The Summoner of Legends

Naruto stood motionless before the door, gazing at it one last time with a mixture of curiosity and determination burning deep within him. The mystery surrounding this place was overwhelming, almost tangible. The figures in the stained glass seemed to watch him from above with silent eyes; the ethereal lights danced like restless spirits in the air; and the door, with its golden engravings gleaming like an ancient riddle waiting to be solved... Everything challenged him, pushing him to cross an invisible threshold.

It was hard to believe this was merely a dream. But if it was, why did it feel so real? Why did the cold surface of the marble beneath his feet, the warmth radiating from the engravings, or the oppressive energy filling the hall still linger with him even now?

Lowering his gaze, his thoughts swirled like a storm. He couldn't stay here forever, no matter how much this place fascinated and confused him. He had to go back. But how? How could he return to his reality?

Frowning, he tried to recall how he'd left this place the last time. The images in his mind were blurry, fragmented, like a fading dream. However, one detail stood out from the haze: he'd tried to open this very door. By force.

—"If it worked before, it has to work again," —he told himself under his breath, trying to convince both the door and himself.

Straightening his posture, he placed both hands on the carved wooden surface. The cold seeped into his fingers, but he didn't stop. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the dense air of the hall, then exhaled sharply. In his mind, he repeated over and over that he couldn't fail.

—"Come on, open..." —he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the vast silence.

He pushed with all his strength, his muscles straining as the echo of his effort reverberated through the hall. At first, the door remained immovable, unyielding, as if mocking his stubbornness. But Naruto wasn't about to give up so easily. Gritting his teeth, he pressed his full weight against the door, his bare feet slipping slightly on the cold marble. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, despite the fact that the air in this place wasn't warm.

—"Come on, damn it!" —he growled, shoving harder. Frustration burned in his chest, mingled with a strange sense of urgency. He knew he had to get back, but the door, with its unbreakable stillness, seemed to challenge more than just his physical strength. It felt as though it was testing him, measuring his endurance.

Suddenly, something shifted. A strange sensation rippled down his back, like a shiver, but not from fear. It felt more like a warning. Before he could react, he felt a pull, as if an invisible hand had grabbed him from the center of his chest and yanked him backward with unstoppable force.

The world around him began to change. The majestic hall, with its white columns, dancing lights, and gleaming stained glass, started to dissolve. The images melted into a whirlwind of light and shadow, as though the entire place was being consumed by darkness. Naruto barely had time to step back before the sensation of vertigo overtook him completely.

Everything spun. Light and darkness swirled together in chaos that seemed endless. Naruto clenched his eyes shut, trying to hold onto something—anything—that could steady him. But there was nothing. All he could feel was emptiness, a freefall without end, as the pressure in his chest grew stronger.

And then, suddenly, everything stopped. The whirlwind vanished, taking the hall, the door, and every trace of that fantastical place with it.

Naruto slowly opened his eyes, blinking against a different light—softer, warmer. His breathing was heavy, as though he'd run a great distance. And in the blink of an eye, he was no longer there.

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Naruto woke with a faint gasp, the sound of his breathing breaking the silence in the room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and as he recognized the familiar ceiling above him, he exhaled a long sigh of relief. Slowly, he sat up in bed, blinking to clear his mind as he scanned his surroundings. Everything was exactly as it should be: his desk cluttered with books and notebooks, the slightly faded poster of his favorite superhero movie on the wall, and his backpack carelessly propped against the chair. Everything looked so… normal. Yet, even though nothing seemed out of place, Naruto couldn't shake the strange feeling that something had changed.

He rested his elbows on his knees, intertwining his fingers as he tried to organize his thoughts. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the digital alarm clock on his bedside table. With a quick motion, he grabbed his phone and lit up the screen. 5:37 a.m. Twenty minutes until his alarm would go off. He stared at the time for a few seconds, unmoving, as a single question formed in his mind: What the hell just happened?

