The scene shifts back to the bloody, torch-lit corridors deep within the Spider Syndicate’s hidden base.
Oliver, the calm, middle-aged operative, walked briskly through the tunnels, his face set in a grim expression.
Behind him hurried Malkor, the terrified thug who had brought the news of the attack.
Despite his age, Oliver moved with surprising speed and agility, his steps purposeful. Malkor, on the other hand, kept lagging slightly, his eyes darting nervously around, clearly expecting the "monster" to leap out from every shadow.
The sounds of distant fighting – screams, thuds, and the occasional clang of tal – were growing louder, guiding them closer to the source of the chaos.
Oliver, without turning around or slowing his pace, spoke, his voice cold and sharp, cutting through Malkor’s fear.
"I can see you are deliberately trying to slow us down, trying to avoid leading directly to the intruder." Malkor flinched at the accusation.
"This is your first, and it will be your last, mistake of this kind," Oliver continued, his tone like ice. "If you attempt such foolishness again, I will personally brick you into one of these walls. Understand?"
Malkor nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to comply. "Yes, Master Oliver! Forgive , Master Oliver!" he stamred, his voice trembling. He imdiately quickened his pace, scurrying to keep up, no longer daring to lag behind. He pointed down a side corridor.
"This way, sir! I think... I think he went this way!"
They navigated a few more twists and turns in the labyrinthine tunnels. The stench of blood was much stronger here, and the sounds of violence were very close now.
As they rounded a final corner, Oliver stopped abruptly. Malkor, close behind him, nearly bumped into him.
A short distance down the corridor, in a slightly wider section where several tunnels intersected, stood a lone figure.
This figure was surrounded by the freshly slain bodies of at least a dozen Spider Syndicate thugs. So were impaled on the walls, others lay dismbered, and a few looked like they had been crushed.
The figure was currently calmly wiping a bloody knife – likely taken from one of the dead – on a piece of ragged cloth.
It was Adam, still inhabiting Eric’s body, his empty white eyes glowing faintly in the dim torchlight. He seed completely unfazed by the carnage he had wrought.
Malkor, cowering behind Oliver, pointed a shaky finger. "Th-that’s him, Master Oliver!" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "That’s the intruder!"
Oliver didn’t turn. His gaze was fixed on Adam, taking in the scene. He noted the sheer brutality of the killings, the effortless way the intruder seed to have dispatched so many of his n.
A flicker of sothing – not quite fear, but perhaps deep concern – crossed Oliver’s usually calm features, but he quickly suppressed it. He couldn’t show weakness now.
’What in the blazes did we do to this boy to make him react like this?’ Oliver thought grimly, studying Adam’s cold deanor. ’This isn’t just a fight; this is a slaughter.’
Then, as Oliver looked more closely at the intruder’s face, at the features beneath the terrifying white eyes, his own eyes suddenly widened in shock. Recognition dawned. He knew that face, even if the eyes were horrifyingly different.
Oliver’s mouth fell open slightly. "Third Prince...?" he breathed out, the na escaping his lips in a shocked whisper.
Malkor, standing behind him, heard the words and looked even more terrified, if that was possible. The Third Prince? The supposedly weak, useless son of the King? This was him?
Oliver took a hesitant step forward, then stopped. He raised his voice, calling out down the bloody corridor. "Third Prince Eric! Is that truly you? What are you doing here?!"
Oliver had heard the rumors a while back – that there had been an assassination attempt on the Third Prince, and that the attempt had failed.
But he had never imagined, not even in his wildest nightmares, that the Prince himself would retaliate by launching a solo assault on one of their most secret and well-defended hideouts. This was completely unprecedented, utterly unbelievable.
Hearing Oliver’s voice, Adam slowly turned his head, his glowing white eyes fixing on the older Syndicate operative. Adam didn’t seem surprised to see him. He tilted his head slightly, as if studying Oliver.
Adam could sense the energy around Oliver – it was stronger, more refined than the common thugs he had been dispatching. This man was clearly soone of importance within the Syndicate.
Before Adam or Oliver could say anything more, Alina and Lucas ca running around the corner behind Oliver, finally catching up.
