The Martial God: Demonic Cultivator in a World of Magic [Isekai LitRPG]

The pleasant vibe from Nebula earlier slowly dissipated in the air as we walked through the harsh corridors of the mansion. For a minute, our footsteps were the only sound I could hear. Lilian walked a step behind us, still on the edge, with her eyes sharp, her brows tight, and her hands flinching. I looked at her from the corner of my eyes from time to time.

"Pleasant place," I said, breaking the silence.

"First time you're taking the initiative to talk, young master," Nebula didn't refer to me as her 'dear' anymore, I noted with a chuckle. She raised an eyebrow at that, slightly turning to look at me. "This place isn't as humorous as you're taking it as, young master."

"My, is my fiance threatening me right now?"

"I'm not. I gain nothing from endangering you. Just that… it'd be foolish to treat this as your fiance's pleasant home. I opposed inviting you. But my mother insisted. My brother was all too happy with that, getting a chance to see the 'trash' of Romani," she said before falling silent.

Huh… so it's like that. I should have known. Nebula and I weren't good buddies, she made it clear why she accepted the engagement. There was no reason for her to invite me, it was her stepmother's ploy. What was she planning this time?

"We're here," after walking for a bit more, the quietness of the area thinned, and my ears picked up the sound of chattering, and clattering of glasses, among other stuff.

As we approached the grand ballroom's door, the thought of asking Nebula about the Wraithwoods crossed my mind. But it didn't seem like the right time. She was worried. The heavy atmosphere ahead demanded focus, and any mention of the forest could wait.

For now, all that mattered was navigating the maze of noble youngsters and their hidden agendas that awaited me inside.

The moment we stepped through the arched entrance, the air shifted.

"Psstt, hey look…"

Dozens of eyes turned to us, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down like a physical force. I ignored them, taking a look around the ballroom. It was a spectacle of wealth and power, the kind of place that screamed luxury from every corner.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow over the polished marble floors. The walls were adorned with intricate artwork and paintings depicting scenes of battles and victories, a not-so-subtle bow to the Carlstein's storied history. They've been a border town for a long time.

There was an open balcony near the northern side of the room, with evening light falling over it. I doubted the scent of expensive perfumes mingled with the aroma of fine wine reached that place. If I need a moment of solace, I should go there.

Nobles, dressed in the most elaborate gowns and tailored suits, showing off each other, gathered in small groups. Their conversation was a low hum that never quite drowned out the orchestra playing softly in the background.

I could feel their gazes lingering on me, whispers rippling through the crowd like a rustle of leaves. "The trash… whoa, he came here?"

"That's insane… so that's him? He doesn't look as sickly as rumors say, though."

"In fact, he looks quite good. Is he really trash?"

I saw the glint of surprise in some of their eyes, noting how I appeared sharper, more composed, and undeniably more handsome than the rumors had painted me. The level-ups had done me well. Unfortunately, that surprise was quickly smothered by further hate.

The "trash" of the Romani family, as they called me, was a hard name to get over.

"He may look decent, but he's still the third son of a count. A sickly nobody," I overheard one noble say, her voice dripping with disdain. "Don't get your hopes up about trying anything with him."

"Well, he's engaged to Nebula, anyway."

"Ah, right. Poor girl..."

I'm sure Nebula heard them, she was almost 3rd Ascension, her ears were sensitive enough. For a moment, I wondered how she felt being pitied because her fiancé was being talked about as human trash. She didn't show any reaction.

Lilian wore her surprise more openly. She was surprised to see how the people of Romer talked about me, but perhaps she had assumed that in a Noble setting, it'd be different—that people wouldn't want to talk shit about a Count's son.

The reality was different. I was a Count's third son, not the successor. Iskandaar's fate was quite poor, he's lucky to have died before reaching adulthood properly. He'd have been sent to some faraway land as a Baron or worse, and live a wasted life.

Another voice chimed in, "And who's that beside him? A workmaid? I didn't know the Carlstein Barony had a demi-human maid."

