Adam's kick connected with the Royal Knight swordsman's chest with a sound like a blacksmith's hammer hitting solid metal, followed immediately by a sickening crunch.
The force wasn't just physical; it was amplified, charged with the strange, potent energy Adam now commanded within Eric's body. It felt like unleashing a tightly coiled spring.
The swordsman, despite his training and heavy armor, had absolutely no defense against such raw, unexpected power delivered with impossible speed.
His body was literally lifted off the ground, hurled backward like a cannonball. He flew through the air in a messy sprawl, arms flailing uselessly, covering an incredible distance across the transformed arena floor.
His trajectory ended abruptly as he slammed violently into one of the thick, artificial trees near the raised platforms at the edge of the stadium structure. The impact was brutal.
Dust, bark, and maybe even splinters exploded outwards from the point of collision. The crowd collectively gasped, a wave of shocked sound rippling through the thousands of spectators. Many flinched back as if they themselves had been hit.
Normally, if any other warrior, even a strong one, had delivered such a kick, the armored knight might have been pushed back, maybe winded, perhaps bruised. But this was different.
This wasn't just a physical strike boosted by adrenaline. Adam had channeled his own unique energy into the blow, making Eric's leg strike with power far beyond normal human limits.
The kick had hit the swordsman squarely in the chest plate, right over his heart and lungs. The sharp cracking sound that had echoed faintly across the stunned arena before being swallowed by the gasps was almost certainly the sound of ribs shattering beneath the dented metal.
The knight lay crumpled at the base of the tree like a discarded toy. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he coughed violently, each cough sending jolts of agony through his broken body.
He struggled weakly, trying to push himself up, his trembling fingers clawing desperately at the dirt and grass around the tree roots, but his limbs refused to obey.
The pain was too intense, overwhelming his senses. His strength, his formidable warrior's strength, had been completely drained in that single, devastating blow.
His chest had visibly caved in slightly where the kick landed; it was obvious that multiple ribs, if not his sternum too, had been fractured or shattered under the incredible pressure. He was out of the fight, lucky to even be conscious.
A few yards away, hiding near the base of another tall, strategically placed tree, the magician – the second opponent – witnessed the entire, shocking exchange. He had been crouching cautiously, perhaps preparing his next spell, but his eyes were now wide with utter disbelief.
His jaw hung slightly open. He hadn't expected this outcome—nobody had. The prince, the weakling, the disappointment, had just taken out a veteran Royal Knight with a single kick? It wasn't just the force of the kick that shocked the magician;
it was the terrifying precision, the calm calculation behind it, and the supernatural speed that seemed impossible for a human body, let alone Eric's frail one.
This wasn't the fumbling prince he had prepared to face. This was something else entirely. Something dangerous.
Back in the stadium stands, the thousands of spectators were frozen in a thick, stunned silence. The earlier whispers and murmurs had died completely.
What they had just watched completely shattered everything they thought they knew, everything they had believed about the Third Prince, Eric. Disbelief warred with awe on their faces.
Quiet, hesitant whispers began to pass among them again, but this time they weren't scornful, they were filled with confusion and maybe even fear.
"Did… did you see that?"
"He kicked him… across the arena?"
"How is that possible?"
"Is this really Prince Eric?"
"The same prince everyone said was the weakest?"
"Maybe… maybe the rumors were wrong all along?"
Even Adam's own family—watching from the best seats in the royal gallery—stared down at the scene in stunned disbelief.
Their faces showed a mixture of shock and confusion as they struggled to match the image of the quiet, seemingly powerless boy they thought they knew with the figure who had just effortlessly, brutally dispatched a Royal Knight.
King Noor IV, usually so composed, felt a complex storm of emotions swirling inside him.
His mouth was actually open just slightly, caught somewhere between pure astonishment at the raw power displayed and a strange, unexpected surge of pride. This frail son he had worried over, shielded, and perhaps pitied… was capable of this?
Roald, Eric's personal combat trainer – Adam's trainer now, technically – who had always believed he understood the limits of Eric's abilities better than anyone, sat completely frozen in his designated seat near the royal box.
