Cucking The Demon King
Chapter 132: The slave

Chapter 132: The slave

Silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t one of fear—it was one of realization.

"She didn’t tell us," Elsa murmured. "She made this illusion just for us."

"Maybe she didn’t want to scare us," Cynthia said quietly.

"Or maybe," Emerald said, turning toward the door Eva had left through, "she’s playing her own game."

They all turned to look at the door.

Eva, the mysterious woman with darkness powers, who claimed to be repaying a favor.

Who dressed like a witch from a storybook, and had saved them from a death they had no hope of escaping.

A heretic, yes. But also their savior.

For now.

Elsa walked over to the couch and plopped down with a tired sigh. "I still don’t get it. What kind of heretic just saves people from other heretics?"

Lela flopped beside her. "Maybe she’s just... a nice heretic?"

Cynthia gave a half-hearted laugh. "Now that’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear."

Emerald remained standing, arms crossed. "There’s no such thing as a nice heretic," she said firmly. "But... there are those with different goals."

Her eyes lingered on the door a moment longer before she turned her attention back to the others.

"We rest for now. Recover enough mana. Heal our wounds."

She turned toward Cynthia. "Do you still have enough mana to freely use her blessing?"

Cynthia held up her hands, summoning a small shimmering barrier that flickered after a few seconds before fading. "Not much," she admitted. "But I’ll be fine after a short rest."

Emerald nodded, then looked to Lela. "What about you?"

Lela stretched her legs. "I’ve got maybe one or two more bursts left. After that, I’ll need to rest too."

"And you?" she asked Elsa.

Elsa conjured a thin dagger of light in her palm and let it spin before dispersing it. "Half capacity. Enough to fight, but not for long."

Emerald nodded again.

Since the girls didn’t participate much in that fight, they weren’t as exhausted compared to her.

Though she was keeping a strong front, her chest was burning like crazy.

Every part of her body was also screaming for rest, due to the intense pressure she had placed on her veins.

They were worn down. All of them. And now they were in the hands of a stranger. A heretic with unclear motives.

But for the moment... they were alive.

And that had to count for something.

Still, the unease in her chest hadn’t left. If anything, it had deepened.

Because now they owed someone. Someone they couldn’t afford to trust.

She sat down slowly, the weariness finally catching up to her. Her sword rested beside her on the floor, glowing faintly with residual mana.

They had faced death. They had tasted hopelessness.

And now, they found themselves in the shadow of a new uncertainty.

What was Eva’s real goal?

Who was this "friend" she owed?

And what role did they—Emerald and the girls—play in it?

Those questions remained unanswered, floating through the air like ghosts.

But at least for tonight, there were no battles... or at least she hoped that was the case.

She might seem relaxed, but her guard was still very much up, unwilling to trust an heretic they met merely minutes ago.

However, she hoped within herself that she wasn’t making a mistake, and that Eva was really on their side.

Because if they just walked into a trap, there was no way they would get out of it, not with how tired they were.

’I wonder what the church would think... cooperating with an heretic...’ She mumbled inwardly, her lips curling into a wry smile.

Though she had every reason to remain cautious, she allowed herself to relax for just a moment longer. The chaos of battle had faded, and Eva—heretic or not—had extended a hand when no one else had. Whatever that meant for their mission or her conscience... it could wait.

For now.

***

The air in the large room was heavy with the scent of sweat and other body fluids mixed within.

Silken sheets clung to glistening skin, barely concealing the bare bodies beneath them.

In the center of the vast, canopied bed, Liam lay sprawled comfortably, his long white hair a bit roughened and his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath.

To his left, snuggling beneath one of his arms, was Liora—her long, black hair splayed across the bed, as she slept peacefully.

On his other side, curled up with one hand resting lightly on his chest, was Mira, a faint smile on her lips even as she slept, completely lost in her dream.

Both women were utterly naked beneath the covers, their soft breaths the only sound breaking the silence of the room.

The sheets barely covered the curvature of their hips and shoulders, leaving little to the imagination—though Liam didn’t need to imagine.

