Three weeks passed like a warm summer breeze: filled with exhaustion, ughter, and small, silent victories.

  Aurox began practicing every day, testing the limits of his summoned creatures. He started with simple forms, then moved on to complex outlines, movement patterns, resistance to heat, strength, sound. Whenever a creature dissolved into particles, he recreated it better. Stronger. More alive. Whenever possible, he called Kael to test them in combat. His friend never said no.

  Kael became a constant in every training session. With his power, every object in hand became an extension of his body, and each session was an opportunity to improve. He helped Aurox refine the monsters, served as a target for Mika’s light beams, and even caught debris Nina accidentally dropped during her secret levitation drills. And he smiled. Always smiled.

  Mika, on the other hand, trained like a sniper on a mission. She used poles, trees, bottles, and even fruit as targets. She’d call on her friends — sometimes without warning — to zigzag, jump, or pretend to attack. She wanted perfect aim.“I want my light to strike before the target even realizes it’s been seen,” she’d say before heading back to work as a receptionist at the karaoke bar.

  Nina trained in silence. Never in front of everyone. But her friends knew. The way she sighed deeply after lifting heavy boxes with minimal MP. How her fingers trembled slightly after making a bench float for too long. And even so, she was always present. Always helping. Even if afterward she’d run off to rehearse with her band before nightfall.

  Between csses, jobs, and training, there were moments of unevenly shared pizza, ughter at the bus stop, and improvised magical pillow fights in the dorm.

  Aurox still made deliveries between training sessions. Sometimes he summoned small helpers to carry the packages. Other times, he ran through campus alleys with his backpack and the Book pulsing beneath his skin.

  Time moved on.

  The body ached.

  But the four of them were together.

  And when the third week ended, a different kind of silence lingered among them.

  Tournament week had arrived.

  _____________________________________________________________________________

  Thursday dawned gray, as if the sky knew what was coming. The air held that quiet weight of calm before the storm. Only two days remained until the tournament.

  The first css of the day, as always, was physical conditioning. The training field felt tenser than usual. Aurox noticed that some students ran in silence, focused, while others whispered softly to each other.

  It wasn’t paranoia: the energy had shifted.

  Those who had signed up for the tournament trained harder. The ughs and whispers from the others had a different reason: betting. Even though the University pretended not to see it, everyone knew the betting pool was in full swing. A quick stroll through the main garden was enough to hear people talking about the "second-year prodigy warrior" or the "noble-blooded summoner."

  As Aurox ran, he tried to recall the names of the favorites. It was a good time to analyze — even if only superficially.

  The fourth-year students, about to graduate, were undoubtedly the most experienced. But few of them were participating. Most already had clear paths: guaranteed spots in magic agencies, contracts with corporations, or positions in public administration. The few enrolled seemed more interested in having one st bit of fun before leaving university.

  The third-years? Strangely quiet. Few signed up, even fewer were mentioned. Aurox couldn’t say why. It was a mystery whispered among freshmen, always unanswered.

  But the second-years... there was the real problem. Many of them had signed up. Experienced. Most with dueling records, some already known for their victories.

  During css changes, Aurox heard many names, but three were repeated constantly:

  Matusalen, a fierce pyromancer who interned with the police defense force and gained notoriety for fighting monsters in his spare time. Rumor had it he’d incinerated a shielded raptor alone.

  Vivian, a summoner from a nationally prestigious family. Her summons bordered on the absurd, especially the elemental giants that, according to rumors, spoke to her like old friends.

  And Nataniel.

  Nataniel was the most talked-about name. Not because of a rare power — his ability was merely enhanced physical endurance. But he had something the others didn’t: a record.

  Fifty-eight consecutive victories. All his opponents were from higher years.

  There was a persistent rumor that he’d challenged a professor and won. No one knew if it was true, but no one dared doubt it either.

  At the end of the day, Aurox threw himself onto a stone bench near the main garden. He pulled out his phone. The group chat with Mika, Kael, and Nina was silent, as agreed. Everyone was focused on their final training. No distractions. No jokes. Just focus.

  He went up to his dorm. The hallway was quiet. Not due to a ck of students, but a ck of spirit. It was as if the entire campus was holding its breath.

  Upon entering his room, Aurox took off his coat, left his phone on the desk, and sat on the floor. The Book of Legends activated at the mere touch of his skin. He whispered:

  “Light form. Distant vision. Silence and altitude.”

  The energy glowed softly. A small insect emerged in the air. It resembled a dragonfly but with short fur on its body and a rge single eye where its head should be. It fluttered its wings with elegance and hovered over its creator’s head.

  Aurox smiled.

  A month ago, he could barely create creatures with complete joints. Now, he had an aerial scout.

  Since that conversation in the foggy world of the Book, his evolution had been exponential. By the second week, he could maintain creatures with wings. In the third, he began experimenting with specialized senses. This dragonfly-eye was the result.

  His smile widened.

  The phone vibrated.

  Aurox picked it up, expecting an unexpected message from one of his friends. But it wasn’t.

  It was his family.

  He looked at the name on the screen, and for the first time that day, his expression softened — truly softened.

  He answered.