Cucking The Demon King
Chapter 129: The strange saviour

Chapter 129: The strange saviour

Emerald’s eyes widened.

She had thought the last fireball was overwhelming. She had thought she had seen what he was capable of.

But this... this was something else entirely.

The power radiating from that single spell... It didn’t make sense.

She took a small step back, unconsciously. Her blade trembled in her hand—not from fear, but from the strain of all the mana she had already poured into it. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breathing grew shallow.

And still, the fireball hovered there. Crackling. Humming. Waiting.

A cold sweat slid down the side of her face as she clenched her jaw.

’I don’t see any way out of this...’ she thought bitterly, eyes flicking from the massive fireball to the man who conjured it.

He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. The shadowy man stood with a casual posture, one hand resting behind his back while the other held up the monstrosity of flame.

The shadows around him flickered like laughing ghosts.

The girls behind Emerald—Elsa, Lela, and Grace—were frozen. Not out of fear, but confusion. Hopelessness. The light from the burning room reflected in their eyes, wide and struggling to understand how everything had turned so quickly.

"What... is that?" Cynthia whispered, her voice nearly inaudible.

Lela covered her mouth with her hand, eyes darting around the room, trying to find a way out—but there wasn’t one. The entrance they came through had long been blocked by collapsed rubble, and the heat made it impossible to think straight.

Elsa remained still, her arms trembling slightly. Even with her blessing active, the heat distorted her focus. She glanced at Emerald, her mind racing, but said nothing.

Because she knew.

They were trapped.

There was no running from this.

There was no dodging it.

And the man hadn’t even launched it yet.

Emerald’s grip tightened on her sword. Her veins pulsed with mana, and she forced herself to steady her breathing.

She couldn’t panic. Not now.

If she did, they would all die.

Fwooosh...

The fireball grew slightly bigger again—just slightly—but it was enough to send more sparks into the air. They rained down like falling stars, igniting more of the already crumbling room.

The man tilted his head slightly, grinning as he looked down on them like a god watching insects squirm.

"You’re very quiet now," he said, voice amused. "Have you given up already, aren’t you going to say anything... maybe about how the light of the church is brighter than this."

Emerald didn’t respond, only gnashing her teeth in annoyance.

Her mind was screaming.

That fireball... if it hit... not even her slash wave could stop something of that size. Even if she somehow blocked it, the explosion would wipe them out.

There would be no rubble to pull them from. She doubted even a trace of them would remain, and they immediately be burnt into ashes.

"I told you," the man continued, his voice laced with mockery. "You should have come peacefully. But now? Now you’ll have to face the consequence."

Elsa clenched her fists behind Emerald, her teeth grinding against one another. "We can’t just stand here!" she said.

"I know," Emerald muttered. Her voice was rough, edged with desperation—but her eyes remained focused.

She knew there was no way to stop the attack head-on.

Which meant there was only one option left.

Stall him.

Somehow... stall the attack while the rest of the girls found a way to escape.

Even if it cost her everything.

The man raised his hand, preparing to release the fireball.

Emerald stepped forward.

Her legs trembled.

Her body screamed.

Her vision blurred at the edges from the heat and the strain of the mana still surging through her veins.

"You three, use your blessings and find a way out of here!" She shouted, raising her blade before pointing it at the blazing fireball.

"I said I would crush you," she said softly. "So come on."

The man blinked. "Still with the bravado?" he said, laughing. "Alright then. Let’s see how long you last."

And he released it.

The fireball shot toward them.

The very air cracked as it passed.

Emerald gritted her teeth and charged forward.

She didn’t scream this time.

There was no room for that.

She leapt up, raising her sword high, and brought it down with every ounce of strength in her body. Mana surged through her arm, her shoulder, her chest—her entire being.

But just as the blade was about to collide with the enormous fireball—

A thick dark thorn suddenly shot out from behind, wrapping tightly around her waist.

