The coliseum roared with anticipation.
Stone spires rose into the skies, forming the outer ring of the Arcanum Combat Arena — a sacred training ground where future mages, warriors, and rulers proved their worth. Golden sigils floated above the arena, illuminating the stormy morning with artificial sunlight.
Aedric stood in the center circle, surrounded by thousands of eyes. Nobles in enchanted balconies. Elders from the Dominion's inner council. Academy masters. And far above all… Prince Caelen himself, sitting on the Royal Dais.
The trial was ceremonial.
Every Crown Heir had to face it at sixteen.
But for Aedric, this wasn't a ceremony.
It was a stage.
> Let them watch. Let them wonder what's changed.
Let Caelen squirm in silence.
---
His opponent stepped forward: Thorne Halrix — ranked #3 in the Academy's elite list. Bulky, brutal, son of a warlord. Known for crushing ribs and breaking bones.
"Your Highness," Thorne said with a mocking bow, "try not to die too quickly."
Aedric offered a smile.
"You'll wish you hadn't spoken."
The announcer raised his staff.
"Trial begins… now!"
---
Thorne charged like a beast.
Earth split beneath his boots. His hammer — twice the size of Aedric's torso — swung with enough force to flatten a horse.
Aedric didn't move.
He waited.
Then—sidestep. Perfect timing.
The hammer crashed into the ground, shattering stone.
Aedric slipped beneath Thorne's guard and drove his palm upward — striking Thorne's chest with enough force to launch him off his feet.
The crowd gasped.
---
Thorne landed, growling, and slammed both fists into the earth. A wall of stone erupted toward Aedric like jagged fangs.
Aedric reached deep inside. Not into his mana… but into the flame.
Not yet the black flame. Just enough heat.
He raised his hand — and fire burst from his palm, melting the stone mid-air. The attack dissolved into harmless steam.
A few in the crowd stood in shock.
"He's… wielding fire this early?" someone muttered.
Caelen narrowed his eyes.
---
Thorne screamed in frustration. His aura exploded — golden runes encasing his arms. He leapt again, spinning with deadly force.
But Aedric wasn't there anymore.
He moved like wind. Like memory.
Behind Thorne before he could react — and then, for the first time in public, he unleashed it.
The black flame flickered to life — just for a second — wrapping his hand in a darkness that pulsed like a heart.
He didn't strike with brute force.
He touched Thorne's chest.
Gently.
The effect was instant.
Thorne howled as the black flame slithered through his body, bypassing physical resistance, draining heat, magic, and will.
He collapsed. Unconscious. Eyes wide with terror.
---
Silence.
Then the announcer stammered, "T-Trial complete. Crown Heir Aedric Valtoris… victorious!"
No cheers.
Only silence.
Then whispers.
Then chaos.
"Was that… cursed fire?"
"That's not natural flame—"
"Did he... use forbidden magic?!"
---
Aedric looked up at the Royal Dais.
Caelen was already on his feet.
Their eyes met.
And Caelen… smiled.
It wasn't a smile of pride.
It was the smile of someone who had just confirmed a theory.
Aedric walked out of the arena with his hands behind his back — calm, silent, leaving behind a crowd that didn't know whether to worship him or fear him.
---
That night, in the highest tower of the Dominion, Prince Caelen met with the High Inquisitor — a blind priest who wore chains instead of robes.
"He used it," Caelen said.
The Inquisitor nodded. "The Flame of Judgment has awakened in this timeline."
"Then we must act," Caelen said. "Before he becomes what he was born to be."
---