StartNovelChapter 227: The King is Dead Chapter 227: The King is Dead As she neared the main hall, she heard it,
shouting.
Her heart clenched.
“Nnenna.” Her mind went blank.
She exploded forward, tearing through the shadows like a silent storm.
If something had happened to Nnenna... Someone was going to pay.
As she drew closer...
Little Sweetie’s eyes sharpened as she heard desperate cries “My King!” Something must have happened to the
King!
Her pace quickened, her heart pounding like war drums.
As she moved through the shadows, her mind pieced together what she already knew The assassins had
stormed the castle.
The generals had struggled.
And now The King must have fallen.
But there was no way.
The King was one of the strongest men in Lionara.
Had he really...?
She clenched her teeth, forcing her legs to move faster.
By the tshe reached the main hall, it was too late.
The scene before her froze her in place.
The King, collapsed in his own blood.
His powerful frweakened, his breaths shallow.
His hand grasped the sword impaled through his heart.
And Nnenna... Nnenna was kneeling beside him, supporting his body, her hands stained red, her voice trembling
as she pleaded “Please, don’t die!” “I need to know the truth!” Her face was pale, her body shaking from the
weight of what was happening.
Little Sweetie’s fingers twitched.
For a moment, just a moment, she considered moving toward the King, checking if there was even the slightest
hope of saving him.
He was the general's father after all.
But before she could take a step She felt it.
Killer intent.
The remaining assassins had noticed her.
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Their heads snapped in her direction, and their bloodstained weapons rose.
They weren't going to let her interrupt.
Her golden eyes narrowed.
If it was a fight they wanted... Then it was a fight they would get.
With one swift motion, she discarded the warmth in her gaze And let the cold killer take over.
She moved once they made a move.
And the battle began.
20 minutes later.
The battlefield was silent.
The six assassins lay motionless on the ground, not all dead, but none able to move.
Blood pooled around them, mixing with the remnants of fallen soldiers.
The air was thick with the metallic scent of death.
Then With a simple wave of her hand, Little Sweetie signaled.
And from the shadows, they appeared.
Figures cloaked in black emerged from unseen corners of the room.
Their presence sent a chill through the spines of everyone watching.
The royal family, the commanders, even the strongest warriors None of them had sensed these people hiding in
the darkness.
And that was what scared them the most.
Was this another threat?
Had they just exchanged one nightmare for another?
Fear settled over the survivors.
Sinstinctively reached for their weapons, though they knew it was pointless.
Whoever this new force was, they had moved on the figure’s command.
And their first act Was to take the assassins.
In the blink of an eye, the defeated killers were gone.
The bodies vanished into the void as if they had never existed.
The only thing left behind was the eerie silence... and the overwhelming presence of the mysterious figure in
black.
Little Sweetie.
She stood there, unmoving, her cold golden eyes scanning the lifeless body of the King.
For a single second, just one, her fingers twitched.
Then, without a word, she turned away.
And in the next instant She was gone.
A blur of black disappearing through the nearest window, vanishing into the night like a phantom that was never
meant to be seen.
Leaving behind a room filled with people who had no idea what they had just witnessed Or whether they had
been saved... or warned.
One second Two seconds Three seconds The room was frozen in silence.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Everything, the assassins, the mysterious figure, the shadows that cand disappeared, felt like a nightmare
no one could wake up from.
Then “What are you all just standing there for?!” Nnenna’s shaky but urgent voice shattered the stillness.
“Helptake him to the hospital!” The desperation in her tone jolted everyone awake.
The soldiers and servants snapped out of their daze and rushed forward.
They surrounded the King’s motionless body, lifting him with trembling hands.
Even as they carried him away, Nnenna was shoved aside, forgotten.
She barely noticed.
She could only stare at the blood that stained her hands.
Her father’s blood.
The royal doctors rushed in moments later, examining the King’s lifeless form.
Everyone held their breath as they waited for an answer.
A chance.
Anything.
But then, the head doctor shook his head.
Silence.
Then “The King is dead.” The words echoed.
A ripple of horror.
Then Wails.
The sound of grief erupted through the castle like a tidal wave.
Servants.
Soldiers.
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Ministers.
Generals.
The royal family.
Even those who had once opposed the King Now wept.
The King was dead.
— The castle moved in urgency despite the weight of grief pressing on its walls.
Under normal circumstances, the funeral of a King would be a grand event.
A spectacle.
Foreign rulers would be invited.
Days of ceremonies would be held.
But The kingdom had just been attacked.
The enemy was unknown.
Another attack could cat any time.
They could not risk letting outsiders in.
They could not risk revealing their weakness.
So instead The King’s funeral was rushed.
Swift.
Efficient.
As if they were hiding the fact that the King of the Lionara had fallen.
By the next day He was buried.
No grand procession.
No foreign dignitaries.
No extravagant rituals.
Just the cold, hard earth swallowing him whole.
And after that, everyone returned to their daily lives.
As if nothing had happened.
As if the heart of the kingdom had not just stopped beating.
But in the quiet corners of the castle You could still hear it.
The silence.
A silence filled with the weight of trauma, fear, and something even worse...
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