My Supernatural Girlfriends Spoils Me Rotten-Chapter 310: A glimpse of Origin.

He stared at it longer than he meant to. The background showed a blue sky—an odd combination.

But that wasn't the only thing.

Something about the image unsettled him, yet he couldn't look away.

The longer he stared, the stronger the feeling grew, like the painting was watching him just as much as he was watching it.

Lucian glanced at Lyrx before speaking casually, his voice low.

"Do you think he can tell these paintings aren't just decoration?"

Lyrx nodded. "They were made using the blood of those depicted in them. That's why they carry a piece of their presence. There's no way he would miss that... But..."

"He's not connected to the demon world, right? Only direct descendants can resonate with these paintings, and even then, very few can unlock their secrets. I haven't even managed it with my own ancestor, Arachne."

"I get it. I'm the same with Lucifer," Lucian admitted. "But maybe he's just too strong to need something like a bloodline?"

Lyrx didn't want to admit it, but he was right.

Asher was an anomaly. The limits that applied to them didn't necessarily apply to him.

"Why Beelzebub, though?" she muttered, furrowing his brows. "Of all the ancestors, why him?"

Lucian looked at the painting, then at Asher.

"Don't you think they look alike? Of course, my son-in-law is much more impressive, but some of their features match. Look closely."

"Now that you mention it... There are similarities.

While the duo continued watching in silence, Asher sank deeper into his thoughts.

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His Mind Zero activated, allowing him to perceive every detail of the painting with absolute clarity

'What's that noise?' he muttered to himself.

A faint buzzing sound brushed against his ears.

Then, in an instant, the world changed.

He was no longer in the castle.

An open field stretched as far as he could see, completely silent.

Above him, the sky stretched endlessly, clear and empty without a single cloud in sight.

But something felt wrong. It was too perfect, too still—like a picture that never changed.

The grass beneath his feet swayed gently, but there was no wind.

Each blade stood tall, untouched by the passage of time, as if it had never been stepped on before.

Asher's eyes narrowed.

'This isn't real.'

Then came the sound.

A low, vibrating hum filled the air, rattling the air.

The blue sky disappeared.

A huge swarm of black covered everything, spreading endlessly in every direction. .

Quadrillions of flies moved together, like a living storm blocking out all light.

Their tiny wings flapped at the same time, making a loud buzzing sound.

He didn't move. He knew this wasn't real.

But, the pressure around him was suffocating. The vibration intensified, a constant, unnatural rhythm that seemed to sync with his own heartbeat.

His skin tingled as the hissing grew louder, forming words he couldn't quite grasp, just on the edge of understanding.

The swarm shifted, breaking apart like a puzzle rearranging itself.

From its center, a shape emerged—a towering figure, sculpted entirely from writhing insects.

Hollow sockets stared down at him, filled with endless movement.

A grin formed—no lips, just flies peeling apart.

"You think you can hide from me behind this swarm of pests?"

Asher's golden aura burst out, tearing through the illusion. The swarm of flies disintegrated instantly, vanishing like ash in the wind.

Behind them, a figure was revealed.

It was Beelzebub—identical to the figure in the painting. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting to be exposed so quickly.

"You're not real either," Asher pointed out.

The figure's face grew more serious. "You're correct. I'm nothing but a fragment of the real one. I can't exist outside this painting."

"Then why did you trap me here?"

"Trap you?" the fragment raised an eyebrow before shaking its head.

"I think there's a misunderstanding. I only greeted you when your soul entered this place on its own."

Asher frowned. "What do you mean, 'on its own'? I didn't choose to come here."

It chuckled, its multifaceted eyes glimmering.

"Didn't you? I thought you entered this place because you want to talk to me."

"That doesn't explain anything," Asher shot back. "What did you do?"

It exhaled, folding its arms. "I did nothing. Your connection to this place was already there long before you stepped inside."

Asher's eyes narrowed. "Connection? To what?"

"To me," it said, tapping its own chest. "Or rather, to the real me."

Asher remained silent for a moment, trying to make sense of it.

"That's impossible. I don't have any connection to you."

"Are you sure about that?"

Asher's expression darkened. "I don't care what kind of mind games you're playing. If you have something to say, say it."

its wings twitched slightly as it studied Asher in silence, its gaze lingering for a full ten seconds.

"No, you're not him either, so I wonder why you have it."

"Have what?"

Another silence stretched between them.

Asher, getting annoyed, let out another burst of aura.

The air around him grew heavy, pushing down like an invisible force. It wasn't just a warning —he was demanding answers.

"Fine," the fragment finally gave in, his wings shifting slightly as he exhaled.

"My memory only reaches the moment this painting was made . I know nothing of what came after, but your soul... it is not a single existence."

"I can sense four... A human… A dragon… A divine… and lastly, the soul of the King of Insects."

Asher's expression remained the same, but something about those words felt real.

"You're saying I have a part of your original self inside me?"

"Not just a small part. A huge piece of my original self is sealed within you, suppressed by your other souls."

It watched him closely before continuing.

"Your human soul has evolved and reached perfection. Your dragon soul, despite being new, is already stronger than your perfected human soul."

"As for your divine soul, it's dormant—just like the soul of the king of insects."