I'm Trapped Inside a Prince as the Most Powerful Entity-Chapter 24: Real Power 2

...The two assassins who had held back, ready to follow their leader, watched as he ran towards Adam. They saw he was unbelievably fast, just a dark blur driven by anger. He moved like a super-tight spring let loose, planning to kill Adam (Eric) right away with the two glowing knives he held, magic shimmering around the blades.

They saw him lift one knife high, aiming to stab Adam in the neck to silence him forever. He was only a few feet from Adam now, the knife raised high, ready for the final blow.

But at that exact moment, when the charging assassin was right in the middle of his attack, raising his knife to kill, his head suddenly, terribly, and impossibly came off his body. It wasn’t a slow cut you could see from a sword. It happened so fast that the two watching assassins couldn’t even see what did it.

One second their leader was a man running, raising a knife, and the next second his head wasn’t on his shoulders anymore. There was no sound of metal cutting flesh, just... his head gone.

The world for the dying assassin became a confusing mess of colors as his eyes lost focus. In his last moments, through the blurry spin, he briefly saw his body keep running forward for a split second, heading towards Adam, while he himself was falling.

Then, everything went black. His head tumbled through the air with a wet, gross sound before hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The two assassins watching were completely frozen, stiff with shocked horror and total confusion. They saw their friend charge, they saw him lift his knife, and then, without seeing anything hit him, his head just fell off, and his body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. They had no idea what had cut him or how it happened so fast and without anything visible.

His neck looked cut perfectly clean, a smooth slice, but they didn’t see the weapon or the attack that did it. It was like his head had just... come off by itself.

The headless assassin’s body finally fell completely onto the fancy rug in front of Adam. It lay there still for just a second, then dark, thick blood quickly started spreading from the cut neck, staining the rich carpet.

The assassin’s head, its dark mask having fallen off as it moved without the body, rolled a little further across the floor before stopping near the bed. Its face, now pale and without the mask, stared blankly at the expensive ceiling, a look of final shock stuck on it. Seeing this horrible sight – the body without a head, the head lying separately, the fast-spreading blood – the two remaining assassins looked from the dead body and head back to Adam.

He was still standing perfectly still inside Eric’s body, which wasn’t hurt at all. Their eyes, you could see them over their masks, were wide with a terrifying mix of pure fear and complete, total disbelief.

They had come to kill a young prince, who seemed like an easy target after his trial. In just seconds, their very skilled leader was dead in a way that was impossible and terrifying, a way they couldn’t explain. Their normal, professional control broke completely because of how scary and impossible this was.

Adam looked from the dead, headless body and the head to the two scared assassins still standing. He was still fully controlling Eric’s body. Eric’s face looked cold, like a mask of uncaring power.

His voice, coming from Eric’s mouth but deeper, colder, and without any warmth, was scarily calm, almost bored, as if he were talking about something completely normal, like the weather. "Now," he said, his ancient eyes in Eric’s face promising a fast, cruel end, a silent warning of death. "It’s your turn."

The two assassins clearly flinched, backing away from the cold promise in his voice and eyes.

Meanwhile, the King, Eric’s father, who had been affected by the strong, heavy power Adam had let out earlier, was running as fast as he could down the long palace hallway towards the Main Hall. He held his heavy, fancy royal sword tightly in his hand. Its weight felt familiar and ready for the unknown danger.

His face looked serious, determined, and grim. The lines of worry on his face seemed deeper, showing how much he feared for his palace, his family, and most importantly, his son.

Behind the King, running almost as fast as she could while still trying to look graceful, was the Queen. She also looked very worried, her eyes wide with concern.

Running close beside and around them were a few Royal Guards, wearing heavy armor and looking sharp. Their usual job was to stand guard right outside the King’s private rooms, but now they were an urgent escort.

As they ran down the long, wide, and fancy corridor, their fast footsteps echoed a little on the shiny marble floor. They saw someone coming towards them quickly from the other direction, also moving fast.

It was the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Army, a man in his middle years. He had a large, strong body, clearly built from many years of being in charge, training hard, and fighting.

He was a man who commanded respect just by being there. He carried a very large sword, on his back. It was a massive sword that needed two hands to use and was almost as tall as the King when standing up. It was much wider and heavier than a regular knight’s sword.

Just looking at him, how big he was and how huge his weapon was, you could immediately tell he was a very powerful and important warrior, someone tough to beat in battle. His name was Charles, and he was well-known and respected throughout the kingdom. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

The moment Charles saw the King running towards him, looking serious with his sword drawn – which was something you almost never saw the King do, especially inside the palace during peacetime – Charles reacted instantly. His deep training and total respect for the King took over, even in this moment of alarm.

