Final Lesson

With only a few days remaining until the tournament, I had improved surprisingly. I could use various types of magic satisfactorily and had also refined my swordsmanship. It seemed like a miracle. Of course, none of it would have been possible without the help of Nina and Lyra.

"Today's your last day of training, right?"

As if in a sacred ritual, Darin was accompanying me once again. His true intention, obviously, was to see Lyra. There was no point in trying to stop him. If I did, he'd sulk or bother me later in the room. I say this not as a supposition, but as a lamentably proven fact. So, the best option was to let him come.

"Yeah, after today, all the fights will be for real," I said, putting my hand in my pocket and feeling the familiar warmth of the amber stone.

As I had arranged with Lyra, this would be our final meeting as master and student. It was a final training session that would determine whether I was truly prepared for the fights to come or if I was doomed to fail.

We entered the training hall, and Lyra was already there. It was late afternoon, so sunlight streamed in sideways through the small windows near the ceiling, bathing the area in an orange light that created a mystical and contemplative aura.

She was warming up, delivering strikes in the air with her summoned sword. Her usual serious expression, the one that always surfaced when it came to arcane combat, was etched on her face. It was to be expected from the current tournament winner. Even so, I still hadn't gotten used to her intimidating aura. She seemed to shine in such a way that the power gap between us felt impossible to cross.

I still had a long way to go if I ever wanted to be like her.

"I hope I'm not late."

Lyra turned, interrupting her warm-up. Her blonde hair swept back with the movement.

"I was just warming up," she replied. "Ah, hello, Darin."

She adjusted her hair and smoothed her uniform, which was enough to make Darin swallow hard. The poor guy couldn't disguise his nervousness.

"H-hello," he stammered. With short, awkward steps, he quickly headed to his usual spot, where he typically observed our training sessions.

"He's always so quiet, isn't he?"

"Don't even get me started," I said with irony.

It would be amazing to have her power to make Darin stay silent for more than five minutes.

"So? Ready?" she asked, with a smile that seemed different than usual.

"I don't know why, but I feel like you're hiding something."

I walked over to a bench to put down my things. I took off my jacket and pulled my magic crystal from my pocket. The moment I felt its heat in the palm of my hand, it seemed to react to something. The atmosphere felt different. The threads were stirring. And then, along with that sensation came an attack from behind, which I barely managed to dodge.

"What was that?"

"I want to make sure you're ready."

Lyra had attacked me by surprise, but as I had learned, the threads left faint but noticeable traces if you paid attention. Instinctively, I conjured my sword and assumed a combat stance, with my legs firm, one slightly in front of the other, my body straight, and the blade held forward.

A look of amusement came over her face. She truly reveled in the adrenaline, the heat of battle, and unpredictability. And now, after so many training sessions, I was no longer that unprepared beginner who relied on luck. I was a product of her training. And, just like her, I had also learned to enjoy that feeling in my stomach, the slight tremor in my hands before the first strike.

I made the first move. I couldn't let her take control of the flow of the fight. The more time I gave her, the more she would study me for openings. So as long as I kept her busy and on the defensive, my chances would be greater.

As expected, she evaded my attacks with absolute precision. Her body moved effortlessly while my breathing started to accelerate. The ethereal sound of our swords clashing echoed through the great hall, with magical sparks flying from the impact. At certain moments, we got so close I could smell her shampoo.

She was fast, so fast that I could barely keep up with her movements. Her counter-attacks were so heavy that I had difficulty keeping a firm grip on the sword's hilt. My entire arm vibrated with the impact.

For her, this was just fun, a mere test. But for me, it was much more. A final test before the tournament and the result of all the weeks I had spent with her, with Nina, and all the time I had invested in this world, studying and perfecting the weave and the threads.

"Don't let your guard down, stay focused," she said after a hard blow.

"No problem. This will be over soon."

She smiled. "We'll see if you keep that attitude when you're on the floor."

Her speed increased drastically. And now, it wasn't just sword strikes, but fluid sequences that included kicks and elbow strikes. Lyra was trying to reverse the flow of combat, looking for even a minimal opening for a decisive final blow.

But I couldn't make things easy for her. There was one thing, and only one, that I was better at than she was. And I needed to use that to my advantage. I hadn't tested it in real combat yet, and this was the perfect opportunity.

I moved away from her, creating a deliberate opening. Meanwhile, I was shaping the sword without her noticing. I transformed the inside of the blade into water, which was slowly freezing. On the outside, it was still the same sword, but its internal form and composition had changed.

She advanced like a whirlwind, and I saw only a blur in front of me, barely able to keep up. The instant she got close enough, I wove the threads, altering the composition once more. I heated the water internally, intensely, and suddenly.

At the moment of impact, there was no classic sound of clashing steel, as she expected. Instead, a dense mist of steam exploded around us, completely obscuring the view. Lyra turned her face from side to side, looking for me but unable to find me. And when she brandished her sword in the air to dissipate the vapor, it was already too late.

My blade was pressed gently against her neck.

And for the first time, victory was mine.