The morning light descended from above, illuminating the Second Prince Kaelin’s pale face.
He sat on a stone chair, his upper body bare, the lines of his shoulders and chest muscles still sharp, yet veiled as though with a layer of ash.
The bandage on the left side had been removed, the newly stitched scar extending along the fractured shoulder line.
His Fighting Energy sputtered within, like a broken bellows, leaving only shattered echoes, unable to muster strength.
The physician knelt by his side, fingertips on his pulse, cautiously as if protecting an unstable ember.
"Your Highness," he tried to keep his voice steady, "you’re recovering well... at least, much better than we initially feared."
Yet this consolation only deepened the furrow on Kaelin’s brow.
For ordinary people, that would be good enough and sufficient to continue living without hindrance to labor.
But for a Knight whose life was based on swordsmanship and Fighting Energy, not recovering to his peak ant losing half of his life.
Kaelin did not respond, nor did his expression change, but his eyes were filled with coldness.
It was a while before he spoke, his voice hoarse: "...What is the situation with the First Prince now?"
The physician hesitated visibly for a mont before answering, "The Regent King took the red leaf essence fruit, his spirit is much improved. At least he’ll... he can hold through tomorrow’s eting."
Kaelin nodded, the movent heavy, as if suppressing so deeper emotion.
But there was no relaxation in his eyes, only a constantly spreading shadow.
"Leave." Kaelin murmured.
The physician hurriedly bowed and left, the door closing behind him.
The silence behind the door lasted less than three breaths before Kaelin’s breathing changed markedly.
First rapid, then heavy, like suppressed animal instincts stirring in his chest, ready to tear open the skin at any mont.
Suddenly Kaelin lifted his foot and kicked over the nearby chair hard.
The wooden chair rolled on the stone floor, crashing against the wall, the sound of splintering exploding in the room.
Kaelin seed not to hear it, striking the wall with his fist even harder.
His right fist hamred into the stone wall, fragnts scattering, yet he continued without stopping.
Until his left shoulder suddenly throbbed with pain, the muscles around the seam of his severed arm felt as though scraped by a blade, the agony climbing up his neck through his nerves.
Kaelin gritted his teeth, a low sound erging from his throat, like the suppressed roar of a wounded beast.
What he feared most was this, being seen as powerless and unable to control himself.
But with only himself in the room, his anger had nowhere to hide.
Kaelin’s gaze turned to the black wooden box on the table.
Inside, only a little dried, fragnted red-brown residue remained, sothing he used to maintain the image of a peak Prince.
Originally he had two spirit fruits: one given to the Regent King.
Not out of rcy, but to ensure the Regent King could hold through the Dragon Throne eting, endure the coming years, blocking the ambitions of the Rheine faction civil servants.
The other he kept for himself, relying on it to barely maintain the guise of a half-step Peak Knight in front of outsiders.
But in truth, now he... could barely stabilize at the initial Extraordinary stage.
That disparity made his chest feel tight, as if his dignity were forcibly torn apart.
"Damn it..." he bit out the words softly. Then another: "Damn it..."
It was supposed to be a leisurely hunting trip, a rare relaxation, without the War Departnt’s accompanint, devoid of any political connotation.
Kaelin had even relaxed for once, which led to his oversight.
The Royal Family’s private riding team had gathered at the forest’s edge, the warhorses snorting white breath, iron hooves firmly set.
The route was kept to the utmost secrecy, known only to a select few within the Royal Family, not even his closest aides knew where he was at that mont.
Kaelin rode at the forefront, his Fighting Energy at half-step peak, his inner strength surging vigorously enough to tear the air apart.
He believed it was only a matter of ti before he beca a Peak Knight, never thinking he would be hunted one day, especially not on an unannounced outing.
The team delved into the dense forest along the predetermined path.
Not oppression, not killing intent, rely a barely detectable anomaly.
If it had been a regular day, he would have been vigilant imdiately, but that day he relaxed for just a second... and in that mont, he could not evade it in ti.
A faint glint of tal slipped out from the grass.
It was the glint of an assassin moving fast, his strength lesser, yet carrying a life-risking resolve upon his blade.
Kaelin perceived the danger the instant he noticed it, already beginning to tilt his head, yet was still a half-breath too late.
The blade slashed downward from the shoulder.
Despite such a large movent, it was entirely silent like so Bloodline Talent, its angle precise, not seeking to penetrate defenses, but aiming to kill.
"Swish!"
The tallic sound of cutting through bone exploded in his ears, his left arm flew away along with the armor, blood splattering onto his steed’s mane.
The pain whitened his vision, throwing him heavily from horseback, his spine crashing onto a tree root.
His Fighting Energy ridians were disrupted, the shock energy rebounded, bringing him close to suffocation.
The assassin advanced again, his speed appeared slow in Kaelin’s eyes, yet his intentions were as ruthless as severing an entire lifeline, like certain Bloodline Talent.
He didn’t co to battle, but to end the target.
Kaelin raised his sword to block, but his right arm trembled from pain, unable to steady his grip; another fraction of a second, he would die by that blade.
The assassin’s eyes bore no hatred, no anger, only the cold execution of orders.
Just as the second blade was about to fall, the Royal Family’s guards finally reacted.
"Protect His Highness!!"
Three Extraordinary Knights charged, one of them collided with the assassin, pinning him against the tree trunk.
The mont the assassin was captured, a strange choking sound erged from his throat, like so previously prepared initiation.
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