"Maybe she's with the trash?"

Nebula leaned in closer, her smile masking her true feelings. "Let us spend some moments together," she whispered, her voice low. "After that, I'll leave you alone. You can look around, enjoy yourself, and all the other stuff. And hopefully, stay out of Luciel's gaze."

I scanned the room, searching for any sign of Nebula's stepbrother. "I don't see him," I muttered.

"He's not here yet," Nebula replied smoothly, her voice just low. "He'll be here soon when the sun sets."

We headed towards a table, falling into a casual conversation. As planned, we mingled for a few minutes, Nebula and I talked while Lilian stood stiffly by my side, her posture betraying her discomfort.

The nobles around us kept their distance, wary of engaging with the supposed "trash" of the Romani family. I didn't mind.

"My reputation is worse than I thought," I said.

"I wonder why," Nebula said, making me recall the memories of Iskandaar's behavior. At first, I had thought he wasn't that bad for a noble, but when my memories cleared, I realized that he wasn't quite innocent either.

Iskandaar never realized his reputation was this bad. He was Level 2 trash, while I was Level 30. On top of my sharper senses, my Demonic Sphere let me hear everything better. I heard things that he never had before.

Nebula eventually excused herself, moving to join a group of noble ladies who were eagerly awaiting her presence.

"You," left to my own devices, I called for one of the servants carrying drinks.

"Y-yes, young master?"

The butler practically trembled, as I took a glass from the tray he was carrying. I decided to excuse him instead of torturing him with my presence. It was a glass of wine, the rich, red liquid swirling lazily in the crystal goblet as I took a sip.

"Mmm," I let out a sigh. The wine was good, better than I expected.

"Do nobles always drink randomly?" Lilian suddenly asked. She was fidgeting in this tight atmosphere, being looked at by every other noble, so she was likely looking for a way to diverge her attention. I didn't mind helping her, so I answered.

"They do. Although this isn't really 'random', a social event like this is made for drinks," I said.

"I see…"

"Why? The Lunewolves don't drink?"

"Well, we do. But after victories in battle or wars. It's more celebratory. Alcohol is a religious symbol for Luphoran, the God of Beasts, Wilds, and the Untamed. As his worshippers, we love alcohol." Lilian enlightened me about her God.

"Interesting. Wanna try this?" I raised the cup to her lips, and she blinked rapidly, raising her hand to reject it, but not quite finding it in herself. She loved alcohol. How could she deny the offer to try one?

"Just a little," she said, leaning forward, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and then sipping the drink. The red wine reflected into her red eyes, a light of pleasant surprise spreading across her face.

"You like it?" I asked as she withdrew her face, wiping her lips.

"It's good. I never had it. Is it called… red wine?"

"Yes, and-"

Our chatter of peace was short-lived. A voice called from the back, interrupting me.

"Hey, Iskandaar!" A loud voice cut through the low murmur of the crowd, and I turned to see a thin, black-haired young man making his way toward me, a cheeky grin on his face.

I frowned, trying to recall him. I recognized just a moment later—Edric Vayne, the first son of a baron and one of the old Iskandaar's more unsavory companions.

Another trash, in short.

The man was infamous for his despicable desire for slave women, and the memories I had of his cruelty made my skin crawl as I scowled.

I didn't respond, pretending not to recognize him. Maybe if I ignored him, he'd leave me alone. But the noble wasn't deterred. He stopped in front of me, his grin faltering as he looked at me over.

"What's wrong? I heard you hit your head. Did you lose your memory or something? I can't believe my good friend Iskandaar wouldn't greet me back!" he said, his tone half-joking, half-bewildered, as he started laughing.

What's up with him? I frowned. Something didn't feel right.

Before I could reply, his gaze shifted to Lilian, and his grin returned, more lecherous than before. "Forget that. Looks like you've got yourself a new plaything, eh? She's hot as shit, man… I bought a mermaid recently. Played with her enough though. Wanna exchange?"

