Cucking The Demon King
Chapter 122: Caged Birds

Chapter 122: Caged Birds

The golden swords sliced forward with piercing light, colliding with the onrushing heretic.

But just before they could make contact, a cloak of writhing dark flames burst out around his body like a shield.

Fwoooosh!

The swords struck the flames and hissed, melting into sparks before they could even touch his skin. The light they carried was completely devoured, overwhelmed by the malicious, living fire.

Elsa gasped.

Her arm dropped slightly, her heart pounding in her chest.

She didn’t have time to react again.

The heretic, still mid-air, extended one hand toward her.

A swirling orb of black fire rapidly condensed in his palm—its heat intense and suffocating. With a guttural snarl, he hurled it at her.

"Elsa!" Lela screamed from behind.

But Elsa stood frozen.

Her blessing had failed to make a dent. Her swords—powerful, radiant swords—had simply vanished. And now death was flying toward her, wrapped in flame and hatred.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

The fireball was nearly upon her when—

CLANG!

A sharp blade swept across her vision, slicing through the dark fire with a loud explosion. Embers flew out in every direction, scorching the walls.

Emerald stood in front of her, sword in hand, breath steady but tense. The force of the impact had pushed her back half a step, but her stance held firm.

Elsa blinked, trembling, her mouth slightly agape.

Sweat trickled down the side of her cheek, her throat dry and tight.

For a second, she didn’t speak.

Then she lowered her head in shame.

"I... I couldn’t even move," she whispered, her voice almost lost in the stillness after the clash.

Emerald glanced back at her, still keeping her sword raised in a guarded stance. "Stay focused," she said, her tone sharp but not unkind.

Elsa bit her lip and nodded.

But her heart wouldn’t stop sinking.

She was a noble. A trained fighter. Someone born with divine talent. She had trained longer than most. Yet here she was—shaking, helpless, almost burnt to a crisp by one sudden attack.

What good was noble birth if she couldn’t hold her own against a single heretic?

’How pathetic...’ she thought.

The heretic who had launched the fireball now stood still, his feet crackling with residual flames as he landed gracefully, a smirk still plastered across his face.

He lifted a hand, brushing away a bit of soot from his sleeve. "Impressive," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "Even without your precious blessing, you still managed to deflect that."

Emerald didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed on him, her grip firm around her sword’s hilt.

"Such elegant movement," he continued. "Such poise. You truly are a proper knight."

A low chuckle echoed from behind him.

The shadowy figure, still partially cloaked in writhing darkness, took a step forward, his presence sending chills down every student’s spine.

"That’s right," the man said, his voice rich with twisted admiration. "That’s why she’s the most dangerous."

His unseen gaze settled on Emerald, making her muscles stiffen.

"You’ve always been sharp... powerful... resilient," he continued. "A real gem among stones. A wonderful knight."

The other heretics behind him began laughing—low, maniacal, gleeful cackles that sounded like they were enjoying a twisted show. The sound echoed around the chamber, blending with the flickering shadows cast by their fire.

To them, this was fun.

A game.

And they were the predators.

Emerald narrowed her eyes.

She didn’t flinch, but she couldn’t deny the feeling rising in her chest. It wasn’t fear—she had long since mastered her fear.

It was... humiliation.

Their words didn’t feel like praise.

It felt like they were mocking her.

Mocking all of them.

She could see it in their eyes. The condescension. The confidence. As if no matter how much they resisted, they’d still be crushed like ants beneath a boot.

The shadowy man turned slightly, speaking casually. "Shame we’ll have to break you."

One of the heretics snickered. "I’d love to see her cry."

Another added, "Do you think she’ll scream louder than the last one?"

Emerald’s knuckles whitened.

She glanced behind her.

Cynthia looked pale and stiff, her breathing shallow. Lela was gripping her own arms, trying to hold back the tremble in her legs. Elsa had finally regained some composure, but her brows were furrowed in frustration—at herself.

They weren’t ready for this.

This wasn’t a spar.

This wasn’t even a test.

It was a slaughter.

Emerald stepped forward, sword pointed ahead.

"If you want a fight..." she said, voice sharp, "come get one."

