Date: Final Day of the Festival
Location: Coliseum – Grand Arena
Match 7 – "He Who Moves the Dead"
---
The stands are full.
The banners fly.
And I've never felt this much pressure in my chest.
Not from fear.
But from expectation.
---
Our final opponent is not some wild brute or arrogant fool.
It's Veylen of House Graem.
A Spirit Summoner.
Cold. Precise. Arrogant.
He doesn't fight.
He commands.
He stands behind a line of elemental summons — fire, ice, storm, and shadow — like a general of a ghost army.
And to him, his teammates?
Just pawns to move.
Pieces to burn.
---
The battle began before the horn even sounded.
His formations were perfect.
His team flowed like clockwork — a machine forged from obedience and fear.
He didn't yell.
He whispered.
And they followed like puppets on glass strings.
---
Our team struggled at first.
Even Elric's healing couldn't keep up with the constant pressure of flame and lightning.
Anna couldn't find an opening. Riya's attacks were nullified by counter-summons. Gideon's shield cracked.
Even Leander, bright as ever, had his movements boxed in.
And I?
I stood.
Watched.
Then stepped forward.
---
I pulled my sword.
A blade I hadn't drawn in a year.
I could feel the mana strain through my body like needles.
But I didn't care.
David's bracelet hummed at my wrist — a reservoir, not a crutch.
I pressed it once.
Enough to stabilize.
And then I charged.
---
Veylen didn't expect that.
Didn't expect the "crippled tactician" to run through his frontline, slipping through shadows, weaving between flame.
Didn't expect the boy with the cracked core to leap across his summon and slice through the sigil that bound it.
Didn't expect me.
---
His control broke.
His fire spirit burst into wild embers.
His storm faltered.
His shield caster panicked.
And in that moment?
I roared.
> "NOW!"
---
They moved like lightning.
Gideon bashed down their front.
Alice turned the blood in the air into spears.
Leander sliced through the chaos, a grin on his face and sun behind his back.
Riya's flames arced over the battlefield like wings.
Anna's runes blazed.
And Elric?
He stood tall, casting a divine barrier — one that blinded Veylen's last hope.
---
We didn't fight as tools.
We didn't obey from fear.
We trusted.
We moved.
And when Veylen's final summon collapsed into smoke —
when he was left alone, no one to command —
I stepped in front of him.
He tried to summon again.
I raised my blade.
And whispered:
> "You play chess.
But I play shogi."
I swung once.
Right past his cheek.
His crown — a ceremonial circlet — fell to the ground.
We didn't kill him.
We humiliated him.
---
Silence.
Then cheers.
No — not cheers.
Roars.
The crowd rose as one.
Not for victory.
But for unity.
For the ones who fought as one.
---
Later that night, after the awards, after the press, after the feast…
We sat together.
Just the eight of us.
No titles.
No tactics.
Just quiet smiles.
Gideon finally laughed.
Alice curled near me, her eyes half-closed, bloodstone ring faintly glowing.
Anna and Riya talked about flowers and runes.
Elric hummed some lullaby no one recognized.
Leander?
He raised a toast to the stars.
And Lily sat beside me.
Her head on my shoulder.
Our fingers laced.
---
> "You did it," she whispered.
I shook my head.
> "We did."
---
The festival is over.
But our path just began.
And me?
I'm no longer just a tactician.
I'm their sword.
Their shield.
Their brother.
Their foolish, silent, stubborn, undying tactician.
---
> "Come what may, I'll never fall alone again."