The noise of the stadium was overwhelming, thousands of people talking, shouting, getting excited all at once.
But even through all that sound, Eric heard the voice again. It wasn't loud, but it was very clear, cutting through the noise like a single soft bell.
"Eric…"
The voice called his name. That voice—gentle, warm, full of feeling. He didn't need to think even for a second to know whose it was. He knew that voice better than his own name.
His eyes got wide suddenly, and he turned around quickly, looking in the direction the sound came from.
Running towards him, her arms open wide and her eyes full of tears that sparkled in the sunlight, was his mother—the Queen.
Her beautiful robes, usually so neat and tidy, were flowing around her as she ran. She looked like she didn't care who saw, she just wanted to reach him.
Before Eric could even understand what was happening, or say anything, she jumped into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and held him so tightly.
The strength of her sudden hug was strong, almost making him fall down as she held him like she never wanted to let go. His face was pressed against her shoulder, and he could feel her shaking slightly as she cried happy tears.
He could smell the familiar, comforting scent of her perfume and her clothes, a smell that brought back memories of being small and safe. The hug was not just a physical embrace; it was a flood of relief, pride, and overwhelming love pouring out of her after watching him fight and win.
"I knew it!" she cried out, her voice shaking with emotion. It was muffled against his tunic. "I always knew it! My son—my smart, brilliant son—was meant for important things! He was meant for greatness!"
Eric felt his face turn bright red. He could feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. 'Mom, please, not here,' he thought desperately.
The whole stadium was watching. Not just the nobles and knights near the front, but the regular citizens too, all the way up to the highest seats. Everyone's eyes were fixed on him, on them. He could feel the weight of thousands of eyes on his back.
He could hear the sudden quiet that had fallen over the crowd as they watched this very public display of a mother's love for her forgotten son. It wasn't that he didn't love his mother, or didn't appreciate her hug, but this... this was too much for him, especially right now, after everything.
He gently tried to pull away, not wanting to hurt her feelings but needing a little space. He whispered awkwardly, his voice barely a sound against the noise that was just starting to bubble up again, "Mom… please don't do this in public... it's okay, I'm fine."
Hearing his voice, hearing the slight note of embarrassment in it, the Queen finally realized what she'd done. She knew Eric was not used to being the center of attention like this, especially not with his family showing so much feeling.
She stepped back slowly, loosening her hold but still keeping her hands on his arms for a moment.
A small, soft chuckle escaped her lips, a sound of gentle amusement mixed with a touch of embarrassment of her own.
She quickly brushed the tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand, and gave Eric a soft, loving smile. It was a mother's smile, warm and full of understanding. She looked so proud, her eyes shining.
As the Queen stepped fully away, giving Eric some breathing space, the feeling of thousands of eyes was still intense. Eric took a quiet breath, trying to calm his fast-beating heart. This sudden attention was overwhelming. He was used to being in the background, unnoticed.
Just then, from the corner of his eye, Eric noticed something else. A tall, impressive figure was walking toward him. A different kind of quiet fell over the people closest to them. This quiet was not just silence, it was a feeling of importance and power.
Eric froze. His whole body tensed up. The figure had a strong, powerful way of walking, his royal robes, dark and rich, flowing behind him like a serious banner.
His very presence commanded silence without him needing to say a single word. People bowed their heads slightly as he passed, making a clear path towards Eric.
It was the King—Eric's father.
Eric's heart, which had just started to slow down, began to pound even harder. It felt like a drum beating wildly in his chest. He felt a tight lump rise in his throat, making it hard to swallow. This was the moment he dreaded.
What's he thinking? His mind raced, questions flying around in his head like trapped birds. Does he know everything? Does he know I wasn't the one who did all this fighting with amazing skill... that it was the power from the System? That I just used what the System gave me? He had kept the System a complete secret from everyone. The idea of his strict, demanding father finding out felt terrifying.
His thoughts went back to how things used to be. He had never been able to meet his father's eyes for long periods. The King had always looked at him with disappointment… or worse, with indifference, as if Eric wasn't really there, not worth noticing.
That cold gaze had always felt like a heavy weight on Eric's shoulders. He had learned to expect it, had grown used to that feeling of being invisible to his own father. It was a wound that never fully healed, just became a part of him.
But this time, when the King finally stopped directly in front of him, only a few feet away, and looked into Eric's eyes… it was different. Completely different.
There was no look of scorn. No disapproval in those eyes that held so much authority. The coldness was gone.
There was emotion. Clear and visible. There was seriousness, yes, and the weight of responsibility that always rested on the King's face, but underneath that, Eric saw something that made him gasp softly.
He saw relief. He saw a flicker of pride. And perhaps, just maybe, a hint of regret for the past.
"I'm proud of you, Eric," the King said in a deep, strong voice. His voice was the voice of command, the one that ruled a kingdom, but as he spoke those simple words to Eric, it held a softness, a sincerity Eric had never heard directed at him before.
