A really weird feeling, something totally new and strange, pulsed through Eric's veins.
It started as a faint warmth in his chest, right where Millenia's energy seemed to connect with him, and then spread outwards like warm water flowing through cold pipes. It tingled down his arms, into his legs, reaching every part of him.
His body suddenly felt… lighter. Way lighter than it ever had before. It felt like the heavy weight he always carried around, the constant tiredness and weakness that clung to him like a wet cloak, had just vanished into thin air.
It was as if gravity itself had loosened its grip on him just a little bit. The usual aches in his joints, the dull pain in his muscles from just standing – they were fading away, being peeled back layer by layer.
He could feel strength, actual strength, humming in his arms and legs, a feeling so foreign it almost scared him.
He felt like he could jump higher, run faster, maybe even lift something heavy without collapsing. It was an amazing, dizzying sensation.
He blinked, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to understand it. Was this real? Was this the power Millenia promised?
"Am I… am I actually getting stronger?" he whispered, the words filled with disbelief and a tiny spark of wonder. Could he really change? Could he actually fight?
Before the thought could fully form, before he could really explore this strange new feeling, a shimmering blue rectangle, like a computer screen made of light, flickered into existence right in front of his eyes.
Glowing letters danced in the air, forming words only he could see.
"You have been granted a limited boost of energy," the text displayed. "Your physical body is fragile. It can only withstand this much supplemental power safely. If I were to give you significantly more… I cannot predict if you would survive the strain."
It was Millenia's voice echoing inside his head as he read the words—calm, careful, analytical, always watching, always calculating the risks. Even in offering help, she sounded like a cautious scientist.
Eric nodded slowly, accepting her warning. He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. They felt different. Stronger. He responded quietly, his voice barely above a breath, meant only for her.
"That's fine… This is okay. Even this little bit… it's more power than I've ever felt in my entire life. It's enough." He meant it. Compared to the constant weakness he lived with, this felt like borrowing the strength of a giant.
Just as he finished speaking, just as he was starting to feel a tiny shred of confidence bloom inside him, a sudden glint of bright light flashed in the corner of his eye. It came from the artificial forest area of the maze-like arena.
A flash—ice-cold and incredibly fast.
There was no time to think, no time to analyze. Pure instinct, maybe sharpened by Millenia's power boost, took over his body.
He snapped his head to the side, twisting his neck violently. It was a reaction faster than he thought he was capable of. He felt a rush of freezing cold air slice past his cheek, so close it felt like an icy razor barely missed his skin.
Two razor-sharp crystals, shimmering like deadly diamonds made of pure ice, zipped through the exact spot where his head had been a split second before. They embedded themselves silently, deep into the stone wall behind him.
The wind from their passing felt like a frozen whisper against his ear.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
His heart suddenly kicked into overdrive, racing wildly inside his chest. That was close. Way too close. A fraction of a second slower, and those ice shards would have gone right through his skull.
Eric's eyes darted forward, wide with adrenaline. He scanned the dense, confusing maze of newly formed stone walls and twisted, fake trees.
His gaze quickly locked onto a dark shape perched silently atop the thick branches of one of the tallest artificial trees near the edge of the arena. Poised, perfectly still, and focused entirely on him with dangerous intensity.
It was a girl. Or at least, she looked like one. She was dressed all in black, blending into the shadows of the leaves. Her cloak hid most of her form, but he could see strands of raven-black hair escaping her hood.
Her eyes, even from this distance, seemed to glimmer like dark, polished obsidian stones, fixed on him with cold calculation. In her hand, she held a short, slender wand, carved from dark wood, still aimed in his direction.
"A magician…" Eric muttered under his breath, recognizing the signs. He remembered his lessons – fast, ranged attacks, elemental magic… Magicians were dangerous opponents, especially when they had the advantage of surprise and distance.
His training with Roald kicked in, however limited it had been. Don't let a ranged attacker keep their distance.
Close the gap. Engage them directly. Fueled by the borrowed energy tingling in his limbs and the surge of adrenaline from the near-miss, Eric moved.
He surged forward, pushing off the ground with newfound strength, intending to charge towards the magician's position, weaving through the maze walls to reach the base of her tree.
But just as he took his second step, just as he committed to his forward momentum—a sharp, sudden, stinging sensation exploded in his stomach.
Pain.
Not a dull ache, but real, blinding, white-hot pain. It ripped through him, stealing his breath and making his vision swim with black spots.
His eyes widened in shock and confusion. He stumbled to a halt, instinctively looking down at his own body—
Two small, wickedly sharp daggers were sticking out of his lower abdomen. Their dark metal hilts were pressed flat against his tunic, the blades buried deep inside him.
