Cucking The Demon King
Chapter 156: Possession

Chapter 156: Possession

"...Liam?" Her voice was raspy, a whisper more than a word, but it carried an unmistakable trace of recognition. "You... you’re here."

He offered a small nod, stepping a little closer. "You’re awake."

She tried to sit up, wincing as her arms gave out beneath her. The threads beneath her shifted, responding to her weakness, lifting gently to support her back like a sentient cushion.

"What... happened?" she asked. "Where... am I?"

She suddenly noticed the strange bed she was lying on, and her eyes widened slightly.

She wanted to scream in surprise, but Liam’s face calmed her down, along with his words.

Though she didn’t understand what was going on, she trusted him enough to know that he wouldn’t try anything that would hurt her.

"You’re safe," Liam replied, his tone calm. "We’re inside an abandoned cottage—something like a resting chamber. You were unconscious after the fight. I brought you here."

Emma’s brows furrowed, the name of the place unfamiliar, but her mind was still sluggish. She looked down at her own hands, then back up at him. "I remember..."

"They won’t be bothering you anymore." His tone left no room for argument.

She stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide, full of questions.

"Did you... save me?"

Liam exhaled softly, turning his gaze slightly to the side. "I did what I had to."

Emma’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she lowered her gaze, her lashes brushing against her cheeks as she whispered, "Thank you..."

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

The silence stretched again. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it carried weight—memories of chaos, fear, and things left unspoken.

Then Emma’s head tilted. "Is... is Elsa okay? And the others?"

Liam nodded. "They’re all fine. Resting."

Her shoulders sagged in relief. "Good... that’s good..."

She lifted a hand and touched her temple, wincing again. Her energy was still low—her body hadn’t fully recovered.

The lingering effects of the corrupted spell they’d used on her still clung to her aura, faint but noticeable.

"You should rest a little more," Liam said, stepping back slightly. "Your body’s still purging the last traces of the darkness."

But she didn’t lie back down.

Instead, she looked at him—really looked at him—with an expression that made his brow furrow slightly.

"You... feel different," she murmured. "Your aura. It’s darker. Stronger. And..." Her gaze narrowed slightly. "You changed."

He didn’t respond right away.

Emma wasn’t wrong. He had changed. It was subtle, but someone as sensitive as her could feel it.

"Yeah, I guess you can say that," he said again, voice low.

Emma didn’t challenge him. But she didn’t look away either.

She briefly glanced back at the strange bed she was lying on, and a slight smile appeared on her lips.

Though it was a bed made from darkness, for some reason, it filled her with so much warmth that she didn’t even feel like getting up.

"Liam..."

Her voice was soft.

He met her eyes.

"Back there... when I was surrounded... I heard a voice. Just before I passed out. It wasn’t yours. It was... cold. Whispering things. Promises. Darkness."

He stiffened slightly. "A voice?"

She nodded slowly. "It felt like it was calling to something inside me. But it wasn’t my voice. It was trying to... awaken something. I don’t know how to explain it."

Liam’s brows furrowed deeply now.

That was new.

He stepped closer again, crouching beside the bed. "Did it say anything specific?"

Emma shook her head. "It was fragmented. Like... a memory that doesn’t belong to me. I don’t know. Maybe it was just a hallucination."

But Liam’s instincts screamed otherwise.

’Could it be that whatever they used on her... was tl trigger something? And not just to wound her?’ He thought, his brows furrowing into a frown.

He had thought this was just an attack on heretics on Emma because she was the daughter of the knight king, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

"What do you remember before coming here?" he asked carefully.

Emma blinked. "Before the illusionary house?"

He nodded.

She frowned, trying to think.

"I... don’t know. It’s like a fog. I remember waking up alone."

"But?"

"Sometimes I dream of things. Places I’ve never seen. And I feel like... I’m not supposed to be here. Like I’ve been asleep for a long time, and this isn’t my first time being conscious."

Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly. Lilith’s words echoed faintly in his mind.

He remembered the things he had heard about the noble demons, and their strange powers.

He wondered whether one of them was involved in this.

But then, he didn’t want to scare Emma too much, so he simply smiled at her.