"Today, you didn't just protect yourself out there—you protected me. You protected your family. You protected this kingdom."
Eric blinked his eyes slowly, trying to process the words. Disbelief washed over him. Had he heard that right? His father? Proud of him? Saying he protected him? The lump in his throat grew bigger. It was almost painful. These were words he had yearned to hear his entire life, words he had long ago given up hoping for.
His father's face, usually so stern and unchanging like a statue, was now calm. There was no frown, no trace of disappointment that Eric expected to see. Just… sincerity. Simple, powerful honesty. The King looked at him not as a failure, but as someone who had proven himself, someone who mattered.
For a moment, Eric felt like a child again. All the years of feeling ignored, all the effort he thought was unseen, all the quiet pain... it all came rushing up. He wanted to cry, right there in front of everyone. He wanted to let out all those held-back feelings in a rush of tears.
The edges of his vision blurred slightly, and his eyes started to sting. But before the emotion could completely take over him, before the first tear could fall, two familiar voices broke through the tension of the moment.
Leonard, one of his older brothers, the one known for being Great magician and a bit mischievous, stepped forward. He wasn't as tall as the King, but he had a relaxed, confident air. He had a smirk on his face, a familiar look that Eric knew meant he was about to tease.
"Alright, alright, don't you dare start crying now, kiddo," he said, moving close and lightly punching Eric's shoulder in a friendly, rough way. The punch wasn't hard, just enough to snap Eric back to the present moment. Leonard leaned in a little, still smirking.
"Come on, I've finally got this cool image of you in my head, you know, the amazing fighter taking down the tough guys. Let's not ruin it with tears and make me change my mind. You gotta keep that strong image now!"
Eric chuckled nervously, the sudden shift in tone and the familiarity of his brother's teasing helping him pull himself together. He quickly brushed at his eyes with his fingers, just in case, and stood up straighter, trying to look more composed.
Leonard gave him a quick, approving nod and a genuine smile underneath the smirk. It wasn't just teasing; there was real relief and affection in his brother's eyes.
Then came Raven, the second brother, who was known for being more serious and focused on fighting and strength. He didn't have a smirk like Leonard; his face was intense.
He stepped forward with purpose. And then, to Eric's surprise (and maybe a little bit of shock), Raven pulled out his sword.
The steel blade gleamed sharply in the stadium light. He held it in a practiced grip and pointed the tip—not directly at Eric, but clearly in his direction, a gesture of challenge.
"Eric," he declared, his eyes gleaming with a competitive fire and pure excitement. His voice was firm and loud, full of a warrior's energy.
"I want to fight you. Not in some rigged tournament, but a real test. I need to test your talent with my own hands, blade to blade. I need to know just how strong you've become!"
Raven looked genuinely eager for a duel right then and there. But before he could finish his sentence, or take even one step closer with that challenging sword, their mother reacted.
The Queen, who had just been crying tears of joy, turned into a fierce protector in a flash. She moved like lightning, quick and decisive, stepping directly between Raven and Eric.
Smack!
Her open hand landed sharply on Raven's shoulder. It wasn't a soft pat; it made a clear sound that many people nearby could hear. It was the kind of sound that only a mother can make with perfect timing and effect.
"Raven! What do you think you're doing?!" she scolded, her voice sharp and leaving no room for argument. She put her hands on her hips, looking every bit the formidable Queen, but also very much a mother protective of her child. "He just fought three people back to back! One of them the Knight of the Royal Guard! Let him rest! Are you crazy?!"
Raven winced visibly from the hit and the scolding. He rubbed his shoulder, looking slightly hurt and very much like a child caught doing something wrong, despite his warrior appearance.
He lowered his sword slowly, his earlier fierceness melting away under his mother's stern gaze. He pouted a little, muttering,
"I was just joking, Mother… trying to challenge him like brothers do…" He sounded slightly wronged, like his pure warrior spirit was being misunderstood.
Laughter spread through the group around Eric – Leonard, the Queen, even some of the closer advisors and knights couldn't help but smile or chuckle. It was a light moment, a touch of normal family craziness in the middle of this huge public event.
But then, the laughter died down as the King stepped forward once again, his expression turning serious but still kind. He looked at Eric, his eyes holding that new depth Eric was starting to understand.
"I won't ask why you hid this talent all these years," he said, his voice firm but soft, conveying both authority and acceptance. It was his way of saying, 'The past is the past. What matters now is the future.'
"That does not matter now. But from now on, Eric, I expect you to use it—use this skill, this strength, this intelligence you clearly possess—for the kingdom. You will train, you will learn, and you will serve."
Eric looked up at his father, listening intently to every word. For a second, he was speechless, trying to take it all in. The weight of the expectation was heavy, but it was a weight he was suddenly ready to carry. It wasn't a punishment; it was an honor.
He swallowed hard and nodded his head, a firm agreement to his father's command. As he nodded, a grin, a genuine, happy grin, tugged at the corner of his lips.
He wanted to shout for joy, to jump up and down right there in the stadium—because for the first time in his life, he wasn't invisible. He wasn't just the quiet, overlooked third prince. He was seen.
His family had finally acknowledged him. Not just as a member of the family by name, but as someone of value, someone with purpose.
The King's pride, the Queen's unwavering love, Leonard's teasing acceptance, Raven's warrior challenge—they were all acknowledging the 'new' Eric. The 'Eric' that the System had helped him become, but that he had also shaped through his own actions and choices.
Then came the wave of nobles. It started subtly, but quickly became a stream of people approaching him.
From every corner of the area closest to the royal family, they started approaching—ministers in their fine robes, council members with their calculating eyes now showing respect, hardened generals who had only ever nodded curtly before, important lords and ladies.
Even the Prime Minister himself, the King's most trusted advisor and the most powerful person in the kingdom after the King, came forward to congratulate Eric. People stepped aside to make way for him.
He was an older man, with a wise face, known for his calm and strategic mind. He stopped in front of Eric and bowed slightly, a clear sign of deep respect. Other high-ranking officials followed his lead, also bowing, their earlier shock now replaced by calculated admiration and a clear understanding that the power structure they knew had just changed.
They spoke words of praise, their voices polite and respectful. They praised his strength, his courage, his fighting skill, and his composure under pressure.
Their admiration seemed sincere now, a mix of genuine awe at what they had witnessed and the natural tendency to show respect to someone the King clearly favored.
They shook his hand, patted his back, and looked at him with new eyes. Eyes that had previously looked through him now looked at him, assessing, acknowledging, and maybe, just a little, fearful.
Eric felt overwhelmed but stood tall, accepting their congratulations as gracefully as he could. He tried to meet their eyes, offer a small smile, and murmur thanks.
Then, with the crowd watching and the nobles gathered around, the King turned back toward the masses of people filling the stadium.
He raised a hand for silence, and a hush fell over the thousands of people. His voice, already deep and powerful, seemed to boom even louder through the sudden quiet, amplified by his royal authority.
"As your King," he announced, his voice echoing across the stadium, carrying the full weight of his power and the significance of his words, "I hereby declare that Prince Eric has proven his worth today in fair combat. He has shown strength, skill, and bravery worthy of the royal bloodline!"
The crowd gasped again, a single, collective sound of astonishment that swept through the stands like a wave.
Murmurs ran through the stands like ripples on a lake, growing louder as people discussed what they had just heard. You could see heads turning, people talking animatedly to their neighbors, pointing towards Eric. Shock and excitement were clear on many faces.
"I am not naming him Crown Prince yet," the King continued, making it clear this was a significant step, but not the final one.
The King knew better than to rush such a crucial decision, and also likely wanted to see how Eric handled this new position and the pressure that came with it.
"The race for the title of Crown Prince requires continued dedication, wisdom, and proof of one's ability to lead and protect the kingdom..."
"...But in the future—should he continue to prove himself worthy, to develop his talents, and serve the kingdom with honor—Prince Eric will have that chance. He is now officially eligible to join his brothers in the race for the highest position!"
Eric's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, his mind struggling to fully grasp the weight of his father's declaration. The Crown Prince race? He was actually in it now? The possibility felt unreal, a dream come true he hadn't even dared to fully wish for.
Beside him, his mother grabbed both his shoulders again, not with the forceful, tearful embrace from before, but gently, steadying him.
She leaned close to him, her expression soft and knowing, and whispered something only he could hear over the lingering murmurs of the crowd.
"Your father worries about you more than he lets on, Eric… even more than I do sometimes. He just has a different way of showing it."
Hearing that, hearing the truth behind the King's earlier words of pride, Eric's heart swelled even further. It wasn't just pride in a fighter;
it was the worry of a father for his son, hidden beneath layers of royal duty and personal reserve. Knowing that his distant, formidable father cared deeply for him, perhaps more than he ever realized, was incredibly moving.
Around him, the smiles he saw were different now. Even Leonard's usual teasing smirk held a deeper layer of pride.
Raven was looking at him with pure respect and still a touch of competitive eagerness, but without the sword.
The Prime Minister, usually so controlled, had a small, warm smile. And the his trainer knight Roald, standing near the Prime Minister, known for rarely showing any emotion, had a faint, almost invisible smile on his lips. It was the smallest of gestures, but to Eric, it meant the world.
Because finally, Eric was no longer the forgotten prince. He was visible. He was acknowledged. He was respected.
He was a true contender. The future of the kingdom, which once seemed completely out of his reach, now felt like a path opening up before him. And he was ready to walk it.