Lord: My Shop Connects to Modern Times

The moment Witt saw Alfred fall, he knew tonight was completely over.

The second prince is dead.

He still died at Maurice's hands!

That eerie black mist... Witt had never seen it before.

He didn't know what position the other person held within the cult.

But without a doubt, the other party is definitely a mid-to-high-level member of a cult, and one with considerable combat power!

Vitt lacked confidence in his ability to contend with the other side, especially with these Shadow Walkers present. He now regretted agreeing to the Second Prince's request to get involved in this mess.

He knew that things were unlikely to end well tonight.

Either they die here, or they fight their way out and tell everyone what happened tonight—

But who would believe it? Who would believe the king was an imposter? Who would believe there were demons inside the palace?

He waved his staff as he retreated toward the door.

The Shadow Walker was still in pursuit. He had already blasted three of them to pieces, but the remaining two gave him no chance to catch his breath.

The Northern Knight beside me had already fallen.

The military officer also fell. Of the men the Mage Association had brought, two were dead and one was seriously injured, lying on the ground groaning.

He was the only one left standing there.

No, there is still a chance.

He was, after all, a high-level mage.

His magic power can still unleash three more high-level spells.

He gritted his teeth and chanted the incantation.

A bolt of lightning struck down from the sky, hitting the closest Shadowwalker. It screamed and fell to the ground, its body charred black.

The other one paused, seemingly somewhat wary.

Witt seized the opportunity to turn and run.

There are no monsters blocking the entrance anymore—they were lured away during the battle.

He rushed out and ran wildly down the corridor.

The sound of pursuers' footsteps came from behind.

He didn't dare look back, he just ran for his life.

He didn't know how long he had been running. All he knew was that his lungs felt like they were about to burst and the crystals on his staff had dimmed to the point of almost not shining at all.

Finally, the sounds of the pursuers faded into the distance.

He leaned against a pillar, panting heavily.

He looked down at his abdomen—there was a deep wound there, he didn't know when he had been cut. Blood had soaked through his robe and was flowing down his legs.

Damn.

He reached out and covered his wound, then continued walking forward.

We cannot stop now. We must leave the palace.

These messages must be taken out.

He staggered forward, and the corridor began to feel familiar.

This is the east side, the area near the prince's bedroom.

He suddenly remembered that the eldest prince, Alex, lived here.

in case……

If he goes to find the eldest prince...

His legs buckled and he knelt on the ground.

The wound was too deep. He could feel his blood draining away.

He gritted his teeth, got up, and continued walking.

Finally, he saw the door.

The prince's bedroom.

He lunged forward and used his last strength to pound on the door.

"Open the door...open the door..."

The door opened.

A young man stood at the door, dressed in casual clothes, his face showing surprise and wariness.

"You—Mr. Witt?"

Witte recognized him—Prince Alex.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say many things, but only blood gushed out.

He grabbed Alex's arm and, with his last ounce of strength, said haltingly:

"The...Second Prince...is dead...in his bedchamber...Maurice...a monster...the king is an imposter..."

Alex's expression changed.

"What did you say?!"

But Witt was no longer able to speak.

His eyes were wide open, his mouth was agape, and his body slowly slid down.

The last finger pointed in the direction of the king's bedroom.

Then it stopped moving.

……

Alex stood there, his mind blank.

Witt is dead.

Vitt, a high-ranking mage of the Mage Guild, died at his doorstep, covered in blood with a fatal wound in his abdomen.

He said before he died—

My second brother is dead.

There is a demon in the palace.

Morris is a cultist.

The king is an imposter.

The king... is an imposter?

Alex recalled the strange feeling he had when he saw his father yesterday. Those overly quiet eyes, that perfectly measured smile, those perfectly timed replies…

It was fake after all...

No wonder it felt so out of place...

He took a step back, leaned against the door frame, and gasped for breath.

My second brother is dead.

No matter how much animosity existed between them, no matter how much he disapproved of Alfred's eagerness for quick success—that was his brother.

My younger brother, whom I grew up with, rode horses with, and got scolded by our father together.

He's dead now.

He died at the hands of a group of cult members.

Alex clenched his fists, his nails digging into his flesh.

He wanted to rush over.

I want to go and fight those bastards to the death.

He wanted to avenge his second brother.

But he didn't move.

Because he suddenly realized a problem—

If he rushes over now, what can he do?

Although he is a peak intermediate warrior, he is considered one of the best among intermediate warriors.

But his second brother was the same, and with Witt's help, he had more men under his command than he did.

Even they are dead, if I rush over there, I'll just be throwing my life away.

and……

Where is Mother? Where is Younger Sister? Where is Third Brother? Where is Fourth Brother?

