The Grimoire

The magic tournament was a prestigious event. Famous not only in the school but in the entire kingdom of Thaloria. Many students came here exclusively to train this fighting style, and joining the tournament was seen as the best way to test one's strength.

Even though the school covered many different branches of magic, this tournament had only one focus: arcane combat.

As a beginner student, I still hadn't had contact with this type of magic yet, but my frequent visits to the school library had led me to stumble upon countless books about the subject.

Basically, those who practiced this art were called arcane warriors. They used the power of the magical threads to enhance weapons for combat.

Unlike ordinary warriors, who relied on strength and agility, these arcane warriors channeled magic into their weapons. Some imbued standard blades with elemental enchantments. Others wielded weapons forged from pure magic essence. And there were also the ones who fascinated me the most, capable of conjuring weapons out of thin air, shaping them from the thread's energy until they gained real weight and form.

In short, a fighting style out of reach, especially since I hadn't even mastered the most basic spells. Which is why I was surprised when Professor Arven handed me the application form that day.

"What do you mean by this, professor?"

"I'm considering signing you up for this year's tournament," he said.

You must be insane, I thought. But what came out of my mouth was something more polite. "But... shouldn't we be focusing on our summoning magic research?"

Arven crossed his arms, and a subtle smile formed at the corner of his lips. A visible excitement in his eyes replaced the serious posture he usually adopted.

"And that's precisely what we're focusing on. As you must know, every tournament offers a precious reward for the winner. This year isn't different."

That's right, many entered in search of glory or experience. Others, for the reward. And that was what interested the professor.

"Can this help us?"

"Absolutely," he said, adjusting his glasses. "The reward this year is a grimoire. Written by the god of summoning themself."

A book written by themself? Even with my limited knowledge, I understood the rarity of this kind of thing. If they were offering it as a reward, it was truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. One we couldn't miss.

There was only one problem.

"And how do you expect me to win the tournament? I can barely cast a basic spell."

The professor walked to the window in silence. Then he turned back, sat at his desk, and clasped his hands together in front of him.

"It's true you're not ready. Not yet. But I know you understand the weight of this opportunity. This grimoire could not only expand our knowledge of summoning magic, but could also be the key to the very goal that brought you here."

That was a low blow. I knew what he was doing. His goal was to play on my emotions, making me act based on my own feelings.

Even so, it didn't make sense. The tournament was an immense obstacle. People who had trained their entire lives would be joining. There's no way a beginner like me could dream of winning it.

"What if I lose right in the very first round?"

"There's no problem," he answered without hesitation. "I'm only showing you the opportunity. Whether you enter or not, it's up to you."

Arven got up, locked his eyes in mine, and set a hand on my shoulder.

"There's still time before the application closes. Think about it."

My mind went blank. I knew how much this could help with our research, with the study of summoning magic. But more than that… there was a feeling. An inner voice telling me to try.

"Do you think it's possible?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Even for someone who can't use magic yet?"

"Well, you're here to study, aren't you? You'll have time to prepare."

To be honest, I didn't know what to do. I needed time to think. If I tried harder in class, maybe I could learn the basics in time for the tournament. But I still had the swordsmanship aspect to train. Even though I had played and excelled in various VR games back on Earth, real combat felt infinitely more daunting.

"I'll think about it," I murmured, more to myself than to him.

"Very well," said the professor.

We didn't touch on the subject again for the rest of the afternoon, focused on our usual experiments and studies. Still, the silence that would fall every so often reminded me of the tournament and the possibility of being at least a little closer to finding my sister.

***

A few days passed after my talk with Professor Arven. And even though part of me wanted to join, I hadn't really made any progress in my magic studies. It wasn't for a lack of effort, but because all the talk about the threads was absurdly confusing.

No matter how much I tried, I couldn't move forward, and with it, the dream of obtaining the grimoire felt farther and farther away.

I was walking down the halls after class when I looked out the window at the courtyard. Students bustled about, full of life, with some sitting on benches while others practiced magic.

Among them was someone familiar. Nina. She sat alone on a bench, and I only recognized her by the enormous hood she wore. As I got closer, the hood moved, her ears twitching. She then turned to face me.

"Shouldn't you be with Professor Arven?" she asked.

"It's still early," I said, sitting beside her.

A silence fell between us. Unlike other times I'd been with her, I didn't really know what to say. My hands were sweating, possibly due to nervousness about the tournament or another reason.

In the days I'd spent here, I learned some things about Nina. For one, she was an advanced student, a fact that surprised me when I found out, since I had no idea when we first met. I also learned that she had been away from classes for a while, but no one knew the reason. She was too reserved for anyone to dare to ask. Even so, unlike everyone else, I was able to approach her without much trouble.

"So, how are your classes going?" she asked before I had the opportunity to break the ice.

"To be honest, I haven't made much progress."

"Still doing the basics?"

I nodded.

"Well, I didn't expect much from you," she said bluntly. "But wasn't your focus supposed to be summoning with Professor Arven?"

That was my thought until my last talk with the professor. Since then, my perspective has changed completely. If I wanted to have a chance at the tournament, I knew I had to consider other types of magic, learning as much as I could.

"It's just that... I'm thinking about joining this year's tournament."

"The tournament?" Her eyes widened.

I guess anyone would be surprised to hear a beginner was planning to join something of that scale.

"Professor Arven told me about the prize. Since it's a grimoire from the god of summoning, he suggested I participate. I was thinking of refusing, but—"

"Don't refuse," she cut sharply, leaning forward so close our faces nearly touched. When she realized, she pulled back, a bit flustered. "I mean... maybe he's right. You should at least try. Don't you think?"

"The problem is that I'm still stuck in the basics. What chance would I have?"

She brought her hand to her chin. Her eyes narrowed, filled with determination, and her ears twitched under the hood.

"Looks like there's no other way," she said, folding her arms. "I'll just have to help you myself."

"You'd do that?"

"What choice do we have?" she replied.

I wasn't all that confident. After all, the last person who offered me some help only made things worse. But unlike Darin, Nina had the ability for this. Besides, without her, I would still be lost on the road, shouting my sister's name in vain.

"Then it's settled. We'll start tomorrow," she said.

And like that, my magic training days with Nina began.