"Don’t worry," he finally said. "You’re safe now. If that voice comes again, tell me."

Emma gave a slow nod, though she still looked uncertain.

"Thank you," she murmured again. "I mean it."

Liam rose to his feet. "Try to rest. I’ll stay close."

She smiled faintly at that, and he turned to leave.

But just as he reached the edge of the room, her voice came again.

"Liam?"

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"No matter what happens... know that I’m always on your side."

His expression didn’t change, but he gave a small nod before stepping out of the chamber.

Liam stepped into the dim hallway, the door closing softly behind him.

For a moment, the silence was a balm, but it didn’t last. His mind drifted, swirling with pieces that refused to fit.

Emma’s voice, the strange whisper she had heard, her fragmented memory, and the aura of something ancient clawing just beneath the surface—it all left a hollow echo in his chest.

His expression darkened.

Something was wrong.

Not just with her injuries... but with the very essence of what had happened. He had assumed it was an ambush. An attack meant to destabilize the illusionary sanctuary they’d carved out for themselves. But now... he wasn’t so sure.

That voice she mentioned.

It hadn’t been part of the spell.

And her dreams—those fragments of unfamiliar lives. They weren’t ordinary dreams.

"Lilith," he muttered under his breath, but the demoness didn’t stir.

No teasing, no sly remarks. Just silence.

It only made his unease worse.

A low breath left him, and he turned on his heel, making his way back. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but something told him he needed to see her again. Now.

He stepped into the chamber.

And froze.

Emma was no longer lying on the bed.

Instead, she stood by the far window, her form bathed in pale moonlight that filtered in through the broken shutters. Her crimson ponytails shimmered faintly, and her back was to him, posture eerily still.

"...Emma?" he called, stepping in slowly.

She didn’t respond.

The threads of darkness that had cradled her earlier had receded—almost like they were afraid of her now.

Liam’s eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong.

He could feel it.

Her aura—it was different. Wrong. Still faint, but it reeked of something unnatural. Not Emma’s gentle warmth. No... this was cold. Rotten. Like an echo from a cursed well that had been sealed for centuries.

He took another step.

And then she moved.

Faster than he expected.

She whirled around with a scream, lunging toward him with wild eyes and a snarl on her lips.

Liam twisted his body instinctively, his reflexes honed by battles, and barely avoided the strike. Her hand grazed past his face, nails like claws tearing through the air.

"Emma!" he barked, steadying his stance, eyes wide. "What the hell—!?"

But when he finally caught a clear look at her face—

He staggered.

It wasn’t her.

Not really.

Her eyes—those gentle, stormy irises—were gone. Replaced by twin voids, pitch black with a crimson ring swirling in their depths. And her smile—it was twisted, wicked, splitting across her face like a cracked porcelain mask. Her lips trembled with laughter, but it wasn’t joyous.

It was madness.

Utter, cackling madness.

"Ahahaha! Oh, how amusing," she—or rather, it—giggled, her tone lilting like a child’s, but laced with venom. "Of all the people they could’ve sent, they picked you? You? A little church-bred rat?"

Liam’s eyes narrowed into slits.

Church?

"What the hell are you talking about?" he growled, backing away slowly, watching her every twitch. "You’re clearly not Emma. Get out of her body. Now."

The thing in Emma’s skin cocked its head to the side, smile growing impossibly wider.

"Oh? Did I hit a nerve?" she said sweetly, then let out a raspy, unnatural cackle that sent chills up his spine. "Poor boy. Did you like her? Was she special? Too bad... because this shell? It’s mine now."

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Everything inside him was screaming now. The aura was unmistakable. Ancient. Corrupt. Not demonic in the ordinary sense—but something older. More primal.

A presence that had been buried, not defeated.

She stepped closer, hips swaying like a dancer’s, her arms spread out wide. "You’re trembling, little church spy. Oh, you didn’t know? This body... this sweet, soft thing... she’s brimming with power. Locked away, sealed for so long. But I found her. I touched her dreams. And now, I’m awake."

"Make me leave?" she sneered, repeating his words mockingly.

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