All Chapters of Until The Last Day: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

220 Chapters

Chapter 49: Run, Bride, Run

The First Bride dragged Vincent toward the open door, his boots scraping against the stone floor. Her tattered gown trailed ash as she dragged him along, and her voice weaved through the hallway like a dark spell. “Every step she takes is a goodbye…” she murmured, her veil brushing against his cheek. “Vincent!” Elias shouted with a voice like thunder. He rushed forward with a silver light erupting from his hands, and chains of fire swirling in the air. They wrapped around the First Bride’s arm, sparking against her rotted skin. She screamed as her broken head jerked back. For a brief moment, her face transformed into Camela’s again—filled with fear and trembling. Vincent felt a burning sensation in his chest as he called out to her, “Camela! Fight back!” The illusion shattered instantly, and the First Bride’s sinister grin returned with black roses spilling from her mouth. The hall trembled as the elders screamed; some ran while others chanted in strange tongues that seemed to w

Chapter 48: Every Step is a Goodbye

The First Bride raised her face. Her smile was crooked and overly wide, stretched thin like frayed silk. Behind the veil, her eyes shimmered a pale gray, hollow yet fierce. The whispers surged louder, filling the hall like a chorus of a thousand voices overlapping. Vincent staggered forward against his chains, the metal digging painfully into his skin. “Where is she?” His voice was raw with desperation. “Where's Camela?” he asked.The First Bride tilted her head even further, almost breaking as the angle deepened. Her voice was soft, echoing with layers of sound as she replied.. “She walks…where I once walked.” Elias leaned in closer, his eyes shining silver, and a curious smile played on his lips. “So it’s true,” he whispered. “The pit granted her passage. She has touched the First.” Vincent snarled, yanking at his chains until blood coated his wrists. “You…” his voice trembled with rage, “…you’re not her.” The First Bride took another step forward. Her tattered gown swept a

Chapter 47: What Breaks Through

The darkness loomed around her as she fell. Roots whipped against her arms, binding her wrists. The air was thick with the scent of blood and damp soil. Camela felt her breath caught in her throat as she twisted, but each movement dragged her further down. “Vincent! Elias! Is anyone there…?” Her shout echoed back, swallowed by the pit. Then she heard a faint yet piercing voice carried through the roots—The First Bride“No one can hear you here, except for me. Just me,” the First Bride whispered.Camela shut her eyes tight in response as she screamed. “Leave me alone…let me go!The roots pulled tighter, slamming her body against the pit's wall and dirt showered over her face. Suddenly—complete silence envelopes the atmosphere. She hit her body hard on solid ground, her knees buckling against the marble floor. The pit sealed closed above her with no light but total darkness. The room sighed as the roots shifted, and a soft voice echoed through the walls—low and broken:“Camela…”

Chapter 46: Begging the Trees

The door creaked loudly, pulling itself open as if it had never been meant to move. Cracks appeared in the stone, and dust fell like rain. A bright glow spread through the openings, flooding the chamber with red light until it overwhelmed and blurred her vision. Camela stumbled back, her wrists stinging from where thorns had pierced her. She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The First Bride's whisper draped over her like a veil. “Don’t fight it, little bride. The door opens just once. You can’t close it now.” The opening grew larger, and what came through wasn’t air or freedom—but trees. Tall, dark, skeletal trees with bark that shone like tar. Their roots curled out of the opening, dragging across the floor like claws. Camela trembled in shock. “No…no, that’s not outside. That’s not freedom,” she murmured.The First Bride chuckled softly with a sense of satisfaction as she responded. “It’s the only outside left.” The trees leaned into the widening space as if they we

Chapter 45: A Door That Opens Inward

Camela tumbled downwards. The darkness gripped her like a hand around her throat, pulling her deeper into its depths. Her scream was silenced and swallowed by the rushing void. Chains whipped past her, some snapping while others cut into her skin as she fell further into the void. The red glow of the chamber above shrank away until it disappeared completely. Only the whisper lingered in the air: “You’re almost mine…” Desperately, Camela clawed at the air around her, her nails digging into emptiness. “No! I’m not yours…I will never be yours!” she replied fiercely.The voice responded with a soft laugh that caressed her ears. “That’s what I thought too. Do you know how long it takes for ‘never’ to turn into ‘always’? Just long enough for you to stop fighting.” Suddenly, Camela’s body jolted as the fall began to slow. She realized she wasn’t floating; she was sinking until her feet touched something solid. Stumbling forward, she found herself facing a door unlike any other. It wa

