Silence filled the royal chamber.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Broken glass glittered across the floor in the pale moonlight. Cracks ran along the stone walls like fresh scars from the explosion only moments earlier.
At the center of the destruction—
The baby lay quietly in his mother's arms.
Alive.
Breathing.
Unharmed.
The assassin remained slumped against the far wall.
Blood dripped slowly from his mouth, staining the stone beneath him. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath weaker than the last.
But his eyes were still open.
Still aware.
Still fixed on the child.
The king slowly lowered his sword.
His hand trembled.
Not from weakness.
From disbelief.
"This… cannot be possible," he whispered.
He had seen warriors capable of crushing armies.
He had witnessed magic powerful enough to shatter city walls.
He had fought in wars that reshaped nations.
But never—
Never—
Had he seen a newborn child unleash such force.
The royal prophet struggled to his feet, gripping the cracked wall for support. His face was pale, drained of color.
His voice shook.
"This was only the beginning," he said.
The words echoed softly in the damaged chamber.
"The power we witnessed… was merely a fraction."
A chill spread through the room.
The queen tightened her arms around her son.
Fear and relief battled inside her chest.
"He saved himself," she whispered.
Her voice trembled 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 instantly raised their weapons.
Steel scraped against steel.
The captain stepped closer, sword raised.
"Do not move," he commanded.
But the assassin made no attempt to attack.
No attempt to flee.
Instead, he slowly lifted his head.
His gaze moved past the guards.
Past the king.
Past the prophet.
And settled on the baby.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
Not cruel.
Not mocking.
Knowing.
"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.
"Who sent you?" he demanded.
His voice carried the weight of authority.
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.
Ancient fear filled his voice.
Fear passed down through generations.
The assassin's smile widened slightly.
"So the old man remembers," he said.
Blood trickled down his chin.
"The council has waited many years for this moment."
The queen's breathing quickened.
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 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 floor.
"What was he meant to become?" he asked.
For the first time—
The assassin hesitated.
Only for a heartbeat.
As if weighing 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 splattered across the stone.
"…was never meant to be born."
The queen's eyes widened.
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.
Slow.
Silent.
Unnatural.
The captain 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.
Fear filled his voice.
"Not dead."
The temperature in the room dropped.
The torches flickered violently.
Shadows along the walls stretched.
Twisted.
Moved.
The assassin's body began to change.
His skin turned black.
Not burned.
Not charred.
Dissolving.
Breaking apart into dark ash.
Right before their eyes.
Gasps filled the chamber.
Fear spread like wildfire.
Within seconds—
The body was gone.
Nothing remained.
No weapon.
No blood.
No evidence.
No answers.
The queen stared down at her child.
Her hands trembled.
Her voice barely formed a sound.
"What kind of world have I brought you into?"
The baby blinked slowly.
Calm.
Silent.
Unafraid.
Deep inside his mind—
The ancient voice returned.
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.
Silence followed.
Then another voice answered from the darkness.
Low.
Dangerous.
Unforgiving.
"Send the next one."