"Wha—?!" Emerald’s eyes widened, startled. Her swing was halted mid-air.

Before she could even react, the thorn yanked her back violently.

"Ugh!" she grunted as she was hurled backward.

At the same time, similar thorns erupted beneath the others—Elsa, Cynthia, and Lela—coiling around their legs and torsos.

"What the—!?"

"Where’s this coming from?!"

They all yelped in surprise, attempting to channel their blessings—only to find nothing responding. The mana that once danced so easily to their will had suddenly gone quiet.

Thick, dark smoke billowed from the room’s edges like a tidal wave, swirling into a dense curtain that blotted out the world around them. Within seconds, all vision was consumed in a choking black haze.

From within that darkness came a furious voice.

"HOW DARE YOU?!"

It boomed like thunder, shaking the very walls. For the first time, there was genuine fury in the shadowy man’s tone. His calm, detached demeanor had cracked.

Emerald tried to speak, to fight, to do anything—but everything was shrouded.

Then, silence.

The world went still.

The dark smoke slowly began to recede. Shapes started returning to their vision.

Emerald groaned, her hand gripping her sword tightly as she sat up.

Her body ached all over, mainly due to how she forcefully channeled her mana, but she simply endured it.

The others stirred beside her. Elsa coughed, looking around warily. Cynthia blinked in confusion. Lela was already on her feet, checking the surroundings.

They were in a large room—wide and well-furnished, with polished wooden floors and elegant furniture arranged neatly along the walls.

An ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting soft light across the space. The scent of herbs and burning incense lingered faintly in the air.

"Where... where are we?" Elsa muttered, looking around nervously.

Emerald immediately stepped forward, positioning herself between the others and the rest of the room. Her stance lowered into a battle-ready position, sword held firm.

She didn’t trust this sudden calm.

And she was right not to.

From the far end of the room, footsteps echoed. Calm, measured, deliberate.

Then someone appeared.

A woman.

She was tall, her posture elegant yet casual, like she didn’t have a care in the world.

She wore a dark, flowing coat that hugged her curves, and atop her head sat a large, pointed hat that tilted ever so slightly to the side. It shadowed her face, casting a light shadow over it.

Despite the heavy coat, her feminine figure was unmistakable—slender waist, wide hips, and a subtle sway in her steps.

The three girls blinked, visibly confused.

’A woman? Who is she?’ Similar thoughts flashed through their minds, and Elsa and Cynthia briefly exchanged glances with themselves.

They had expected another heretic, or even worse, someone like that strange shadowy man.

But instead, the mysterious woman waved at them lightly, her tone soft and casual.

"Hi."

Emerald’s grip on her sword tightened. That interaction—so calm, so out of place—only put her more on edge.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

She scanned the woman carefully. There was no ominous aura. No creeping darkness. No sense of dread.

Nothing.

And that—that—made her all the more suspicious.

The last thing Emerald remembered was leaping at that massive fireball, ready to buy the others time... and then being pulled away.

That meant the one in front of her had to be involved.

And from her style alone, she didn’t look ordinary. Her coat bore similar patterns to those worn by the heretics, yet the pointed hat atop her head made her seem like something from a child’s fairy tale—a witch.

The woman chuckled gently. "There’s no need to be so tense," she said, her tone pleasant. One of her hands rose slowly, brushing against the brim of her hat.

The moment her fingers touched the edge, Emerald’s blade flared up with mana.

Her instincts screamed at her. This woman was no mere eccentric. She could be dangerous, and all of this could be a ploy so they would let down their guard. Perhaps even worse than the heretics.

"Easy, knight," the woman said with a soft laugh. "No tricks."

Her voice was smooth. Almost too smooth.

She began to lift the hat from her head slowly.

The girls watched carefully, already battle ready in case of anything that might happen.

As the hat came off, her face was finally revealed.

The moment their face was revealed, Emerald and the three other girl’s eyes widened slightly in awe.

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