The soft rays of dawn pierced through the royal palace of Clover Kingdom. Sion Ragnar stood silently on the terrace, eyes narrowed as he gazed toward the distant horizon. Preparations were underway for his departure to the Sidom Elf Kingdom to negotiate a critical alliance. But something tugged at the back of his mind—a gnawing tension that refused to fade.
"You're going into the lion's den... but the wolves are already in your house," Raphael's voice echoed sharply in his mind.
Sion turned his gaze to the glowing figure beside him. "What do you mean?"
Raphael's expression turned grim. "There's a plot brewing. Someone inside the palace plans to assassinate both Duke John Ragnar and Duke Jonathan Everan, framing the royal family in the process. While the kingdom reels from their deaths, enemy-allied nobles will rise and conquer Persia and Zion. The Avalon Merchant Union has infiltrated the food supply lines. They plan to poison the necessities—flour, salt, even water—to incite panic among the people."
Sion clenched his fists as Raphael continued.
"And in the chaos, local agitators paid by the Avalon Union will ignite protests. A full public revolt. While the capital burns from within, the Leaf Kingdom will send troops to seize our border territories. Then Bethel will invade. Clover will fall—without a single honest battle."
A chilling silence fell. Sion's eyes glowed, a faint silver light blooming from within—the power of his divine sight awakening. "No more."
He moved swiftly, his perception alert. In the kitchens, he lingered, speaking to no one. Outside, he noticed a flicker of movement—a figure watching through the window before vanishing. Something was off. But Sion did not act—yet.
When lunch arrived, all the royals and the two dukes gathered in the royal dining hall. Sara and Katherine sat across from Sion, who entered calmly, every motion controlled, his expression unreadable.
King Nathan raised his goblet. "So, Sion. How are the preparations for your journey to Sidom?"
Sion responded flatly, "Progressing well, Your Majesty."
At that moment, the silver cloches were lifted. Steam wafted into the air. The moment the forks were raised—
"Stop."
His voice rang like steel, freezing every hand mid-air. Sion stood.
"I ask that no one eat. Bring forth every chef, and every supplier responsible for today's food. Now."
Guards quickly followed orders. The chefs were assembled, their faces pale and confused. Duke John frowned. "Sion, what is this?"
Sion smiled faintly. "Nothing serious, Father. Just a test."
He turned to the kitchen staff. "Please, I insist. You all eat the meals first. After all, they're your finest work."
A shudder passed through the line. Most obeyed quickly, but three of them hesitated. Sion's eyes narrowed—his divine sight revealing the dark aura of guilt swirling around them.
"Those three," Raphael whispered in his mind. "They're the ones."
Sion's voice turned to steel. "You won't eat?"
One man stammered. "M-my lord, we… already tasted it earlier—
Sion moved. In one breath, one heartbeat, his blade was out. The first traitor was cleaved from shoulder to hip, blood splattering across the marble. The second and third barely had time to scream before they, too, were cut down.
Gasps filled the room. Katherine covered her mouth. Sara's eyes widened in shock. Duke Jonathan stood slowly, stunned. The air went deathly silent.
"I've spared you all a gruesome death," Sion said coldly, wiping his blade on a white napkin. "These men laced the food with a slow-working poison. Their masters aimed to kill both dukes today and plunge the kingdom into revolt."
King Nathan gritted his teeth. "Are you certain?"
"I saw it with my own eyes," Sion said. "The proof is in the supply crates. Search them. You'll find the residue."
Everyone was silent, stunned—not just by the treachery, but by Sion himself. He wasn't just a warrior. He was becoming something else entirely—an executioner, a sentinel, a man burdened with the fate of a kingdom.
As guards began dragging the corpses away, Sion turned and left the hall without another word.