I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord Chapter 47 47: The Most Inept Assassination Attempt in Histo

The assassin from Phase Two was gone.

Not dead, though she probably wished she was.

She had fled the scene the mont Vincent grinned at her.

Her fellow assassins had watched her run past them at full speed, eyes wide, hands shaking, muttering nonsense about an indestructible man.

"It was poison," she had whispered, half-mad.

"It was definitely poison. I know it was. But he drank all of it and then ASKED FOR MORE!!!"

Her superiors tried to get an explanation.

She just kept repeating: "It shouldn't have been spicy, it shouldn't… it shouldn't…. it shouldn't!!!"

And then she locked herself in her room and refused to co out.

Which ant Phase Two had failed.

Again.

Which ant it was ti for Phase Three.

And for sure, this ti, it would be flawless.

The assassins had returned to their original plan: dropping sothing heavy on Darin's head.

It was simple.

It was elegant.

It was gravity.

There was a massive, antique chandelier in the main dining hall, large enough to flatten a man upon impact.

It had been hanging there for over a century.

And today?

It would finally fall.

*****

Darin, completely unaware of his impending doom, had finally managed to drag Vincent away from the tea.

"Co on," he grumbled. "I need actual food, not just… whatever disaster that was."

Vincent, who had consud lethal poison like it was a mild seasoning, shrugged. "Food's good too, I guess."

Darin gave him a long look.

"Do you even NEED to eat?"

Vincent smirked. "Not really."

Darin sighed. "Of course you don't."

They made their way to the grand dining hall, where a proper al had been prepared.

Massive wooden tables full of lavish food.

Golden chandeliers.

Royalty-grade food.

It was all very luxurious.

Darin, exhausted from existing, slumped into his seat, finally feeling a small sense of peace.

Steve, the small nace lizard, had crawled onto the table, eyeing the food like a dragon hoarding treasure.

Grumble had curled up on the windowsill, staring at nothing.

Vincent, of course, just stole food from Darin's plate.

Everything was normal.

Which ant, obviously, it wouldn't last.

Above them, in the shadows of the ceiling, the assassins had positioned themselves perfectly and silently.

One held a sharp blade, tied to the chandelier's main chain, ready to snap it.

The other assassin, the leader, knelt beside him.

"On my mark," the leader whispered. "The mont I enhance its weight, you cut the chain."

The assassin nodded. "Understood."

"This ti," the leader murmured, eyes locked onto Darin below, "nothing will save him."

He extended a hand—

And his power surged.

This was their secret weapon.

A rare, deadly magic.

The ability to increase the weight of an object tenfold, twentyfold, even a hundredfold.

By the ti the chandelier fell, it wouldn't just be a falling object.

It would be like a teor crashing down.

A perfectly orchestrated assassination.

Darin would be crushed beyond recognition.

This was foolproof, nothing can stop this.

The leader exhaled slowly.

He focused.

And then—

The chandelier changed.

An invisible force wrapped around it, compressing it with an unnatural density.

A normal golden chandelier?

No.

Now it was a golden boulder, hanging precariously by a single chain.

It was ti.

"Now," the leader whispered.

The assassin with the blade swung—

SNAP.

The chain broke.

The chandelier plumted.

It fell fast.

It fell hard.

It fell straight for Darin.

This was it.

The assassins braced themselves—Victory was at hand!

And then.

Steve, the small, oblivious disaster of a creature, had been focused on food.

And, more importantly—

He had not yet stolen anything from Darin's plate.

Which was a cri.

So, he did what all Steve's do best.

He jumped.

Right onto Darin's face.

Darin yelped.

"STEVE—?! WHAT THE—"

And then, instinctively, he threw himself backward.

CRASH.

The chandelier obliterated his chair.

And half the table.

Darin landed flat on his back, gasping.

Steve, still clinging to his face, chirped happily.

The assassins watched in horror.

They had just witnessed a lizard accidentally save their target's life.

The room was dead silent, super silent that they can even hear their own heartbeat.

A giant crater now sat where Darin's chair used to be.

Vincent blinked, still holding a fork. "Huh."

Darin, still flat on his back, took a deep breath.

Then exhaled.

"…Why?"

Steve licked his nose.

Darin grabbed him. "No. No. You don't get to be cute right now."

Vincent, completely unfazed, nudged a burnt piece of chandelier with his foot.

"So. That happened."

Darin slowly sat up.

He stared at the wreckage.

Then at the ceiling.

Then at Vincent.

"Tell I'm imagining this."

Vincent smirked. "You want to lie?"

