Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!-Chapter 114. 10 Regions... Erased (Viewer Discretion!! Warning)

Chapter 114: 114. 10 Regions... Erased (Viewer Discretion!! Warning)

Heinau turned toward Rune, a casual smirk playing on his lips. "Rune, care to give us some privacy? I’d like a moment alone with her."

Liana’s breath caught in her throat, her body freezing as the implication behind his words settled like ice in her veins.

Rune, ever indifferent, simply offered a lazy smile. "As you wish... Just don’t take too long."

Heinau nodded in appreciation. "It’ll break her. That’s what we want. Your job is to be ready when she finally shatters."

Rune gave a mock salute and turned on his heel. "I’ll be waiting. Don’t take too long... King."

The footsteps faded, leaving Liana alone with the monster in human skin.

Heinau watched Rune go, then exhaled a soft chuckle. "Interesting man. No lust for the throne. No desire for legacy. All he wants is power. Strength. People like him... are rare gems."

He turned back to Liana, his eyes gleaming.

"Don’t you think so?"

Liana didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on him, filled with cold fury and the faintest tremble of dread. "He’s a monster," she whispered. "Just like you."

Heinau sighed as if disappointed. "Such cruel words, Liana. And here I thought we could talk."

Without waiting, he sat down beside her, uninvited, as though this were some casual evening under the stars. She immediately moved away, but black tendrils of mana—formed into chains—erupted from the floor and bound her limbs in place, dragging her back to him.

Her breath quickened. The chains were cold, biting into her skin.

He reached out and cupped her cheek gently. The gesture, at first glance, might have seemed tender—affectionate, even—but beneath it was nothing but ownership. Nothing but the illusion of control.

Liana tried to turn her face away, but the chains wouldn’t allow it. His lips moved toward hers.

"No," she murmured, eyes widening. "Don’t."

But he did.

She kept her mouth clenched tight, refusing him any satisfaction. But like rot, he found a way. It was not a kiss—it was a violation.

Minutes passed. Long, suffocating minutes.

When he finally pulled away, she gasped for breath. Her body trembled, and her skin burned with a filth no water could ever wash off. She gagged. Tried to force it out, but her stomach was already empty.

Heinau watched her with delight. "Do what you want, Liana. Gag. Cry. Curse me. But remember one thing—if you try to die... if you try anything at all... your son dies first. And trust me, I’ll make sure he suffers worse than this time."

Liana looked up at him with pure hatred. Her lips were cracked, bleeding from where she’d bitten down on them herself. She spat at his feet.

"You’re disgusting."

Heinau tilted his head, as if considering whether to be amused or insulted. Then a twisted smile spread across his face. "That wasn’t very polite."

He stood slowly, towering over her like a dark eclipse blotting out even the tiniest light of hope.

"You just earned yourself a punishment," he said softly, almost fondly.

Then he began removing his robes—slowly, deliberately.

Liana’s body stiffened, and for the first time, her composure shattered. Her eyes widened in horror. Her voice trembled. "No... No, no, no, please... Please don’t—anything but that. Heinau, I have a family. A husband. Children. You want me to transform, right? Then torture me. Cut me. Starve me. Do whatever you want... just not that."

She pleaded—not with pride, but with desperation.

But her words fell on ears that had long since lost their humanity.

Heinau didn’t reply. His silence was the worst answer of all.

The light from the hologram above dimmed, flickering out, casting the massive room into oppressive darkness.

And in that silence, the only sound that followed was her scream—raw, broken, echoing off the cold runic walls like the dirge of a dying soul.

No one came.

No one listened.

And in the shadows, her nightmare began.

...

Seven Days Later

The blackened halls of the council room echoed faintly with the sound of footsteps—measured, composed, and cold.

Heinau returned to his council chamber, a vast dome of obsidian and runed marble that stretched out in intimidating silence.

The room itself was a monolith of authority, large enough to host a roundtable with twenty high-backed chairs arranged in a perfect circle, each crafted from reinforced dusksteel.

At the head of this circle, raised slightly above the rest, stood a throne-like seat—twisted and elegant, meant solely for the Sovereign.

Heinau took his place without a word.

His envoys, diplomats, and military aides had already gathered, their expressions stern and composed.

Yet beneath the calm, faint currents of unease rippled through them like cracks in polished glass.

They all knew of Heinau’s temper—cold and volatile like a frozen storm—and none wished to be the one to earn his ire.

With a simple gesture of his hand, he signaled the council to begin.

A slender envoy, her frame wrapped in silken robes marked with the insignia of the Southeast Information Corps, stood. Her posture was stiff, voice brittle as she began.

"Lord Heinau," she said, bowing respectfully. "I bring you favorable news. The situation remains largely within our control. Amelia Everhart has been retrieved by her companions and brought back to Rose Academy. According to our sources, the injured members of their group have been stabilized and, most likely, fully healed."

Heinau nodded slowly, reclining slightly in his seat. "As expected."

But then his gaze narrowed slightly. A soft glint of cruelty entered his eyes.

"Then why," he asked, "do you look like a creature before the blade?"

The envoy flinched. She took a trembling breath, avoiding his gaze. "There is... one complication, my lord. A minor one. Communication has ceased entirely with Regions 50 through 60 of the Everhart territory. We’ve been unable to establish contact with any of our agents."

A heavy silence settled in the room. Whispers rustled across the table like dead leaves.

Heinau’s voice dropped into a low growl. "All ten regions? Gone silent?"

The woman hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, Lord. And... Rufus was captive in Region 50."

That made the temperature in the room plummet.

Heinau’s fingers drummed against the armrest of his seat.

She swallowed hard. "We dispatched additional eyes to gather information. None have returned. It’s as though the entire span has been swallowed into silence."

His expression remained unreadable, but a dark pressure filled the chamber. Shadows flickered along the walls as his mana stirred—subtle, yet suffocating.

"You think failure and excuses will impress me?" he asked quietly, too quietly.

The envoy dropped to one knee, head bowed. "Forgive us. We... underestimated the threat."

"Silence."

His voice cracked like thunder across the marble walls.

The room froze. No one dared to speak. Even breath became a risk.

Then—knock, knock, knock.

A hollow echo rang from the great chamber doors.

Heinau’s eyes shifted toward them, sharp and alert. "Enter."

The heavy doors creaked open.

A lone man stumbled in—barely more than a corpse in motion. His body was draped in the shredded remnants of a black reconnaissance robe, soaked in blood, dirt, and ash.

His left arm hung limp, bone protruding through mangled flesh. One eye was missing. His gait was broken.

Every envoy in the room turned to stare as the man staggered forward, dragging his ruined legs one step at a time.

Heinau’s expression darkened. "Report."

The spy coughed—once, twice, blood spilling from his lips like tar. His voice was raw, barely audible.

"O-one man... he—he slaughtered them all... everyone... d-dead..."

And then he collapsed.

No breath followed. No final message. Just silence—and the reek of blood.

The council chamber remained still.

Heinau stared at the corpse, eyes unreadable. But beneath that calm, the atmosphere began to shift. Something unspoken crackled in the air.

One man.

One man had erased ten regions.

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