บททั้งหมดของ Unwanted daughter of cursed Alpha King : บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Chaister’s POV “Is this the price you are willing to pay?” The ba.stard asked brazenly with the light, covert smirk he so desperately tried to suppress. I pulled Nahevra–the stupid cock socket, for her sleeve, and we moved a few steps aside as soon as Leraithe, the trickster dickhead dared to utter those words. “Oi, If the thought of sacrificing…MY…son… crossed your mind for even a second, I swear, this will be the last thought that ever crossed your mind, you bloody slag!” I gritted the threat through my teeth, hoping my muttered tone was low enough to prevent Leraithe from hearing us. I am warning you, you clapped slapper; if a hair falls off Meeran’s head, I will send my beasts to sh,ag every fucking cesspit-like hole of sweet little Maree’s body until they don’t blast her with the co,cks. And tell you what, I will make you and little Lev watch it before I dig his eyes out and strangle him in front of you. Be aware though bitch; I will not kill you aft

Erzelus’s POV I looked at the dreaded, infamous Macabantran cells and their central arena, which once stood as a symbol of power, control and malice of Macabantrah and Wengarthria. These ancient dungeons are in the heart of the seventh circle of hell, a place feared by all. These dungeons are now saturated with a melee of trampled and desecrated carcasses of fallen demons, which were lying scattered and mutilated across the arena. The stench of sweat and death was suffocating while blood poured from every little corner as if someone had opened the tap. The arena where I stood enslaved by Nahevra just moments ago. The arena where she pitched me to fight against Kandreah. The arena where she commanded him to turn me into a hybrid of celestial, human Lycan and vampire, aiming to make me the greater monster than I already am. The arena where I almost lost a fight against Meeran. That would be the first fight I ever lost, although I have been through thick and thin all my life while

Erzelus’s POV “Now you listen to me, you feisty little demon fucker. You are the warrior, and I am a king; you will not talk like that with me If you wish to live. If you had at least one functioning brain cell in that Sasquatch head of yours, you would see that a handful of us here are not standing a chance against the Lacrimavlian army. So you will not free the son of Hades even if we go there now without back up of the remainder of the alliance army. And you know why? Because we will all die. You and your king included. They will outnumber us, you demonic moron. To go there, we first need to go back and overtake the main Macabantran castle to merge with our army, gather, plan and regroup before we attack Lacrimavliah. I will not risk my life and the life of my soldiers for a battle which is lost before it began only because you are dumb as fuck, stubborn as a mule and have no idea about war tactics or strategies. I will not allow your stupidity to expose me and my army to

Erzelus’s POV We crept and crawled like sodding spiders through these long-forgotten, dusty, stinky, dirty passageways. The stench of dampness and decay was making my eyes bleed. Being a big bad wolf and a burly bloke trying to squeeze myself into these was a job and a half and now even a greater slog as I am holding this little scrawny child in my arms, trying to lug around with him. Initially muffled and distant, echoes of soldiers defeated in the battle of the main Macabantran Fort grew louder as we funnelled and snaked our way through narrow passages which led from dungeons to the main encampment. Sounds of destruction and the desperate battle between the two armies became more intense and louder as we neared the encampment. It almost felt like the noise and ruckus were palpable. The strange creatures, which reminded me of some demonic, infernal rat mutation, lurked from every corner and occasionally scurried past us as we were breaking through. We'd bump into them every now

Erzelus’s POV Mark's contorted body serves as a testament to his tragic death and grim fate, symbolising just one of too many lives that have been and will continue to be lost in this relentless battle. The weight of lives lost became heavier as I scanned through limbless, scavenged, deformed and mutilated remnants of warriors from both sides, which hung from the ceilings. The cadavers blanketed the grotesque frescoes and icons of the Macabantran encampment. Bodies were strewn everywhere, suspended from ceilings and windows, littering the ground— that is the grave extent of casualties that this battle yielded. And many more are to yet die before the battle finishes. The windows were sprayed with blood and innards of diverse creatures who lost their lives, looking like someone had a paintball battle with leftovers of burnt shepherd pie. Corpses and bodies of soldiers from every walk of life were flailing across the Macabantran fort; mush and gore were everywhere, littering th