I'm Trapped Inside a Prince as the Most Powerful Entity-Chapter 25: Pleads for mercy

The two assassins were running like their lives depended on it – because they did. They were hurt, badly. One clutched a side that was sticky and dark with blood, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

The other stumbled every few steps, holding a shoulder that looked like it had been twisted the wrong way. Their clothes were torn, dirty, and painted with the grim colors of a terrible fight. The long corridors of the Main Hall stretched out before them, never-ending.

Their hurried footsteps made loud thud-thud-thud sounds on the cold, smooth stone floor. The noise bounced off the walls, following them, making them feel like they were being chased by the sound itself.

Finally, they saw it – a break in the corridor, a wide opening. Hope flickered in their tired eyes. They used the last of their strength, pushing through the opening, bursting into a large, open space.

It was the central hall. Their momentum carried them a few steps inside before they lost control, skidding on the smooth floor. They slid to a stop, breathing hard, shoulders bent over as they tried to suck in air.

They looked up, eyes scanning the vast hall. And that’s when their brief moment of hope crashed.

Standing right in their path was a group of Royal Guards. Tall, strong men in shining armor, holding their weapons steady. And right in front of the guards, looking straight at them, was Charles.

He looked serious, a little surprised to see them in such a state. One hand rested casually on the metal hilt of his sword, which hung by his side in a strong leather sheath.

His eyes, sharp and steady, were fixed on the two bloodied assassins. The air in the large hall, which moments ago felt empty and echoing, suddenly felt thick with tension. It was like everyone stopped breathing at the same time.

Charles didn’t waste a second. His voice was loud and clear, cutting through the quiet hall like a sharp knife.

"Surrender yourselves!" he commanded sharply. His voice sounded strong and unafraid, a total contrast to the ragged, fearful breaths of the two assassins.

The assassins froze instantly. Their heads snapped towards Charles and the guards. Their eyes jumped between the stern-faced leader and the prepared warriors behind him.

For a brief moment, you could see them think. they were trying to calculate the odds, figuring out if they could fight their way through.

But looking at their injured bodies and the ready guards, the answer was clear: no.

Hesitation crossed their faces, making the cuts and bruises seem even worse. Then, without any doubt, something else took over. It was stark, wide-eyed fear. It wasn’t fear of Charles or the guards; it was something else.

Without even thinking about it, their heads whipped around. Their eyes locked onto the dimly lit corridor they had just run from, the one behind them.

Charles was experienced. He noticed it immediately. The sheer, unreasoning terror that leaped onto their faces when they looked behind them was unmistakable. It wasn’t the look of killers who were caught; it was the look of prey that realized the hunter was still right on their heels.

Charles’s eyebrows pulled together, making his face look confused as well as stern. He thought to himself, What in the world were they fighting that left them in this state? And what could be worse than facing me and the Royal Guard? It didn’t make sense.

Assassins were tough. They were known for being ready to die rather than get caught.

One of the assassins, the one holding his injured side, took a step forward. Every movement seemed to hurt him. He was limping badly, his whole body shaking from being so tired and hurt. He slowly raised his head and looked Charles directly in the eye. His gaze was desperate, pleading.

"Save us," he rasped hoarsely. His voice was rough, almost broken. It sounded like gravel scraping together. He had to fight for the words to come out. "We... we’re willing to surrender."

Charles’s eyes went wide. It wasn’t often he was truly shocked, but this did it. His mind was spinning. Assassins. These weren’t just random thugs; these were trained, deadly killers. People who lived by secrets and death. They almost always chose to die rather than be captured and possibly forced to tell their secrets.

Sometimes they would even kill their own partners to make sure no one talked. Yet here they were, broken, beaten, looking straight at the Commander of the Royal Guard, practically begging for someone to lock them up.

Begging for protection. It was completely upside down from everything Charles knew about their kind. It felt wrong.

Still, Charles was a commander first. He couldn’t just stand there. Even if they were scared, they were still dangerous assassins. But the look on their faces, the shaking bodies, the desperation... it wasn’t faked. He stayed wary, but he quickly shifted his eyes towards the Royal Guards standing beside him, waiting for his command.

"Capture them," he ordered crisply. His voice was sharp and clear again, hiding the confusion he felt inside. It was the right thing to do. Capture dangerous enemies.

The guards looked at each other quickly. You could see the confusion in their eyes. They had heard the assassins’ strange plea, seen their fear. But they were trained to obey orders.

They nodded quickly, confirming they understood. Then, they moved forward cautiously. They didn’t charge in; these were still assassins, after all. Their weapons were ready, swords held out slightly, shields up.

They moved like they were ready for a trick, even if the assassins looked ready to drop. They started walking towards the two broken figures, ready to grab them and put them in restraints.

But before they could reach them—

Suddenly, the air behind the assassins seemed to rip open. A blinding flash of bright golden light burst out from the dimly lit corridor they had just fled. It was so bright it made everyone blink and shielded their eyes for a second.

