Harry potter: I am the king of United Kingdom

Arthur emerged from the depths of the pool, gasping for air as the light of Excalibur greeted him once more. His soaked clothes clung to his body, and his heart raced from the trial he had just endured. He pulled himself onto the platform, water pooling around him.

Atreus stood at the edge, his arms crossed, his piercing eyes studying Arthur carefully. "You've returned," Atreus said, a hint of relief in his voice. "Did you claim the Ebony Blade?"

Arthur slowly rose to his feet, gripping his sword tightly. He shook his head. "I defeated the guardian, but I did not take the blade. Its power… it's dangerous. I could feel it trying to corrupt me."

Atreus's expression softened, a mixture of approval and caution. "Good. Resisting the blade's call is no easy feat, even for one of Pendragon blood. But the trial is not yet complete."

Arthur frowned, his body still trembling from the ordeal. "What do you mean? I've faced the guardian and resisted the temptation. What more is there?"

Atreus motioned toward the glowing pedestal at the center of the platform, where Excalibur rested. The holy sword shimmered with an ethereal light, its presence both calming and commanding.

"You must now claim Excalibur," Atreus explained. "But understand this—Excalibur will only yield to one who is truly worthy. The trials of the Ebony Blade were merely the beginning. Now, your soul will be tested."

Arthur's gaze shifted to the magnificent sword. Excalibur radiated purity, its design a stark contrast to the ominous aura of the Ebony Blade. He stepped forward, his footsteps echoing against the stone.

As he approached the pedestal, a voice resonated in his mind, calm and ancient.

"Arthur Pendragon, heir of the bloodline, why do you seek me?"

Arthur froze, the weight of the question pressing on his chest. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I seek to protect my people," he said, his voice firm. "To bring justice to a world plagued by darkness and tyranny. I seek to wield you not for power, but for the responsibility that comes with it."

The voice was silent for a moment before responding. "Words are easy. Actions are the true measure of worth. Step forward, Arthur Pendragon, and let your soul be judged."

Arthur placed his hand on the hilt of Excalibur. The moment he made contact, a blinding light engulfed him, and the world around him dissolved into nothingness.

Arthur's Trial

When the light faded, Arthur found himself standing in a vast, featureless expanse. The ground beneath him was smooth and reflective, like a mirror. The air was still, unnervingly silent.

From the void, figures began to emerge—shadowy forms that solidified into people Arthur recognized. The first was his mother, her face etched with sorrow. "You abandoned us," she said, her voice trembling. "You could have done more, but you chose to leave."

Arthur's chest tightened. "I didn't abandon you. I… I was trying to find a way to protect you."

The figure's eyes burned with anger. "Excuses. You failed."

Before Arthur could respond, another figure appeared—this time, his childhood friend. "You think you're a hero?" the figure sneered. "You're no saviour. You're just a scared boy, pretending to be strong."

The accusations piled on, each figure embodying a fear or regret that Arthur had buried deep within. Their voices overlapped, growing louder and more relentless.

"You're weak."

"You're unworthy."

"You'll only bring ruin."

Arthur dropped to his knees, covering his ears. "Stop!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the void.

Amid the chaos, another voice broke through—a voice calm and resolute.

"Stand, Arthur."

Arthur looked up to see a new figure approaching. It was himself, but older, clad in gleaming armor and wielding Excalibur. His doppelgänger's gaze was steady, filled with a quiet strength.

"You cannot silence your doubts," the figure said. "You must face them."

Arthur hesitated, then slowly rose to his feet. The shadowy figures loomed around him, their voices still accusing, but he forced himself to meet their gazes.

"I have made mistakes," Arthur admitted. "I have failed, and I have doubts. But I will not let them define me. I will continue to fight, not because I am fearless, but because I am determined."

The shadows paused, their forms flickering. One by one, they dissolved into light, their voices fading into silence.

The older Arthur smiled faintly. "You are not perfect, Arthur. But perfection is not the measure of worth. It is the courage to confront your flaws and strive for something greater."

He extended Excalibur toward Arthur. "Take it, and fulfil your destiny."

Arthur reached out, his hand closing around the hilt. The moment he grasped the sword, a surge of energy coursed through him, warm and empowering. The void around him shattered, and he was back on the platform.

Excalibur's Awakening

Arthur stood before Atreus, Excalibur in hand. The sword glowed brightly, its light banishing the lingering darkness of the Ebony Blade.

Atreus nodded, a rare smile crossing his face. "You have proven yourself, Arthur. Excalibur has chosen you."

Arthur looked at the sword, its weight feeling both familiar and foreign in his hand. "What happens now?"

Atreus's expression grew serious. "Now, we prepare for the battles to come. The world is changing, and the Pendragon bloodline has a role to play in shaping its future. But remember this—power is a tool, not an end. Let Excalibur guide you, but never let it consume you."

Arthur nodded, determination burning in his eyes. "I won't fail."

As the light of Excalibur filled the chamber, Arthur felt a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known. The trials had forged him anew, and his journey was only just beginning.