"Why does it feel like I can't move my body? And why does it feel like I'm sitting in a lotus form on the ground? Why can't I open my eyes?" Prince Khane questioned himself, frustration swirling in his mind.
"Where's Arnin?" he wondered, worry creeping into his thoughts. He tried to call out his name, but his lips refused to part.
"The last thing I remember is that we were in the woods with Tidalia... Why can't I recall what happened next?" The effort to remember only deepened his frustration.
Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of something shifting against the grassy ground.
"Is that… a sword?" he thought, the realization sending an inexplicable chill through him.
Though his eyes remained firmly shut, his hand began moving on its own, inching toward the hilt of a sword. Alarm flared in his mind. "Why is my hand moving on its own? Why can't I stop it? Is it reaching… for the sword?"
As the questions raced through his mind, a calm yet unfamiliar voice escaped his lips, though it felt foreign to him. "Do you sense it, my wife?" the voice asked, steady and collected. "I wonder who dares to come on a day like this. I am expecting an old friend, and yet these rats choose to intrude."
Prince Khane's inner thoughts clashed against the voice. "Who's speaking? Why am I saying this? I'm not in control!" He grappled with the strangeness of it all, unable to break free of whatever force had overtaken him.
His hand tightened its grip on the sword's hilt. The voice spoke again, this time laced with dark amusement. "Given that I've slain their master recently, perhaps it's Sil's disciples coming for revenge. How futile. They know I won't hesitate to cut them down."
With that, his eyes flew open. They were sharp and piercing, alive with a force beyond his own will. His hand unsheathed the sword with a metallic hiss, the blade catching the first rays of morning light. Standing up slowly, each movement was unnervingly fluid, almost ethereal.
"Finally, I can see," he thought inwardly, the sensation of sight returning. But even now, his vision was not his own—his gaze was not entirely his to control. Yet, danger was palpable, and he sensed it everywhere around him.
"Welcome, my guests," he said aloud, his voice dripping with mockery as he looked at the assassins gathered before him. His tone was playful, yet razor-sharp. "Though I don't have tea to offer, I'll gladly serve you your own blood."
In an instant, he launched himself into the air with a precision that wasn't entirely human. His sword gleamed as he aimed it toward his attackers, his body moving as though guided by an unseen force.
"Is this the past or a dream?" Prince Khane asked himself, confusion rippling through his mind.
He scanned the scene before him, taking in the men's unusual attire. Their clothing was dark, stealthy, unmistakably resembling that of assassins. His eyes narrowed as his hand shifted behind his back, resting near the hilt of his sword.
"Is there a leader among you? Step forward, and I'll make an example of you. You're not Sil's disciples, so who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady but cutting.
A figure stepped forward, rising into the air to face him. Clad in all-black leather, the man wore an eye patch, his short black hair wild in the breeze.
His black cloak billowed behind him like a shadow brought to life. "Death is here for you, yet you waste it asking questions," the man said mockingly, his voice dripping with malice. "Say your last prayers now."
Prince Khane smirked, unshaken. "Death is here? Ah, you must mean the Assassin's Organization. Who hired you to kill me? Didn't they warn you about me?" His tone carried a cool confidence, unbothered by the threat.
The figure, introducing himself as the Invisible Ghost, floated back with calculated grace. "I'll reveal my employer with your last breath," he declared before signaling his men to charge.
As the assassins rushed forward, Prince Khane felt his sword tremble in his hand, almost alive with anticipation. "Would you like to start the ceremony? Alright! Let's begin the ceremony!" he roared, releasing the sword into the air.
The blade took on a life of its own, hurtling toward the assassins with deadly precision. The men, well-trained in internal strength, countered its attacks, their energy clashing with the magical sword. Yet their movements showed hesitation, awe creeping into their ranks.
"What kind of sword is this?" Prince khane wondered.
Prince Khane's thoughts raced alongside the unfolding battle. "Wait… I heard Ningtin once speak of the Nameless Sword, 'Wife,' and its ability to act on its own. Is this my memory? Am I trying to remember?" he wondered, the clarity of the moment both surreal and unnerving.
The Invisible Ghost smirked, watching the chaos. He dashed toward Prince Khane, dagger in hand, sneering. "A fine sword, but you're unarmed. You can't possibly match me with just your internal strength."
"Divide! Formation!" the Invisible Ghost shouted, holding his dagger aloft. The blade flew backward, multiplying into a deadly flurry of smaller blades. Spiraling through the air, they merged into a massive sword, its edges gleaming with lethal intent. With a cry of fury, he launched toward Prince Khane in a powerful strike.
Prince Khane yawned, feigning disinterest. "How boring. I expected a challenge. I can take you down with my lowest level of power," he said, his voice laced with mockery.
He raised his palm, and a radiant blue light burst forth, swirling and expanding until it became an impenetrable shield. The Invisible Ghost's red aura crackled around him as he charged, pouring all his internal strength into the attack. The blow collided with the blue light but was effortlessly stopped.
Prince Khane stood unmoved, his expression calm yet commanding. "I feel no strain," he murmured to himself. "Is this how powerful I was? No wonder I was feared by so many."
The Invisible Ghost vanished, reappearing at various angles in rapid succession, his attacks unrelenting and precise. His speed was almost impossible to track, but Prince Khane was unfazed. With fluid, graceful movements, he parried each strike effortlessly, his sword flashing like lightning in his hands.