"Fuck! He killed the prince! What the hell do we do now?" One of the men shouted.
"Does that even need to be asked?" another of them snarled, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury.
"The prince is dead—that means we're already corpses walking."
A heavy silence fell over the group for a moment as the weight of the situation crushed their lungs like an invisible hand.
The two dozen guards, elite warriors trained since birth to protect royalty, were now nothing more than pawns left abandoned on a bloodstained battlefield.
Their prince, their charge, their ticket to life and honor—gone in an instant.
"If we return now…" another muttered, his voice barely a whisper, "the prince's clan will butcher our families. They'll think we betrayed him. That we stood by and watched."
"Then we have no path left but vengeance!" and another shouted, raising his blade high into the air. His eyes burned with a twisted sense of resolve.
"We die here—but we take him with us! KILL!"
