Silence filled the royal chamber.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The broken glass on the floor glimmered faintly in the moonlight, and the cracks along the stone walls stretched like scars from the explosion moments earlier.
At the center of it all…
The baby lay quietly in his mother's arms.
Alive.
The assassin remained slumped against the far wall.
Blood dripped slowly from his mouth, staining the stone beneath him. His breathing was shallow and uneven, each breath weaker than the last.
But his eyes were still open.
Still focused.
Still searching.
And they were locked onto the child.
The king lowered his sword slowly.
His hand trembled.
Not from weakness.
From disbelief.
"This… cannot be possible," he whispered.
He had seen powerful warriors.
He had fought in wars.
He had witnessed magic capable of leveling cities.
But never—
Never—
Had he seen a newborn child unleash such force.
The royal prophet struggled to stand, using the wall for support.
His face was pale.
His voice shook.
"This was only the beginning," he said.
His words echoed softly in the damaged chamber.
"The power we witnessed… was merely a fraction."
The queen tightened her grip around her son.
Her heart pounded violently.
Fear and relief battled inside her chest.
"He saved himself," she whispered.
Her voice was filled with disbelief.
"My child… saved himself."
Suddenly—
The assassin coughed.
A harsh, wet sound.
Blood spilled from his lips as his body jerked forward.
Every guard in the room immediately raised their weapons.
The captain stepped closer, sword ready.
"Do not move," he warned.
But the assassin did not reach for his weapon.
Did not attempt to escape.
Instead, he slowly lifted his head.
His gaze moved past the guards.
Past the king.
Past the prophet.
And stopped on the baby.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
Not a mocking smile.
Not a cruel one.
A knowing one.
"So…" he rasped.
"It is true."
His voice was weak, broken, but steady.
"The forbidden child… lives."
The words struck the room like lightning.
The king's eyes narrowed instantly.
"Who sent you?" he demanded.
His voice carried the weight of command.
The assassin chuckled softly.
A dry, painful sound.
"You already know," he replied.
The king's jaw tightened.
A terrible suspicion formed in his mind.
One name.
One enemy.
One force powerful enough to dare such an attack.
"The Shadow Council," the prophet whispered.
Fear filled his voice.
Ancient fear.
The kind passed down through generations.
The assassin's smile widened slightly.
"So the old man remembers," he said.
Blood trickled down his chin as he spoke.
"The council has waited many years for this moment."
The queen's breathing grew faster.
Her arms tightened protectively around her child.
"What do they want?" she demanded.
Her voice trembled with anger.
The assassin slowly turned his head toward her.
His eyes were filled with dark certainty.
"They want him dead," he said simply.
"Before he becomes what he was meant to be."
Silence fell again.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
The king stepped forward.
Each footstep echoed across the shattered chamber floor.
"What was he meant to become?" he asked.
For the first time—
The assassin hesitated.
Just briefly.
As if he were deciding whether to speak.
Then he laughed weakly.
A quiet, broken laugh.
"You truly do not know," he said.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"That child…"
He coughed violently.
Blood spilled onto the floor.
"…was never meant to be born."
The queen's eyes widened in horror.
The prophet staggered backward.
The king froze.
Before anyone could speak—
The assassin's body suddenly stiffened.
His eyes rolled upward.
His breathing stopped.
A thin line of dark smoke escaped from his mouth.
Slowly.
Silently.
Unnaturally.
The captain of the guard rushed forward.
He checked the assassin's pulse.
Then looked up at the king.
"He's dead," he said.
But the prophet shook his head immediately.
"No," he whispered.
His voice filled with dread.
"Not dead."
The room grew colder.
The torches flickered violently.
The shadows along the walls began to stretch.
Move.
Twist.
The assassin's body suddenly turned black.
Not burned.
Not charred.
But dissolving.
Breaking apart into dark ash.
Right before their eyes.
Gasps filled the chamber.
Fear spread instantly.
Within seconds—
The body was gone.
Nothing remained.
No evidence.
No trace.
No answers.
The queen stared down at her child.
Her hands trembled.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"What kind of world have I brought you into?"
The baby blinked slowly.
Calm.
Silent.
Unafraid.
Deep inside his mind—
The ancient voice returned once more.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Emotionless.
"Threat eliminated."
A brief pause.
Then—
"New threat probability detected."
Far beyond the kingdom…
Deep within a hidden fortress…
A circle of hooded figures stood around a glowing black crystal.
The crystal suddenly cracked.
A sharp fracture spread across its surface.
One of the figures stepped forward.
His voice was calm.
Cold.
Certain.
"The first assassin has failed," he said.
A long silence followed.
Then another voice answered from the shadows.
Low.
Dangerous.
Unforgiving.
"Send the next one."