His mouth, too, hung open slightly, his eyes wide as if trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed.
The raw power was one thing, but the perfect timing, the precise execution, the sheer impossible speed—it was far beyond anything he had ever taught Eric, beyond anything he thought Eric could ever achieve.
Had the prince been hiding this level of skill from him all these years? Or was this something truly new, something… else?
As the defeated swordsman lay crumpled and groaning in the dirt by the tree, Adam's attention, now fully inhabiting Eric's body, shifted slightly.
His gaze swept calmly across the arena, landing on the magician who was still positioned across the way.
The mage, visibly shaken by the swift and brutal takedown of his teammate, looked extremely wary.
His earlier confidence, the arrogance of a skilled magic-user facing a supposedly weak opponent, had completely evaporated, replaced by cautious uncertainty and maybe even a hint of fear.
He clutched his dark wand tightly, his knuckles white.
But then, just as Adam's gaze locked onto him, Adam felt it. A shift in the air. A familiar prickling sensation against his borrowed skin.
Magical energy—thick, heavy, and deliberately gathered—began swirling rapidly around the magician's position amongst the trees.
The air itself seemed to pulse and thrum as mana, the invisible fuel for spells, was drawn towards the magician unnaturally fast, far quicker than a novice could manage.
Beneath Adam's feet, the solid ground trembled faintly, not from an earthquake, but from the focused magical power building nearby.
A moment later, with a sound like tearing earth, multiple sharp spikes made of compressed soil and rock erupted violently from the ground directly beneath where Adam stood!
They shot upwards with incredible speed, easily reaching almost two meters tall, their tips wickedly sharp, aimed directly at impaling him from below. It was a classic earth magic trap, sprung instantly.
It was a deadly attack, launched without warning while Adam's attention might have seemed focused elsewhere.
It should have caught him off guard. It should have skewered him where he stood.
But before the earthen spikes could even graze the hem of Eric's tunic, Adam vanished.
One blink, he was standing there; the next blink, the spot where he stood was empty, the spikes thrusting upwards into nothing but air.
He reappeared instantly, just a few feet away to the side—standing perfectly calm, completely untouched, and seemingly undisturbed, his balance perfect.
There was no residual glow of magic around him, no flash of light like typical teleportation spells often left behind.
There were no chanted words, no complex hand gestures. Just… pure, unimaginable speed.
To the shocked eyes of everyone watching in the stadium, it looked exactly like he had teleported, instantly moving from one spot to another.
But Adam knew the truth. It wasn't teleportation magic, which he hadn't bothered to use.
He had simply moved Eric's body with such incredible velocity, reacting the instant he sensed the mana gathering, that it defied normal human perception. He had moved faster than their eyes could follow.
Another collective gasp swept through the crowd, louder this time, mixed with cries of disbelief. They couldn't track his movement at all. It was like he was playing tricks on their eyes.
Even King Noor IV, a renowned warrior in his prime, known for his sharp senses and combat experience, had trouble following his son's motion. He saw the spikes erupt, saw Eric standing there, and then suddenly Eric was just… somewhere else.
The King was visibly shocked again, but hidden deep within his stern expression, behind the mask of the ruler, a tiny flicker of something warm – maybe happiness, maybe relief – lit up.
So this… the King thought with a surge of unexpected emotion, this incredible power, this impossible speed… this is who my son truly is.
For years, King Noor IV and the Queen had subtly hidden Eric—keeping him away from the cutthroat world of court politics, shielding him from ambitious nobles who might try to use his perceived weakness or break his gentle spirit.
While most people in the kingdom believed it was solely the Queen's motherly affection protecting her "disappointing" son, the truth was more complicated.
It was the King himself who had quietly ensured Eric remained largely out of the spotlight, away from the pressures and dangers faced by his highly talented older brothers.
He saw Eric's kindness, his empathy, and worried that the harsh realities of their world would crush him. He wanted to protect that gentle heart.
