The throne room was a cacophony of heavy breaths and muffled thuds as the assassins pounded against the immovable doors. The leader's hands trembled, though whether from rage or fear, even he wasn't sure. He spun back toward the projection of King Alf, his glare searing with fury.
"You think this is over? You think your tricks will save you from what's coming?" he spat, brandishing his dagger. Yet, even as he spoke, the truth weighed on him. The dagger might as well have been a child's toy for all the good it had done.
King Alf's projection stood unmoving, calm and unshaken, starkly contrasting with the frenzied assassins before him.
"You misunderstand the situation," the king said, his voice even. "It's not I who needs saving."
The young assassin, still clutching his dagger, stared at the ground, his resolve crumbling.
"We can't touch him," he whispered to the leader, his voice filled with disbelief. "He's… untouchable."
