They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System
Chapter 226 - 226 What… what was that

Chapter 226: What… what was that?

Chapter 226: What… what was that?

No.

No.

No.

This couldn’t be happening.

It couldn’t.

Before she could process her grief, a shift in the air sent a violent shiver up her spine.

The assassins had recovered from their momentary hesitation.

And now, they moved.

This time, there was no mistake.

No distractions.

They were going to finish what they started.

The killing intent that filled the hall was suffocating.

Nnenna barely had time to react before A new presence arrived.

It was so sudden.

So silent.

So unnatural.

Yet the assassins, deadly, unshakable monsters, felt it immediately.

Their bodies tensed.

Their movements halted.

And then, they turned.

The moment their eyes locked onto the newcomer, their battle instincts screamed.

Something was very, very wrong.

The footsteps of the intruder were so light, so calculated, that they made almost no sound, as if the person’s feet weren’t even touching the ground.

And then, the figure emerged.

A shadow among shadows.

Clad entirely in black, a sleek scorpion emblem marked the stranger’s chest.

But there were no words.

No introduction.

No indication of whether they were man or woman.

Just, silence.

A silence so heavy, so chilling, it was more terrifying than the assassins themselves.

And before the assassins could even comprehend what was happening The figure came closer.

The air grew thick with tension as the assassins snapped into formation.

These were not ordinary killers, they were masters of death, warriors who had never known failure.

Yet, something in their stance, something in the way their eyes flickered with hesitation, revealed an undeniable truth.

They were afraid.

The figure in black didn’t move for a long moment.

No battle stance.

No indication of preparation.

Just stillness.

The assassins, relying on their years of training, attacked first.

With deadly precision, they rushed in from all sides, blades gleaming under the dim palace lights.

Their movements were flawless, a display of pure, refined skill.

But They were too slow.

Or rather, their enemy was too fast.

The first assassin barely had time to process what was happening before a fist slammed into his gut.

His body folded in half, a deep, sickening crack echoing through the air as he was sent flying across the hall, slamming into a pillar with enough force to shatter the stone.

Before the others could react, the figure spun, dodging a second assassin’s blade with inhuman ease, grabbing his wrist mid air and twisting.

A horrific snap followed.

The assassin screamed, his blade falling uselessly from his now broken arm.

Then, a kick.

One strike to his throat, and he collapsed, unconscious.

The remaining four hesitated for less than a second.

But a second was too long.

The figure blurred.

Vanished.

Then reappeared.

Right behind the third assassin.

The man barely turned before a knife, his own knife, was driven into his shoulder with such precision that it pinned him to the ground without touching anything vital.

The fourth and fifth assassins tried to retreat.

They failed.

The figure caught them mid step, grabbed both by the throat, and slammed their heads together so hard that the sickening crack of bone sent a shudder through everyone watching.

The sixth assassin, the only one left standing, was frozen.

His body trembled, sweat rolling down his face.

And for the first time in his career, he dropped his weapon.

The figure took a single step toward him.

The assassin flinched.

Another step.

He fell to his knees.

One last step.

And he collapsed, unconscious from pure, unfiltered terror.

Twenty minutes.

That’s all it took.

Six assassins, elites among elites lay defeated.

Not a single unnecessary movement.

Not a single wasted breath.

Just devastation.

The entire royal hall was silent.

The queen, paralyzed, could only clutch her chest, her breath coming in short gasps.

Obinna’s hands were shaking, his sword gripped so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Abuchi, barely ever unshakable, could only whisper, “What… what was that?” The commanders, men who had fought countless battles, stood with their mouths slightly open, unable to comprehend what they had just seen.

But no one was more affected than Nnenna.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she stared at the figure’s silhouette.

There was something familiar about them.

The slim, toned build.

The fluidity of their movements.

The side profile.

The shape of their back.

It… reminded her of someone.

Someone impossible.

Her mind immediately tried to reject the thought.

“No… No way.” Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t dare speak the name that came to her mind.

Because it couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be Little Sweetie.

Little Sweetie was gentle.

Little Sweetie was sweet.

Little Sweetie couldn’t even hurt a fly.

And yet… The resemblance was undeniable.

Thirty minutes ago Little Sweetie paced back and forth in her dimly lit room, her heart restless.

Something was wrong.

Leaving Nnenna’s safety in the hands of the others didn’t sit well with her.

She was the strongest among them, and to the best of her knowledge, the general hadn’t sent anyone stronger than her into the castle.

If she didn’t act now, she might regret it for the rest of her life.

Her sharp eyes flickered toward Ebere, who was curled up in fear on the floor.

The girl’s shoulders trembled, muffled sobs escaping her lips.

Little Sweetie sighed.

All this crying and whimpering was getting to her.

She stepped forward, crouched beside Ebere, and, without hesitation, knocked her out.

Not a word.

Not a warning.

Just one swift strike to the side of her neck.

Ebere slumped over instantly.

“Sorry,” Little Sweetie muttered under her breath.

“But I don’t have time for this.” She stood up, slipping into her black combat gear, securing every weapon with practiced efficiency.

Then, without another glance back, she entered the secret passage.

It was the fastest route to the upper floors.

She moved like a phantom, her feet barely touching the ground as she surged forward.

Faster.

Faster.

So fast that anyone who caught a glimpse of her would see nothing but a blur.

—————————————– Can anyone guess who that was?

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS JedidiahBeaufoy Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!