Chapter 44: Freedom Measured in Steps

The blood-red chamber felt alive, like an open wound. Every wall pulsed, each pulse sending a slight tremor through the floor beneath Camela’s bare feet. The chains hung from the ceiling, swinging and dripping red onto the stone below. A cloaked figure leaned forward in the center sitting on a throne crafted from bones. “Bride,” it said in a deep, harsh voice. Camela's throat tightened as she pressed against the wall, as her fingers grazed its pulsing surface—it felt warm like skin. But she quickly pulled her hand back. “I’m not your bride,” she said, her voice trembling. The figure slowly tilted its head. Its mask was blank, painted red without eyes or mouth, yet she felt it watching her intently. The silk cloak trailed over the throne steps as if stirred by breath. “Not mine?” it growled deeply. “Then whose?” The air became thick and heavy. Chains rattled above them, swinging more violently as if the chamber itself awaited her response. Camela parted her lips; her voice shoo

Chapter 43: When She Screamed

The void swallowed her. Air rushed from Camela’s lungs as she fell through the endless darkness. Her fingers clawed at nothing, and her throat felt raw from her own scream. “Vincent!” Her cry broke apart as she spun, her body weightless, continuing to fall. But there was no reply—only the sound of rushing silence. Then, without warning, her body crashed against something unseen. Her back hit hard, but she didn’t break. Instead, she found herself floating, suspended in the air as if by invisible hands. She gasped, her heart racing. The dark pressed in around her, so thick it felt alive. And then came laughter. At first, it sounded soft and thin like a whisper, it wrapped around her like smoke. The voice of the First Bride echoed in the air. “Still screaming? How delightful. How full of life.” Camela struggled, flailing her arms against the invincible grip. “Let me go!” she shouted.The laughter deepened. “Can’t you see, bride? Your screams are mine. They feed the pit and give m

Chapter 42: The Bride in the Pit

Camela's scream pierced the darkness as the thorns let her go, sending her tumbling into the pit. She collided with cold air before dropping through the void, the world spinning around her as darkness engulfed her. The silence pressed heavily against her head—until the voice emerged again. “Ah…little bride.” Her chest tightened at the sound, which resounded not in her ears but deep within her bones. It was soft and inviting, and wrapped around her like honey on a blade. Camela hit the damp ground with a thud, forcing the air from her lungs in one swift gasp. She coughed, struggling against the dust and rot that filled the air. When she managed to push herself up, she felt her palms slick and smelling of iron. A faint glow illuminated the pit, revealing what lay before her. The First Bride. She appeared almost human—which made it all the more unsettling. She was dressed in a tattered gown of gray, its fabric worn and faded, with wilted roses stitched along its seams. Her skin wa

Chapter 41: No Exit

Darkness weighed heavily around her. Camela gasped, but no sound escaped her lips. The thorns of the gown pierced deeper into her skin, and warm blood began dripping down her arms. The First Bride's voice slithered through the darkness:“You fight as though you matter,” she whispered. “But you are only a vessel…a shell for the crown. Nothing more.” “Get out of my head!” Camela shouted, her voice strained. The darkness responded with chilling laughter. Vincent’s chains clanked loudly. “Camela! Stay with me!” His voice cut through the void. “Don’t listen…” But the voice drowned him out—smooth, toxic, and sweet. “Do you really think his love protects you? No. It binds you tighter than my thorns ever will." The gown crept up to her throat, twisting like vines, its thorns scraping against her neck. Camela clawed at it, but her nails broke against the cursed fabric. “Stop!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “I won’t wear you! I refuse!” “You already are,” came the reply.

Chapter 40: Bridal Prisoner

The ground cracked open. Camela held tightly to Vincent’s arm as dust fell from above. The torches trembled in their holders, their flames bending sideways as though scared. Elias remained still in the middle of the shaking hall, calm as a statue. His voice rose above the chaos. “Do you feel it, bride? The chains pulling around you?” Camela felt her throat tighten as she responded. “Stop it…please stop!” Vincent moved protectively in front of her, his shoulders tense and fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white. “You won’t touch her,” he said. A slight smirk appeared on Elias’s face. “Touch her? Vincent, I already have.” Camela felt a twist in her stomach. “No…” “Liar,” Vincent growled. The floor split wider, the marble groaning like a wounded animal. A dark mist began to rise through the cracks, wrapping around their ankles. Camela clutched Vincent's sleeve in panic. “We have to get out of here…” she urged. The mist climbed higher, curling like finger

...

16 17 18 19 20

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP