As the magician frantically continued chanting his powerful spell, the energy building around him surged dramatically, becoming almost overwhelming. The huge magical circle glowing on the ground in front of him, swirling with bright white and deep electric blue lights, grew even larger and seemed to get denser, thicker with power.
Tiny sparks of pure energy cracked and snapped off its edges like miniature lightning bolts, and you could almost feel the pressure pushing outwards from the spell across the entire stadium. It felt heavy, like the air before a massive thunderstorm.
The nobles sitting in the audience, who had initially been just watching with interest, were now leaning far forward in their seats, their faces showing a mix of awe, excitement, and maybe even a little fear.
Shocked murmurs spread quickly through the crowd – this wasn't just some ordinary spell they were seeing. This was something incredibly powerful, maybe even dangerous.
Among the crowd were very important people – rich aristocrats used to seeing impressive things, tough old warriors who had faced death many times, and high-ranking government officials.
Yet even these experienced people looked visibly shaken by the sheer amount of raw energy swirling around the magician down in the arena center.
In a special section reserved for them sat members of the kingdom's Magician's Council – wise old mages and powerful enforcers whose job was to control and regulate magic use.
Their eyes narrowed with serious concern as they looked at each other, exchanging tense glances.
They recognized the type of energy being gathered. The spell the magician was casting wasn't just powerful; it was potentially unstable and extremely dangerous.
One wrong move, one tiny mistake in the complex chant or energy control, and the spell could explode outwards, possibly causing massive destruction that could spill beyond the magically protected arena walls and into the spectator stands.
The situation was becoming critical.
But right in the very center of it all, seemingly unaware or perhaps just uncaring of the massive magical threat building just yards away, stood Adam, inside Eric's body.
He remained perfectly calm, still and unmoving, like the eye of a hurricane. Eric's simple black outfit swayed gently around him, caught in the magical wind being kicked up by the growing spell.
Showing no sign of urgency or fear, Adam slowly bent down to pick up the sword he had dropped earlier—the blade was still stuck firmly point-first into the dirt floor where it had landed.
As his fingers wrapped around the worn leather hilt, feeling the familiar shape, a sharp pulse of unseen energy rippled through the ground beneath his feet, noticed only by the most sensitive magic-users in the crowd.
Then, with a deep, slow exhale, Adam consciously decided to release a small fraction of his own, true aura.
It wasn't a visible explosion of light like before. This was different. A wave of pure, raw energy burst silently from his body – invisible to most eyes, but incredibly potent.
Those with magical sensitivity felt it like a physical pressure wave washing over the stadium, making the air itself feel thick and heavy for a split second.
Within moments, this invisible energy condensed rapidly, coiling and twisting around the simple sword blade Adam now held, like a shimmering, invisible serpent made of pure power wrapping itself around the steel.
It pulsed with contained strength for a moment, then seemed to soak into the metal itself, vanishing completely from the air around him but leaving the sword humming faintly, now charged with a tremendous amount of Adam's energy.
The simple blade suddenly felt different in his hand, heavier, alive, thrumming with potential.
High above the arena, sitting in the royal box, King Noor IV felt his breath catch sharply in his throat.
Until this very moment, his face had remained perfectly controlled, stoic, the mask of a powerful ruler firmly in place, even through Eric's shocking recovery and the defeat of the first two opponents.
But now, as he sensed the quality and sheer immensity of the energy Adam had just subtly released and infused into the sword, that mask of calm finally shattered.
The King's eyes widened slightly, noticeably, and for the first time in many, many years, a flicker of genuine, undeniable fear danced across his regal face before he quickly suppressed it.
The power Adam had just displayed, even in that brief, contained pulse—it wasn't just skill or hidden talent anymore. It was something else, something overwhelming.
Something that couldn't be hidden, couldn't be controlled, couldn't be easily explained away. It was power on a scale that potentially threatened everything.
Just as this realization hit the King, the magician's spell down below reached its absolute peak.
