Stronger

My name echoed through the arena, announcing that I was next to fight.

I was trembling slightly, and no matter how deeply I breathed, the calm wouldn't come. My hands were sweating, and I even tried to wipe them on my pants, but it was too late. In a few moments, I would be in combat. And if all went well, I would be victorious.

As I walked down the corridor toward the light at the end of the tunnel, the sound of the audience grew louder and louder: shouts, applause, and chants. It was a strange sensation, part adrenaline, part fear of the unpredictable outcome. But every roar from the public present was a reminder that I couldn't fail.

As soon as I crossed the curtain of light, I had to cover my eyes until they adjusted. The arena was immense, and the people in the stands looked tiny. I tried to find my friends, but it was impossible to spot them in the extensive group of people.

I walked to the center and came face-to-face with my opponent.

He had a slender body and a confident expression, holding two daggers that glowed under the sunlight. When I approached, he stared at me without looking away, as if trying to intimidate me. But I didn't care about that. I had trained against Lyra, and after her, nothing scared me anymore.

"I'll go easy on you, rookie."

He let out a laugh that only he found funny, and I simply ignored the provocation. I should just do what I came to do. Defeat him. And as if I hadn't heard what he said, I bowed in respect, as I did in kendo training.

He threatened to do the same, but stopped the movement at the last second. He was clearly underestimating me, a mistake I had also made and that would surprise him today.

I took out the amber crystal, and before me, I brought my sword to life. It glowed as brightly as his daggers. I was ready.

The sound of a drum marked the start of the combat. And my opponent began jumping from side to side, gaining speed until he was little more than a blur. My eyes could barely follow him. I knew I couldn't let him dominate the rhythm.

When I charged at him, he disappeared like a shadow. The moment I realized it, I was attacking the air, and he appeared behind me. I barely had time to raise a magic barrier, and even so, his blade scraped my arm.

And before I could fully recover, he unleashed a series of rapid attacks. I couldn't block everything with just the sword, so I increasingly relied on magic barriers. But the longer the battle lasted, the more my energy would be drained. So I needed to change that.

While I held off his strikes, he advanced furiously, and my few counter-attacks were deflected with agile pirouettes.

This made no sense. I had dueled with Lyra, a much more skilled warrior than he, but now he was the one cornering me. The battle seemed one-sided.

I was getting tired, and fear began to seep in. For a moment, I imagined what would happen if I lost. I would have failed. I might never find my sister. I couldn't let that happen.

With an explosion of adrenaline, I charged at him, turning the rhythm of the battle, and now he was the one retreating. It didn't matter if he vanished in front of me and reappeared elsewhere, or if his movements were almost unseen, I just needed an opening.

But in a moment of carelessness, I felt his blade bury itself in my leg. I screamed in pain and fell to the ground. I didn't know if the arena had gone silent or if I was losing my senses as my opponent stopped in front of me while I agonized on the floor.

"Give up. You can't continue."

I knew I couldn't accept this. But the pain consumed me, and slowly I could no longer feel my leg. I knew the battle would be difficult, but I hadn't imagined it would be like this.

I closed my eyes, and a memory surfaced. The image of my sister, her smile just before the teleportation, and her desperate face before she disappeared.

This couldn't be my end, I couldn't fall in the very first combat.

"I can still fight."

The phrase escaped between my clenched teeth. I then released one hand from the sword and pressed the wound, closing my eyes for an instant, focusing on the image of the blood flowing. It was too liquid. It needed to become solid. Platelets, fibers... I remembered biology class, the process of blood coagulation. If I could accelerate that, I could at least stop the bleeding.

A strange warmth ran through my hand. I felt the flesh contracting beneath my palm and the flow of blood slowing down. The cut didn't close completely, but the bleeding stopped. It was enough.

My opponent's eyes widened in surprise. But he quickly regained his posture, spinning the daggers between his fingers, the mocking smile back on his face.

"I hope you don't regret it."

"I say the same."

The pain was still intense, but I could endure it, it was now bearable. I needed to continue. And then, I charged at him.

He moved in the shadows, going from side to side without being perceived, so there was only one thing I could do, one single way out to stop him.

When I got close to him, he tried to use the same strategy, but I did something different. I channeled all my power through the stone, strong enough to create an intense light that flooded the arena. If he hid in the shadows, I simply needed to eliminate all of them.

He blinked, momentarily blinded, and lost his advantage. I attacked him in quick succession. Then, advanced in a rapid sequence of strikes, forcing him into a direct fight. Without his tricks, his movements became predictable.

Every move I made, every advance, was a premeditated decision, and the longer he prolonged the battle, the more I managed to analyze him, observing his patterns and recognizing his inexperience in direct combat.

His steps became heavier, and his breathing uneven. Memories of my sister came to mind unbidden, as if their purpose was to remind me why I was there.

Unable to rely solely on his daggers, he tried to launch elemental spells in vain, freezing the ground, pushing me with blasts of wind. But I counter-attacked with more force until he mistimed a dodge, and my blade struck his leg, sending him down.

The sound of the drum echoed through the arena, announcing the end of the combat. The victory was mine.

The crowd exploded in applause, but my ears still rang with the blood of the battle. The rogue was lying on the ground, holding his wounded leg. When my eyes met his, I saw only fear. The same fear I had felt moments earlier.

I looked at my own wound, which served as a reminder of the result of all that. I walked slowly toward him, and he struggled uselessly to get up. The wound I had caused made it impossible for him to move as he wanted. And when I was close enough, I raised the blade high. Instinct and adrenaline screamed for me to finish the movement, to guarantee victory in the most absolute way I knew.

But then, the image of Lyra correcting me during training came to mind: "Control, Haru. A warrior masters their weapon, they are not mastered by it."

I lowered my sword. The relief on my opponent's face was instantaneous. He wasn't a mortal enemy, he was just another student in a tournament.

"It's just a duel," I said, more to myself than to him.

I helped him stand, offering my shoulder for support. The referee approached and raised my arm, officially declaring me the winner. The screams of the audience now sounded clear and vibrant, and for the first time, I heard them not as pressure, but as recognition.

As I headed for the exit, a warm, tired sensation washed over my body. The pain in my leg pulsed, but it was a reminder of what I had overcome.

I hadn't just won, I had used my mind as much as my magic.

And to be honest, the feeling wasn't one of having enjoyed the violence, but of having enjoyed proving myself capable of facing the fear and coming out stronger.