The terrified expression on the girl’s face sent a thrilling itch through Ross’s chest.

But it couldn’t let this human—freshly pledged to the Abyss—steal the prize. It had to hold back. For now.

Still, Ross had already mapped out its “lesson plan”: for the human Archangel right before it… and that cowardly little worm still lurking outside.

It recalled vividly how the Succubus Queen, describing the Blood of Pure Lust, had declared with certainty: once consumed, the host must undergo at least one perfect corruption to temporarily quell the raging desire within.

So this Archangel they’d met again… must have already lost her sacred purity that night.

Who got damn lucky enough to claim her first?

That worm?

Old grudges and fresh fury erupted in Ross. It burned to tear that despicable human apart—*right now*.

Then—a twist. Didn’t that make this Archangel, however loosely, *his* mate?

And Ross *adored* earth-dwelling females bound by body and heart.

*Gulp… hah…*

Swallowing hard, Ross trembled with feverish excitement.

“Human Archangel~” it cooed, “let me savor your heartfelt performance.”

Trembling, Ross pressed the vial of Blood of Pure Lust to Sylvia’s lips, eyes gleaming with twisted anticipation.

*No!*

*Please, no!*

Sylvia jerked her head away—but the black mist coiling her limbs suddenly surged upward, locking her skull in place.

*It’s over.*

Her magic was utterly drained. With strength and agility barely past level 10, escape was impossible.

*What do I do? What do I do?*

Eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, her whole body trembled slightly.

*Next second—they’ll force my mouth open. Glug-glug-glug. All of it.*

One dose had already scrambled her race display on the status panel. A second? She couldn’t imagine the horror.

“NO!!!”

The vial’s rim touched her lips. Sylvia screamed.

“Hahahaha—*uh!*”

Ross’s mocking laughter cut off mid-cackle.

*What?*

Sylvia’s eyes flew open. The Abyssal Lord stood rigid, limbs jerking like a broken puppet.

*Just like the original story… When a possessed human does this—it’s the host soul fighting back!*

*Lord Angus?!*

The Abyssal Lord clawed its own throat, staggering back, face twisted in agony. Sylvia’s hope flared.

She couldn’t see the battle inside that aged body—but the frantic, deranged motions screamed *fierce struggle*.

Yet the Abyssal Lord’s soul was among the strongest in existence. Angus’s fight was desperate.

*Hang on, Lord Angus!*

She could only watch, helpless.

Then—the Abyssal Lord wrenched Angus’s right hand and *stabbed* it toward his own heart.

*NO!*

Blood sprayed. Sylvia gasped.

Abyssal creatures endured pain far beyond humans. A mortal wound wouldn’t stop them—but humans would collapse instantly.

True enough: the old body crumpled to the floor with a heavy *thud*.

But Angus wasn’t done.

With hard-won fragments of sight, he scanned the room—

*There!*

The holy reagent on the alchemy workbench, still glowing faintly white.

His face contorted—a strained, triumphant grimace.

He scrambled toward it, slammed his left hand against the wooden stand leg—

*CRASH!*

The leg shattered. The workbench toppled.

Ignoring the spill, Angus snatched the vial and poured every drop down his throat.

“Ugh… urgh…”

Agony twisted his features—but this pain was *his*.

He was using the High-tier Sacred Healing to purify himself from within. To burn the parasite out.

“You… *wretch*! How… dare you ruin my plans! AAAAAARGH—!”

Swallowed directly, the healing power surged—far stronger than Sylvia’s casting, especially against Abyssal corruption.

Ross had meant to drag Sylvia into the Abyss… but purification raced too fast, unresisted. No time left. *None.*

“Hah… *cough*… Did you think… this old man served the Abyss… out of *fear*?”

“Now scram… tail between your legs… back to your lair… *demon*.”

Watching even the mighty Abyssal Lord helpless against the alchemical light—a quiet pride swelled in Angus.

*The Archangel was right.*

This scorned art of alchemy… truly could change the world.