I'm Trapped Inside a Prince as the Most Powerful Entity-Chapter 32

The King watched the faces around the long, golden meeting table. The Prime Minister had voiced his worry, but now sat silently, looking down.

The other nobles, the heads of the important families in the kingdom, also stayed quiet. No one else spoke up against the King’s order for a full investigation of everyone.

But their silence wasn’t agreement. The King could see it in their stiff postures, in the way some avoided his eyes. They didn’t argue, but they didn’t like it. They didn’t trust his plan, they didn’t trust him anymore.

The King understood their silence. He knew what they were thinking without them saying a word. He felt a coldness spread through him.

’They doubt me,’ he thought. ’They think I can’t protect this kingdom. They think they can defy me.’ A hard feeling settled in his chest. ’I will not let my kingdom fall apart because of their secret plans. I will not let these people drag us down.’

He had closed his eyes for just a moment, gathering his thoughts. Now, he opened them again. But the look in his eyes had changed. The tiredness was gone. The calm mask he usually wore was gone too. Now, his eyes burned with cold anger.

Then, something changed in the room. It started with the King. He stood tall, his back straight, and a powerful energy suddenly flowed out from him.

It wasn’t something you could easily see, but everyone felt it. It was like a heavy blanket suddenly dropped over the entire meeting hall. This was the King’s magical power, his aura, unleashed.

It spread out from him in a silent wave, washing over every single person sitting around the table.

The air in the room became thick and heavy, hard to breathe. The nobles gasped. Fear flashed across their faces, replacing the doubt and defiance from moments before.

Their eyes went wide. They started to tremble where they sat. It felt like a giant hand was pressing down on them, making it hard to move, hard even to think.

They couldn’t look away from the King, who stood there radiating this immense pressure. He wasn’t just telling them he was powerful; he was showing them. He was reminding them, in a way words couldn’t, that he was the King, and crossing him had serious consequences.

Behind the King’s throne, his two sons, Revan and Leonard, and the Commander of the Royal Guard, Charles, watched everything happen. But they weren’t scared.

They weren’t surprised. Their faces didn’t show worry for the nobles. Instead, they reacted instantly, like they knew this might happen. They prepared themselves for a fight, even though no enemy was visible.

Revan, the oldest son, the skilled swordsman, moved first. With a smooth, quick motion, he drew his long sword from the scabbard at his side. The polished steel gleamed in the lamplight.

As soon as the sword was free, Revan released his own powerful aura. His energy, strong and sharp like his blade, shot out and mixed with the King’s heavy pressure.

It didn’t lessen the King’s power; it made it stronger, sharper, more intense. The feeling in the room grew even heavier, even more frightening. It was like adding wind to a fire, making it burn hotter and wilder.

Next was Leonard, the King’s second son. Unlike his brother, Leonard was known for his magic, not his sword skills. He didn’t reach for a weapon. He didn’t need one.

Standing tall beside his brother, he simply let his own magical energy flare outwards.

Leonard’s power felt different from his father’s heavy pressure or Revan’s sharp intensity. It felt like crackling electricity, cold and vast.

It wrapped around the powers of his father and brother, weaving together with them, making the combined force feel absolutely overwhelming, like standing before a massive, unstoppable storm. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

The pressure in the room tripled, pressing down on the nobles with crushing weight.

Finally, Charles, the Commander, acted. He was a big, strong man, loyal to the King above all else. He reached down to the very large sword strapped across his back.

He didn’t draw it completely, but he pulled it forward slightly, the heavy blade scraping softly against its sheath. The message was clear: he was ready.

And then, he too released his aura. Charles’s power felt solid and unbending, like a stone wall. It added its weight to the crushing force already filling the room, making the very air seem to solidify.

The meeting room was now filled to bursting with the combined power of the King, his two sons, and his most loyal Commander. It was a terrifying amount of energy packed into one space.

Many of the nobles sitting around the table were powerful people in their own right.

They had their own magic, their own trained soldiers. But facing this? Facing the raw power of the royal line and their strongest warrior all at once? It was too much. They stood no chance.

The effect was immediate and brutal. One by one, the nobles slumped in their chairs, their faces pale, sweat beading on their foreheads. Then, chairs scraped loudly against the marble floor as they slid off, falling heavily to their knees.

Gasps and choked coughs filled the room as they struggled desperately to breathe.

The immense pressure squeezed the air right out of their lungs. Within seconds, every single noble representative in the room was no longer sitting proudly at the table.

They were sprawled on the floor, some on their hands and knees, others lying flat on their stomachs, wheezing, clawing weakly at their throats, their fancy clothes getting dirty on the cold stone. Their eyes, wide with terror.

Even the Prime Minister, who had been sitting right beside the King just moments ago, arguing against the investigation, was no exception.

He too had tumbled from his chair and was now lying on the floor near the King’s feet, his face red, gasping for breath just like the others. His dignity was gone, replaced by pure, desperate survival.

Seeing them all helpless beneath his power, the King finally let his aura recede. He pulled his energy back into himself, like closing a fist. The crushing weight in the room instantly lessened.

As soon as the King withdrew his power, Revan, Leonard, and Charles did the same. Revan sheathed his sword with a soft click. Leonard’s crackling energy faded.

Charles let his big sword slide back fully into its sheath, though he kept his hand near the hilt. The heavy pressure vanished completely.

But Charles kept his sword where it was, ready. The threat, though lessened, remained.

