The swordsman, the Royal Knight who had rushed at Adam, stopped completely for a moment. His mind was trying hard to understand what was happening, because it didn't seem possible.
His strong sword swing, which was supposed to end the fight or at least make Adam really struggle to block it, had been stopped cold.
Not by a shield, not by another sword pushing it away, but caught easily, almost like a joke, between the prince's thumb and two fingers on his left hand.
The sword hadn't even made Adam bleed. It just… stopped, held firm right near Adam's neck. The feeling of being made to look foolish burned worse than any cut.
Clenching his teeth with anger and disbelief, the swordsman automatically tried to pull his sword back. He yanked hard, using his considerable strength, expecting the blade to slide free or at least force the prince to move his hand.
But it didn't move. Not even a tiny bit.
His sword blade stayed stuck firmly between those two normal-looking fingers and thumb. Adam's grip was like solid steel, impossible to break. The swordsman pulled again, straining with all his might, his muscles bulging under his uniform.
He might as well have been trying to pull his sword out of solid rock.
There wasn't even a small shake, not a sound of the blade hitting against those fingers. It was held perfectly still, going against everything the swordsman knew about how things worked and all his years of training. How could just fingers have such impossible strength?
Adam, still holding the blade easily, looked into the eyes of the shocked swordsman standing just a few feet away. He saw the surprise in the man's eyes, the confusion, the slow understanding that he was fighting someone far more powerful than a normal opponent.
And then, for just a short moment, Adam felt something strange inside himself. A quick feeling of… was it fear? No, not fear of the swordsman. It was something else, a weird feeling caused by the look in the swordsman's eyes.
Even though things were impossible and he was completely overpowered and embarrassed, the swordsman wasn't showing terror. He showed shock, yes. Anger, definitely.
But underneath it, Adam felt a strong sense of duty, a soldier's determination that didn't break even when faced with something unbelievable.
"He's not afraid?" Adam thought, truly surprised for a second. "Even now? After seeing this? He's still focused on his job, his mission to 'test' me?"
It was a surprising look at inner strength, a kind of human spirit Adam hadn't seen before, or maybe hadn't paid attention to. It was… interesting.
But before Adam could think more about that strange feeling, before he could figure out why the swordsman wasn't scared, he felt it.
His senses, now much stronger and connected to Eric's body and his own power, noticed a sudden problem in the air.
Something was moving fast and silently, coming quickly from his right side, from the fake forest and wall.
Tiny, almost invisible things were cutting through the wind at amazing speed. He knew what they were right away.
Needles.
The same kind of almost invisible, very sharp needles that had hit Eric earlier when Adam was still just a helpless observer stuck inside Eric's body.
And now they were back. Sent from the shadows by the hidden attacker.
But this time, they seemed more deadly. Faster. More of them. A quiet, almost invisible crowd heading right for him, aiming for important places, meant to stop him or kill him.
This time, though, Adam wasn't helpless. He wasn't just watching through scared eyes. He was in control.
Just as the dangerous cloud of needles crossed the halfway point across the arena floor, getting close in less than a heartbeat, Adam did something. He didn't panic or even look worried.
He moved his feet slightly, a smooth, easy movement. Then, using his right hand – the one holding Eric's sword – he swung the blade. Not just waving it around, but with amazing accuracy and speed. Twice. Two smooth, perfect, almost beautiful circles towards where the attack was coming from.
FWOOSH..! FWOOSH..!
Two sharp, curved shapes of pure white energy, like solid light, shot out from the tip of the sword. They sliced through the air with a sound like ripping cloth, moving incredibly fast.
These energy slashes weren't solid things; they were focused power given a visible form. They shot across the arena and hit the incoming swarm of needles violently in the air.
CRACK!
TWING!
PING!
The sound of many tiny hits echoed loudly. The energy slashes cut cleanly through the fast projectiles, slicing them neatly in half or breaking them into harmless pieces before they could even get close to Adam.
The now-broken pieces of the dangerous needles fell to the ground.
Some stuck in the dirt floor like thrown darts, others bounced off the stone walls with quiet metallic sounds. The quiet, deadly attack had been stopped completely, easily, almost like it was nothing.
Gasps came from the crowd again. They had seen the energy slashes, bright white against the arena floor. They understood, even if they couldn't fully understand how fast it happened, that the prince had just stopped a hidden attack with skill that seemed impossible.
The swordsman, who had still been desperately trying to pull his own weapon free from Adam's impossible grip, froze again.
His eyes jumped towards where the needles had come from, then back to the scattered pieces on the ground, then finally to Adam, who still stood calmly holding his sword, having used his other hand to swing Eric's sword to stop the attack. He couldn't believe what he had just seen.
"He… he blocked the assassin's needles… while still holding my sword… with one hand?" The swordsman's head spun. How aware he was, how fast he reacted, how much power he showed… it was more than anything he thought was possible, especially from someone who looked like Prince Eric.
The swordsman wasn't the only one completely shocked by Adam's easy defense.
