Intruders In The Royal Palace

Around 2:30 a.m.

Creak—

The fireplace—and even the surrounding floor and walls—rotated all at once. As it turned, black ash fell from the section connected to the chimney. Five figures emerged, their clothes dusted with ash, but they ignored it, scanning their surroundings as they stepped away from the fireplace.

As soon as they did, the fireplace rotated again, ejecting another five people. After the same motion repeated three times, a total of fifteen intruders had appeared inside the room.

The room was fairly spacious. But as if to show that it had long been unused, white sheets were draped over all the furniture. This was one of the royal reception rooms that had fallen out of use.

There had once been many such rooms in the palace. Over the years, so many were built that the current king had deemed their upkeep excessive and ordered several to be closed off. For the infiltrators, it was a stroke of luck.

Some of them pressed their ears to the door, listening for sounds outside, while others crept closer, careful to muffle every step. When all had gathered, the man by the door raised a hand—no sounds beyond.

They had suspected that the rotating fireplace might have made noise, so they stayed cautious.

At a light tap on the shoulder, signaling the all-clear, one of them gently lifted the door, opening it without a sound. Only the soft glow of lamps illuminated the corridor beyond.

Though the hallway still gleamed with royal splendor, the intruders paid it no mind. Their goal was clear—to reach the treasure vault hidden beneath the palace and seize what they came for.

Having memorized their route from a map, they moved without hesitation. Their steps were soundless, disciplined, and sure—a clear sign of extensive training.

The carpet beneath their feet also dulled their tread. In a way, the palace’s own luxury served their mission.

They moved swiftly down the long corridor until they reached a T-shaped intersection. One man pulled a small, fingernail-sized mirror from his pocket and used it to peek around the corner.

Seeing no movement, he gave a signal. Several of them crossed quickly. Just as another was about to follow, the lookout grabbed his arm—someone was coming. He signaled down the line, and everyone held their breath.

Each drew a dagger, some gripping longer throwing blades between their fingers. Silent kills required silent weapons.

Footsteps echoed, heavy and distinct in the early morning stillness—men’s steps. As the sound drew near, the intruders crouched, ready to pounce.

Three palace guards appeared, rifles slung casually over their shoulders. They didn’t expect an attack—until it was too late. The intruders lunged in perfect coordination, each seizing a guard and driving a blade into his throat.

Muffled struggles, brief gurgles, then silence. The guards collapsed, their eyes rolling back as life drained from them.

The bodies were dragged aside and laid neatly on the floor. The team advanced through the T-junction, and after all had passed, they spotted a staircase descending downward.

Two more guards stood watch there. The intruders had no hesitation now. Having already killed, they moved swiftly, silencing the men before they could react.

It was a race against time—shift changes would come soon. They pressed forward, stabbing throats and dragging bodies into shadow. Their precision made it clear these were not common thieves but highly trained assassins.

As they descended through the palace’s multiple lower levels, more guards appeared—but each fell to a thrown blade before they could cry out. The infiltrators advanced like shadows, cutting down all resistance.

By the time they reached the first floor, at least ten guards lay dead. That a nation’s royal palace could be breached so completely—and still remain unaware—was beyond belief.

Were the guards incompetent, or were these men simply that skilled?

They knew the route to the underground vault required crossing a wide, open lobby—a problem. Even with the map memorized, they realized the area would be bright and exposed.

There were at least twenty guards stationed there. Taking them all down at once would be difficult, though not impossible. That was why they had brought fifteen men in total—each capable of silently eliminating one or two targets.

Each man pulled a small throwing knife from his belt. Judging by their earlier precision, they could strike even at range. But a single mistake could mean disaster.

Failure was not an option. They knew this might be their only chance to reach the vault. Once the king returned, the palace’s security would double, and such an opportunity would never come again.

They exchanged brief, grim nods—ready to move. But then came the sound of several approaching footsteps.

Had someone discovered the bodies? The thought flashed through their minds, but they quickly realized this was something else.

Five figures appeared. One of them wore the robes of a high-ranking official—his bearing unmistakably noble. The brief exchange that followed confirmed his identity.

