The Path Of A True King.
Chapter 56: The Queen

Chapter 56: The Queen

Chapter 95: The Queen

The sun bled orange behind a veil of city smog as Aurora strode across cracked sidewalks.

The haze clung to the skyline like ash on a dying flame.

Men in black suits flanked the corners, backs stamped with a jagged sun emblem—corrupted and violent.

They bowed their heads as she passed, silent and reverent, acknowledging the authority she wore like a blade.

Two shadows moved beside her—Zeke and Colt. Towering, silent, wrapped in dark fabric.

Their eyes never rested, hands hovering near concealed weapons.

The Azura Gang had turned the city into a marketplace of firepower.

Pistols were street candy now. Shotguns, AKs—bulk orders from black-market ghosts.

Law enforcement?

Underpaid, outgunned, and out of breath, the police had long since chosen the path of least resistance: looking the other way.

The Azura Gang was the law here. The only law.

Above them stood just two powers.

The first: White Lotus—a gilded militia masquerading as peacekeepers, operating like a private army in Tier 1 cities.

Pristine armor.

Corporate funding.

Absolute efficiency.

But their protection was a privilege.

Bought and sold.

If you lived in a slum like this, you might as well not exist.

The second: NCE—National Criminal Elimination.

They were the executioners of failed cities.

When a district slipped into Tier 3, the NCE arrived like vultures with military funding and a legal kill order.

Their terms were simple: pay or perish.

Gangs that resisted were annihilated—warehouses leveled, accounts drained, leaders disappeared.

The survivors, if any, were left shattered and crawling, easy prey for scavengers in suits and silencers.

So the two Alpha gangs holding this city played a waiting game.

Quietly keeping the city’s rank low, like a bomb they refused to let tick.

And until the NCE came knocking, Alpha gangs would rule like kings in the fog.

Their men patrolled the streets.

Their hands crushed uprisings.

They were chaos, discipline, and illusion all at once.

The Stray Dogs hadn’t barked since the last massacre.

No one knew if they were licking wounds or sharpening fangs.

Aurora didn’t care.

Her heels clicked against the concrete as she approached a modest building with flickering neon signs.

One of Azura’s safehouses.

On paper, an entertainment club.

In truth, a fortress of whispers and blood.

Zeke stayed behind, watchful. Colt followed her through the doors, a silent shadow.

The scent inside was a cocktail of bleach and stale liquor.

Girls in tank tops and sweatpants scrubbed the aftermath of another wild night.

Their movements quick, tired, practiced.

"Good morning, Boss," they greeted, forced smiles painting their exhaustion.

Aurora gave a curt nod and motioned to one—young, dark hair in a bun, sharp eyes that betrayed fatigue and intelligence.

Zoe.

Without speaking, Aurora gestured for her to follow.

Colt flanked them as they ascended creaking stairs to the office above.

Inside, the lighting dimmed to amber.

Aurora slipped off her white coat, revealing a black outfit that shimmered like oil—sleek, commanding, and unapologetically sharp.

She tossed the coat onto a leather couch and moved her silver hair over one shoulder as she sat behind her desk.

Her eyes, cold and electric, locked onto Zoe.

"You’re Zoe, right?" Her voice was smooth, clipped, dangerous.

"Yes, Ma’am," Zoe replied, standing firm despite the confusion tightening her brows.

Aurora leaned forward, elbows on polished wood.

"You’re going to observe. Everyone. Watch for anything strange—managers, customers, staff. If something doesn’t sit right, you tell me. No one else. Understood?"

Zoe blinked, taken aback. "Me? But—"

"Yes. Quietly. Your pay will go up. But speak a word to anyone, and the offer vanishes."

Silence.

Then a slow, blooming smile broke across Zoe’s face.

"I won’t disappoint. Thank you, Miss Aurora."

Aurora allowed the faintest smile to touch her lips. "Good. Go finish cleaning, then take the rest of the day off. I want you fresh tonight."

Zoe nodded quickly and left, her steps lighter, faster.

Aurora leaned back in her chair.

The office felt still.

Controlled.

It hadn’t always been this way.

The previous owners had treated the girls like livestock—run into the ground until their spirit broke.

Rest was a myth.

It was Elijah who’d first said something.

Quiet, steady.

"Let them rest," he’d urged, sitting across from her, voice firm but caring.

"The night shift is when this place breathes. Not noon. And they’re people, not machines."

She had listened.

The new system split shifts.

Nights and days.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better.

The goal was simple.

Make them feel human again.

Elijah hated this business.

The lies, the seduction, the liquor.

But hate didn’t mean ignorance.

He believed if they were going to run an empire built on shadows, then damn it, they would run it better.

Today’s meeting would test that belief.

