The New Reign

The body of the King now lay still, lifeless on the grand marble floor of the palace. His crown had rolled away, coming to a quiet stop beneath the golden throne. No one spoke. Not even the wind dared disturb the silence.

The Grand Priest of the Palace, Sylus, slowly stepped forward. His long white robes trailed behind him as he bowed his head low. "It is time," he said gently, his voice cracking with grief. "We must say goodbye to our king."

A tear slid down the Queen's cheek. Her lips trembled, but no sound escaped. She stood still, clutching the silk veil draped around her shoulders like it was the only thing holding her together. The royal guards approached, lifting the heavy tomb that bore the king's body. The prince, unconscious in his chamber, was unable to attend. The King was buried quietly. No trumpet, no song—just dirt and silence.

The mourners returned to the palace, still dazed by the events. Later that evening, a meeting was held in the royal hall to decide the next ruler. The throne sat empty.

"Until the Prince regains consciousness," Sylus began, addressing the council, "the one most experienced in governance should serve as temporary king. We cannot allow the throne to remain vulnerable."

A mocking laugh echoed through the hall.

Ven stepped forward, the sharp heels of his boots clicking against the stone floor. "No need," he said casually, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. He walked straight up to the throne and sat on it like it had always belonged to him. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned his cheek against his hand.

"The king is already decided."

Sylus stepped forward in outrage. "You can't do this! You are—"

Before he could finish, a figure emerged from the shadows. Its body was completely shrouded in black, face unrecognizable. In a blink, the dark entity tied Sylus in glowing chains. A second later, sharp metal stakes burst through his chest with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed across the palace floor. Sylus fell, lifeless.

Ven didn't flinch. "The weak and annoying deserve to be punished," he said, his voice ice cold. The dark shadow crept toward him and merged into his body like smoke returning to fire.

Ven opened his eyes, now glowing faintly. He stood and looked out over the stunned council. "I'm tired of taking orders," he said. "It's time I rule."

He raised one hand casually. "Guards, kill all those loyal to the late king. Let their blood clean this throne."

The palace erupted into screams. Swords clashed. Shields shattered. Loyal knights who once pledged their lives to the crown now lay dying on the floor.

Screams echoed through the marble halls.

In the chaos, Ned ran up the spiral staircase toward the Prince's chamber, panting, bleeding from a wound on his arm. He had to save the boy. The only true heir left.

He burst into the Prince's room and was surprised to see the Queen already there, standing silently beside the Prince's bed.

"My lady," Ned said, relieved. "I've come to get him out. This place is no longer safe. We must go befo—"

Before he could finish, the Queen turned around slowly and in one smooth motion, plunged a dagger into his stomach.

He gasped, stumbling back.

Ven emerged from the side of the room. He walked over and hugged Ned from behind as the Queen let go of the dagger. Ven whispered in his ear, "Long live the King."

Then, without hesitation, he stabbed Ned again in the back.

Ned fell to his knees, eyes wide with disbelief. Blood dripped from his lips.

"You were the one... who tried to kill Luci..." he whispered.

Ven crouched in front of him, brushing some of Ned's hair back like an older brother comforting a child. "Yes. The good luck charm I gave her... it wasn't meant to protect. It slowly drained her aura. The plan was to kill her and break Ryan. With his emotions shattered, the King would be easier to eliminate."

Ned's lips trembled. "But... Ryan saved her."

Ven stood up, eyes cold. "A temporary delay. Not a failure. I always have a plan B."

Ned collapsed to the floor, his final breaths shallow and slow.

As he lay dying, he saw the Queen lean toward Ven.

"What will we tell the public?"

Ven smiled, not answering at first. Then he turned to the open window and said softly, "Ryan Nightveil."

---

The next morning, the city square was packed with civilians. Thousands stood shoulder to shoulder, silent, waiting.

Ned's body was publicly displayed. His wounds were hidden; his hands crossed peacefully.

The Queen stood before the crowd, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice broke as she spoke. "It was Ryan... Ryan Nightveil... who killed our beloved king. And Ned... and so many others."

The crowd gasped. Murmurs spread like wildfire.

"I can't bear to lose any more of my family," she sobbed. "Please, don't let this monster roam free."

Ven stepped forward then, arms outstretched like a hero returning from war.

"People of the realm," he boomed, his voice sharp and commanding, "I promised you vengeance. And I will deliver it. Will you stand with me as I bring justice?"

A wave of shouting exploded from the crowd.

"YES!"

"LONG LIVE VEN!"

"DEATH TO RYAN!"

Ven smiled wide, soaking in the energy. He raised his hand slowly, signaling the guards. "Let this day mark the beginning of our true era. The lies are over. The crown belongs to the brave."

The crowd cried louder.

"LONG LIVE THE HUMANS! LONG LIVE VEN!"

The echo of their voices bounced off every stone wall.

Ven turned away from them, smirking.

Under his breath, he murmured to himself with a grin, "Give them bread and circus... and they'll never rebel."

The devil's smile stayed plastered on his face as he walked back into the palace.

The Reign of Ven had begun.