He's dead, what will they do?

Alex slowly squatted down and put his hands behind his head.

His mind was in complete chaos.

Anger, fear, sadness, helplessness—a mix of emotions made it almost impossible for him to think.

But slowly, an idea came to mind.

Will Maurice kill him?

My second brother died because he led troops in rebellion.

Regardless of whether it was his intention or not, regardless of whether he was forced into it—he did indeed lead his men into the palace, and he did indeed want to seize power.

Therefore, Maurice killing him can be interpreted as "suppressing a rebellion."

But what if he—Alex—did nothing?

He did not participate in the coup or lead troops in rebellion.

He was just the eldest prince, the first in line to the throne.

What reason would Maurice have to kill him?

No.

How do you explain killing him? Two princes died overnight? Who would believe that?

Unless Maurice has gone mad and wants to wipe out the entire royal family.

This is obviously impossible; if we were to do it this way, we wouldn't have had to go through so much trouble beforehand.

Alex recalled his father's illness a few months ago, and how his father was gradually replaced by a fake king and then passed the throne to him.

Everything was planned...

This cult wasn't simply there for the purpose of slaughter; they needed to rightfully inherit the throne and then use the privileges that came with being king to do certain things...

Is the intention to completely control the Dawn Empire? Or is there another plan? And why choose the fourth brother as king when there is clearly a fake father's stand-in?

Too many questions, and still not enough clues...

Alex slowly stood up.

He looked in the direction of the palace.

There were still flames and faint sounds of battle cries.

He took a deep breath.

Then he turned around, went inside, and changed into formal attire.

He straightened his collar in front of the mirror and wiped the cold sweat from his face.

Then push the door open and go out.

The corridor was quiet.

The shouts of battle seemed to have stopped.

He walked forward step by step.

The palace is near.

There was no one at the door. The door was ajar, and a dim light shone from inside.

Alex pushed open the door and went inside.

The room was a complete mess.

There were more than a dozen corpses lying on the ground, blood everywhere, and a pungent stench filled the air.

Alex did not see the monster that Witt mentioned.

Father—that "father"—was still sitting by the window. His clothes were stained with blood, but his face still held that same smile.

Morris stood in the center of the room.

Morris raised an eyebrow when he saw Alex enter.

"Your Highness," his voice was still so gentle, "Why have you come so late?"

Alex did not answer his question.

He walked straight to his "father" and knelt down in front of him.

"Father," he said, his voice trembling slightly but trying to remain steady, "your son is late."

The "father" looked at him without saying a word.

Morris walked over and stood beside him.

"Your Highness," he said, "about your brother..."

"I understand," Alex interrupted him.

He stood up, turned around, and looked at Maurice.

"My brother led troops to storm the palace with treacherous intentions; he deserved to die," he said, emphasizing each word. "He was a traitor. He wasn't my brother."

Morris looked at him, his smile deepening.

"His Highness is a man of great wisdom and righteousness."

Alex did not respond.

He looked at the corpse on the ground.

Alfred wasn't among them—he'd probably been dragged away. But he recognized the faces of those military officers. He also recognized the face of that Northern Knight.

They were all Alfred's men, the ones who came with Alfred tonight.

are dead.

He took a deep breath and turned to "father".

"Father, my fourth brother will ascend the throne tomorrow. Everything will proceed as usual," he said. "I will lead the oath of allegiance."

The "father" finally spoke, his voice exactly the same as before: "Very good."

Alex knelt down, bowed, and then stood up.

He glanced at Maurice.

The guy was looking at him too, with something indescribable in his eyes.

"Your Highness," Maurice suddenly said, "you...didn't bring any guards with you tonight?"

"No," Alex said. "I heard a noise and wanted to check it out. I didn't expect..."

He paused, then didn't continue.

Morris nodded.

"You've worked hard," he said. "Go back and rest. You have a lot to do tomorrow."

Alex turned and walked out.

As I reached the door, Maurice's voice came from behind me.

"Your Highness."

He stopped in his tracks.

"Things haven't been peaceful in the palace these past few days," Maurice said. "You'd better... stay in your chambers and don't go out. Once everything is settled after the Fourth Prince ascends the throne, it won't be too late to go out."

Alex did not turn around.

"understood."

He pushed open the door and went out.

The door closed behind me.

Back in his palace, he closed the door, leaned against it, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor.

Alex was trembling all over.

He buried his face in his hands and cried silently.

It's not because I'm afraid.

It's because my second brother died.

His second brother, who had always been at odds with him since childhood, always argued with him, and whose eyes were always filled with defiance, was dead.

He died before his eyes.

And he could do nothing but be placed under house arrest.