, and ears.

"I’m sorry," Menna said, using a white handkerchief to wipe away the blood.

Mart sat on the edge of the bed.

He stroked the white horn on Menna’s forehead.

A simple gesture that made Menna very happy—one Mart had begun doing after their first intimate encounter.

"You don’t have to apologize. No one has the right to attack you, and as long as I’m alive, I’ll kill anyone who tries. Don’t forget—you’re my wife."

She threw herself at Mart and kissed him deeply.

[The host is suffering from chronic fatigue]

"Wake me up if there’s danger, or wake me up in four days," Mart told the system through a thought.

Mart lay down while Menna was still holding him.

He fell into a deep sleep.