I'm Trapped Inside a Prince as the Most Powerful Entity-Chapter 23: Real Power

...The three assassins in the room were still standing a few steps back, frozen for a split second. Their professional calm, which had been absolute just moments before, shattered completely as they finally registered what had just happened.

The impossible sight of their target, who they had fatally stabbed only seconds ago, suddenly sitting up and healing himself perfectly in a flash of green light was something entirely outside of their understanding or experience.

It was like watching someone come back from the dead right in front of them, and not just come back, but fix themselves instantly. They finally reacted to this unbelievable sight.

Their bodies stiffened, their eyes widened behind their masks, and they simultaneously stumbled backward another step or two, putting a little more distance between themselves and the figure who was no longer lying injured on the bed. A deep, primal instinct for self-preservation kicked in, overruling their mission parameters for a moment.

The assassin who had delivered the first, crucial stab to Eric’s chest, the one who appeared to be in charge based on their earlier movements, saw clearly that Eric had not only survived, but healed himself in mere milliseconds. The sheer impossibility of it spun in his mind, but there was no time for prolonged questioning.

A flurry of frantic thoughts must have raced through his head – How?! This shouldn’t be possible! What kind of power is this? Is this truly the Third Prince? – but his years of brutal training and the absolute nature of his mission immediately took over.

The fear and confusion were pushed down. Questioning could wait until after. His primary objective, etched into his very being, was clear: eliminate Prince Eric. Dead means dead, no matter how many times he might come back.

So, as soon as the middle assassin, the one who had been calmly watching, fully processed the mind-boggling act of instant healing, he didn’t waste a single moment in shock. Ignoring the confusion raging internally, he acted with the swift, deadly efficiency of a seasoned killer. He reached into a hidden pocket sewn expertly into the inner lining of his black cloak. His hand moved quickly, a blur of motion unseen by the naked eye.

With practiced speed that showed countless hours of training, he pulled out another knife. This wasn’t a combat dagger, but a thin, wickedly sharp throwing blade, perfectly balanced for speed and accuracy. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t question his target anymore. His orders were simple and direct. His target was still Eric, the figure on the bed.

With a powerful, expert throw born of immense skill, he hurled the knife directly and with terrifying speed towards Eric’s head, aiming for the forehead or an eye – a guaranteed kill if it landed. The throwing knife sliced through the air with a high-pitched, deadly whistle, a chilling sound that spoke of lethal speed, a deadly projectile cutting towards its mark with chilling accuracy in the dim light of the room.

Adam, currently in full and unwavering control of Eric’s body after the rapid, complete healing process, was still sitting upright on the bed. His ancient mind processed the assassins’ reactions in a fraction of a second. He saw the three figures stumble back, their earlier calm replaced by shock.

He saw the middle one’s hand dart into his pocket and the lethal intent flare in his eyes as he drew the throwing knife. Adam’s eyes, which were now burning with a cold, ancient light within Eric’s youthful face, fixed intently on the incoming blade. The knife was hurtling through the air, a deadly silver streak, whistling its death song. It was just a few meters away now, coming directly towards Eric’s head, incredibly fast, giving a normal person no time to react.

But Adam was far from normal. He was faster than thought, faster than mortal sight could follow. With an almost imperceptible blur of movement – a speed that defied normal human capability – Adam brought his hand forward from where it had been resting in his lap.

It wasn’t a wide, dramatic, defensive motion to block. It was a precise, incredibly rapid movement, a sharp cut through the air with blinding speed. Just before the knife could reach its target, before it could even cover the last foot of distance, Adam’s hand, moving like a flash of light, reached out and simply caught the deadly blade in the air.

He caught it with his bare hand, directly in front of Eric’s face. The whistling sound of the blade instantly cut off with a sharp thwack as the knife was gripped mid-flight. Adam held the blade between his index and middle fingers, the sharp point stopping mere inches from his forehead, the hilt extending beyond his hand. His grip was absolute, showing incredible strength and control, stopping a moving projectile as easily as catching a falling feather. There was no visible flinch, no sign of pain, no cut on his skin.

The three assassins, who had been watching intently, their breath held, saw Adam’s impossible feat. Catching a high-speed throwing knife inches from his face with bare fingers, without even blinking, was beyond anything they had ever witnessed.

Their earlier shock at the healing intensified tenfold, compounding into complete disbelief. Their eyes, visible just above their dark masks or hoods, were wide with stunned confusion and something akin to fear. Catching such a fast-moving weapon with bare hands, without any injury, was simply not possible for any normal skilled warrior, or even most high-level combatants they knew of.

They stood there, frozen, completely baffled. They didn’t know, couldn’t even imagine, that the person standing there on the bed, who looked exactly like Prince Eric, wasn’t Eric at all in that moment. They didn’t know it was actually Adam, a being of ancient power who had temporarily taken over Eric’s body, using abilities that were not only far beyond Eric’s capabilities but far beyond their own understanding of reality.