The King looked down at the nobles struggling on the floor. His voice cut through their ragged gasps, cold and hard.

"I," he declared, his voice echoing slightly in the large hall, "am the King of this land. And if any of you believe," he continued, his eyes sweeping over their terrified faces, "that you can ignore my commands, act on your own, or plot behind my back... then you are very, very wrong."

As the nobles finally managed to suck in deep, ragged breaths of air, the King’s words hammered down on them. Air felt wonderful, but the King’s voice was terrifying.

Slowly, painfully, they began to push themselves up from the floor. They got to their knees, then shakily to their feet, brushing dust and dirt from their fine clothes. Their bodies still trembled.

Just as they were standing again, unsteady and disoriented, they heard the King’s voice again, reminding them of his authority.

That was all it took. Any thought of defiance was gone, replaced by pure fear and the instinct to obey.

One by one, they bowed. Not just a polite nod, but a deep bow from the waist, showing complete submission.

The Prime Minister was the first. He scrambled to his feet properly and then immediately dropped into a low bow, his forehead almost touching his knees.

"My Lord!... Your Majesty!" he stammered, his voice still hoarse. "Forgive me!.....I made a terrible mistake! I....I questioned your wisdom! It was unintentional... I did not mean to disrespect you! Please, Your Majesty, find it in your kind heart to forgive my foolish error!"

Seeing the Prime Minister groveling like that, the other nobles quickly followed suit.

All around the long golden table, figures in fine silks and velvets bowed low, murmuring apologies. "Forgive us, Your Majesty!" "We spoke foolishly!" "We trust your judgment!" "We are loyal!"

Even Benjamin Loft, the fat noble in black who had been secretly sneering at the King just moments before, was bowing deeply now, his face hidden from view.

Even those who had been thinking about joining Karlos, about rebelling against the King, were now bowing and begging for forgiveness. They knew the truth.

All the noble families together could cause a lot of trouble for the King, make things difficult for him. But overthrow him? Defeat him and his sons and his loyal guards completely? After feeling that suffocating power, they knew it was impossible.

For now, the smartest, safest thing to do was to bend the knee. And so, they bowed.

The King watched the sea of bowing heads before him. He saw their fear. He heard their desperate apologies. He nodded his head slowly, just once. His face remained hard, showing no sign of forgiveness or softness.

"You ask for forgiveness," the King said, his voice still cold, echoing in the now silent room filled only with the sound of nervous breathing.

"You will receive it only when this investigation is complete. Only after the Royal Family and my Royal Guards have personally checked every single noble house, every single town guard, every single ledger, within this kingdom. Only when I am satisfied that all treason has been rooted out."

He paused, letting his words sink in. Then, he turned away from them, his royal cape swirling around him. He started walking towards the large doors leading out of the meeting hall.

Just as he reached the doorway, he stopped. He turned back slightly, looking over his shoulder at the nobles who were still standing there, watching him with fearful eyes.

"Remember," he said, his voice a final, sharp command. "The investigation begins tomorrow morning. Be ready."

And with that final warning, the King turned fully and walked out of the meeting hall without another glance.

His sons, Revan and Leonard, and Commander Charles immediately fell into step behind him, their faces grim, following their King out of the room. The heavy doors closed behind them with a soft thud, leaving the nobles alone.

Silence filled the meeting room again, but this time it was a tense, uncomfortable silence.

The nobles slowly straightened up from their bows. They looked at each other, their faces pale, some still sweating. The fear was still there, but now there was also uncertainty, suspicion.

The Prime Minister was the first to move. He smoothed down his robes, trying to regain some of his lost dignity. He turned around to face the other nobles still gathered around the table.

"Well," the Prime Minister said, his voice trying to sound calm, though it still held a slight tremor.

"Based on what just happened... I believe the wisest course of action for all of us is clear." He looked around at their anxious faces.

"We should do nothing foolish. We simply cooperate fully with the King’s investigation." He gave a weak smile.

"After all," he added, trying to sound reassuring, "it’s not like any of us have actually betrayed the kingdom like Karlos did... have we?"

He let the question hang in the air, watching their reactions carefully. He saw it immediately. Some nobles shifted their feet nervously.

Others suddenly found the pattern on the floor very interesting, refusing to meet his eyes. A few quickly glanced sideways at their neighbors. The signs were small, but clear. Karlos wasn’t the only traitor. There were others, right here in this room.

The Prime Minister’s weak smile faded slightly. He raised an eyebrow. "Or..." he said slowly, his voice dropping a little, making the guilty ones jump, "...are there perhaps others like Karlos among us after all?"

He saw a few beads of sweat suddenly appear on the foreheads of Lord Rowan and another minor noble standing near the end of the table. Benjamin Loft quickly wiped his own brow, pretending the room was just warm.

The Prime Minister chuckled softly, a dry, humorless sound. "Ah, well," he said, shaking his head as if it didn’t matter to him.

"It makes no difference to me personally." He started walking towards the door, following the path the King had taken. He paused at the doorway and looked back one last time.

"But whoever has secrets to hide... I suggest you be very, very careful from now on. The King seemed quite... displeased."

With that parting shot, the Prime Minister swept out of the room, leaving the remaining nobles standing in awkward, fearful silence.

Slowly, hesitantly, one by one, they too began to file out of the grand meeting hall, their minds racing, wondering what the next day – and the King’s investigation – would bring. The seeds of distrust had been sown, not just between the nobles and the King, but now, among the nobles themselves.