Cucking The Demon King
Chapter 133: Surrounded

Chapter 133: Surrounded

Immediately, a couple of glowing translucent tabs appeared, floating quietly in the air in front of his eyes.

[Name: Liam Wilshere]

[Race: Divine Incubus]

[Level: 4]

[EXP: 80000/100000]

[Health: 450/450]

[Energy: 3000/3000]

[Magic Power: 2000]

[Strength: 345]

[Agility: 321]

[Stamina: 700]

[Constitution: 1100]

[Charm: 1050]

[Intelligence: 470]

[Lust Points: 220000]

[Skills]

[Charm Skills: Addictive Touch (Level 3), Silver Tongue (Level 3), Lust Pheromones (Level 3), Dream Weaver (Level 1)]

[Ability Skills: Dash (Level 1), Strength Boost (Level 1), Eye of Truth (Level 1), Super Jump (Level 1), Demonic Authority (Level 1)]

[Elemental Skills: Fireball (Level 1), Tendrils of Darkness (Level 1), Lightning Glove (Level 1), Lightning Boots (Level 1)]

Liam’s eyes skimmed over the familiar tab, and his smile slowly broadened.

"Two hundred and twenty thousand lust points..." He muttered with amusement, folding his arms.

Eighty thousand of those points came from cucking Jaegel and also fucking Liora and Mira, while the rest were simply the points he accumulated during the act.

He also had about a hundred thousand points before, which added together brought him over two hundred thousand lust points.

His gaze flicked back to the bed, where Liora and Mira lay tangled in the aftermath of indulgence.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned through the skill list.

"Addictive Touch and Silver Tongue both hit level three..." he noted. "Took long enough."

His curiosity piqued, Liam briefly checked their updated descriptions—but immediately frowned.

"As expected, their descriptions are still the same," He muttered, his lips curling into a smirk.

However, even if they still had the same description, he could feel that the skills had indeed grown stronger than before.

His gaze drifted down from his charm skills, mocing to his attack and active skills, and he couldn’t help but sigh.

"...They’re all still level one." he muttered dryly. "Except for Charm Skills, I’m basically still a toddler."

It was a bit funny.

Most of his charm skills were already nearing level three but the main skills he would need in a fight were still level one.

"I really should do something about that," he mused aloud, tapping a finger against his lip. "Can’t rely on charm alone—not forever."

Suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine.

’What... was that?’ He thought, his body tensing slightly.

His eyes snapped open, narrowing in suspicion.

’Something’s wrong.’ He thought, swiftly standing upright.

"Jaegel!" he called sharply, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

The heretic appeared in the doorway moments later, hood drawn low as always. "Yes, my lord?"

Liam didn’t even glance back.

"We’re leaving."

Jaegel blinked.

"...Leaving? To where?"

Liam turned, his expression unreadable. "We’re going to find the others."

Jaegel’s brow furrowed. "But... why now? Surely there’s no rush—"

"I said we’re leaving."

Jaegel didn’t bother arguing, and repeatedly nodded his head in agreement.

It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter to start with, as he was pretty much Liam’s personal servant now.

All these while, Rex, who they abandoned back at the cave didn’t even cross their minds, and unbeknownst to Liam, something entirely different was going on with the boy.

***

Meanwhile...

Rex’s fingers twitched weakly before his eyes fluttered open, struggling to adjust to the dimness surrounding him.

His body felt like it had been smashed by a mountain, and his head throbbed as though it were splitting open.

He let out another groan and slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, blinking in confusion.

The heavy ache in his skull made it hard to think straight, and for a moment, he just sat there, his breathing ragged and uneven.

"Where... am I?" he muttered, glancing around with hazy eyes.

All he could see were rocks, dust, and rags spread out on the floor.

The foul smell of mold and old blood lingered in the air.

There was barely enough light to see, but he recognized it—the same cave he had been left in... abandoned in. His stomach twisted.

He groaned louder, holding his head in his hands. ’Why does it feel like my skull is about to explode...?’

His memories were muddled, fragments spinning around without form. He shut his eyes tight, trying to recall how he got here.

And then suddenly, everything snapped into focus.

His eyes widened. "The heretic..."

