[BL] I Accidentally Summoned A Demon Husband Now He Won't Leave

Warning: (Slight toture scene)

Azreal was furious. Elliot's words still echoed in his mind, fanning the flames of his rage. His words had ignited a fire within him, a fire that refused to die down no matter how much he tried to suppress it. This was an unfamiliar sensation for the great Demon King. For centuries, he had ruled with an iron fist, never once tolerating disrespect or opposition. His very name struck fear into the hearts of demons and mortals alike. And yet, today, he had done the unthinkable. He had tolerated Elliot.

Tolerated.

That word alone disgusted him.

The moment he left Elliot, he had immediately returned to his realm, hoping that dealing with his usual matters would calm his nerves. But how could he calm down when the very idea of that summoner's defiance burned in his mind? That brat had managed to offend him countless times in just one day, and yet, instead of unleashing his wrath upon him, he had let him go.

Him? Azreal, the Demon King, choosing to let go? It was almost laughable.

Had he changed? Was it possible for someone like him to be affected so much in a single day?

Azreal clenched his fists, his sharp claws digging into his palm. This is absurd. How could one mortal disrupt my very existence so easily?

He scoffed at the thought, dismissing it almost instantly. No, he was still the same. His patience had merely worn thin, and now, he needed to release his wrath before it consumed him.

He needed an outlet.

He needed to remind himself who he was.

And what better way to do that than to visit the Punishment Hall?

The moment Azreal stepped into the grand, cavernous chamber, the air was thick with the scent of burning flesh and the echoes of tortured screams. The vast hall, carved from jagged black stone, stretched endlessly, its walls lined with rusted chains and iron cages suspended from the ceiling.

Countless demons moved within, their grotesque forms bathed in the dim glow of torches that cast eerie shadows across the bloodstained floor. The wails of suffering souls filled the hall like a symphony of agony. Mortals who had sinned in their previous lives were bound in chains, subjected to punishments befitting their crimes. These were the souls who had been deemed too sinful to be granted peace in death. The wicked, the corrupt, the murderers, the betrayers, this was where they paid for their crimes. The cries for mercy filled the air.

But no mercy existed in this place. Only suffering.

Azreal inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar stench of despair. Yes, this was where he belonged. This was what he needed.

A demon, larger than most with charred skin and curved horns, immediately stepped forward, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the ground. His voice trembled with both respect and fear.

"M-My Lord… You grace the Punishment Hall with your presence. How may we serve you?"

Azreal's crimson eyes burned as he looked down at the kneeling demon.

"Give me a report. How many souls are currently being punished?"

The demon hesitated before answering. "F-Forgive me, My Lord, but…" he swallowed hard, sensing the flicker of irritation in Azreal's gaze. "There are fewer sinners to punish today."

Azreal's expression darkened instantly. "What?"

The demon immediately scrambled to explain. "There has been an unusual surge in the deaths of mortals. Typically, the ratio stands at 40% of the dead, while 60% of sinners arrive injured, in need of punishment. However… today, nearly 90% of mortals have perished outright, leaving only a small number of sinful souls for us to torment."

Azreal's frown deepened. Normally, mortals did not die so easily. Their sins ensured their suffering before their eventual demise, but this imbalance meant one thing—something was wiping them out far too quickly.

His mind immediately recalled Selene's words.

The world of mortals is in trouble.

So, she hadn't been lying. This confirmed it. Mortals were truly on the brink of destruction.

But why should he care?

With a scoff, he turned away. If anything, this simply meant fewer souls for him to bother with. He had better things to bother with.

What did bother him, however, was that he had come here for satisfaction, and now, he was being denied that as well.

Without a word, Azreal turned on his heel and stormed out of the punishment hall, His mood still as foul as before.

The sight had done nothing to quell his rage.

Azreal's throne room was a masterpiece of power and intimidation. The massive black stone walls were etched with runes pulsating with demonic energy, and the floor was lined with crimson veins of molten lava, glowing ominously beneath his feet. Enormous pillars of obsidian reached toward the high, domed ceiling, where shadowy figures whispered in tongues unknown to mortals.

At the far end of the chamber, his throne loomed/ carved from the bones of fallen gods, its armrests shaped like the skulls of vanquished enemies. The air around it crackled with raw, dark magic, making it impossible for any lesser being to approach without trembling in terror.

Azreal seated himself, but the moment he did, his irritation only worsened.

He wanted blood. He wanted carnage.

And he would have it.

Lifting a single finger, he called forth one of his demon subordinates.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he uttered a single word:

"Come."

Immediately, the air before him twisted, a dark portal swirling into existence. From its depths, a lesser demon emerged, dropping to one knee before him. The creature's black horns curled backward, its clawed hands pressed firmly against the ground in submission.

"My Lord." His voice was hoarse with reverence and fear.

Azreal didn't even glance at him as he gave his command.

"Gather your crew. Scout the mortal realm. I want every sinful soul dragged here for judgment immediately."

The demon nodded frantically. "At once, My Lord!" He vanished in an instant, eager to fulfill his master's command.

Time passed.

Eventually, the demon returned, bowing once more.