[s1e7] An Attack On The King Direct

King Alaric didn’t flinch. He sat atop the Obsidian Seat, his fingers tracing the notch in his ancestral blade. Beside him, the High Mage whispered a containment spell, but the air was already thick with the scent of ozone and burnt lavender—the calling card of the .

"You’re late, Malakor," Alaric said, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber. [S1E7] An Attack on the King

The attack wasn't a flurry of steel. It began with a ripple in the King's own shadow. The darkness beneath the throne rose like a liquid spear, aimed directly at Alaric’s throat. With a roar, the King threw himself forward, his heavy broadsword cleaving through the magical tether. King Alaric didn’t flinch

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. "You’re late, Malakor," Alaric said, his voice echoing

The Mage cried out as the floor turned to glass, trapping the King’s feet. Malakor moved like a blur, a dagger of pure void-energy humming in his hand. He wasn't there to take the crown; he was there to sever the bloodline.