Cucking The Demon King
Chapter 141: Just like me!

Chapter 141: Just like me!

Eva’s eyes narrowed, and the cleared her throat, before speaking once again.

"I can smell the aura heretic around you... why, why have you been hanging around one?" She asked, her gaze turning sharp all of a sudden.

Liam’s brow twitched.

"Yeah, i am actually hanging around one, like right now." He answered lightly.

She frowned, and then clenched her fists. "Y-you..."

"You shouldn’t worry about that, just show me... where are the girls?"

Eva opened her mouth... and then closed it. Her expression faltered for just a breath, then smoothed again.

"Yeah, I suppose you’re right," She said quietly.

Liam said nothing more, and after a second of loaded silence, Eva stepped aside and motioned down the mansion.

"Come. You should see them for yourself."

He followed.

The manor was larger than it appeared from the outside. The corridors felt warm, lived-in, and yet there was a surreal stillness to everything. The kind of quiet that didn’t belong in real homes.

Illusion.

But a masterful one.

She led him to a wide doorway and stepped aside to let him in.

Inside was a spacious sitting room, softly lit with warm ambient light. Elegant chairs circled a low table where cups of untouched tea sat gently steaming. Plush rugs covered the floor, and soft music—not real, he realized, but simulated—drifted in from nowhere.

Elsa, Lela, and Cynthia sat curled into armchairs, their bodies relaxed in ways that made Liam’s heart ease. They weren’t bruised or panicked. They weren’t broken.

They were safe.

He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d been holding in until now.

Then—

"Liam?" A voice whispered.

Emerald had been standing at the far end of the room, half-hidden in the shadows near a bookcase. She stepped forward slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief.

She stared at him as if unsure he was real.

As if afraid he’d vanish if she blinked.

"Hey," he said softly.

The sound of his voice broke whatever restraint Elsa had left. She shot up from her seat and sprinted toward him.

"Liam!!"

He had just enough time to brace himself before her small frame collided with his, arms thrown tightly around his chest. She buried her face into him and held on, trembling faintly.

"You’re alive," she whispered.

He placed a hand on her back gently. "Of course I am."

Emerald stepped closer, slower.

Still cautious. Still tense.

Her hand reached out and pressed lightly against his side, fingers brushing the skin just beneath his coat. She felt the warmth. The realness. The solid strength of him beneath her touch.

Her fingers tightened slightly.

"You’re really here," she said, barely louder than a breath.

He looked down at her. "I’m here."

But even as the words left him, he could see it in her eyes. Doubt. Questions. She didn’t trust what she saw—not yet.

"How... how come you’re here?" She asked, and Liam could see her hand slowly inch toward her sword.

He felt it was good she was being cautious, but he couldn’t help but feel a slight pang in his chest that she didn’t trust him.

Nonetheless, it was expected.

Emerald was a knight, there was no way she would fully trust an heretic like Eva.

For all he knew, she might even be seeing all of this as some sort of trap.

Eva remained at the door, watching quietly, saying nothing. Liam caught her gaze, and then gave Elsa a light pat before gently pulling away.

Elsa didn’t want to release him, but after sensing the look others were giving her, she eventually did out of embarrassment.

’He’s safe... I’m so happy.’ She thought, twirling her hair around in joy.

"Let’s talk," he said, looking to Emerald. "All of us."

They moved into a side chamber where the magic shimmered less, where the illusion faltered just slightly if one stared long enough. It was still comfortable, but quieter. More real.

Liam waited until everyone was seated—Eva standing by the doorway again—and then he spoke.

"I found Emma."

The silence snapped tight.

Emerald leaned forward. "What happened? Is she—?"

"She’s alive," Liam said. "Barely. She was attacked by a group of heretics, and left in a bad shape.l

His jaw tightened.

"She’s in bad shape. But she’s alive. I left her in a safe place."

The weight of that sank into the girls slowly.

Emerald nodded once, her face still maintaining a rather stoic expression despite the shocking news she just heard.