He was awake—more awake than he'd been in weeks. There wasn't a trace of exhaustion in his body. On the contrary, he felt an almost tangible energy coursing through his veins, like a spark had been ignited inside him. And yet, he couldn't ignore the faint weight in his chest, a reminder that whatever he had experienced in that place—if it could even be called a "place"—hadn't been just an ordinary dream.

—"How can a dream make me feel like this?" —he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible in the dim light.

With a determined sigh, he threw off the blankets and got to his feet. If he was going to figure out what had happened, he couldn't just sit there doing nothing. Moving with the precision of someone used to early mornings, he completed his routine in silence. Washing his face, brushing his teeth, and getting dressed took only a few minutes. He put on some comfortable clothes and headed to the kitchen, where he prepared a quick breakfast: toast with a little butter. As he took a bite, his thoughts drifted back to the strange place he'd visited. He could remember every detail: the floating ethereal lights, the air charged with energy, and that impossible door that had refused to let him pass.

It wasn't just a dream. The thought echoed persistently in his mind. There was something about the intensity of it all—the way the colors and sensations were still etched in his memory—that made it too vivid to dismiss as a mere creation of his subconscious.

Before leaving the house, Naruto paused in front of the shelf in his room. With a quick glance, he found what he was looking for: a new notebook he had bought weeks ago but had never used. It was simple, with a black synthetic leather cover and smooth white pages, still waiting for their first mark. He picked it up carefully, almost as if it were a valuable object, and slipped it into his backpack along with a pencil. I can't let this fade. I need to write it down before I forget.

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When he arrived at school, Naruto didn't head straight to class as usual. Instead, he went to his favorite refuge: the library. It was early, barely past 7:00 a.m., and only a couple of students were there, each absorbed in their own books. Naruto chose a table near the window, where the first rays of sunlight filtered through the glass, softly illuminating the polished wood of the desk.

He sat down, pulled out the notebook and pencil, and opened it with quick but deliberate movements. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment as the memories began to flow. Then, he started writing. At first, his words were erratic, driven more by the urgency not to forget than by any logical order. But little by little, his thoughts began to organize, and the details took shape on the pages.

Before long, he transitioned to drawing, his hand moving swiftly and steadily as he recreated the figures that had been etched most vividly into his mind. His hand seemed to move on its own, guided by an impulse he couldn't explain.

The first was the armored warrior. His figure was imposing, radiating power and leadership. Naruto drew the massive sword he wielded, capturing the way it seemed more like an extension of his body than a weapon. Carefully, he added the golden edges of the armor, the intricate engravings that seemed to glow with their own light. Even in his rudimentary sketch, Naruto could feel the strength of the warrior, as if the page could barely contain his presence.

Next came the woman with pointed ears and the gracefully flowing tails that surrounded her. Her intense, almost hypnotic eyes had burned themselves into his memory, as though they could read his deepest thoughts. He drew her elegant clothing, which looked as if it were woven from something both magical and unreal. There was something hauntingly beautiful about her, a mix of grace and danger that was impossible to ignore.

Then came the colossus. His skin appeared to be a blend of rock and ice, and the massive club he carried in one hand seemed capable of leveling a mountain. Naruto carefully traced the contours of his immense musculature, the cracks in his skin, and the ferocious expression on his face. That creature was the embodiment of raw strength, an opponent no one would dare to challenge.

Finally, he drew the young woman with the scepter. Her figure was less intimidating than the warrior's, but there was something about her presence that made him feel strange, almost comforted. He sketched the warm glow that seemed to radiate from her, her lightweight armor that reflected light as if it were made of starlight, and the way her scepter illuminated everything around her. She was a symbol of hope, a force that seemed ready to protect rather than destroy.

Naruto paused for a moment, setting the pencil down on the desk. He looked at the drawings and the notes he had scribbled in the notebook, feeling a mix of pride and confusion. He had captured everything he could remember, every detail his memory had allowed. But now, as the morning sunlight spilled over the pages, one question continued to linger in his mind like a persistent shadow:

—"Why am I seeing these things? What does it all mean?" —he murmured quietly, slowly closing the notebook as his gaze drifted toward the window.

