Adam stood calmly in the middle of the messed-up arena. The walls and trees that had popped up didn't seem to bother him at all. He slowly looked around, his golden eyes (which used to be Eric's) scanning the area.
He finally focused on the three opponents standing nervously together near the edge. There was the swordsman Adam had kicked, the magician girl, and the sneaky assassin.
They looked tense and confused, obviously freaked out by how things had suddenly changed – the weak prince exploding with energy, then getting up and acting totally different.
In his hand – Eric's hand, but now controlled by Adam – he held the simple sword Eric had picked. It was a good sword, known for being well-balanced and sharp, made for careful fighting, not just hacking away.
Now, this decent sword was being held by someone much more skilled and dangerous than the prince it was meant for.
Adam looked down at the sword like he was curious about it. He turned it a little, letting the sunlight flash off the shiny metal blade. He seemed to be checking it out, maybe feeling how heavy it was, how it felt in his grip.
A tiny smile played at the corners of his lips. It wasn't Eric's usual nervous smile; this was the smile of someone looking at a new tool, confident he knew how to use it, or maybe just thinking the whole situation was kind of funny.
Meanwhile, way up in the fancy royal balcony, Emperor Noor IV – leaned forward in his big chair. His sharp eyes narrowed as he stared hard at his youngest son down below. He hadn't missed the crazy burst of power just moments ago, and he definitely noticed that it had disappeared just as quickly.
Something had seriously changed.
The amazing, chaotic energy he'd felt pouring off Eric just seconds before – energy that felt almost like it wasn't from this world and incredibly strong – was gone. Completely gone.
Not just weaker, but totally vanished, like it was never there. And the fact that it disappeared so suddenly, leaving Eric looking perfectly normal again, bothered the experienced Emperor much more than the power burst itself.
Wild power could be scary, but maybe just a weird fluke. This sudden, perfect control… that was different. That felt really strange and unsettling.
He could feel it in his gut, the feeling you get from ruling a kingdom and fighting many battles for years. Something wasn't right down there. Something big had changed inside his son.
"It only lasted a second… but that power…" the Emperor thought, his mind racing even though his face looked calm.
"The energy coming off Eric was huge, stronger than anything I've ever felt from someone his age, maybe stronger than anyone in the kingdom right now. It was wild and messy… but definitely powerful. But now? He's perfectly calm. Just standing there like nothing happened. He's too calm. Too relaxed for a kid who was just knocked out and glowing like a bomb." It didn't make sense.
The Emperor's gut feeling, the instinct that had kept him safe and in charge for so long, was screaming at him—Danger! Stop the fight! Do something! Get your son out of there before something really bad happens!
For a rare moment, he felt like a worried father, wanting to protect his kid from whatever weird thing was going on.
But he pushed that feeling down hard. He gritted his teeth, his hands gripping the arms of his throne tightly.
"No," he told himself firmly. "I can't look weak now. Not in front of everyone – the nobles, the visitors from other kingdoms. Even if he is my son, this trial is official business. It's about who might rule someday, about how strong our kingdom looks. He has to pass this trial—or fail it—by himself. I made the rules. I can't step in now, no matter how weird things get."
His face became a hard mask again, the face of a king, not a father. The trial would go on. He would watch. He would figure it out later.
Sitting on either side of the Emperor, Eric's two older brothers, Prince Raven and Prince Leonard, watched the arena with confused expressions. They were definitely surprised when Eric suddenly showed that burst of energy and got back up after being knocked down.
But unlike their father, who might have sensed things more deeply, they didn't feel anything special coming from Eric now. The crazy powerful feeling Adam had turned off was gone.
To them, Eric just looked… normal again. Maybe a little too calm, which was weird after everything, but not super powerful or scary.
They looked at each other, puzzled, maybe shrugged slightly, and went back to watching with interest, still trying to figure out what happened. Maybe it was just a one-time fluke caused by stress?