He remembered. The man with the dark aura. The overwhelming presence. How easily he was beaten. He hadn’t even stood a chance.

His body shivered involuntarily at the memory, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around himself.

He had always seen himself as a strong, even if he didn’t measure up to his sister, or to his parent’s expectations... he still wanted to believe badly that he was powerful.

However, Jaegel smashed what little remained of his pride, making him feel like he was indeed useless.

’None of my attacks... even got through...’ He thought, his teeth clattering against one another.

Then—

"Well, at last, he has woken up."

Rex’s eyes snapped up at the unfamiliar voice. It echoed from the darkness—deep, smooth, and ominous.

He instinctively moved backward, his hands searching for balance as he pressed his back against the cold stone wall.

From the shadows before him, something began to form.

Wisps of darkness swirled and twisted in the air like smoke gathering with purpose.

The shadows coalesced into a tall humanoid figure cloaked in a heavy, dark coat.

The coat’s hood was drawn low over its head, concealing its face entirely, but the thick pressure of mana surrounding it made Rex’s skin crawl.

The air around the figure shimmered with a subtle distortion, and a foul presence radiated from within the folds of the coat.

He easily recognized that foul presence, after all, he felt the same thing on Jaegel... the heretic who trashed him earlier.

"W-Who... are you?" Rex whispered, voice cracking.

He didn’t get an answer.

Instead, more shadows bloomed in the cave, taking form one by one.

Four more hooded figures emerged from the darkness—identical in shape and attire to the first.

Each one stood still, tall and composed, as if they were not just used to the dark but born from it.

There were five of them in total now, surrounding him.

Rex’s heartbeat spiked. His breath caught in his throat.

Another one of the figures stepped forward, voice low but clear. "Could you kindly tell us what happened here...?"

Rex’s eyes widened, heart pounding even harder.

’What is he talking about... how am I supposed to know?’ He thought, gnashing his teeth.

"...I’m still waiting... for your answer."

His mouth opened, and words stumbled out.

"I-I don’t know! I don’t know what happened!" he stammered, pressing further back against the wall like it could swallow him whole. "I was unconscious! Someone—someone attacked me—I don’t even know who you people are!"

But none of the figures responded.

Their silence was suffocating.

They began to move.

Not fast—not charging—but calmly, confidently, like predators that already knew their prey couldn’t escape.

Rex panicked.

"No—no stay away!"

Light burst to life around his fists—two gloves of radiant energy forming instantly.

The light emanating from the gloves briefly illuminated the dark surroundings, shining upon the rocks and dirty rags around the the place.

With gritted teeth and a desperate cry, he thrust both hands forward and fired twin beams of light at the approaching figures.

The beams surged forward with amazing speed, brightly illuminating their surroundings as they moved.

However, they suddenly vanished.

Mid-air, just meters before they reached the cloaked figures, both beams flickered, dimmed, and dispersed into harmless particles—like water evaporating in the sun.

Rex’s eyes widened in horror. "W-What...?!"

He didn’t even see them raise their arms or chant spells.

It was like his attacks had simply... ceased to exist.

Desperate, he fired again—three more beams in rapid succession. Light flared and cut through the darkness.

Each beam was faster than the last.

But just like the previous ones, they all vanished before impact.

He didn’t see them block it, neither did he seen them cast any spell.

It was like his beams were simply sucked into thin air.

"What are you...?!" he yelled, stumbling back, light gloves trembling on his hands.

He turned to run—tried to bolt deeper into the cave—but before he could even take two steps, a sudden chill ran up his spine.

From behind one of the cloaked figures, a long, shadowy hand exploded outward—twisting and elongated, black as tar and almost liquid in movement. It stretched across the cave and wrapped around his midsection before he could scream.

"AH—!"

The grip was like iron. Cold and absolute.

He thrashed. Kicked. Screamed.

"No—let me go! LET ME GO!!"

The dark hand didn’t waver. It yanked him off the ground with terrifying strength, dragging him toward the group of cloaked figures like he weighed nothing. His boots scraped against the rocky ground, and he clawed at the appendage with his glowing hands, but it did nothing.

He screamed again as he was pulled into the center of their circle.

Within what seemed like a second, he was already surrounded by the group of heretics.