Six managers, summoned from across their territory.

Aurora had plans.

And suspicions.

Zoe’s footsteps faded down the hallway.

Colt remained, arms crossed at the door.

His jaw worked slightly before he finally spoke.

"Vice Leader... why are you assigning two girls in every club to keep watch when we already have enforcers? Doesn’t that seem excessive?"

Aurora didn’t answer right away. Her gaze had shifted to a box sitting on the edge of her desk.

The plain brown packaging was scrawled with handwriting that could only belong to one person.

[Hey idiot, you have guys to protect you, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t learn something.

Breathing techniques—start here.

I want you to be at least a beginner Knight—or even intermediate—by the third week.

From, Kai.]

She smirked, shaking her head.

Who’s the idiot, you idiot? she thought, chuckling to herself before turning her attention back to Colt.

"I’m assigning spies because I want eyes everywhere," she said matter-of-factly, resting her chin on her hand.

"We just took over, Colt. That means loyalty hasn’t settled yet. Some of these managers might think they can outsmart us—keep more of the profit than they should, or treat the girls like trash without consequence."

Colt listened, brow furrowed as Aurora continued.

"So," she said, her tone sharpening, "each club gets two girls.

One to spy on the manager.

And another to spy on the first spy.

That way, I always have a layer between what people say and what they really do.

And soon, I’ll place a third spy in every location—someone to spy on everything."

Colt blinked. "That’s... a lot of spying."

"It’s not paranoia," she replied with a smirk.

"It’s insurance. Everyone makes a mistake eventually. No matter how clever or careful they are, there will always be a crack in their story. And when that happens, I’ll know who’s lying, who’s stealing, and who needs to disappear."

She leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping her desk in slow rhythm. "I’m also suspecting some of these managers are abusing our girls."

Colt’s jaw clenched. "So we’re going to deal with that?"

"We’re going to punish them," Aurora said, her voice suddenly cold.

"In front of everyone.

Publicly.

So the girls know they’re protected under us.

Then... we’ll kill the managers later, in private, once we’ve replaced them.

Quietly.

Cleanly."

A shiver crawled up Colt’s spine at how easily she said it, like she was discussing paperwork.

He tried to joke. "Then why bother punishing them if they’re already marked for death?"

Aurora’s smirk returned. "The punishment is for the girls. To show them justice. The killing is for us. To keep the business clean."

Her smile was small but sharp, and it made something in Colt twist uncomfortably.

"You know," he muttered, "your smile reminds me of Vice Leader Kai."

Aurora didn’t respond to that.

She simply reached forward and picked up the box Kai had sent her.

Colt, standing silently now, couldn’t help but wonder.

Why is the leader so kind?

Honest.

Respectful.

Balanced.

Not scheming.

Not ruthless.

Almost... purehearted.

And yet... the Vice Leaders?

Monsters in human skin.

Aurora opened the box carefully.

Inside, she found what Kai had promised.

Breathing Techniques: Stage One to Three.

[It’s for building your strength and is good for you to be worth of being called a Vice leader.]

"Kai, I am gonna kill you." She thought smiling.

Element Cultivation Methods.

[Cultivate this and see what element you have an affinity for but come to me when you start.]

Elemental Control Theory. [Not sure, I just started studying.]

Inside the safehouse, silence thickened like smoke.

Then—finally—the managers began to arrive.

One by one, they stepped into Aurora’s office.

Each door creak felt like a warning, each footstep on the creaky wood stairs a prelude to judgment.

Some tried to offer smiles.

Others carried stiff, neutral expressions, their eyes flicking quickly between Aurora and Colt.

None of them dared speak first.

The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls.

The polished desk glinted beneath Aurora’s pale fingers, which tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm.

She didn’t rise.

She didn’t greet them.

She simply sat—back straight, legs crossed, gaze fixed like frostbitten steel on each manager as they entered.

Her expression was unreadable, cold, controlled, and calm in a way that made the air feel thinner with every passing second.

Some of the managers took their seats hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her silence.

Others remained standing, as if afraid that sitting might be seen as disrespectful—or worse, presumptuous.

Still, no one spoke.

Because behind Aurora stood Colt—arms folded, jaw tight, radiating a pressure so intense it felt like the oxygen had been squeezed out of the room.

It wasn’t just his size or presence—it was something deeper.

An aura.

A force.

One that made your instincts scream predator.

His glare swept across the group like a searchlight in a prison yard.

A few of the managers broke eye contact almost immediately.

The silence stretched.

Aurora’s gaze slowly moved from one manager to the next, dissecting them with nothing more than a look.

In that moment, her silence was more terrifying than any words.

It wasn’t just a power play.

It was a message:

I don’t need to speak to remind you who’s in control.