---
The number of sentries had multiplied noticeably. Nearly eight seasoned guards occupied the passage, each one hardened by years of duty and conflict. Their movements were disciplined and deliberate, not the idle pacing of bored watchmen but the controlled patrol of men trained to expect danger at any instant. Steel glinted faintly beneath the torchlight as they shifted positions, hands never straying far from their weapons.
Every corner was covered, every movement observed. It was clear that this level protected something of great importance—and that a single misstep here would be noticed instantly.
A faint smile curved on Ritupriyan's lips.
"This is not a battlefield… this is the moment to move the chess pieces."
Leaning closer, he whispered into Jyotishman's ear,
"We need to create confusion. Remember—we are one of them now. One of us will be the prey… but that prey will actually be the hunter."
Jyotishman nodded.
From a nearby alcove, Ritupriyan picked up a fire-bound spearhead—one of the royal court's ultimate defensive weapons, usually meant to burn enemies to ashes.
He ignited it and hurled it toward a pile of abandoned ropes in the distance.
Explosion.
Light and sound tore through the corridor. Four of the eight guards rushed toward the disturbance.
Ritupriyan and Jyotishman moved swiftly. Their disguises and casual gait raised no suspicion among the remaining two guards.
One of them, however, panted and asked,
"Did you see who threw the fire?"
Without hesitation, Ritupriyan replied calmly,
"Hurry. We've received word—there's a spy entering from the north. That fire is proof."
The guards stiffened. One said,
"Then we'll come with you."
Ritupriyan waved him off smoothly.
"No. Stay here. We're going to block their path…"
At that very moment, Jyotishman appeared behind one guard and slit the tendon behind his knee with a royal blade. Before the other could react, Ritupriyan's sword cut across his throat, releasing only a muffled groan.
Their bodies were dragged into a corner and concealed.
---
Eighth Level: Adjacent to the Armory
Here stood fourteen guards—tasked not only with protection but with safeguarding the secret weapon vault. These men were veterans, clad in heavy armor, ruthless in combat.
Ritupriyan and Jyotishman knew—bloodshed was unavoidable.
Still disguised, they entered the corridor. One guard frowned.
"Where are you coming from?"
Ritupriyan answered,
"The Commander himself sent us to verify the weapons inventory. There's been an intrusion in the lower storage. Orders are to immediately secure all maces and spears."
The guards hesitated. One went inside to verify.
That was the moment.
Jyotishman shoved two guards forward and set them ablaze with a fire-spear. Before their screams could rise, Ritupriyan threw a vial of reactive alchemical compound—blinding light erupted, followed by choking gas.
The guards coughed, disoriented.
They struck.
Swords fell, flesh split, bodies collapsed. Blood splashed across the royal white-stone corridor.
The last three tried to flee. One was beheaded. The others were impaled by spears and skewered through by Jyotishman.
All bodies were disposed of.
They moved on.
---
Ninth Level: The Containment Chamber
The chamber was quadrilateral. Six massive guards stood within—each armored, wielding elephant-crushing maces and iron chakrams.
This deep within the palace, no new soldiers could appear.
They realized instantly—these were Prince Ritupriyan and Commander Jyotishman.
Ritupriyan leapt forward, spinning a velocity-altering disc, slipping a poison-coated dart beneath one guard's armor. The man convulsed and collapsed.
At the same time, Jyotishman ripped a heavy mace from another guard's hands and smashed his knee to powder. As the man fell, a single punch crushed his neck, bone piercing into brain.
Three guards charged together.
Ritupriyan rotated his blade in a circular defense, then drove it into one guard's abdomen.
Jyotishman seized another, spun him violently, and slammed him into the remaining two. Their heavy armor collided and shattered. One by one, he killed them with silent precision.
---
The Upper Levels
The remaining levels formed a maze of light and shadow. Hidden within were twelve elite assassins—flawlessly trained, deadly.
Jyotishman ran vertically along the wall, hurling knives that dragged two hidden killers down.
Five surrounded them at once.
Ritupriyan released a smoke compound, cloaking the corridor in mist. Listening for sound markers, they strangled each assassin silently.
One tried to escape.
Jyotishman stepped in front of him and crushed his ribcage with a single kick.
---
The Final Level
This place was different.
No guards. No enemies.
A vast hall bathed in bluish light. Rotating geometric symbols etched into the floor. Ancient war murals on the walls. At the center—a stone altar holding two swords.
One silver.
One blood-red.
Ritupriyan stepped forward, serene.
"This is where it ends. Princess—we are coming."
Jyotishman followed—then shadows rose from beneath the floor.
Shadow soldiers—formless, silent, yet wielding real weapons.
Ritupriyan lifted the silver blade. Light trembled.
The first attack came from the right—an unseen spear. He dodged, countered, slicing a shadow apart. It dissolved like air.
Jyotishman lifted the blood-red sword. It pulsed violently. Shadows rushed him—but the blade spoke their language. One strike, and they bent to its will.
Two warriors. Two forces.
Silver—discipline and speed.
Crimson—feral power and madness.
Their swords sang like divine music.
Light fell like rays.
Spirals of steel carved through darkness.
They reached the core.
As the final shadow faded, a haunting voice echoed—
"You do not know who the Prince of Sindhrabhumi truly is.
You have invited death into this palace."
---
Exhausted, drenched in blood, Prince Ritupriyan and Commander Jyotishman finally stood before the princess's chamber.
Silence.
Only the sound of breath against stone.
Jyotishman steadied his massive frame, chest heaving.
Ritupriyan stood beside him—tired, yet smiling. His eyes gleamed with a strange joy.
With a playful smirk, he said,
"We've suffered so much to come here for the princess. If she doesn't show us a little affection now… my heart will be terribly hurt."
Jyotishman stared at him in disbelief.
---
Inside the princess's room ,
The princess stood silently, lost in thoughts of Emperor Kayotran, her heart heavy with worry for the prisoners.
Suddenly, Ritupriyan seized her from behind and covered her mouth.
The warmth and firmness of his hand sent a strange tremor through her body—an abrupt surge of fear, yet mixed with something she had never felt before. For the first time in her life, the sudden touch of a man's hard grip ignited an unfamiliar, unsettling sensation within her.
To be continued…