That made my grip tighten around the goblet, and I felt the muscles in my jaw clench. What the fuck is he yapping about?

Lilian, standing beside me, didn't fare much better. Her nails grew into claws, thankfully nobody noticed, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger. I couldn't blame her.

I glared at Edric Vayne. Given my past, it wasn't entirely his fault that he thought he could walk up to me and talk to me like this, but that didn't make it any less infuriating.

I  still forced a polite smile, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. "I'm not interested, Edric. You should enjoy your own playthings and leave me alone. You're ruining the taste of my wine."

The noble's grin faded, replaced by a scowl. "Hey, what's the matter with you, Iskandaar? Did you forget how good friends we used to be, just because we haven't hung out for a month? We'd talk about this stuff all the time. Now you're acting like you're too good for me?" He stepped closer, his voice rising with each word.

Noticing that there was no point in being polite, I scowled directly at him. "If I'm acting like I don't recognize you, you lowly bastard, shouldn't you just step back and leave me alone?"

Edric's face contoured in a frown, "Hah, look at you. What happened, Iskandaar? Don't you remember the shit we used to get up to? Or has that fall made you forget everything? All those nights we spent in the underground brothels, did you forget? Did you forget how you played around with my slaves because your old man wouldn't let you buy one of your own? The orgies we'd crash, the deals we'd strike in the dark, selling off those poor bastards' futures for a quick thrill? Or that time we got that servant girl drunk and tossed her into the stables to watch her 'entertain' the horses for a laugh?" Edric's grin returned, nastier than his words. "How can you act like you're better than me now, Iskandaar?"

"What?" The words hit me like a punch to the gut. All around me, people burst into gossip.

"This trash did that?! Gross."

"No way, how is someone like him a noble?!"

This body's memories were a blur—I didn't have full recollection. But even then, I didn't recall anything about most of the stuff he just said. Especially the last one. I never made a maid entertain a fucking horse.

The old Iskandaar was bad, he had been a part of things I would rather not think about, but they weren't this bad.

What the fuck is he talking about?

Was my memory acting up, or was he making shit up on the spot? He didn't stop there, he was still talking. The more he talked, the more it felt like he was exaggerating, fabricating things.

From across the room, I saw Nebula facepalm, clearly embarrassed by the scene. Lilian looked equally stunned, her eyes wide with disbelief at some of the accusations being thrown around.

This was making me mad.

It was one thing about not caring about what people thought of me, as I was far used to people's disdain from my last life, but another to be accused of stuff I've never done.

I felt my jaws clench. I wanted to punch his head in, but this was my fiancé's home. Should I really be causing trouble here? Plus if I beat him now, instead of defending myself against the allegations, it would only prove his point. So I could only be vocal about it.

"I-" Just as I was about to deny everything, a loud voice cut through the tension, silencing the room.

"Oh, Edric, my friend," the voice called, laced with mock concern. "Even if he has a past, he's still my sister's fiancé. How can you say all that out loud?"

All heads turned toward the grand staircase, where a young man was descending with deliberate grace. His brown hair and blue eyes marked him as a Carlstein, but it was the smirk on his lips that I registered first.

Luciel Carlstein. The birthday boy.

His arrival now out of all times was anything but a coincidence. I could see it in the way he moved, in the calculated look in his eyes as he approached. Much of what the baron's son had said was likely fabricated by Luciel himself, all part of a twisted game to humiliate me in front of everyone.

The realization sunk into my eyes slowly, as my frown vanished. So this is what she warned me about, I see.

The room fell silent as Luciel reached the bottom of the stairs, his gaze locked on mine. "Hey there," he said, his voice mocking me. "Brother-in-law."

Seeing him look down brought out something primal in me; my pride, my rage that drove me during my kickboxing career. The Heavenly Demon's memories amplified whatever fire ignited within me, and for a moment, I saw red.

Out of sheer willpower did I stop myself from making a mess of his face.