The scent of satisfaction still lingered around them like a drug. He had drained them thoroughly—both of body and mind.

He chuckled lowly to himself, the sound barely louder than a whisper yet filled with amusement.

Slowly, he sat up in the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping women. Though he doubted they would be even wake were both too spent to even stir.

His gaze shifted lazily across the room—and landed on Jaegel.

The heretic stood with his head bowed. For some reason, he was still in his long black coat, which fell straight to the floor.

His eyes remained locked on the polished marble, not daring to meet Liam’s gaze.

Despite being the actual owner of the mansion, Jaegel stood like a lowly servant—silent, dutiful, humiliated.

Liam grinned, stretching his arms as though waking from a lazy nap. He leaned slightly toward Jaegel’s direction, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Your attendants..." Liam began, his voice velvety and cool, "Tasted divine."

He flashed a sinister smirk, letting the words hang in the air like a blade suspended by a thread.

Jaegel said nothing. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t react. But his shoulders stiffened slightly—just enough for Liam to notice.

Liam’s grin widened.

"Oh, come on," he continued, tossing the sheets aside and stepping onto the cool floor. His body was bare, confident, flawless.

He didn’t bother covering himself—there was no shame in him, no hesitation. He strolled forward slowly, each step deliberate.

"I saw your face, Jaegel," he said, voice dipping into a crueler cadence. "You stood there the whole time, didn’t you? Watching me drill them."

He tilted his head slightly, mocking curiosity.

"Did it excite you?"

Jaegel’s fists tightened at his sides. The nails dug into his palms, drawing a faint trickle of blood. His lips pressed into a thin, pale line.

Still, he said nothing.

But Liam wasn’t done.

"Did it... make you feel like a man again? Seeing someone else ruin what was yours?"

He leaned in, inches from Jaegel’s ear, his breath warm and maddening.

"Or have you forgotten what being a man even feels like?"

A moment passed in silence. Then another.

Jaegel’s breath grew slightly heavier. Not out of anger. No—this was shame. Pure, suffocating shame.

The kind that clings to your ribs and drowns your pride. He had once been a proud member of the heretic order—a powerful mage with command over shadows and secrets.

Now?

Now he was little more than a doormat for a monster in golden skin.

Why...?

He asked himself that question every day now. Why had he bowed? Why had he obeyed? Why had he let this man into his estate, his life, his mind?

Because the alternative... had been worse.

He had seen what Liam could do. Not just to others—but to people like him. People who once thought themselves powerful.

His fists trembled at his sides, blood dripping from his palms. His eyes—still low, still obedient—burned.

He was supposed to be the one in power yet, and yet he stood there, letting Liam mock him anyhow he wanted, even claiming the women who were meant to be his.

Jaegel wished the ground would open beneath him, drag him into its depths and bury the shame once and for all.

But the ground offered no such mercy.

Liam stepped back, stretching again and running a hand through his messy blond hair. He was clearly enjoying himself. Nothing amused him more than dismantling people—slowly, piece by piece.

"Relax," he said, voice airy.

He shot a glance over his shoulder at the bed. The two women hadn’t moved. Their mana had been thoroughly drained, leaving them pale and unconscious. They were still breathing, but not much more.

"You should be proud, really," Liam added, returning to the center of the room. "Not many men can say their women were deemed good enough for me."

Jaegel said nothing, but Liam caught the faintest twitch in his jaw.

He turned toward the wide balcony, the silken curtains fluttering gently in the morning breeze. The sun had just begun to rise over the distant mountains, casting golden light across the lush estate.

"Jaegel," Liam called without looking back. "Clean the sheets, and get me something sweet to eat. Fruit. Honey. Whatever."

"...Yes," Jaegel murmured, voice barely audible.

Liam smiled faintly.

’I think I’m enjoying this a little too much.’ He thought.

As Jaegel turned and left, footsteps echoing down the hall, Liam exhaled, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He glanced again at the two slumbering women beside him. His fingers brushed a lock of Mira’s hair from her cheek.

’Hosts stats.’ He called out, and a set of tabs immediately appeared in front of him.