Blood was already starting to bloom outwards, staining the fine fabric a dark, ugly crimson.
"When—?!" Eric gasped, disbelief warring with the agony. "How?! I didn't even see… I didn't feel anything until now…" He hadn't seen anyone else.
Hadn't heard a sound. Where had they come from? An assassin. It had to be the third opponent, striking with silent, deadly precision while he was distracted by the magician. They must have been hiding nearby, waiting for an opening.
He reached down with his trembling left hand, his fingers fumbling for a moment before gripping the smooth, cold hilts of the daggers.
Gritting his teeth against the wave of nausea and pain, he yanked them free with a sharp, desperate pull.
More blood spilled, warm and sticky, flowing down his front. His knees buckled violently under the sudden shock and blood loss. The world tilted crazily. But he wouldn't fall. He couldn't fall.
Not now. Not yet. He forced himself to stay upright, swaying slightly, one hand clutching his bleeding stomach, the other still gripping his sword.
Just then—as he fought to stay conscious, as pain threatened to overwhelm him—he felt another presence.
Not something he saw, but something he sensed. A faint whisper in the wind, a shift in the air currents, a sudden feeling of danger screaming from directly in front of him.
His head snapped up, his instincts, amplified by Millenia and the life-or-death situation, screaming a warning louder than any shouted alarm.
Dropping out of the sky wasn't an attack from the magician on the tree. It was the swordsman. The first opponent mentioned.
He must have used the terrain, maybe climbed one of the high walls while Eric was distracted by the other two attackers, and launched himself downwards in a surprise aerial assault.
His blade, the same simple style as Eric's but wielded with deadly expertise, was angled sharply downward, sunlight glinting off the steel, aiming straight for the top of Eric's skull.
There was no hesitation in the swordsman's eyes, no warning shout. This wasn't a test strike or a threat. This was a killing blow, delivered with speed and precision, meant to end the trial right here, right now.
With every last ounce of his will, summoning strength he didn't know he possessed, fueled by Millenia's energy and pure survival instinct, Eric reacted. He threw his own sword upwards, a desperate, instinctive block.
He intercepted the deadly downward strike just milliseconds before it would have connected with his head.
CLAAAAANG!
The two blades crashed together with a deafening, high-pitched screech of protesting metal.
The impact vibrated violently up Eric's arm, jarring his bones all the way to his shoulder. Bright orange sparks flew into the air like tiny fireworks, illuminating the deadly dance for a split second.
Eric gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Blinding pain flashed through his already injured body from the force of the impact and the strain on his wounded stomach. But he held. He had blocked it. He was still alive.
But blocking the blow was one thing; matching the swordsman's strength was another entirely. The Royal Knight facing him was clearly a seasoned warrior, powerfully built and highly skilled.
The force behind his downward strike was immense, relentless. Eric felt his own arms trembling violently under the strain, the muscles in his shoulders and back screaming in protest.
He tried to push back, to redirect the blade, but it was like trying to push against a solid stone wall. He couldn't hold this pressure for long. His feet started to slide backward on the dusty stone tiles.
With a loud grunt of exertion, the swordsman pressed his advantage, putting his weight and momentum into a powerful shove. Eric's desperate block broke.
The swordsman's blade slid off his own, and the sheer force of the push sent Eric staggering backward—then flying helplessly through the air.
He felt a moment of weightlessness before his back slammed hard against the rough stone surface of one of the arena walls that had erupted earlier.
The impact knocked the wind out of him completely. He slid down the wall, landing in a crumpled heap on the dirt floor at its base.
A collective gasp rose from the massive crowd watching from the stands. Thousands of people saw him thrown aside like a broken doll.
Adam, watching through Eric's eyes, saw nobles covering their mouths with shocked or perhaps morbidly fascinated expressions. He heard the whispers start up again, louder this time, less speculative and more certain.
"See? Just like everyone said…"
"Completely overwhelmed in seconds."
"He stood no chance at all."
"Pathetic."
"What an embarrassment for the royal family."
They had all heard the rumors—the whispers that the Third Prince, Eric, was the weakest link, a pale shadow compared to his brilliant siblings. Now, they were seeing the proof with their own eyes. He couldn't even hold his ground against the first opponent for more than a few seconds.
High up in the royal balcony, Eric's family watched the humiliating display in stark silence. Adam focused Eric's slightly blurry vision on them.
His eldest brother, Raven, leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips – a look mixing smug dissatisfaction with utter indifference.
His second brother, Leonard, simply stared down at the arena with quiet, intellectual disappointment, perhaps analyzing Eric's failure like a failed experiment.
