"I had to bypass your 'invincible' Iron Guard," the assassin replied, tossing a handful of shattered silver crests onto the marble floor. "They were surprisingly brittle."
"A King," Alaric spat, rising from the shards of his throne, "is only as strong as the people he protects."
The assassin vanished into a cloud of soot just as the backup guards finally breached the side doors. The King was safe, but as he looked at his hand, he saw the mark: a black stitch across his palm. The attack was over, but the had begun. [S1E7] An Attack on the King
"You’re late, Malakor," Alaric said, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber.
The heavy iron doors of the Throne Room didn’t just open; they were shattered inward. "I had to bypass your 'invincible' Iron Guard,"
Malakor gasped, his form flickering. "The prophecy... said you were a King of Gold. It never said you’d bleed for a servant."
As the blade descended, Alaric didn't reach for his sword—he reached for the Mage’s hand. In a desperate gambit of "The Twin-Soul Strike," the King channeled his physical vitality into the Mage’s fading mana. A blinding shockwave of gold and violet erupted, throwing the assassin against the far wall and cracking the very foundations of the castle. The attack was over, but the had begun
Out of the dust stepped a single figure clad in rags that seemed to drink the torchlight. No army followed.