Darin groaned loudly.

anwhile, the assassins were having a breakdown.

The remaining assassins sat in absolute disbelief.

"HOW?!"

"HE WAS SITTING STILL! LITERALLY! HE DIDN'T EVEN MOVE ON PURPOSE!"

"THAT LIZARD IS AN AGENT OF CHAOS!"

The leader, fists clenched, breathed heavily.

They had used their strongest technique.

And they had been defeated by a lizard.

His eye twitched.

No.

NO.

This wasn't over.

They would send their best.

Phase Four!!!

*****

Later that night…..

This ti, they sent the best.

A killer with no equal.

A legend among shadows.

A master of silent death.

His na was whispered among the underworld in hushed tones, The Silent Blade.

No one had ever survived once he was given a contract.

Until now.

Because this would be his last job.

The Silent Blade moved through the palace unseen.

Shadows bent around him.

His steps made no sound.

He was not like the others. He had no need for elaborate sches.

He would not rely on chandeliers or poison or arrows.

Just a blade.

Swift. Clean.

He reached Darin's door.

A gentle push, a whisper of movent, and he was inside.

Darkness.

Silence.

He stepped forward—

Sothing was wrong.

The bed was empty.

The Silent Blade frowned.

His information had been flawless.

Darin should have been here. Asleep. Vulnerable.

And yet—

The blankets were undisturbed.

Had he been warned? Had he escaped?

No. That wasn't possible.

The Silent Blade was a ghost.

His movents were flawless.

No one could have seen him coming.

So where was—

Scratch.

A single sound.

A tiny, soft sound.

The assassin's muscles tensed.

He turned.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness—

And there, sitting motionless in the middle of the room…

Was a tiny black creature.

Darin's pet.

Grumble.

Sothing Was… Off

The assassin did not lower his guard.

A pet was not a threat.

And yet…

Sothing about the air had changed.

The shadows felt heavier.

The room, though silent, felt full.

As if sothing unseen was watching.

Waiting.

Grumble did not move.

He simply stared.

Large, unblinking eyes reflecting the faint light from the window.

Perfectly still.

Too still.

The Silent Blade had seen many creatures before.

Dogs. Cats. Birds. Beasts of war.

But this?

This was wrong.

Grumble wasn't cowering.

He wasn't hissing.

He wasn't even acknowledging the assassin as a threat.

He was just… watching.

And sothing about that was far worse.

The assassin swallowed.

He felt uneasy.

The assassin took a step forward.

The room creaked.

A single flickering candle on the desk cast long shadows against the wall.

The Silent Blade inhaled slowly.

This was just an animal.

A useless little pet.

There was no reason to hesitate.

He took another step.

And then—

Grumble blinked.

It shouldn't have been terrifying.

And yet—

The assassin's entire body locked up.

Sothing had changed.

He felt it before he saw it.

The shadows moved.

They weren't flickering from the candle.

They were shifting. Growing. Stretching.

Reaching.

The candle's fla dimd.

No wind.

No movent.

Yet the room felt smaller.

The air thicker.

Colder.

Like sothing unseen had just stepped closer.

The assassin tried to step back.

His body did not move.

Not because of fear.

Because sothing held him still.

Not physically.

Sothing deeper.

Primal. Ancient.

Grumble tilted his head.

And suddenly—

The assassin felt very, very small.

The Silent Blade had killed hundreds.

Faced monsters, beasts, warriors, sorcerers.

He had never feared anything.

But right now—

He was terrified.

He could feel it.

Not see.

Not hear.

But feel.

Sothing else was in this room.

Sothing big.

And it was looking at him.

Grumble was still sitting in the sa spot.

Still motionless.

Still tiny.

But the assassin knew.

He was not alone.

Sothing was breathing against his neck.

Sothing massive.

Sothing old.

He tried to move his hand to his dagger.

He couldn't.

The shadows had him now.

The assassin could not scream.

He could not run.

His vision blurred.

His heartbeat slowed.

A cold sensation wrapped around his body—

Not like hands.

Not like a grip.

Like the room itself had swallowed him whole.

Grumble finally moved.

His tiny, round body stretched.

He yawned.

Then flicked his tail.

The assassin collapsed.

His body hit the ground—

And the shadows swallowed him completely.

'…'

A gust of wind blew through the open window.

The candle flickered—

Then returned to normal.

The room was still.

Silent.

Empty.

Grumble, still sitting in the exact sa spot, licked his paw.

The door creaked slightly.

A single feather drifted to the ground—

The only trace of the assassin who had entered.

And never left.