Winner

The confusion in Lobo's eyes didn't last long, a calculating fury quickly replaced it. The man who relied on his aura of intimidation was now being challenged at the very foundation of everything: the threads.

"That is only a trick. That alone won't save you."

But his voice no longer carried the same certainty. Then he moved, not with the same speed as before, but he still looked like a predator. His attack was a low lunge, aimed at striking my legs, but I no longer depended only on my eyes.

The threads around me twisted like snakes, announcing his intention before his muscles even contracted. My body seemed to move on its own, I dodged with a side jump that looked choreographed. As I moved, my finger traced a design in the air, and the trail of light didn't dissipate but created a blade of energy that forced Lobo to parry the attack.

The sound was no longer the silent gulping of his blade absorbing magic. Instead, it was an ethereal, sharp clang, the light wasn't absorbed but seemed to shake the air.

"What did you do?"

"I stopped playing your game."

His next attack was a sequence of strikes, each faster than the last, enough to slice a person in half. But to me, every attack was preceded by a movement in the threads. I didn't see the blow. I felt its arrival. My body danced between them, weaving and sliding away. And with every attack, I moved my fingers.

I wasn't drawing shields or weapons. I was weaving a web.

Lobo screamed in frustration, a beast-like sound that briefly silenced the arena. He slammed his blade into the ground, which unleashed a dark wave. A mist that seemed to suck up light itself, that rushed toward me.

Before, I would have desperately tried to block that attack with a barrier. A move that likely would have failed, leaving me devoured. But now, I simply pointed my fingers at the incoming darkness.

My web of light didn't just stop the mist, it completely evaporated it.

The black mist ceased to exist, dissipating into the air.

Lobo's face showed pure shock. His attacks were neutralized one by one. He staggered backward, looking at his blade as if it had betrayed him.

I seized the opportunity and charged him. My feet seemed not to touch the ground, and I glided across the floor. He attempted a desperate attack, but I dodged with a head movement.

I didn't strike him with a sword, but with the very force of the threads.

I placed my palm against the center of his chest. And I projected forward all the energy, all the hope, everything I had gained to get here.

There was no explosion, but a flash of light.

A pillar of white light erupted in the center of the arena, completely swallowing him. His blade trembled, cracked, and with the sound of breaking glass, disintegrated into thousands of fragments that turned to dust before hitting the ground.

Lobo didn't scream. He simply fell to his knees, staring at nothing. The aura of terror and superiority was gone, leaving behind only an exhausted, defeated man.

I remained standing, panting, my arms tingling with the residue of that power. The victory was claimed in silence.

"Winner, Haru."

The announcement echoed through the arena, and suddenly the place erupted in celebration. The ground shook with the jumps from the stands. That crowd had witnessed the impossible. My name appeared on the walls. I was the winner.

My legs were trembling uncontrollably. The adrenaline that had kept me standing until that moment began to reduce, and the exhaustion and impact of every blow, every movement, seemed to hit me with full force.

Before I could collapse, they were there.

Nina arrived first. She didn't say a word, she just held me up so I wouldn't fall, keeping me steady. She smiled, and tears escaped her eyes.

Darin came next, nearly knocking me over with a clumsy hug.

"You were incredible! I can't believe it! That light thing... Haru, that was... that was..."

It was as if he had forgotten how to speak, stumbling over his words. Then Lyra appeared, with her typical wide, proud smile, crossing her arms.

"Not even I could have predicted that. Are you trying to beat the master?"

The realization began to sink in. I had really won. I had actually won. The man who seemed untouchable was defeated.

The trust they placed in me, the memories that pushed me in that last second... everything seemed to have been meant for that moment. I gave an incredulous laugh, a mix of relief and joy.

"I... I didn't think I could do it..."

"But you did," Nina replied, her voice incredibly soft. "That's all that matters."

The look in their three pairs of eyes felt like the true treasure right then and there. And, without holding back, I instinctively pulled all three of them into a hug.

***

The walk to the infirmary felt like a triumphal procession. Students who had previously ignored me now greeted me and cheered, their faces filled with admiration.

"Great fight, Haru!"

"That was unbelievable!"

The fish out of water had not only learned to walk but had mastered the ocean. And for the first time, I didn't feel like an impostor or a foreigner. I was part of this. A student of the Magic School of Andratia, an arcane warrior, and above all, a tournament winner. The feeling was strange but very gratifying.

As the school healer treated my injuries, Darin couldn't sit still, narrating every moment of the fight to Nina and Lyra, who listened patiently.

"He's going to be like this for the next few days," Lyra whispered to me with a smile.

"Let him," I replied, feeling genuinely light. "It made it all worth it."

Later, when we were alone, Nina pulled a chair close to my bed. The buzz of the school outside was still loud, with various students retelling stories and describing the fight in detail.

"So," she began, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the arm of the chair. "That light magic... what was that?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, reliving that instant with absolute clarity.

"That... was me stopping trying to understand every detail of the threads and just... feeling them."

She was silent for a while.

"So now you're not a complete idiot, just half."

We both laughed. Now I could finally rest, appreciate the moment, and most importantly, share it with those who had been part of it. They were the ones who showed me what true fighting was, the reason I never gave up.

***

The awards ceremony was a formal event held in the school's great hall, with all the professors and students present. The Headmaster gave a typically generic, sleep-inducing speech about perseverance and willpower.

But when my name was called, the applause was deafening. As I stepped onto the stage, my eyes met those of my friends, and also Professor Arven. He didn't applaud, but he tilted his head, gave a smile, and adjusted his glasses. His message was clear, it didn't require many gestures.

And then, the Headmaster placed in my hands what I had so longed for: the grimoire written by the God of Summoning themself.

It was heavier than I imagined, bound in pure leather, with no title or inscription on the cover. Feeling its weight and its rough texture under my fingers was a moment of deep realization. This wasn't just a tool, it was a symbol of my entire journey, my suffering, my resilience, and the friendships that sustained me.

On that stage, I finally understood. The search for my sister was never just about the final destination. It was about the person I became in the process. The scared, lonely boy who arrived in this world no longer existed. In his place was someone who had faced the darkness, found the light within himself, and built a tight-knit group of reliable friends.

I was stronger, wiser, and, most importantly, more hopeful than ever. Professor Arven's revelation about the summoning mortality rate was no longer a death sentence but an obstacle to be overcome. And I had proven myself to be an expert at overcoming obstacles.

The celebration continued in the corridors, but my heart and mind were elsewhere. With the grimoire safe under my arm, I excused myself quietly and headed to the library. That was my place, the sanctuary where all this research had begun.

I sat at our table, in the remotest corner. The day's commotion seemed distant, replaced by a welcoming silence. I ran my hand over the grimoire's cover, feeling its imperfections and the history it held.

I took a deep breath. This wasn't just the opening of a book. It was the opening of the next chapter of my life. Maybe the answers I sought were here. Maybe not. But for the first time, I knew that whatever I found, I had the strength to face it.

I lifted the heavy cover and opened the grimoire.

The first page contained no text, it appeared empty. Unlike what people told me. That it was written in a different, undecipherable language. I only found a blank page.

But slowly, the words began to form, not as ink on paper, but as light emanating from the page, flowing directly into my mind.

And the words that were indecipherable to the people of this world had the form of home to me. It was a language I knew well, a language I hadn't had the chance to see in this world, and the last time I had seen it was with my sister, in my room.

I settled into the chair and began to read.