Chapter 39: The Shadows That Lurk
As Leonhardt Valerian Everhart stepped out of the Imperial Palace, the cold evening air greeted him. The sun had begun to set, casting an orange glow over the golden rooftops of the capital.
Behind him, the towering white marble structure of the palace loomed—a symbol of absolute power.
Yet, for Leonhardt, it was nothing more than a place of fleeting interest.
His encounter with Emperor Alistair had been insightful, but ultimately, the emperor was not his concern.
There was only one thing that mattered.
The seal.
And he had to break it.
The Ride Back
Leonhardt climbed into the Everhart family's carriage, where his escort awaited him. The Grand Duke had remained behind, speaking with the emperor.
Inside the carriage, silence reigned.
His knight escort, Ser Rowan, a high-ranking knight of House Everhart, sat opposite him, his face stoic.
But as the carriage began moving through the streets of the Imperial Capital, Leonhardt felt it—a gaze.
Someone was watching him.
No, not just watching.
Tracking him.
He did not react outwardly, maintaining his relaxed posture.
But his mind sharpened.
The Imperial Capital was heavily guarded—who would dare to watch him?
The carriage continued through the bustling city. The streets were lined with noble estates, shops, and markets, all glowing under the warm light of lanterns.
Yet amidst the peaceful scene, Leonhardt could sense something else.
A presence.
Someone lurking in the shadows.
The Assassin's Move
As the carriage entered a more secluded part of the road, a sudden chill swept through the air.
In the blink of an eye—
Whoosh!
An arrow, barely visible in the dim light, whistled through the air—aimed directly at him.
Leonhardt's eyes flashed.
Before Ser Rowan could react, Leonhardt moved.
Clang!
With a flick of his hand, a thin silver dagger shot out of his sleeve, deflecting the arrow midair.
The sharp clash echoed through the carriage.
Ser Rowan immediately unsheathed his sword, his expression turning cold.
"Assassins."
The horses neighed loudly, startled by the sudden attack.
Leonhardt's fingers curled slightly.
They were being targeted.
But by whom?
A Battle in the Streets
The moment the carriage halted, figures cloaked in black emerged from the rooftops, their eyes glowing like predators in the night.
Assassins.
Well-trained. Well-equipped.
But still, insignificant to him.
One of them lunged at Leonhardt—a curved dagger aimed for his throat.
Leonhardt tilted his head slightly, the blade missing him by mere inches.
And then—
Crack!
His small hand struck out with precise force, crushing the assassin's wrist.
A muffled scream escaped the man's lips before Leonhardt grabbed him by the throat and threw him against the carriage.
Ser Rowan was already cutting down another attacker, his sword flashing under the moonlight.
But Leonhardt had no interest in the small battle.
His gaze scanned the rooftops.
He was looking for something else.
Someone else.
Then—he felt it.
A presence stronger than the rest.
There.
A lone figure stood in the distance, watching the battle unfold. Unlike the assassins, this one was different—his aura was calm, controlled, and chillingly dangerous.
Leonhardt's fiery eyes narrowed.
Who are you?
For a brief moment, their gazes met.
And then—the figure vanished.
As if he had never been there.
Aftermath
Within minutes, the remaining assassins had been eliminated.
Ser Rowan stood, his blade dripping with blood, scanning the area for any remaining threats.
But Leonhardt was still staring at the spot where the mysterious figure had stood.
His instincts told him—this was no ordinary assassination attempt.
Someone was testing him.
Watching him.
And that meant one thing—
He had become a target.
His small fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger.
Let them come.
If they thought a mere child was vulnerable—
They would soon learn the truth.
Leonhardt Valerian Everhart was not just a noble heir.
He was the reborn King of Gods.
And he would destroy anyone who stood in his way.