His mother had squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her hands clasped in her lap, clearly unable to watch her son be defeated so easily.
And the Emperor… King Noor IV… remained perfectly still. Cold. Emotionless. Not even a flicker of surprise, anger, or pity crossed his stern face. His gaze swept over Eric's fallen form on the ground below as if looking at a disappointing own son.
As Eric lay there on the hard ground, his ears ringing from the impact, his body aching, the stab wounds in his stomach throbbing horribly, he heard the crowd's murmurs. He felt their judgment pressing down on him, heavier than any physical blow.
He turned his head weakly, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and blood, towards the royal box—towards the man who was supposed to be his Father.
And he saw it clearly now. Reflected not just in the King's icy stare, but mirrored in the eyes of his brothers, in the pitying looks from the nobles, even in the faces of the common folk high above.
Disappointment. Utter, complete disappointment. Mixed with scorn, pity, and maybe even relief that the inevitable was happening.
Something inside Eric snapped.
He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. Blood dripped from his split lip onto the dirt. His hands dug into the ground beneath him, fingers curling into tight, trembling fists, dirt and small stones grinding under his nails.
The weakness, the pain, the years of being looked down upon, the crushing weight of this final, public failure – it all coalesced into a single, burning point of desperate rage and defiance.
Then, under his breath, so low it was almost a growl, raw and ragged, he spoke to the presence only he could perceive.
"… System Window… give me more power. Now."
There was a pause. Only silence answered him for a heartbeat, both in the arena and inside his head.
Then, Millenia's voice returned, still calm but now laced with serious concern.
"Eric, the risk is extreme. If I give you more energy now, while you are injured and already stressed, your body may not survive the overload—it could tear itself apart—"
Before she could finish her warning, Eric snapped. He didn't care about the risk anymore. He wouldn't fail like this. He wouldn't be discarded. His voice, suddenly loud and sharp, cracked through the tense silence immediately around him, startling even himself with its intensity:
"I DON'T CARE! I SAID GIVE ME THE POWER!"
Silence followed his desperate shout. The swordsman, who had started walking towards him cautiously, perhaps to deliver a final blow or simply accept his surrender, paused, looking surprised by the outburst.
Then… a soft whisper in his mind.
"…Very well, Eric," Millenia replied, a note of something unreadable in her tone – perhaps resignation, perhaps resolve. "Prepare yourself."
Inside the Eric body Adam's domain, invisible to Eric, Millenia's glowing blue form seemed to brighten significantly. She raised her ethereal hand, and her featureless eyes began to glow with fierce intensity.
The energy within her surged, no longer a gentle trickle but a powerful flood. It poured out from her, across the connection between them, and surged directly into Eric's broken, bleeding body lying on the arena floor.
The effect was instantaneous and dramatic. A brilliant blue light flared around Eric, so bright it made people in the stands shield their eyes.
The bleeding from the dagger wounds in his stomach abruptly stopped, the torn flesh visibly knitting itself back together at supernatural speed.
The bruises faded. The ringing in his ears ceased. His ragged breathing steadied, becoming deep and powerful. Strength, raw and untamed, flooded his limbs, chasing away the pain and exhaustion.
Power began to swirl visibly around him, thick and electric blue like mist clinging to his skin, crackling faintly in the air. Small flames of pure blue energy danced across his arms and shoulders.
The swordsman, who had moments ago looked down on Eric with a mixture of duty and maybe a shred of pity for the weak prince, now took an involuntary step backward. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief, maybe even a hint of fear creeping into his expression as he stared at the impossible transformation happening before him.
Eric slowly, steadily, rose back to his feet. He didn't look weak or injured anymore. He looked… dangerous. The blue flames of energy danced around him, casting flickering shadows on his face, making his golden eyes seem to glow with an intense, otherworldly light.
And deep within that transformed body, in the soul realm, Adam's thoughtful smile widened into a broad, predatory grin. He felt the surge of power Millenia was channeling into Eric.
He felt the subtle straining of the seal around his domain as Eric's body was pushed beyond its limits. This was it. The chaos, the desperation, the surge of external power – the conditions Millenia had described.
He whispered to himself, his voice filled with eager anticipation, "So… the time has finally come."
He stretched out both of his spiritual arms wide, flexing his fingers. A powerful, crackling aura of his own immense blue energy began to gather around his fingertips, swirling and intensifying. The very fabric of his dark domain seemed to vibrate around him.
"Then let's not waste this opportunity," he declared, his eyes fixed on the connection to Eric, ready to make his move. "Let's take control of this body."