The assassin, Asherin – the one who had sent the group of needles from his hiding spot – was also caught completely off guard. He was a master of hiding and hitting targets perfectly, trained since he was a child in silent killing and tricking people.
He had chosen the perfect moment, attacking while the prince seemed totally busy with the swordsman, hoping to use the distraction to land a blow that would hurt him badly, to weaken him from the side as planned.
But instead of seeing the prince stumble or cry out in pain, what he saw was something that went against all his special training and experience.
An impossible defense. Two slashes of pure energy, done so fast it was hard to see, and with perfect aim, wiping out his entire group of specialized needles in the air.
"He didn't just sense my attack coming… which should have been almost impossible because it was so fast and quiet… but he stopped it with such perfect timing and skill… while still dealing with the swordsman?" Asherin thought.
This wasn't just skill; it was something else. Something much more dangerous. He needed to change his plan right away. This opponent was way, way better than they had expected.
But Asherin wasn't one to give up easily. He was a professional, able to change and find new ways. He wouldn't just use simple throwing attacks again.
Hidden among the tall walls – and the thick fake trees around the edge of the arena, Asherin quickly activated something on a small scroll hidden on his wrist. A complicated set of instructions appeared on the tiny paper.
Suddenly, all around the arena, the light seemed to shake oddly, like hot air rising, but it felt colder.
And then, dozens and dozens of figures appeared at the same time.
Twenty. Maybe even more. It was hard to count them all as they showed up spread out across the maze-like battlefield.
They were perfect copies, exact look-alikes, of Asherin himself. Wearing the same dark, hiding clothes, holding similar knives.
The way they moved, how their faces looked, even little things like how they breathed – they looked exactly the same.
They circled the middle area like ghosts appearing from the shadows, some standing out in the open on clear ground, others hiding low behind stone walls, all of them turning their same, focused eyes towards Adam.
The people watching gasped again, louder this time, a wave of amazement and confusion spreading through the stadium.
Confusion spread fast through the crowd as they tried to understand why so many attackers suddenly appeared.
"What is that? Copies?"
"Where did they all come from?"
"Look, they all look exactly like Assassin"
"Which one is the real one?" someone yelled, asking the question everyone was thinking.
"This… this is making copies using magic! Really advanced stuff! Isn't that restricted, forbidden magic?"
"How can Prince Eric possibly fight this many attackers at once? He can't fight them all!"
Up in the royal seats, King Noor IV sat up straight now. His calm look was gone, replaced by him watching very closely. His face didn't show much, but the way he sat showed he was paying full attention.
His sons – Eric's older brothers, Raven and Leonard – also leaned forward in their seats, their eyes wide with surprise and maybe a little bit of excitement as they watched the many attackers appear. This was getting really interesting.
The oldest brother, Prince Raven, the amazing swordsman, even gave a small smile, with a competitive sparkle in his eyes.
"Well, well… Interesting idea," he whispered, mostly to himself.
"Many fighters, trying to confuse him… Let's see how much you've truly been hiding, little brother. Can you actually beat this trick? Or was that first powerful move just a one-time thing?" He seemed almost hoping to see Eric fail against a harder test.
Back down in the arena, Adam still held the struggling swordsman's sword easily between his fingers.
The swordsman was now using both hands, trying with every muscle, veins showing on his head, desperately trying to get his weapon back – but it still wouldn't move even a tiny bit. Adam's hold was total.
Adam seemed to keep his main attention on the swordsman right in front of him, keeping his impossible grip.
But his eyes, slowly moved, looking over the arena, seeing the sudden appearance of Asherin's many copies. He noticed where they were, how they stood, the small things that maybe only his super-sharp senses could spot.
Several of the Asherin copies were already moving, rushing through the maze, getting ready to attack together from different sides.
Others stayed hidden behind walls, all sending out another group of those tiny, sharp needles at the same time.
The air above Adam suddenly flashed with many, maybe hundreds, of tiny, dangerous things flying towards him from everywhere at once.
And still – even with a swordsman trapped in front of him and a crowd of copies attacking with needles from all sides – Adam didn't react with fear. He didn't look worried. He didn't even seem very interested.
He finally spoke again. His voice was calm, cold, and sounded totally unimpressed. It was easy to hear over the sound of the needles flying by.
"Copies? Needles? What a cheap trick…"
After saying that in an uncaring way, Adam did something no one saw coming. Still holding the swordsman's sword stuck in his left hand, he suddenly pushed the tip of Eric's sword – the one he had in his right hand – straight down into the stone floor right by his feet with surprising force.
THUNK.
Then, Adam lifted his now-empty right hand – palm open, facing out – towards where the real Asherin was hidden among all his fakes.
And in a calm, clear voice that sounded like a leader giving an order, he said the name of an attack, something no one in this kingdom had ever heard:
"Light Attack: Ballistic Light Missiles."
In a flash, many – maybe dozens – of lines of super bright white light burst from his hand. They looked like tiny shooting stars or small, guided rockets made of pure energy.
The air filled with the loud sound of strong magic building up.