The Lich of Glory Knight Spirit: Moving towards Krimasha!
Chapter 152 - 34: Return

Chapter 152: Chapter 34: Return

At midnight, a large crowd of commoners surrounded the Lion King Palace, holding torches with fervent passion.

"King! Come out—! King! Come out—! King! Come out—!" Everyone shouted while holding their torches high.

...

"Your Majesty, they’re calling for you," the palace steward whispered from the bedside.

"Ignore them, just ignore them! Pretend we didn’t hear anything!" Benedict II cowered under the bed, covering his ears with both hands.

"But the mob is about to break in..."

"So what if they break in? Is there anything left in here for them to smash?"

"I think they’ll catch you."

"So what? It’s not like I have food to give them! Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I can barely feed myself, so who cares about them!" Benedict II shouted, "It’s all that damn Holy Knight’s fault! They should go ask him for food!"

"But they can’t find the Holy Knight, so they’re coming for you."

...

With a loud bang, the grand door was forced open. The mob flooded into the Lion King Palace. The two guards at the gate were shoved aside, not even getting a chance to draw their swords. To be precise, they hadn’t intended to draw them—they merely wanted to run away, but didn’t have enough time.

The starving residents swarmed in, and someone shouted, "The King must have hidden loads of food! Let’s search!"

Thus, the mob surged forward with their torches, starting a full-scale search of the Lion King Palace. Soon, they discovered the treasury was empty, the granary was empty, and nearly every room was empty. In the kitchen, there were only a few dishes left, which were now being fought over by hundreds of people.

One of the mob yelled, "Find the King!"

The enraged residents echoed, "Find the King!"

"Find me? What for? Finding me won’t solve anything—you brought this upon yourselves!" Disguised in commoner’s clothes and with his face covered, Benedict II clutched a dinner plate over his head and, with the palace steward in tow, sneaked cautiously, oh so cautiously, through the corner.

"Your Majesty, I think you should hide the crown. If they see it, we’re finished."

"No, no one’s taking my crown! It’s mine!"

"I understand, but if they notice it, we’re doomed..."

With a thud, Benedict II bumped into something. Turning around, he saw a burly man standing in front of him, staring fixedly at the crown atop his head.

"Oh, you’re looking at this, aren’t you? I found this in the King’s chamber," Benedict II said as he got up. "Since everything’s so expensive now, this bit of gold isn’t worth much. I discovered it, so it belongs to me, naturally. Keep searching for food—I’ll take my leave."

Saying this, Benedict II turned around to leave. However, his nonsense was clearly a hard sell. The burly man grabbed his collar and shouted loudly, "The King is here!"

In an instant, everyone’s attention turned his way.

"Run!" Benedict II screamed hysterically, breaking free from the man’s grip and bolting towards the main door.

Despite his lavish lifestyle, the King turned out to be quite the runner. Even with dozens of people chasing him, they couldn’t catch him. Of course, the key advantage was his familiarity with the Lion King Palace—no one knew it better than he did.

"Where did he go? He’s disappeared!" The enraged mob roamed back and forth with wooden clubs and other makeshift weapons, faces full of fury. "You cowardly King!"

Overhead, on the rafters, Benedict II was clinging with all his might.

"A coward I may be, but I’m still the King," he muttered, freeing up a hand to adjust the crown on his head.

"I think the King’s over there—!"

A voice rang out, and in no time, the mob below scattered in that direction.

Cautiously, Benedict II hugged a pillar as he slid down from the rafter. His hands, stiff from gripping the beam, waved frantically to shake off the numbness.

"The King is here—!"

He hadn’t even finished shaking his hands when another voice hollered. Benedict II shook his head in exasperation and started running again.

From all directions, swarms of angry townsfolk rushed towards Benedict II, setting up blockades and pursuing him relentlessly. Benedict II ran for his life, performing all kinds of extreme feats.

Jumping, vaulting walls—those were just the basics. Swinging from ropes, pulling off 360-degree sharp turns, scaling walls barehanded—these were true acts of survival. To be honest, this might have been Benedict II’s finest moment. He had accomplished nothing during his reign, not even attempting to do anything. Yet under pursuit, he was bursting with a vitality that matched his will to live.

"You won’t catch me no matter what!"

"We’re starving!"

"Well, I’m starving too, damn it!"

"You’re the King; it’s your responsibility! This is all your fault!"

"How am I supposed to fix it? I don’t even have food for myself! You shameless mob!"

Amid his frenzied cries, Benedict II climbed up to the spire of the highest tower in the Lion King Palace.

The night wind blew gently as his legs trembled violently beneath him. He held his crown tightly with one hand while clutching the bucket-thick spire with the other. A single misstep, and he would tumble all the way down.

"Don’t come near me! If you come closer, I’ll jump and die before your eyes!"

"If you die, we’ll eat you! We’re so starved we can eat anything!"

Benedict II gasped for air, clinging tightly to the spire.

"Fine, I won’t jump then. Come at me if you dare—I’ll still be the King even in death!"

The height was simply too much; even his pursuers, with trembling legs, didn’t dare come closer.