Todos os capítulos de BOUND TO THE DEMON LORD: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

🎀CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY🎀 For a moment nothing was said. Just the quiet room and the sound of their breathing. Zayla could hear his heartbeat, steady and normal, not racing like hers that refused to calm down. Then it hit her all at once. She pushed away from him quickly, like she had just touched fire. She stepped back, fixing her hair in a hurry, avoiding his eyes. “Erm… I’m sorry about that,” she said, trying to sound normal. “I tripped. It was an accident.” Asher straightened slowly and folded his arms, watching her like he didn’t believe a single word coming out of her mouth. "An accident?" His voice was flat. "I find that hard to believe." He let his eyes track down her body, scanning the thin silk of her nightgown with a look of pure judgment. "Tell me, is this your attempt at seduction? Because it’s embarrassing." "I am not... I would never try to seduce you! Not even if you were the last man on earth," Zayla said, her voice shaking as she tried to

🎀 CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO🎀 Asher didn't turn his whole body. He simply glanced over his shoulder, his eyes swept toward the corner of the structure. He didn't move, but his gaze settled on a small edge of Zayla’s cloak that was peeking out from the side of the pillar. He stared at it for a long beat, his face a mask of total indifference. Without a word or a change in his expression, he turned his head back around and continued walking until he eventually disappeared from sight. Zayla let out a massive breath of relief, her shoulders finally dropping as she stepped out into the open with Lyra. "My lady?" Lyra asked, her voice hushed. "Is your heart still in your chest? Because mine nearly jumped out." "Let's just move," Zayla said, grabbing Lyra’s arm and pulling her toward the library. "Before he decides to come back ------ Zayla pushed the heavy double doors of the library open, the familiar scent of old parchment and beeswax filling her senses. The hall wa

🎀CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOUR🎀 "Who am I?" Edan repeated, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I am a man who realized very early on that in a world governed by strength, knowledge is the only thing that doesn't have a cooldown timer."He began to pace the narrow aisle between the towering shelves, his fingers grazing the spines of ancient, leather-bound grimoires. "My mother was a healer." he said, his voice dropping into a rhythmic, storytelling tone. "When I was a boy, while other children were out playing with wooden swords, I was sitting at her feet. I watched her brew tonics that could wake the dead and concoctions that could put a rampaging giant to sleep. She didn't just teach me the spells; she taught me to listen to the mana in the air." He stopped and pulled a small, dusty volume from the shelf, turning it over in his hands. "I had a passion for it, a hunger, really. I saw how a single misplaced syllable in an incantation

🎀 CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SIX🎀 The man’s blood turned to ice as the warmth of the stranger’s breath ghosted against his skin. He froze, his brain screaming in confusion, the figure had been ten feet up a tree a heartbeat ago. How was he here so fast? With a guttural roar, he spun around with full speed, the torch slipping from his hand as he swung the jagged knife in a wide, lethal arc toward the shadow behind him. He hit nothing but air. The figure didn't even seem to move; he simply wasn't where the blade landed. Before the man could pull back for a second strike, a hand like an iron vice clamped onto his wrist. A sickening crack echoed through the trees as the man’s bones buckled under the pressure, the knife clattering uselessly into the stream. The hooded figure didn't give him a second to scream. He stepped into the man’s space, driving a knee into his gut with the force of a battering ram. The air left the man’s lungs in a pathetic wheeze, but the figure caug

🎀CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT🎀 Fast forward>>>> Another night. Elira stood before the Iron Keg Tavern, a sagging timber building that looked as though it were held together by the thick layers of grime and the rowdy noise vibrating from within. Through the grease-stained windows, she could see the flickering amber light of lanterns and the blurry silhouettes of men slamming tankards onto wooden tables. She took a steadying breath, smoothed out her travel-worn gown, and pushed through the door. The smell hit her first, a thick, suffocating cloud of stale ale, roasted salt-pork, and unwashed bodies. To her left, a group of travelers were huddled over a game of dice, their roars of laughter punctuating the steady hum of conversation. To her right, a bard was tunelessly plucking at a lute in the corner, ignored by everyone. Elira wove through the crowded benches, feeling the weight of a dozen curious stares, until she reached the massive scarred wood of the bar. Behi