“Chancellor, you’re leaving only now?”

“I was delayed with work. I’ll return after a short rest. See you later.”

It was Marquis Norwen, the Chancellor of the Polia Kingdom. He had stayed late in the palace to handle the overflow of duties during the king’s absence and was now heading home to rest before returning at dawn.

Among the intruders were men who understood the Polian tongue. The moment they heard the title “Chancellor,” their eyes gleamed. A perfect hostage.

The plan had been a one-way mission—retrieve the item and leave only a few survivors. But with the Chancellor as leverage, their chances of escape through the secret passage increased.

They exchanged silent hand signals, adjusting their plan. Capturing Norwen might save lives and secure their goal.

Just as they prepared to move, two of their number raised their hands. The others looked at them in confusion as they drew their swords from their sheaths.

“Looks like we’ve been found out.”

“Bold ones… I didn’t think the Polia Kingdom had such men.”

Even masked, their surprise was evident. They weren’t supposed to speak during the mission—but their words carried warning.

“Someone’s detected us. Stay alert. This place may not be as simple as we thought.”

“If we can just take the Chancellor as planned, we can still finish the job.”

The last man gripped his sword tightly—but before he could move, three of the Chancellor’s escorts suddenly charged toward the hidden staircase at blinding speed.

Realizing the ambush was blown, the intruders threw their knives.

Whizz—ping—ping—clang!

The blades were deflected midair—knocked aside by short swords drawn faster than sight. The guards closed the distance in an instant.

Two intruders shouted:

“We’ll handle them! Go for the Chancellor!”

The rest broke off, circling the lobby to flank their targets. One of the palace guards drew a pistol and fired.

Bang! Bang, bang! Bang!

Gunfire shattered the silence. Several intruders were hit and dropped instantly—each shot precise and deadly.

One intruder surged forward, swinging his sword at the shooter with explosive speed.

Whoosh!

The guard staggered back, narrowly avoiding the strike. The intruder pressed forward, thrusting again—only for the guard to fire directly into his blade.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The bullets struck the sword’s edge—and a faint blue shimmer rippled along the steel. The projectiles shattered in midair.

In the same instant, the intruder lunged and drove his blade through the guard’s chest. A cruel smile curled across his lips.

“Not bad… but you’re no match for me.”

He wrenched the sword free—but froze. A knife flashed toward his neck, slicing a thin red line across his throat as he dodged.

The man who should have been dead—the one stabbed through the chest—stood upright, expressionless, dagger in hand.

“How… are you still alive?”

“……”

There was no answer—only the steady drip of blood from the gaping wound in his chest.

The intruder’s eyes widened. This was no ordinary man. He recognized what such unnatural movement meant—but focused on the fight, channeling a shimmering blue aura along his blade.

“Let’s see if you can still move after losing your head.”

Before he could strike, more gunfire erupted.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The guards, no longer silent, opened fire on the intruders charging toward the Chancellor. Bullets tore through the air; several men collapsed before they could even reach him.

Even the best-trained assassins couldn’t withstand that much lead. The royal guards, elite marksmen all, fired in deadly unison.

‘I need to end this quickly.’

He drew mana from his mana hall, letting it flood his body. His strength surged far beyond human limits.

Though not yet at the level of an Expert, he could channel enough mana through his sword to cut through steel. He charged, his blade flashing—a clean, lethal strike that severed his opponent’s neck.

‘So that’s all he was.’

He paused, watching to see if the headless body would move. It didn’t. The man was truly dead.

‘If he’d reacted even a second faster, I might’ve failed to kill him.’

Nearby, his comrades were engaged in similar battles, severing limbs and stabbing hearts.

“Go for the neck! They won’t die otherwise!”

The others obeyed, spinning with swift precision, beheading their foes. Only five of the original intruders remained, converging on the Chancellor’s position.

‘We don’t know what these things are—but if more like them appear, we’ll be in trouble. We have to finish this now.’

The thought had barely formed when a chilling sense of dread crept up his spine.