The smirking heretic who’d attacked first ignited his fists with more dark fire, stepping to the side like a predator circling its prey.

The others began spreading out as well, forming a loose arc around the girls.

The tension thickened.

The air itself seemed heavier, weighed down by malicious intent.

And still... the shadowy figure didn’t move.

He just watched, silent now, arms folded inside his dark cloak, shadows swirling lazily around his hidden face.

Emerald knew what that meant.

He was waiting.

Observing.

This was another test.

Just like the invasion... just like the last ambush.

Only this time, there was no one coming to save them.

No divine interruption.

No instructor rushing to intervene.

Just the four of them... against five maniacs—and a hidden monster pulling the strings.

Emerald didn’t let the dread take her.

She couldn’t afford to.

Instead, she spoke quietly, just loud enough for the others to hear.

"Stay close. Don’t try anything stupid. Watch their movements and act together."

"But they’re too fast—" Lela started.

"We can handle it," Emerald cut in, forcing her voice to remain steady. "We have to."

Elsa exhaled sharply through her nose, stepping beside her, dagger in hand once again. "I won’t freeze this time."

Cynthia forced a nod, eyes locked on the surrounding enemies.

Lela hesitated... then took her place, light flashing around her boots as mana surged to enhance her speed.

The heretics grinned.

Their laughter faded into silence.

Then—

The first one charged again, fire blazing from his feet, launching toward Emerald like a streak of shadowy lightning.

She met him head-on.

Their blades clashed with a thunderous clang, sparks flying from the impact. Emerald held her ground, twisting her sword to force his arm aside, then pivoting to strike back.

But the heretic ducked, dark energy shielding him from her counter.

At the same time, two others moved in—one from the left, wielding twin daggers wrapped in void energy, and another from the right, hurling a volley of burning shards.

"Now!" Emerald barked.

Elsa stretched her hand forward, conjuring a glowing shield of light.

The volley of shards slammed into the shield, sending a small pulse across the room.

However, they quickly dispersed into thin air, unable to penetrate the dense surface of the shield.

Cynthia quickly extended both hands, forming overlapping shields of light between them and the twin-dagger heretic.

The blades slammed against the shield and bounced off harmlessly.

Though she and Elsa materialised shields, it didn’t mean their blessing was the same.

Elsa’s blessing was an Epic grade called Weapon Manifestation, which allowed her to create any weapon she wanted.

Because of this power, she could also create a shield weapon, and use it to defend herself against her enemies.

As for Cynthia, hers was a rare grade called shield of light.

Just like the name implied, it allowed her summon different light shields.

Though they were both shields, the nature of their blessings were entirely different.

Meanwhile, Lela darted forward, her light-infused boots propelling her in a blur of speed.

She zipped behind the dagger-wielder, striking him across the back with a precise kick that knocked him off balance.

For a brief moment, they pushed back.

The heretics regrouped, snarling.

"Not bad," one of them hissed. "Not bad at all."

Emerald didn’t let up.

"Lela, keep up the pressure—move constantly. Cynthia, prioritize shielding. Elsa, stay close and attack when there’s an opening."

The three girls nodded, energy surging around them once again.

The battle had truly begun.

But deep down, even as she deflected another strike, Emerald knew—

They were outmatched.

Maybe not in skill.

But in endurance.

In killing intent.

And most of all... in information.

The heretics had planned this.

They knew her blessing. They knew their formation. They knew where they were hiding.

Which meant...

’There’s a traitor,’ Emerald thought grimly, parrying a blow with a loud metallic screech. ’Or someone’s been watching us for a long time.’

She couldn’t say it aloud.

Couldn’t shake the others’ focus.

But she would find out.

No matter what.

Even if it meant dragging herself through hell.

The shadowy man took another step forward.

The floor beneath his feet didn’t creak. It didn’t echo.

It simply grew darker, as if the light itself bent away from him.

His voice rang out again—smooth, low, and full of disdain.

"You struggle," he said. "You fight back. You even draw blood."

His eyes—though still unseen—seemed to bore into each of them, stripping away their resolve layer by layer.

"But in the end..." he raised one hand, letting it hover in the air as if to cup their fear. "You’re still trapped. Caged birds flapping against iron bars."

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