Raj paced back and forth in their small dorm room, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. "I can't believe it! I forgot to tell Aamir about the time difference in the Trivnal Tower!"
Kunal, who was leaning lazily against the doorframe, raised an eyebrow and sighed deeply. "You what? You absolute idiot! How could you forget something that important?"
"I don't know! I thought he'd just train for a bit and then come back, but... I didn't realize the time would work differently in there!" Raj's voice was a mix of panic and regret. "We could lose everything because of this."
Kunal pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer, his expression softening but still intense. "Alright, calm down. First things first, you need to register his name for the Battle of the Grand Selection. If he's going to make it in time, he needs that entry."
Raj nodded furiously, his thoughts racing. "You're right," he said, turning toward the door. "He said he'd be back in time, and I believe him. He will. Let's go to the registration office. Now."
Without another word, they rushed toward the office, their footsteps echoing in the corridors of the academy as their urgency mounted with each passing second.
Inside the Trivnal Tower Aamir stood in the center of the vast chamber, his stance poised and calm, his breathing steady. The tower, with its smooth stone walls and glowing, ever-shifting symbols, radiated a quiet energy. He had no time to waste—he had entered with the expectation of learning something critical, but he had no way of knowing how much time would pass before he would return. The shimmering figure of the master spirit materialized before him in a flash of light. The spirit was an elderly man with a regal air, his long white robes flowing with an ethereal grace, radiating an aura of power and wisdom that made the air itself feel charged.
Aamir bowed deeply, respecting the spirit's ancient presence. "Master Spirit."
The spirit observed him with a raised brow, his eyes sharp and calculating. "A mannered one, I see. Unlike the boy before you, who was too full of himself."
A faint smile played on Aamir's lips as he straightened. "Manners don't determine strength. Shall we begin?"
The master spirit's eyes glimmered with approval, a fleeting moment of recognition before he spoke. "Indeed, let's see if your skills match your courtesy."
Without further delay, the fight began. Aamir's movements were a blur as he activated Garuda's Glide, his footwork technique. He dashed forward, his steps so swift and unpredictable that afterimages seemed to linger in the air, distorting reality around him. The spirit, unfazed, retaliated with a barrage of energy blasts, each aimed to box Aamir into a corner. But Aamir was like wind—swift and ever-elusive—he weaved through the blasts with grace, his feet barely touching the ground.
As the distance between them closed, Aamir transitioned into his sword technique, Dragon's Blade. His strikes were a dance of power, precise yet ferocious, mimicking the fluid and deadly movements of a dragon in flight. His blade hummed with energy, the sharpness of the steel glowing with a brilliant light as it clashed against the spirit's conjured weapon—a radiant, luminous spear.
The spirit grunted and pressed forward, his spear spinning like a vortex of light, sending waves of energy crashing toward Aamir. With a flick of his wrist, Aamir countered, his blade slicing upward with perfect precision, cleaving through the vortex and breaking the force of the attack. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the chamber, causing the walls to tremble.
"Impressive," the spirit remarked, his voice calm but his eyes burning with approval. "You have more skill than I expected."
Aamir didn't respond, his focus unshakable. His mind was in perfect sync with his body as he fought, listening to the rhythm of the battle. He sidestepped a sudden lunge from the spirit, his feet flowing as if he were dancing, and retaliated with a spinning slash, driving the spirit back a step. With a burst of energy, Aamir finished the movement of Dragon's Blade—a downward strike imbued with all his power, aimed directly at the spirit's chest.
The master spirit staggered back, his weapon dissolving into particles of light. He raised a hand, signaling for the duel to end. "Enough. You've proven your strength, boy."
Aamir stepped back, lowering his sword but keeping his stance firm, his breathing steady.
The spirit straightened, his expression shifting from intense focus to one of solemn respect. "You've done well, but strength alone will not be enough for the challenges ahead. They will test not just your might, but your spirit and resolve. Be ready."
Aamir nodded, his voice firm and resolute. "I will."
Raj and Kunal arrived at the bustling registration office, where dozens of students lined up with eager faces. The air was thick with anticipation as students spoke excitedly about their upcoming matches. Raj, his heart pounding in his chest, quickly approached the desk where a stern-looking man sat, typing furiously on a glowing tablet.
"I'd like to register for the tournament," Raj said, his voice shaky but determined as he handed over his details.
The man, without looking up, scribbled something down on the form. "Next."
Raj hesitated, his heart skipping a beat. He swallowed hard before speaking, "I'd also like to register Aamir's name."
The man paused, then looked up sharply. His eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Where is he? He needs to be here to register himself."
Raj clenched his fists, trying to keep his composure. "He's... busy training in the Trivnal Tower. Please, sir, he'll be back in time for the tournament. I promise you, he will make it."
The man raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Training in the Trivnal Tower, eh? You do know the rules. If he's not here before the tournament starts, he'll be disqualified."
Raj's stomach dropped, but he held firm. "Please, sir, Aamir is one of the strongest students here. He will make it in time. Just give him the chance. That's all I'm asking."
The man sighed, rubbing his temple in irritation. After a long pause, he relented. "Fine. I'll register his name. But if he's not here on time, don't come crying to me. It's on you."
Raj exhaled in relief, his body sagging slightly as the tension eased. "Thank you! You won't regret it."
Kunal, who had been silently watching the exchange, patted Raj on the back as they turned to leave. "Let's hope Aamir really does make it in time."
"He will," Raj said firmly, his voice unwavering. "He has to. We're counting on him."