They skidded to a halt when they saw Adam standing amidst the fresh bodies, and then noticed Oliver and Malkor further down the corridor.
Adam didn’t turn around or acknowledge Alina and Lucas’s arrival. His gaze remained locked on Oliver. "I will ask you only one question," Adam said, his voice cold and flat, echoing slightly in the stone corridor. "Your answer will decide your future."
Oliver stared at Adam, his mind racing. The confidence radiating from the ’Prince’ was astounding. It was almost... arrogant. ’Does he have Royal Guards waiting just outside?’ Oliver wondered. ’Is that why he’s so bold? Or is this confidence coming purely from his own power? The power that slaughtered my n so easily?’ He couldn’t figure it out.
"This girl’s parents," Adam continued, his voice cutting through Oliver’s thoughts. He gestured slightly behind him, in Alina’s general direction, without looking at her. "The ones you kidnapped. Where are they?"
Oliver’s eyes flickered in surprise. He glanced past Adam, towards the figures standing further back in the corridor.
He saw Lucas, the Baron’s son, looking pale and injured but alive. And then he saw her – the girl with the white hair.
He looked closer. His eyes widened slightly again as recognition, and then understanding, dawned.
"Her...?" Oliver murmured, his gaze fixing on Alina.
"Who is she?" It wasn’t a question directed at Adam, but more a thought spoken aloud.
Malkor, still cowering behind Oliver, saw Alina too. He imdiately recognized her from the descriptions that had been circulated when the Syndicate was first tasked with finding her and her family.
He leaned forward quickly and whispered urgently into Oliver’s ear. "Master Oliver! That’s her! That’s the girl! The one we’ve been searching for all this ti! The one with the... the special ability! Like... like you, sir!"
Oliver’s surprise deepened. He looked back at Alina, then at Adam, then back at Alina again.
A slow, almost predatory smile began to spread across his face, replacing his earlier shock and concern. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.
"Ah," Oliver said softly, a new understanding dawning in his eyes. He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Now I see. Now everything makes sense."
He straightened up, his deanor changing. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating resolve. He looked directly at Adam, his own eyes hardening.
"Before I answer your question, Third Prince," Oliver said, his voice regaining so of its usual calm authority, "I have one of my own for you." He paused, his gaze sweeping briefly over the carnage around Adam.
"Did you co here alone? Or did you bring the entire Royal Army with you?"
Adam stood amidst the bodies of the fallen Syndicate mbers, the bloody knife still held loosely in his hand.
He remained silent for a few seconds, his empty white eyes fixed on Oliver. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"I have no need for an army," Adam replied, his voice quiet but filled with an unshakable, terrifying confidence. "To crush insects like you... I am more than enough. Alone."
Oliver’s smile widened at the arrogant response. "Excellent," he said softly.
"Very good." He slowly spread his arms wide to his sides, as if welcoming an embrace, or perhaps, preparing for a final, desperate fight.
"Then, in that case, Prince Eric," Oliver declared, his voice suddenly ringing with a surprising amount of power and conviction, "you will not be leaving this place alive today!"
And with that declaration, Oliver suddenly lunged forward, not with a weapon, but with his hands outstretched, aiming to grapple with Adam directly.
Just as Oliver began his charge, two more figures burst around the corner behind where he and Malkor had been standing. It was Bryan and Billy, finally arriving on the scene after cautiously following Oliver.
They skidded to a halt, taking in the horrific sight – the corridor littered with their dead comrades, Oliver charging recklessly towards the lone figure of ’Prince Eric’, and Alina and Lucas standing further back.
Billy stared at Adam, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "The Third Prince?!" he exclaid, recognizing Eric’s face despite the horrifying white eyes. "So he’s the one attacking us?! Here?!"
Bryan looked equally stunned. "What is going on?!" he yelled, confusion and fear warring on his face.
"How is the Third Prince attacking our base? Does the Royal Family know about us? If they do... if this is a full royal assault... then we’re not getting out of here alive!" The thought of facing the entire Royal Army was far more terrifying than dealing with a single intruder, no matter how powerful he seed.
The situation had just beco far more complicated, and far more deadly.
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