While the three stood there, frozen in shock, their mission momentarily forgotten in the face of the impossible, Adam looked at them. His eyes, which held a cold, ancient light, burned with intensified anger. They had dared. They had dared to sneak into his temporary vessel’s private chamber, to inflict grievous, fatal wounds, to threaten the body he currently inhabited.

A raw, immense, and terrifying energy surged outwards from Adam’s body, filling Eric’s form with power that distorted the very air around him. It wasn’t just power; it was a palpable force of ancient will, a wave of pure, oppressive pressure radiating outwards like a physical force.

The energy erupted from him rapidly, visually shimmering like heat in the air, causing the atmosphere in the entire luxurious bedroom to grow heavy, thick, and intensely oppressive. It formed a terrifying ’aura’ around Adam – an invisible field of force, a wave of pure power that bore down on everything and everyone within its reach.

The moment this oppressive aura slammed into the three assassins, who were standing only a few steps away, their bodies stiffened, and their breathing immediately became incredibly difficult, constricted and painful, like a physical weight was pressing down on their lungs. It felt as though the air itself was being crushed, squeezed out of the room, or replaced by something impossibly heavy and suffocating. They gasped for air, but could only take short, painful sips.

This terrifying aura, fueled by Adam’s unfathomable power and simmering rage at being attacked and trapped, didn’t just radiate gently in the room. It surged outwards from Adam’s body like visible heat waves rising from an inferno, but cold and heavy, or like ripples of dark energy rapidly expanding.

And this oppressive, powerful aura wasn’t contained just to Eric’s bedroom by the palace walls. It spread out in an instant, washing throughout the entire Royal Palace like an invisible tsunami of pure, ancient power, a signal of unleashed, terrifying force.

Within moments of its violent release, everyone present in the vast palace – from the lowliest servant scrubbing floors to the highest-ranking noble in their private study, to the powerful Royal Guards patrolling the long hallways – felt this oppressive, terrifying energy. It hit them like an invisible wave, making their hearts pound erratically in their chests.

They stopped whatever they were doing, instinctively sensing immense, world-shaking danger and a level of power unlike anything they had ever encountered or even imagined.

Guards in distant hallways stiffened, their hands flying to the hilts of their swords, their internal magical compasses or detection abilities spinning wildly, showing a central point of immense power they couldn’t understand. Nobles in their private chambers felt a sudden, crushing weight in the air that made it hard to breathe properly, causing them to gasp and look around in alarm.

Meanwhile, back in Eric’s room, Adam, standing on the bed with the thrown knife casually held between his fingers, fueled by his barely contained fury, intensified his oppressive aura even further. He focused and amplified the invisible pressure, directing the raw force of it directly and brutally towards the three assassins.

The effect was immediate and physically devastating. The assassins, already struggling desperately to breathe under the initial pressure, completely buckled under the increased intensity. Their bodies screamed in protest, muscles straining and shaking. They crumpled, falling hard onto their knees with loud, pained gasps and coughs, unable to stand or even maintain their balance against the overwhelming invisible weight bearing down on them.

Their masks shifted slightly, revealing expressions of agony. Blood began to trickle from their noses and sometimes ears, small streams of crimson staining their dark masks and black clothes as capillaries burst from the immense pressure. It felt as if heavy, crushing weights had been placed on their shoulders, pressing them down towards the floor, while their chests felt like they were being squeezed in a vice, unable to draw a sufficient breath to survive. They were gasping, sputtering, utterly helpless, reduced to pathetic figures groveling on the floor.

At the very same moment, throughout the rest of the palace, every single person who felt this powerful, oppressive aura reacted in their own way. Immediately after feeling this chilling, immense energy wash over them, Eric’s father, the King – a man who possessed significant personal power and was a formidable warrior and ruler in his own right, but who clearly felt a force far, far beyond his understanding or control – shot up from wherever he was sitting or standing in his private chambers with an expression of grave alarm.

Driven by a sudden, overwhelming, and terrifying sense of danger emanating powerfully from his son’s direction within the palace, and instinctively recognizing the impossible level of power being unleashed, he acted on pure, ingrained instinct.

He didn’t pause to question. He quickly grabbed the heavy, ornate royal sword that was always kept close by, within easy reach, whether near his massive desk or beside his bed. Sword in hand, his face grim and determined, he burst out of his room with urgent, powerful strides, moving with a speed rarely seen from the usually composed monarch. He was ready to face whatever impossible threat, whatever being of immense power, was unleashing such a terrifying force within the walls of his own palace, so close to his son’s chambers.

