But instead of sinking into flesh, the blade met an unyielding surface.A sharp, metallic clang reverberated inside the carriage as the knife snapped in half.Greg's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat."What the—?" he gasped, staring in disbelief at the broken blade clutched in his trembling hand.Alex stirred slightly, shifting in his sleep but remaining oblivious to the world around him.A faint snore escaped his lips, the gentle rise and fall of his chest undisturbed.Panic surged through Greg like icy water. His mind raced to comprehend what had just happened.He had been so certain that Alex wouldn't survive the tower, let alone thwart his assassination attempt without even waking.Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, trickling down his temples as he backed away.Disbelief and fear intertwined within him, tightening their grip on his racing heart."How is this possible?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rumble of the carriage wheels.As the

Alex looked around the table.Mostly academy students filled the place, their chatter buzzing in the background.This was clearly a popular spot for them.“What are you standing there for?” Lyra sneered. “Get out of here. Don’t think you still have any connection with Katherine after losing your rights from the Leonhart family.”A wave of murmurs spread across the room."That Alex... really shameful," someone whispered."He’s already been cast out. How dare he come here and claim Katherine, one of our academy's most beautiful?"“He's shameless to the bone.”“Arthur is much better for Katherine than that loser who keep harassing women.”Suddenly, a calm low voice cut through the noise."Alex!" A beautiful, petite woman rushed toward him, throwing herself onto his back.“This place is mine,” she whispered, her eyes closing as she held onto him.It was Tanya Mirestone, one of the academy's top beauties.She belonged to an even more powerful family than Katherine Randolf's.Not only was sh

Alex stood before the grand door of the restored mansion, its once-faded grandeur now shining anew under the golden afternoon sun.Just as he was about to enter, he noticed a young boy sprinting out of the front door while yelling.It was the same boy who had stolen from him days before.Their eyes met, and the boy froze in his tracks, shock evident on his dirt-smudged face."Brother, how can you be here? Are you chasing me?" he stammered, his voice tinged with fear."This is my mansion," Alex replied firmly, his gaze steady. "What are you doing here?""Your mansion?" The boy's eyes widened in disbelief. "But that's impossible."A thought struck Alex. "Wait. This house was supposed to be protected by security magic, making it inaccessible to outsiders. How did you get in?"The boy's face turned ashen.He took a step back, glancing around as if seeking an escape route. Sensing his intent, Alex swiftly grabbed his arm."You'd better tell me now," Alex let the threat hang in the air.The

In the dimly lit study adorned with rich mahogany furnishings, Donovan leaned back in his leather armchair, a sly grin spreading across his face."We need to accuse Roberto of engaging in dangerous practices and sway public opinion against him," he declared."That way, we'll have a justified reason to attack.Markus raised an eyebrow, swirling the brandy in his crystal glass. "What exactly do you have in mind?""A two-pronged approach," Donovan continued, his eyes glinting with mischief. "First, we'll spread rumors discrediting the Forest Merchant—allegations of fraudulent goods and unsavory business practices."Elara, seated elegantly by the grand fireplace, smirked. "And if that's not enough?"Donovan's gaze hardened. "Then we resort to more direct methods. Accidents happen all the time in this line of work.""Let's proceed, then," Elara agreed, her voice as smooth as silk. The others nodded, their faces illuminated by the flickering firelight.In the art of war, the first casualty

Late one night in Crownreach, an unprecedented event unfolded that left the city's inhabitants in disbelief.From the shadows emerged three hundred soldiers and knights, their armor glinting ominously under the pale moonlight.They moved with silent precision, splitting into three formidable groups, each led by a stern general.The quiet streets, usually deserted at this hour, were suddenly alive with whispers of fear as the citizens peered cautiously from behind shuttered windows.Emblazoned on their shields and armor was the unmistakable crest of Duke Mirestone.His forces had descended upon the city without warning, and their purpose was as clear as the silver insignia they bore.One hundred soldiers, commanded by General Collins and flanked by five imposing knights, marched swiftly toward the grand headquarters of Silvercrest Trading.The workers there, accustomed to the routine of commerce, froze in utter shock.Never had they imagined that their respectable establishment would b