The enormous white-and-blue magic circle on the ground blazed with fiercely concentrated mana, so bright it hurt to look at. It pulsed one final, violent time.
Then, in the next heartbeat, a massive, blindingly thick bolt of pure lightning erupted from the very center of the circle.
It wasn't just a thin zap; it was like an enormous lance made of solid electricity, wider than a man, crackling with untamed power, screaming through the air as it shot directly towards Adam with terrifying speed.
The crowd gasped collectively, a huge wave of sound. Nobles jumped up from their seats, pointing and shouting in alarm. This wasn't a test anymore; this looked like an execution!
And then—in the split second before the massive lightning lance hit him—Adam vanished.
BOOOOOM!
The lightning struck the exact spot on the ground where he had been standing just a millisecond before. It exploded on impact, creating a blinding pillar of searing white and blue light that shot high into the air. Stone tiles vaporized instantly.
Dirt and rock exploded outwards in all directions. A powerful shockwave rippled through the air, strong enough to physically push back people sitting in the lower rows of the stadium.
Dust and smoke billowed high into the sky, completely hiding the center of the arena from view.
Cries of shock and maybe even horror echoed through the now dusty, smoke-filled arena.
"Is he… gone?" someone whispered loudly in the stunned silence, voicing the fear many felt. "Did he get hit?"
The crowd stared nervously at the thick cloud of smoke and dust where Adam had just been standing.
As the smoke slowly began to clear, they could see a large, scorched crater left in the ground, still smoking slightly. The air smelled sharply of burnt soil and ozone, the smell of powerful lightning magic.
Even the magician, who had poured all his energy into that final, massive spell, stood frozen for a moment, breathing heavily, his eyes wide. He stared at the empty crater, a mix of disbelief and maybe even horrified relief washing over his face.
"Did… did I actually do it?" he muttered breathlessly, maybe hoping he hadn't. "Did I kill the Third Prince?" He hadn't meant to use that much power, but he'd lost control in his anger and desperation.
But then, as the smoke thinned further, revealing more of the arena… it became clear the crater was empty.
The illusion of victory shattered.
Everyone's eyes frantically scanned the arena, searching through the haze, the maze walls, the treetops. Where was he? If he wasn't hit, where did he go? The tension in the stadium became electric again, everyone holding their breath, waiting, anticipating.
Suddenly, a clear, confident voice rang out, seeming to come from high above.
"Sword Slash!"
Thousands of heads snapped upward instinctively.
There he was. High above the confused magician, seemingly descending from the sky itself, was the figure of Prince Eric – Adam. He looked sleek and sharp against the backdrop of the clouds and the stadium walls.
He wasn't falling randomly; he was diving purposefully, his sword held pointing straight downwards, aimed directly at the magician below.
The blade wasn't just plain steel anymore; it glowed with a vibrant, intense blue energy – the energy Adam had fed into it earlier – pulsing wildly as if the sword itself was alive and roaring, eager to be released.
The magician below barely had a moment to register the threat from above. His eyes shot wide with panic as he saw Adam hurtling towards him like a vengeful meteor. With sheer desperation born of terror, he reacted instinctively, throwing his hands up and shouting a quick defensive incantation.
A barrier of pure, transparent magical energy instantly formed in the air between him and the falling blade. It shimmered like a thick pane of warped glass, vibrating visibly under the strain even before the attack actually hit it.
It was a strong shield, conjured in haste but powered by his remaining magic.
Adam's descending sword struck the barrier.
CRACK-SHATTER!
A violent cracking sound, louder than breaking glass, echoed through the stadium as the glowing blue sword smashed through the magical barrier in an instant.
The shield didn't even slow it down; it shattered into countless tiny fragments of refracted light that rained down like harmless glitter.
The shockwave from the impact burst outward, sending another wave of pressure and flickering blue light washing over the nearby sections of the arena.
