Novel & Cerita Blade-empire Obituaries

The once proud Don then sat in the shadows, unshaven, his eyes sunken, looking like a broken man. Someone stumbled in, his voice filled with despair. "Don… our last restaurants and shipping companies… they're gone too. The banks are calling in debts, and our enemies are already waiting outside." Vincent did not move. He looked like a statue. "And… and…" the man's voice shook as if he might break down. "We just received news… Sofia… she had a miscarriage… in the dungeon…" Vincent's eyes finally moved. Empty. No grief, no anger. Just a hollow, lifeless stillness.

The crystal chandeliers of the Grand Imperial Ballroom hummed with the collective whispers of the city's financial empire. Hundreds of high society elites, hedge fund managers, and real estate magnates occupied the velvet lined rows, their eyes fixed on the massive digital projection screen displaying the asset profile of Vane Plaza, the iconic eighty story skyscraper that had served as the crown jewel of Vivienne's grandfather's maritime empire.

Out. The knife was small. Efficient. Close-range work only, which meant I'd have to get inside his guard before he could react, which meant I needed him not to see me coming, which meant I needed to not look at him in a crowded throne room and give myself away before I'd found Lucian and arranged every other piece of this— *My late wife.* His voice. That voice. The same disgustingly pleasant tone he'd used to read my death charges. *The unpleasantness with my late wife.* Like I was an administrative inconvenience he'd resolved three years ago and occasionally had cause to reference.

I glared at him before turning to Uncle. "I'm sorry, child." He said with tears in his eyes. Confused, my gaze snapped at Tom. He immediately peeled me off of his hold. His arm curled around my shoulder protectively. "What happened?" I looked at Tom fearing. "Duante's plane blasted last night. We lost him." Uncle said in his sorrowful voice. Dread clenched my chest, throat, squeezing so hard, making inhaling difficult for me. He doesn't stop here. "Everything will be as same as it was before. Thomas will take care of the business and my elder son, Andrew will handle the other business. He can't replace my Duante. But our world doesn't work like this. It doesn't stop with death."

They were guilty. Their greediness led them to the third war between The Kings (First and Second) and The Emperor (Shadow). They had no respect for Shadow and they feared her at the same time. It was so ridiculous. Eagle squeezed his eyes for a moment, rephrasing his sentence. “I, hereby, The Emperor of the Underworld is declaring my own death to you guys. This emperor also will be buried at a secret place where no one can access it and will disappear from their sight. The end.”

Blade had requested the crowd at the cemetery meet him at nine in the morning at the central plaza, but it was already five minutes before nine, and the crowd was not even half of the attendees at Fabian’s burial. “We can always command their presence here, Alpha. They can never say no to that.” Dalton suggested. Blade shook his head. “I will not be imposing on them just so I can explain my side. It was enough that there were some who showed up.” “There’s a lot of people who showed up. Not all of them are here, but many are still here. As long as we have someone here, whatever you say will spread out. That’s good news already.” I added, trying to sound optimistic.

I had poured my heart and soul into this case, determined to make sure that no one else had to suffer as my mother did, and it seemed he was as laser-focused as I was. I read over one particular witness statement, and my stomach dropped yet again. I saw my mother's name in bold lettering: Emily Hartley. It was from a former employee of MID, someone who had been involved in the clinical trials for the drug. They had seen firsthand the devastating effects that the drug had on patients, but they had been too afraid to speak out. It wasn't until my mother's death made headlines that they finally found the courage to come forward. As I read through their statement for the second time, I noticed s

Emerald blurted out as soon as Emily answered. “It is not a good time to die, the economy has not been good on coffin prices,” Emily answered. “Can’t you at least worry if the mortuary is too cold for your friend’s body first?” Emerald asked. “Okay, spill the tea, Em, who killed you?” “Mark Hartley and my big mouth joined hands and plotted this murder,” Emerald cried. “ Is this about the big project?” Emily’s voice crackled with curiosity on the other end of the line.

How could he have the means to oppose a huge organization like the one the Donovans owned? An old man dressed in traditional Yutarian clothes got out of the second car. He had a four-foot-long saber hanging from his waist. He looked like a sharp, unsheathed sword himself. Just one look at him could send a chill running down the spines of those who saw him! "It's Emil, the Phantom Blade!" This time, it was the martial arts community who was shocked. Although there weren't many people who had seen Emil before, his saber was extremely famous.

The thought makes my hands clammy. She had arrived without her parents or the former leadership team—they remained behind in what was now the latest territory expansion of the Blood Moon Pack. She couldn’t bear the sadness in their eyes, the weight of her sacrifice. Instead, she came with the pack’s lead healer and thirteen Omegas, weaving the remnants of Silver Crescent into this new, hostile world.