—For the last time, Tristan, dedicating yourself to video games won't get you anywhere.
How many times had I heard that already?
—Tris, seriously, stop playing that stupid violin, you're destroying my ears.
It was always like that, again and again.
—Tristan, do you really think you have a writer's vein? Stop wasting your time and practice more.
Since childhood, the words that followed any action I wanted to take were followed by "don't waste your time," "you have no talent," "you won't achieve anything"… When did I start believing it? When did I stop trying? Maybe in high school. There was no point in doing more than the minimum—"law of minimum effort," they called it.
—And that satisfied you? —asked the imposing dragon, practically coiled with his arms crossed, fixed on me.
—Satisfy is a word you and I know well. That's why I didn't identify with the avatar or with Alexander… I felt attached to you, the forces of nature.
—Then why?
That was something I asked myself every morning. I never had personal motivations, just living day by day. Maybe, someday, simply having a mid-paying job and reaching the end of the month with enough to buy myself a new game. That was my mindset for years. Even while trying to connect with other people, I always ended up detached, uninterested; I called it "limited time syndrome." Since I was never allowed to love something long enough to make it mine, in the long run I tried many things: karate, soccer, boxing, painting, music, climbing, poetry, among many others that were cut short—at first by my parents, but in the end by myself.
Until Ale appeared. I will never forget the first time I saw her. Back then I didn't even know her name or grade; I wanted to keep a low profile. But then she walked in, cheerful, wearing a hat with large bunny ears that fell down her back. I'm sure they were from some popular anime, but that spirit captivated me. She wasn't just pretty—she didn't care if people saw her as she was. The funny thing is that we never remember how we were introduced; it just became natural, and with time, inseparable.
She was the first who told me that I could. And to my surprise, my father would be the one who changed.
Disappointment? No, I think he realized that I didn't have the same aspirations he did. And he allowed me to be myself.
It didn't take long for me to find something I wanted to shine in, even though my teachers warned me that it was a waste of time and talent to look for a place among the few developers in the city. I tried—and I failed. I failed badly, like in everything I attempted. But I kept sending résumés, hoping something would change. The worst part is that I'm aware of how cowardly I was.
—You always had talent, but you chose to lose yourself in jobs that didn't fulfill you. Why? —the dragon insisted, able to read even the most intimate of my thoughts.
—Fear. As you say, fear of realizing I wasted time, fear of finding a place to cling to… fear…
—Of not being a nobody?
He repeated that phrase. At first, I didn't want to believe it. Who wants or feels comfortable being a zero on the left? But it's true. While everyone advanced around me, I happily remained with my arms crossed, settling for lazy, unmotivated jobs, under the excuse of looking for the best opportunity.
—You could have started and you didn't until it was exactly as you wanted.
—I feel like it was the same with you.
—Explain.
—Like you, I stayed stuck in normality, in cyclical mediocrity, doing a job that only corroded our souls, spirits, and will. Before we realized it, we were simply breathing and working on autopilot, without analyzing what we did, without aspiring to anything.
—You're wrong —the dragon proclaimed, opening his wings—. I was searching for something: my liberation.
—But what kept you in the cave?
Frostmaagmar did not answer; he only folded his wings again.
—The same as you? It sounds like I truly was conformist.
—Without a doubt. We both waited for an external element to break the monotony. In my case, for my dream job to fall from the sky, and in yours…
—For someone to free me, whether from the cave or…
—I never considered that option. You know? I truly… wanted to live.
Tears ran down my cheeks before I realized it. The dragon only looked at me, powerless.
—We both… understood too late…
—And there's no turning back now… right?
Frostmaagmar shook his head. For some reason, I believed him. I simply believed him. The Nexo is not a miracle where you can return to life. The two options were simple: die in the dark or transcend. I was clinging to the hope that there was something more, but that also limited me. I knew it. I truly knew my struggle was in vain. Having a power I didn't have before wouldn't change the outcome. If I died now or at the summit, I would never see Ale's smile again.
—So now you do consider that option?
—No.
I answered clearly, without hesitation. Frostmaagmar smiled. For the first time he showed another face beyond his cold expression, and with it, the storm returned me to the arena. My hearing sharpened; my agitated breathing steadied. The trembling of the ground announced the last of the hares. I knew it perfectly.
"They were never a challenge."
A single swing of my axe—precise, decisive. The rabbit did not split instantly; instead it slowly froze and, as if the monster statue were surgically cracked in half, it disintegrated into hundreds of fragments.
—This is victory for Nobody!
—No! —I interrupted Irex, who fixed his gaze on me. His large yellow eyes locked onto the stage. The silence was suffocating. Holding my axe with ease and confidence, I rested it over my shoulders, gently brushing the blade. I proclaimed:
—My name is Tristan… —I hesitated for a moment. I would honor the name my parents gave me with love, but my surname died with me that day. Therefore, I would take a new one, one I know someone at the summit will understand—. Malory. My name is Tristan Malory.
The shadow above everyone did not take long to correct itself with great force:
—This is victory for Tristan Malory!