But Eric's mother, the Queen, sitting a bit behind the King, couldn't hide her worry. Her face was pale, and she looked really anxious.
Her eyes kept darting back and forth between her youngest son standing alone down there and the serious, unreadable face of her husband. She gripped the armrest of her chair so hard her knuckles turned white.
Being a mother and protecting Eric from court politics for years had made her instincts sharp. She didn't know what was going on, but she felt deep down that something was very wrong.
The way Eric was standing, the look in his eyes… it didn't feel like her son down there anymore. Not completely.
Down in the center of the arena, Adam, now in charge of Eric's body, didn't seem bothered by anyone watching him. He slowly lifted his free hand, the one not holding the sword.
He pointed his fingers straight across the arena at the three opponents who were watching him carefully.
He wasn't being aggressive. He wasn't casting a spell. He was just… pointing. It was a silent challenge. Like saying, Come on. I'm ready.
His eyes didn't blink. His face stayed calm, almost casual. His body was relaxed; he wasn't even standing in a fighting pose. He just stood there, feet apart, sword hanging loosely by his side.
But even though he looked relaxed, there was something really intimidating about him. Like a snake coiled up, perfectly still but ready to strike super fast.
Like a huge storm cloud holding back tons of power, kept in check only by his own will. It was the quiet before a big storm hits.
The three opponents—the swordsman nursing his chest, the magician girl watching closely, and the shadow-like assassin—saw the silent challenge.
They quickly looked at each other, like experienced teammates communicating without words. They knew this wasn't normal. They knew the prince in front of them wasn't the same kid from before. But they also knew they had a job to do.
After a short, tense moment, the swordsman spoke first. He didn't look at his teammates; he kept his eyes locked on Adam. His voice was a bit rough, maybe because of the kick he took, but it was firm.
"We have a job to do, given to us by the King," he said clearly, his voice carrying in the quiet arena. "We're here to test the Third Prince. No matter what else is going on, we will do our job."
He took a determined step forward, planting his foot down hard, showing he wasn't backing down.
Another moment of silence passed, then he added, more firmly, giving an order to his team:
"Get back to your spots! Attack like we planned!"
This time, the magician and the assassin didn't hesitate. They nodded quickly. With amazing speed, they jumped backward, splitting up from the swordsman.
The magician quickly moved back towards the shadows of the fake trees, finding a good spot where she could shoot spells from a distance to help the swordsman.
The assassin seemed to just disappear into the maze of walls and shadows, probably circling around to find a chance to attack from behind. They were professionals, going back to their training even though the situation was super weird.
The swordsman was now alone again, facing Adam directly. He took another deep breath, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. He gripped his own sword tightly, lifted it into a ready position, and focused everything he had on the calm figure standing in front of him.
And then—
With a loud yell—maybe to pump himself up, maybe to try and scare his opponent—
He charged. His boots pounded on the stone floor as he sprinted towards Adam, sword held high, ready to attack with all his strength.
For Adam, now settled into Eric's body, it felt like the world shifted into slow motion as the swordsman charged at him.
It wasn't like time actually slowed down for everyone else. It was more like Adam's brain could process things super, super fast now. Like watching a movie where the hero sees everything happening in slow-mo while everyone else moves normally.
He could hear every single heartbeat echoing softly in the huge stadium – the nervous fast beats from the crowd, the steady rhythm of the guards, the slightly panicked beat of the swordsman running towards him.
He could feel every breath everyone took in and let out around the arena, like one big sigh of waiting.
He could notice every nervous glance, every little change of expression on the thousands of faces watching from the seats.
He could sense it all, perfectly clearly.
Even better, he could feel the energy around him. He could sense the weak life energy of the regular people, the stronger energy of trained fighters like Roald and the Royal Knights, and the really strong, almost buzzing power coming from the Emperor up in the royal box.
He could even feel the leftover magic humming in the old stones of the arena itself. It was like having a secret sixth sense that showed him an invisible layer of the world.