He immediately dropped to one knee to show the highest respect. He put one heavy armored foot on the floor and bent the other knee, formally kneeling to the King, even though both were rushing towards what felt like danger. He was showing respect and saying he was ready for orders, even with the palace possibly under attack.

But before he could fully kneel, before he could lower himself all the way, the King, running fast because of the emergency, saw Charles. He shouted quickly, his voice loud with authority and impatience echoing down the long hallway, cutting through the sound of their running feet. "Now is not the time for this, Charles! Get up, fast! We don’t have time for manners!"

When Charles heard the King’s rushed, stressed command, he was surprised by the King’s unusual tone. But he immediately stopped kneeling and stood straight up, standing at attention right away. Behind him were many other Royal Guards, a larger group who had also rushed into this main corridor.

They had felt the huge power surge a moment before and knew something serious was happening. Seeing the King, they quickly gave a formal salute, putting their hands to their chests or weapons. It was a unified sign that they were ready to follow any order from their King immediately.

The King ran the rest of the way to where Charles was standing and stopped suddenly beside him. His chest was rising and falling a little from the unexpected run through the palace. His serious, grim look hadn’t changed.

"What’s going on, Charles?" the King asked urgently, his voice tight with authority and hidden fear. "Has the palace been attacked? What was that... that power? That huge force we felt just moments ago? What in the kingdom’s name is happening?" He looked around, expecting to see signs of a fight, maybe damaged walls or hurt guards.

Charles looked a little confused by the King’s fast questions, especially the one about where the huge power came from. He had felt the heavy aura just as strongly as anyone, maybe even more because of his own strength, and it had shaken him deeply.

"Your Majesty," Charles replied, his voice steady even though he was clearly confused about the power’s source. "We felt a massive, power surge, bigger than anything before, coming from inside the palace. The aura... the terrifying force you must have felt..." Charles paused for a moment, looking generally towards Eric’s section of the palace.

"...It seemed to be coming from... well, from the area of Prince Eric’s rooms, in this part of the palace." You could see Charles was thinking in his expression. He had thought the King was asking because the King knew what the aura was. He said his earlier thought, which he had quickly dismissed.

"The aura... was it... was it yours, Your Majesty?" Charles asked, sounding truly confused that the King would ask him what it was if the King himself had created such a powerful force.

The King, on the other hand, had felt the terrifying, impossible aura and immediately thought the palace was under a big attack. He thought maybe Charles, his strongest commander, was using all his abilities, possibly even using forbidden powers or old magical items, to defend the important parts of the palace near the royal family’s rooms.

They looked at each other, both completely confused. Their confusion made it clear they were talking about the same terrifying, huge power, but neither of them had created it.

There was a moment of shocked silence between them, a shared, unsettling realization that a power much greater and harder to understand than either of theirs, a power they didn’t know anything about, had just violently appeared inside the supposedly safe palace walls.

Then, breaking the uncomfortable silence, the King looked down the long corridor towards the part of the palace where Eric’s rooms were, the direction where the power surge had come from. He didn’t see anything right away in the empty hallway, but the feeling of tension and danger was still there in the air, even after the terrifying aura had completely disappeared.

"No," the King said, his voice grim and serious, confirming their shared confusion. "That... that power was not me." He turned back to Charles and the group of guards gathered there. He needed to take charge, to find out what had really happened.

"Quickly," he commanded, his voice getting back its royal authority. "Let’s go to the Main Hall. That’s the central point of the palace. We can bring our forces together, get organized to defend, and get better information from there."

After saying this, giving the clear order, everyone started running again. The King led the way, his heavy sword still held tightly, his eyes scanning the hallway ahead. Behind him ran the Queen.

She was protected by the tight circle of Royal Guards who ran closely around her, their weapons ready. As she ran, surrounded by her protectors, her mind wasn’t focused on strategy or being a queen or the strange power they had felt. She was only thinking, painfully, about her son, Eric.

’Eric, please, just be safe,’ she thought, repeating a silent, desperate prayer in her heart with every running step. ’Please don’t be hurt.’

In a very short amount of time, moving quickly through the complex hallways of the palace, the King and Queen, along with a large group of Royal Guards led by Charles, reached the large and central Main Hall. It was a huge room, often used for big ceremonies, royal parties, or important meetings of the court.

