Chapter 6: The Throne of Deception
The echoes of his actions reverberated throughout the palace like a dark storm, sweeping through the halls, seeping into the very walls. It wasn't just Elias' blood that stained the royal dining room—it was a symbol of what was to come. Ezekiel, now Darius, was no longer the weak, pitiful prince of before. He was something far more dangerous.
As he walked down the corridor, the whispers of servants and knights followed him, but none dared approach. The image of Elias' battered form, still alive but broken, was burned into their minds. It wasn't just a threat. It was a warning.
Ezekiel couldn't help but smirk at the thought. The fear in their eyes, the whispers behind closed doors—it was exactly what he needed. Fear was power, and he would make sure it was a weapon that worked for him.
He stopped in front of the training hall, the grand double doors towering above him. The sound of swords clashing and the grunts of warriors filled the air. Darius had always been a part of this—training to keep up appearances, to show the world he was more than just a bastard son. But Ezekiel had a different purpose now.
The doors swung open with a smooth motion, and Ezekiel entered with a chilling calmness. The fighters inside paused at his presence, their faces a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. Most of them had been around Darius enough to know that he was no threat, but that was before.
Now, he was their master.
"You," Ezekiel said, pointing to a tall, muscular knight who was sparring with one of the younger soldiers, "come forward."
The knight hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. His eyes flicked nervously from Ezekiel to the rest of the room. He had no idea what to expect, but he knew enough to stay cautious. Ezekiel raised an eyebrow.
"Do you have a problem with me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "No? Then step forward."
The knight's mouth tightened, but he said nothing. He approached Ezekiel, standing tall despite the obvious tension in the air.
"I'm going to make you a proposition," Ezekiel said with a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You will train me in the art of combat. But don't mistake this for a request. It's an order."
The knight's eyes widened. Training the prince, especially Darius, had always been a menial task. But this was different. There was something about the way Ezekiel held himself—something that exuded authority and power.
"I'm your knight, Your Highness," the man finally said, his voice steady. "But you're not a warrior. What is it you seek from me?"
Ezekiel's smile curled into something darker, more predatory. "I seek to become the most powerful being in this kingdom," he said quietly. "And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get there. So, are you with me or against me?"
The room fell into an eerie silence as the knight glanced around, his comrades unsure of what to do. They had heard the rumors—the tales of what happened at breakfast, of Elias' near-death at the hands of their own prince. But seeing Ezekiel in person, standing before them with an aura of absolute control, was something entirely different. It was terrifying.
After a long, tense pause, the knight nodded, lowering his head in submission. "I will train you, Your Highness. But you must understand, true power comes not just from the body, but from the mind."
Ezekiel's smirk deepened. "Good. Let's begin."
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The next few days were a blur of grueling training and intense focus. Ezekiel threw himself into the combat lessons, testing the limits of his new body. His Sovereign Chains, now far more powerful and intricate than before, responded to his every command. The blessing that granted him infinite mana surged through him, fueling his every move. His power was growing exponentially, and he reveled in the feeling of it.
Under the watchful eye of his knight, he began mastering not only physical combat but the intricacies of battle strategy, tactics, and leadership. The chains were an extension of him now, weaving through the air like a deadly dance, ensnaring his enemies with terrifying precision. He could feel the vast reservoir of mana inside him, always ready to be tapped into at a moment's notice. The idea of being invincible, of having an unstoppable force at his back, exhilarated him.
But he knew that strength alone would not be enough. If he wanted to truly seize the throne, he would need to outwit his enemies. He would need to manipulate, deceive, and destroy anyone who stood in his way. The royal family was his first target.
That evening, after a long day of training, Ezekiel retreated to his private chambers, his mind sharp and focused. The light of the setting sun filtered through the large windows, casting long shadows across the room. His thoughts turned to his brothers—Elias, who was still recovering from the blow Ezekiel had dealt him, and Asher, who had been oddly quiet since the incident.
Ezekiel couldn't afford to underestimate them. Elias would likely try to seek vengeance, while Asher would plot behind the scenes, looking for a way to manipulate the situation to his advantage. He couldn't allow either of them to gain a foothold.
A knock on the door broke his thoughts. He turned to see a messenger standing in the doorway, bowing low.
"Your Highness," the messenger said, "the king requests your presence in the war room."
Ezekiel raised an eyebrow. This was unexpected. King Kael rarely summoned him for anything other than formal events or when absolutely necessary. Something was afoot.
"I'll be there shortly," Ezekiel replied, his voice steady. "Leave me."
The messenger bowed once more and left the room. Ezekiel took a deep breath, the weight of his newfound power settling on his shoulders. This meeting could be the key to his next move. Whatever it was, he was ready.
He stood, adjusting the fine royal garb that clung to his body, and made his way toward the war room. The time for subtlety had passed. It was time to show the world what the true Darius Lionhart was capable of.
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