But now, as he watched his son stand firm and untouchable in the deadly arena, effortlessly evading lethal attacks, wielding power beyond comprehension,
King Noor IV could no longer deny the immense pride swelling inside his chest. This was not the son he thought he knew.
The King's mind briefly flashed back. Eric's coming-of-age ceremony was getting close. It was a major event, marking a prince's official entry into adult responsibilities and duties.
Because of this approaching ceremony, the King could no longer completely shield him from public life and royal obligations.
The Royal Council, a powerful group of nobles and advisors bound by centuries of tradition, had formally demanded Eric's participation in these royal trials.
It was custom; all princes had to face them to prove their worthiness, even if everyone assumed Eric would fail spectacularly.
The King had argued against it privately, tried to find ways around it, wanting to spare Eric the public humiliation he felt was inevitable. But tradition was strong, and the Council had insisted.
Reluctantly, knowing he couldn't defy tradition without causing major political problems, the King had agreed.
He had braced himself for Eric's failure, prepared to manage the fallout, maybe even arrange a quiet, comfortable exile for him afterwards.
But now, witnessing his son's unbelievable performance – the effortless power, the impossible speed, the calm confidence – he knew everything had changed.
This wasn't a weak boy in need of protection anymore. This was… something else. A hidden power, a sleeping dragon finally awakened.
A force waiting to be unleashed upon the world. The King felt a thrill course through him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years.
Maybe, just maybe, his disappointment had been misplaced all along.
Back on the battlefield, Adam's attention returned fully to the magician.
The mage was still standing across the transformed arena, looking thoroughly rattled now after his surprise earth spike spell had failed so completely, evaded with such insulting ease.
Adam fixed his eyes – Eric's golden eyes, now sharp and unwavering – on him. "I want to test something," Adam said simply, his voice calm and carrying clearly across the distance between them.
It wasn't a threat, more like a statement of fact, like a scientist announcing an experiment.
The magician, already frustrated and maybe a little scared, looked up and saw that Eric—or the being controlling him—had completely dodged his spell without breaking a sweat.
Anger twisted the magician's face, overriding his caution. He snarled, his voice filled with fury and wounded pride. He couldn't accept being shown up like this by the "talentless" prince.
He leaped down dramatically from the treetop perch where he had been hiding.
Landing lightly on the ground, he threw his arms wide and shouted furiously, his voice echoing across the stadium,
"You think you're fast?! You think you're powerful?! Fine! I'll show you my most powerful spell! Let's see you dodge this!"
His voice reverberated with magical energy as he began chanting rapidly, words rolling off his tongue in an ancient, powerful language that few in the crowd understood but everyone could feel the power behind.
In front of him, the air began to shimmer and distort. A glowing magic circle started to form rapidly on the ground before him—it began as a small point of light, then expanded quickly.
It was primarily brilliant white in color, but intricate patterns pulsed through it in streaks of electric blue lightning.
The circle grew larger and larger by the second, easily spanning several meters wide, buzzing loudly with intense, contained magical energy.
Sparks of raw lightning crackled violently around its edges as the magician poured more and more of his own mana into the spell, building power towards something clearly meant to be incredibly destructive.
The ground around the circle started to glow, and the air felt heavy, charged with static. It was clearly his ultimate attack, a spell meant to obliterate, not just defeat.
But Adam seemed completely unimpressed by the dramatic magical spectacle unfolding across the arena.
He ignored the growing magic circle, the crackling lightning, the magician's furious chanting, as if it were all just a minor distraction.
His gaze shifted away from the magician entirely, moving towards the spot nearby where his sword – Eric's sword – was still stuck blade-first into the ground from where he'd dropped it after blocking the swordsman earlier.
Calmly, almost casually, Adam walked over to the sword. He reached down and gripped the familiar worn leather hilt.
With a smooth, effortless pull, he freed the blade from the earth. He gave it a practice swing, testing its balance, getting the feel of it in this body.
Without even sparing the magician, who was still pouring all his energy into his massive spell, a single glance, Adam muttered quietly to himself, his voice filled with cool curiosity.
"Okay, magic is one thing… Let's see… how good my swordsmanship really is in this body."