Back in Eric’s bedroom, filled momentarily with the sudden absence of oppressive energy, Adam, still in Eric’s body and currently standing powerfully, holding the caught knife, finally stepped off the bed. He moved slowly and deliberately, landing silently on the plush rug of the bedroom floor. His eyes, still burning with a cold, unnatural light within Eric’s now composed face, were fixed on the three assassins who were just starting to recover from the debilitating pressure, coughing and gasping on the floor, rubbing their bleeding noses.

Adam began to walk slowly and with chilling purpose towards the three kneeling, helpless figures. Each step was calm, measured, and filled with an overwhelming, terrifying menace. As he walked, a voice, coming from Eric’s mouth, but deeper, colder, and laced with ancient fury than Eric’s normal voice could ever be, spoke.

The words were full of lethal intent, resonating with power. "You... dare," Adam said, his voice low and dangerously quiet, a chilling rumble in the room. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of utter contempt and cold fury. "You dare attempt to extinguish the vessel... of MINE."

As soon as Adam spoke these words, naming himself, and likely because the immediate physical threat was removed and the oppressive aura was no longer needed to keep his targets pinned, he suddenly and completely withdrew his aura.

The heavy, crushing pressure, the suffocating feeling, the palpable force that had just moments ago filled the entire room and spread like a shroud throughout the palace – it instantly vanished, dissipating as if it had never been there. The air in Eric’s bedroom immediately felt normal again, light and easy to breathe.

Throughout the rest of the palace, everyone who had been struggling under the oppressive, terrifying force suddenly felt the crushing weight lift, leaving them gasping for normal air, shaken and completely bewildered, trying to comprehend what immense power had just manifested so violently and then disappeared. Guards looked at each other with wide eyes; nobles shivered.

Meanwhile, back in Eric’s room, the powerful, suffocating aura had vanished completely. But Adam was still there, his figure in Eric’s body moving with unnerving grace and a chillingly calm purpose, walking towards the three assassins. His face, Eric’s youthful face, was now completely changed from Eric’s usual expressions.

Adam’s absolute control twisted it into a look of pure, ruthless danger, devoid of any warmth or emotion. His eyes were like chips of ancient ice, his lips set in a hard, unforgiving line. He looked absolutely lethal, radiating a silent promise of pain.

One of the three assassins, the one who had been closest to the bed and had been the first to stab Eric in the chest, the apparent leader of the group, slowly managed to push himself up from the floor as the crippling aura disappeared. He coughed, gasping for air, and roughly wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his gloved hand.

He looked up at Adam, who was standing there in Eric’s body, a complex mix of pain, intense frustration, disbelief, and surging anger on his face visible just above his mask. How?! he thought. How had this mere child, this prince, beaten them? How had he survived and recovered from fatal wounds? This was a humiliation, a complete failure of their important mission, costing them resources and risking their lives.

To take revenge for being brought low and humiliated by this "child," and to still try to complete his mission if it was somehow still possible, a silent snarl twisted his lips behind his mask. Driven by a surge of desperate fury, fueled by pain and shattered confidence, he reached into his cloak again with both hands.

With a practiced movement, he pulled out two more knives, one in each hand, designed for close-quarters combat, longer and heavier than the throwing blades. He quickly channeled his own magic, a dark energy briefly swirling around the blades as he focused his intent, making them glow faintly with menacing power. With a sudden, animalistic roar of rage and pain, he charged directly at Adam, lunging forward.

"Die, Third Prince!" the assassin yelled, his voice rough and filled with unleashed fury and residual pain from the aura, using Eric’s title, completely unaware of the ancient, terrifying being he was truly attacking. He ran towards Adam, low and fast, holding the two glowing knives ready to strike.

The other two assassins, who had also started to push themselves up from the floor as the oppressive aura lifted, saw their leader charging head-on. They immediately stood fully, though they were still shaking slightly and clearly disoriented, preparing to support the attack with their own weapons, though they hesitated slightly, a flicker of doubt and fear in their eyes as they were still processing the impossible healing and the horrifying power they had just felt.

But Adam just stood there. As the first assassin charged at him with two glowing, magic-covered knives, yelling a death threat meant for Eric, Adam simply stopped walking completely. He stood perfectly still, planted firmly on the bedroom floor. He made no movement to dodge, no movement to block, and no movement to counter-attack. He didn’t even raise his hands in defense.

He just stood there, facing the charging assassin head-on, an expression of chilling, ruthless intent on Eric’s face. The other two assassins watched their leader charge forward, getting ready to follow suit. But what they both saw next, just before the charging assassin reached Adam, was something completely surprising and utterly terrifying.

It was something that would shake their beliefs to their core and make them question everything they knew about their target, about Prince Eric, about magic, and about what kind of monstrous power they had just unleashed and now faced. They watched, frozen in place by a rising sense of dread and horror, at the chilling spectacle about to unfold right before their eyes.