The scream still echoed in Nathan's ears as he followed the First Prince through the palace corridors.
Guards rushed past them, their faces pale, their hands on their weapons. Servants huddled in corners, whispering, crying. The east wing was sealed off by the time they arrived—a dozen soldiers blocking the entrance, their spears crossed.
"Let us through," the First Prince commanded.
The guards hesitated. Then they stepped aside.
The corridor beyond was a nightmare. Three bodies lay on the marble floor, their blood pooling in the cracks between the tiles. Servants, by the look of their clothes. A woman. Two men. Their eyes were still open, staring at nothing.
And in the center of it all stood Kenji Tanaka.
His sword was still in his hand, the blade dripping red. His eyes were wide, unfocused, staring at something only he could see. The faint glow of his recent level-ups still clung to his skin, a soft golden light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
