Rain hammered against the shattered stained-glass windows of the cathedral, turning the moonlight into fractured rivers of colour across the stone floor.
The old church stood abandoned at the edge of the city.
At least, that was what the mission file had said.
I stepped through the broken doors, the heels of my boots echoing against the silent hall.
Too silent.
My eyes narrowed.
Something was wrong.
For ten years, I had walked into death and returned alive.
I had survived bullets, bombs, poison, blades, and entire military squads.
Instinct had kept me alive long before skill did.
And right now, every instinct in my body was screaming.
Trap.
The scent reached me first.
Gun oil.
Metal.
Fresh leather.
At least twenty men.
No.
More.
Thirty-two heartbeats.
Hidden above.
Behind the pillars.
In the shadows of the balconies.
I slowly lifted my gaze.
Moonlight cut across the cathedral's interior, illuminating figures cloaked in black.
Masks.
Weapons.
Sniper scopes glinting from the upper levels.
Blade users waiting below.
Poison specialists near the side doors.
My lips curved into a cold smile.
Not enemies.
My own people.
My own organisation.
5
For a moment, the cathedral was silent except for the rain.
Then a familiar pair of heels clicked softly behind me.
I didn't turn.
I already knew who it was.
"Evelyn."
Her perfume reached me before her voice did.
Jasmine.
Soft.
Elegant.
Deceptive.
For ten years, she had been my handler.
The only person in the world who knew every mission I took.
The only person who had ever spoken to me like I was human.
She stopped a few steps behind me.
"Your instincts are as sharp as ever," she said.
Her voice was smooth.
Calm.
As if we were discussing tomorrow's mission instead of my execution.
I let out a short laugh.
"So this is how it ends?"
No answer.
Only silence.
That was answer enough.
I slowly turned.
She stood there beneath the moonlight, dressed in a black coat, her silver hair damp from the rain.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Her emerald eyes held no warmth.
Only calculation.
Only resolve.
For a brief moment, an old memory flashed in my mind.
Her hand on my shoulder after my first kill.
"A king should never bow."
Funny.
Now the same woman stood here to bury that king.
My gaze swept the cathedral.
Thirty-two assassins.
No.
Thirty-one.
Evelyn made thirty-two.
The entire elite division.
My own organisation had sent everything they had.
I smiled.
Good.
At least they respected me enough to fear me.
One of the masked men stepped forward.
"King."
His voice trembled despite the mask.
"Stand down."
I looked at him.
Then at the others.
Then back at Evelyn.
"Tell me something."
My voice was calm.
"Was any of it real?"
For the first time, something flickered in her eyes.
A pause.
A breath.
Then she said softly,
"Kings are not meant to exist forever."
Not an answer.
I sighed.
My hand slowly moved inside my coat.
Thirty-one weapons aimed at me.
Safety clicks echoed through the cathedral.
No one fired.
They were waiting.
Afraid.
They should be.
The moment my fingers touched cold steel, I moved.
Gunfire exploded.
The cathedral erupted into chaos.
I dived sideways behind a fallen stone bench as bullets shredded the air where my head had been.
Two throwing knives flashed from my fingers.
Two screams.
Two bodies dropped from the balcony above.
I rolled forward.
A blade user lunged.
I caught his wrist, twisted hard, and drove his own knife into his throat.
Blood sprayed across the stone floor.
Another assassin came from the left.
I shot him through the eye without looking.
The gun's recoil felt like home.
The cathedral became a slaughterhouse.
Bodies fell.
Gunshots thundered.
Steel clashed.
Rain and blood mixed on the floor.
One by one, they came.
One by one, they died.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
I moved through them like a shadow.
Like death itself.
Because that was what they had created.
A king forged in blood.
A monster they could no longer control.
By the time the last masked assassin collapsed, the cathedral had gone silent again.
Only rain.
Only blood.
Only breathing.
Mine.
Heavy.
Slower than before.
I looked down.
A bullet wound in my side.
Another on my shoulder.
Poison dart in my thigh.
Clever.
They had planned for everything.
Almost everything.
I lifted my gaze.
Evelyn was the only one left standing.
Her heels clicked softly against the blood-soaked floor as she approached.
Calm.
Unhurried.
I laughed.
A dry, bitter sound.
"So."
I coughed blood onto the floor.
"It was always you."
She stopped in front of me.
For the first time in ten years, her expression cracked.
Sadness.
Regret.
But not enough to stop.
"I'm sorry."
Those two words hit harder than the bullets.
I smiled weakly.
"No, you're not."
A flicker of pain crossed her face.
Then—
Cold steel entered my chest.
I looked down.
Her blade.
Straight through my heart.
For a moment, time stopped.
The rain outside seemed distant.
The pain was strangely muted.
Only cold remained.
She leaned close.
Her lips were near my ear.
And whispered,
"Kings are meant to die when they become too powerful."
My vision darkened.
Her face blurred.
The stained-glass moonlight shattered into fragments.
Then—
Nothing.
Only darkness.
And somewhere far away…
A crimson light began to glow.