Adam's descending blade, now unimpeded, seemed to surge with even more power, glowing brighter as it continued its downward path towards the terrified magician.
And then—
Adam spun mid-air. Just before reaching the magician, he twisted his entire body with incredible speed and agility, putting all his momentum and power into a wide, horizontal slashing motion.
As he swung the sword, a massive wave of pure blue energy erupted from the blade. It wasn't just a small beam; it was a huge, crescent-shaped arc of destructive force that seemed to cleave the very air apart as it roared horizontally towards the magician.
The slash was incredibly wide, razor-sharp, and visibly brimming with densely packed, condensed energy. It screamed through the air, so bright it outshone the sun for a fleeting, terrifying second. It was aimed to cut the magician clean in half.
The magician's eyes widened in absolute horror. He was trapped. The slash was too wide, too fast.
He couldn't possibly dodge it in time. He couldn't cast another spell; he was out of time and probably low on energy after his massive lightning bolt. He didn't even have time to draw a proper breath. This was it.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, bracing for the impact, accepting his death.
But the searing pain, the end, didn't come.
Instead, just as the massive blue energy slash was about to hit the magician, a dark shadow blurred in front of him.
The slash collided violently, not with the magician's unprotected body, but with a tall figure suddenly standing between them, cloaked entirely in black, intricately detailed armor.
A sword, just as black as the armor, met Adam's raging blue attack head-on with a deafening CLANG of impact.
The newcomer hadn't just blocked it; he was holding it. His black sword was wrapped in its own fierce energy – a deep, angry red aura that coiled and pulsed like living fire around the blade as he held his ground against Adam's overwhelming assault.
For a heart-stopping moment, time seemed to freeze. The two incredible forces clashed violently in mid-air—Adam's bright blue energy slash pushing against the newcomer's dark red defensive aura.
Pure power met pure power. The impact threw up another powerful wave of wind and raw energy, strong enough to physically knock nearby mages, who had perhaps come closer to investigate, off their feet and send dust and debris swirling through the air.
Slowly, still trembling, the magician opened his eyes, realizing he was somehow still alive.
Standing directly in front of him, shielding him, his black sword still locked against the fading remnants of Adam's blue energy slash, was the First Prince, Raven.
His muscles were visibly taut beneath his black armor, straining with the effort. His handsome face was set in a grim, determined expression.
Raven gritted his teeth as he fought to hold back the last vestiges of the raging blue slash. Even as the energy faded, the force behind it was still immense, pushing him back inch by painful inch. His armored boots scraped loudly across the arena floor, digging grooves through the dirt and cracked stone tiles.
But Raven wasn't alone for long.
With a soft shimmer of golden light, a second figure appeared instantly beside him—Leonard, the Second Prince, the master magician.
He didn't draw a weapon. Instead, he raised one hand swiftly, palm facing outward towards the dissipating blue energy. A barrier made of radiant, golden magical energy sprang into existence, extending high into the air like a translucent wall.
It wasn't aimed at blocking the main force, which Raven was handling, but seemed designed to absorb the leftover, wild energy still shooting upward and outward from the clash, protecting the stadium and perhaps preventing further damage.
Together, the two highly talented princes stood their ground, shoulder to shoulder, protecting the defeated magician behind them. Raven, the master swordsman, bracing his fiery red blade against the attack.
Leonard, the genius magician, shielding the surroundings with his golden magic. They poured every ounce of their considerable strength, every bit of their innate talent, into holding Adam's single attack at bay.
Finally, after seconds that had felt like an eternity to everyone watching, the raw energy of Adam's blue slash began to fade completely.
The slash lost its sharpness, the bright light dimmed, the pressure lessened, and then, at last, it vanished entirely into the air, like a dream fading upon waking.
Silence fell once more, thick and heavy, as the two princes lowered their defenses, breathing heavily, staring across the arena at their youngest brother who stood calmly where he had landed, sword now held loosely at his side. The confrontation had been stopped, but the shock remained.