For a heartbeat, just one, short moment, everyone in the hall froze solid. All heads snapped toward the sudden, powerful light coming from the dark corridor. What was that? Their attention was pulled completely away from the assassins towards this new, unknown threat.

Then, the bright golden beam of light changed. It didn’t just spread out; it got thinner, sharper, more focused. It condensed, turning into a narrow, incredibly bright laser beam that glowed with a dangerous, intense golden energy.

With a sharp, high-pitched sound that vibrated in the air, the laser shot forward. It tore through the air in the corridor like a deadly arrow shot from a powerful bow. It was moving impossibly fast, a straight, blazing line of golden energy cutting through the space with perfect, deadly accuracy.

One of the assassins – the one who had offered the surrender, the one in the worst shape – didn’t even have time to understand what was happening. He hadn’t looked back again after speaking to Charles.

He was standing right in the path of the beam. The golden laser pierced straight through his chest. It didn’t just hit him; it seemed to burn a clean hole right through his body with terrible speed and power.

His body reacted violently, jerking from the incredible force that hit him. A look of shock stayed frozen on his face for just a moment. Then, he simply collapsed forward, lifelessly onto the hard marble floor of the central hall.

The second assassin, the one who was missing an arm, had instinctively stumbled backward when the light flashed. He was closer to the edge of where the laser passed. He was spared the direct hit, but the suddenness and the violent end of his companion were more than enough.

Sheer, raw terror was etched across his pale face, twisting it into a mask of pure horror. His breath hitched in his throat, making a strange, choked sound. His eyes were huge, darting wildly around the hall, looking frantically for any way to escape, anywhere to hide. But the hall was open; there was no escape route left for him.

Even Charles, the hardened commander, stiffened. He was completely stunned by how sudden and how deadly the attack was. He had expected to capture the assassins, maybe deal with whatever they had run from later.

He hadn’t expected this. His eyes, still wide with surprise, immediately darted toward the direction from where the terrifying beam had come.

And then he saw him.

From the shadowy opening of the corridor, a figure emerged. Not running, not panicking. He walked slowly, deliberately, into the light of the hall. It was Adam.

One of Adam’s hands was still extended forward, pointing slightly towards where the laser had hit. Faint wisps of golden energy, like dying sparks, still trailed from his fingers. It was clear he was the one who had unleashed that deadly light.

His eyes were intense, locked onto the remaining assassin with an unwavering stare. It wasn’t just looking; it was the look of a predator who had found its prey.

In a voice that was low but carried clearly across the hall, Adam spoke. His words weren’t loud, but they sliced through the silence that had fallen like cold steel. They were filled with a quiet, menacing certainty:

"I told you... you won’t leave here alive."

The surviving assassin, the one who had just seen his partner instantly killed, whimpered. It was a small, pathetic sound of fear and pain. He stumbled even further back, pressing himself against the cold stone wall behind him, his face contorted in terror, barely recognizable.

Desperate, completely out of options, he turned his pleading gaze back toward Charles and the waiting guards. He saw them as his only hope, even if moments ago they were his enemies.

"Please! Arrest me! Save me from this monster!" he cried out frantically, his voice cracking with fear.

Seeing a famed assassin—a person known for their deadly skills and cold hearts—crying and begging like that sent a wave of shock through everyone in the hall. It was completely unbelievable.

Charles, reacting instantly to the assassin’s plea and the terrifying presence of Adam, pulled out his sword. It was a massive sword, far larger and heavier than a normal weapon, strapped across his back.

He grabbed the hilt, raising the heavy blade towards the groveling assassin. He meant to get to him, to arrest him and put him under the protection of the Guard, to stand against whatever Adam was.

But before the blade could even swing fully down towards the assassin—

Something hit it. Not a person, not a weapon you could see. An invisible force slammed into the massive sword right in the middle of its path through the air.

The heavy sword stopped instantly, halting completely in mid-air. It was suspended unnaturally above the assassin’s head, just hanging there as if held by an invisible hand. The metal of the sword hummed slightly, vibrating under the pressure of the unseen energy holding it locked in place.

Charles stared, completely astounded. He had never experienced anything like this. His mind raced, trying to understand what had just happened. Is this some kind of energy field? he wondered quickly, Did the assassin activate something? But he looks just as surprised and terrified.

Acting quickly, his instincts taking over, Charles gritted his teeth hard. He tightened his grip on his massive sword and tried to force the blade down with pure, raw strength. He poured his own energy, his physical power and fighting will, into the sword, trying to push through whatever was holding it back.

But the invisible force didn’t budge. If anything, it only intensified, pressing harder against the sword, resisting all his attempts to overpower it. Charles pushed, muscles burning, but the sword remained stuck, against the unseen wall.

Before Charles could even begin to figure out what was happening, before he could try another move or issue another order, Adam’s voice echoed again in the hall. This time, his voice was colder, clearer, and filled with absolute command.

"This assassin is my target. No one else is allowed to touch him."