And most importantly, he could feel this body—Eric's body, now his body to control— buzzing with potential.
The energy Millenia had poured into it earlier felt like it was still settling in, connecting with Adam's own powerful spirit. It felt like the body itself was getting stronger, tougher, changing every second to handle having him inside. The control felt smoother now, more natural.
And Adam liked it. He let the feeling spread through him, a feeling of growing power that felt great after being trapped for so long.
The swordsman reached him in just a few seconds (though it felt longer to Adam). The knight jumped into the air for the last few feet of his charge, using his speed to bring his sword down in a powerful chopping motion, aiming right for Adam's neck. It was a classic, strong attack, done fast and meant to end the fight right there.
The attack was incredibly fast. Deadly.
But before the shiny steel blade could even get close to hitting him—
Adam moved.
It wasn't a panicked jump out of the way or a desperate block with his own sword. It was small. Smooth. Almost casual. Like gently brushing a piece of lint off his shirt.
He didn't even step backward. He just lifted his left hand—the one not holding the sword—up towards the incoming sword. He stuck out just two fingers and his thumb, holding them slightly apart.
And with speed and accuracy that seemed impossible, he caught the falling sword blade right out of the air—pinching it tightly between his fingertips. He stopped its deadly speed instantly, just inches before the super sharp edge could touch his neck.
CLANG!
The sound wasn't the sharp ring of metal hitting metal. It was a duller, heavier sound, like something incredibly strong hitting something that wouldn't move at all.
Everyone in the stadium gasped together. A huge wave of shocked silence rolled through the thousands of people watching.
The swordsman's blade didn't break Adam's fingers. It didn't cut them. It didn't even slide off.
It just… stopped. Completely.
Hanging harmlessly in the air, pinched between Adam's calm, steady fingers.
The speed, the perfect timing, the fact that it seemed impossible—it was unreal. Most people watching hadn't even clearly seen what happened.
It was just too fast. One second, the swordsman was attacking powerfully. The next second, his sword was just… stuck, held easily by the prince's bare hand.
Somewhere in the crowd, Roald, Eric's personal trainer and a famous, experienced warrior himself, jumped up from his seat. His face was pale with shock, his eyes wide with total disbelief.
"Impossible," he mumbled, his voice shaking a little. "That strength… that reaction… that move… that… that wasn't Eric." He knew Eric better than anyone. What he just saw was something totally different.
The whole arena fell into a stunned, breathless silence again. You couldn't hear a single sound.
Even the Emperor, high up in his royal box, stared, his eyes wide for just a second before he forced his face back to look calm. He knew what that kind of skill meant. That effortless control wasn't just talent.
It wasn't just waking up some hidden power. That was mastery—the kind of impossible skill and super-fast reaction time that only a true master fighter, someone who had fought in tons of battles for years or someone with unbelievable power, could ever pull off. And Eric wasn't either of those things.
The swordsman himself, stuck there with his sword caught, stared down at the fingers holding his blade. His eyes were wide with confusion. His brain just couldn't understand what had happened.
His strongest, fastest attack—his best move—caught like it was nothing. With just fingers.
Adam hadn't even tried to hit back. He hadn't even needed to pull out his own sword, which was still hanging unused at his side.
For a proud, experienced warrior like this Royal Knight, this was way worse than losing a fair fight. It was worse than being overpowered.
It was totally embarrassing. Humiliating.
He didn't even think my attack was worth dodging… the swordsman thought. A cold feeling spread through him, mixed with shock and shame. He didn't respect me enough to even use his own sword.
But deep down, under the embarrassment, the trained fighter part of his brain knew—this wasn't just showing off. This wasn't disrespect.
This was complete dominance.
The person standing calmly in front of him—the person wearing Prince Eric's face, but who clearly wasn't Eric anymore—was not the same weak boy they were sent here to test. Not even close.
He was something else entirely. Something unknown. Something incredibly powerful. Something dangerous.