When they got there, they saw that many other Royal Guards had already naturally rushed to this central spot from different parts of the palace. They had been alerted by the huge, terrifying power they had felt and the general feeling that something very serious was happening which had spread quickly through the guards. The Main Hall was full of guards, maybe dozens, all armed and ready, standing close together in their formations.

They also saw that the King’s two older sons, Prince Leonard and Prince Raven, Eric’s older brothers, were already there. They were standing together near the large platform where the throne was, their faces serious and worried.

They had clearly felt the strange energy surge in the palace earlier too and had come to the safest central point to figure out what was going on and be ready to help. The Queen, when she saw her two older sons, felt her strong motherly feelings take over for a moment, even in the middle of the crisis. She moved forward slightly.

She looked at Leonard and Raven, seeing that they were safe and unharmed, and felt a huge wave of relief wash over her. It was comforting for a moment to see that at least two of her children were safe in this unsure situation.

But then, her deeper, more specific worry as a mother, the constant worry about her youngest son, Eric, came back strongly. Her short relief from seeing Leonard and Raven quickly disappeared, replaced by the gnawing fear for Eric, who was not there. She turned back towards the King, her calm breaking a little.

"Where is Eric?" she asked urgently, her voice shaking slightly with worry and fear she couldn’t hide well. "Is he safe? Has anyone seen him? Did he come here?"

Hearing the Queen’s question, and suddenly realizing he hadn’t seen Eric either, the serious look on the King’s face got even deeper. Worry flashed clearly in his eyes for a second, showing his fear for his youngest child, but he quickly pushed it away.

He needed to stay strong and focused as the leader in this crisis. He turned sharply towards Charles, planning to immediately tell him to send out groups of guards specifically to search for Eric, to secure his rooms and the area around them, and to find out exactly what had happened in his chambers.

But just as the King was about to speak, to give the urgent order, a sudden, loud shout – a yell of fear, sharp and clear – echoed from one of the other wide hallways leading into the Main Hall. It was a sound that cut through the quiet tension of the waiting guards.

Everyone in the Main Hall – the King, the Queen, Charles, the two princes, and all the guards – turned their heads sharply, their eyes immediately snapping towards where the sound came from. They looked down that hallway and saw two figures running at full, desperate speed towards the Main Hall, running right into the very heart of where the alerted and heavily armed guards were.

Both of these running figures were instantly recognizable by the black clothes they wore – the same kind of clothes the assassins were known to wear.

Everyone in the Hall, especially the Royal Guards who were trained to spot and deal with people who didn’t belong, was instantly and totally confused by what they were seeing. Professional assassins, after they finish a job or when they’re caught, usually try to escape, to disappear into the shadows, to get away without being seen.

They don’t run directly and openly into a large group of armed guards in the most central part of the palace. This was the complete opposite of how assassins usually act and what they are trained to do. It was very strange behavior.

At that exact moment, Charles, the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Army, reacted fully and automatically. His many years of training and fighting experience took over instantly. While others might be confused, he saw only enemies running towards a safe area. He wasn’t confused about who they were.

He reached to his back where his large, two-handed sword was usually hanging. With a quick, strong, and well-practiced move, he pulled out his massive, long sword.

The huge, shiny blade slid out of its cover with a loud shiiiing sound. He brought the heavy sword up, holding it ready to defend, and yelled out. His voice was loud and full of authority across the wide hall, probably telling the guards to get ready to fight or ordering the approaching figures to stop.

Right then, as Charles pulled his sword and gave his command, the King, even though he needed to react quickly, noticed something strange and unexpected about the two running assassins that made him pause for a crucial second. It added another layer of shock to the situation.

He saw that the assassins were running out in the open, not even trying to hide or use anything for cover, and were rushing straight down the hallway towards the Main Hall where all the ready and armed guards were waiting. Charging head-first like this into a place they knew was defended was incredibly unusual for professional assassins. Why would they run towards the danger and the waiting guards? the King thought, bewildered.

And besides this strange, almost suicidal behavior, the King also saw how the two approaching figures looked. Their condition was just as confusing. He saw that one of the assassins was badly hurt – one of his hands was completely cut off, leaving a raw, bloody stump swinging loosely as he ran.

And the other assassin was clearly not okay either. He was stumbling a little as he ran, his movements jerky and not steady, definitely hurt, maybe bleeding heavily, or somehow weakened. Seeing two such highly trained, usually sneaky assassins running openly, injured, and towards a known trap added another, deeper level of total confusion and mystery to the King’s mind, which was already overwhelmed. Something impossible had happened, and the leftover results of it were running directly at them.