"What about you?" Liam asked. "What happened after the attack?"

Cynthia leaned forward, speaking softly. "We were ambushed my the enemy, and... there was a strange man, he was so strong... really strong."

"He almost killed us, but that strange woman—Eva, appeared and pulled us out of there... somehow."

"We didn’t trust her at first," Lela added. "But she never asked for anything. Just kept us safe."

Liam nodded.

"I believe her," Emerald said after a long pause. "For now."

Eva didn’t respond to the implied warning. She simply folded her arms.

"There’s more," Liam said. "Things you need to hear."

He shifted his gaze across the room.

"The Order isn’t unified. They’ve fractured. At least three factions now."

He outlined them with cold precision—the main body focused on opening a stable portal, the zealots seeking a vessel to possess, and the third... the one that terrified him most.

The faction that believed Emma had to die.

When he finished, the silence was heavy.

"They’re insane," Emerald muttered.

"They’re desperate," Liam corrected. "And that makes them dangerous."

Elsa looked up at him. "So... what do we do now?"

Liam’s gaze drifted toward the window.

The night outside was quiet.

Too quiet.

"We plan," he said. "We regroup. Then we move. We’ll hit each faction where it hurts. Expose their weaknesses. Tear them apart from the inside."

He turned back to the room.

"But first—we rest. We recover. We prepare for what’s coming."

Eva nodded quietly at the door, saying nothing. But the flicker in her eyes said she understood.

War was coming.

And this time, they’d be ready.

Meanwhile, Emarald had other thought in her mind especially as she stared at Liam.

’Wasn’t I the leader?’ Emerald thought. ’But why... why does it feel like he is?’

***

The heretic base lay deep beneath the crust of the earth, nestled between jagged tunnels and natural caverns that twisted like a corpse’s gnarled veins.

Torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to whisper secrets too ancient for the human mind to understand.

The air was humid, thick with the scent of scorched iron and rot, and every breath carried with it the sensation of something alive slithering down the back of your throat.

Strange symbols were etched into every wall, pulsing faintly with dull crimson light.

They weren’t inked or carved—they bled, as if the stone itself was alive and weeping.

Patches of moss grew between the glyphs, but none of it was green. It was black, oily, like tar given life, and it moved ever so slightly when one wasn’t looking.

In the center of it all stood a massive obsidian platform, wide enough to fit a hundred kneeling men.

And at the center of the ruin, something stood tall.

He laughed.

The sound was shrill, rich, and distorted—less like a human voice and more like two voices layered over each other.

One deep and guttural, like a beast. The other high-pitched and oddly melodic, like a child giggling during a funeral.

The demon stood nearly two meters tall, with limbs that stretched unnaturally long, slender yet powerful.

His skin was bright crimson, smooth like molten wax yet hard as iron.

He was fully naked, and a long, worm-like rod dangled from between his thighs.

His face was angular, far too sharp to be called handsome, with eyes like twin coals—no pupils, only flickering fire within.

Atop his head were two coiled black horns, spiraling upward like twisted obsidian sculptures, shimmering with a greasy sheen under the torchlight.

His mouth stretched into a grin far too wide for any human to replicate, exposing a row of jagged, needle-thin teeth—except for the pair of unnaturally long fangs that hung from his upper jaw like ivory blades.

And he was laughing.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! Ah... delightful... delightful!"

He clutched his stomach with one clawed hand and threw his head back, his laughter echoing through the underground like a thunderclap rolling through bones.

"I did not think... I truly did not think... that there would be someone among you pathetic insects capable of breaking the seal!" His voice trailed off into another chuckle, this one soft and amused, like he was savoring the flavor of each word.

Around him, dozens of heretics knelt. Some trembled. Others wept silently. None dared to look up. Their foreheads pressed into the cold stone floor, their mouths whispering words of reverence, fear, and madness.

"My curse... undone... could it be, by human hands?" the demon said, his voice softening with an almost reverent awe. "Oh, that can’t be possible. Then is it what I’m thinking... a demon... one just like me!"

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