The mystery remained, like a mist he couldn't dispel. Yet, deep down, Naruto knew that this was only the beginning.

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The sound of keys echoed throughout the cave, bouncing off the walls like an unending ripple. Bruce leaned over the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the massive screen projecting a whirlwind of fragmented data. Distorted images, incomplete graphs, and disconnected statistics filled the display. Every line of code, every visual analysis, served as a grim reminder of the chaos he had witnessed.

The creature. That monster. Still an enigma.

Bruce mentally retraced the locations where it had appeared, searching for patterns that continued to elude him. It was maddening. Its movements seemed erratic, almost random. And yet, his mind always returned to the darkest details: the screams of its victims.

—"No fear…" —he murmured to himself, frowning. His fingers moved with surgical precision over the keyboard as the idea began to crystallize in his mind. This monster appeared to feed on panic, growing stronger from the despair it left in its wake. It was unpredictable, which made it even more dangerous than any foe Bruce had faced before.

He leaned back in his chair, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the tangled mess of information on the screen. His gaze drifted to the corner of the data display, where a schematic for an incomplete device flickered faintly. It was a communicator, but not an ordinary one. It was something he had been designing in secret, a tool specifically crafted for this purpose—something that might give him an edge if he faced the creature again.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft echo of approaching footsteps. Alfred appeared at the edge of the platform, carrying a tray with his customary elegance. On it rested a steaming cup of tea, the gentle curls of vapor rising into the cold, sterile light of the cave.

—"Sir, I fear you've once again lost yourself in your work," —Alfred remarked as he set the tray on a nearby table. His voice was calm, but the faint arch of concern in his brow betrayed his true thoughts.

Bruce didn't take his eyes off the screen. —"This isn't work, Alfred. It's survival."

Alfred sighed, crossing his arms with the practiced patience of someone who had had this conversation countless times before. —"Master Bruce, you know as well as I do that this obsession leads nowhere. We've been here before. How many more nights will you sacrifice? Your body needs rest, and so does your mind."

Finally, Bruce turned his chair toward his butler and closest confidant, his expression hardened by tension. —"I can't afford to rest, Alfred. If that thing shows up again and I'm not ready, someone else will pay the price. Robin. Batgirl. Any one of them could…"

The sentence trailed off, but the weight of the unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

Alfred regarded him with a mix of empathy and firmness. —"Sir, I understand your fear, but you don't have to carry this burden alone. You've trained your allies to be strong. You've built a network of support. While it's true that you're unique in what you do, you can't deny others the chance to help."

Bruce clenched his fists, his gaze shifting away. —"You don't understand what this is, Alfred. This isn't like the others. I can't risk anyone else. I'm the one who has to stop it."

His tone was resolute, but there was something beneath it—a faint trace of doubt buried deep. Alfred picked up on it instantly.

—"And what if you can't?" —Alfred asked softly, though his words carried a quiet defiance. —"What happens then, sir? Who will protect those left behind if you fail?"

For a moment, the cave was engulfed in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Alfred's words struck a nerve Bruce had been trying to suppress. He knew it. He had thought about it before, though he would never admit it aloud. Instead, his eyes returned to the screen, as though the disorganized data might provide an answer.

—"It's better to be prepared, even if it doesn't return," —he finally said, his tone brooking no argument. —"Because if it does... this time, I'll be ready."

Alfred exhaled a barely audible sigh. —"I hope so, sir. But if I may offer a word of advice, your preparation will mean nothing if you push your body and mind past their limits."

Bruce didn't reply. His focus remained fixed on the schematics he'd been designing. On a side screen, the outline of a new suit was displayed: a lighter armor optimized for speed without compromising protection. Beside it were the details for a device that could amplify electromagnetic signals, calibrated to emit a specific frequency. It was ambitious, but his instincts told him it might be the key.

Alfred observed him in silence for a few moments, weighing whether it was worth pressing further. Ultimately, he decided against it.

—"Take a moment to reflect, sir," —Alfred said as he turned to leave, his voice carrying restrained concern. —"Remember, you can't fight monsters if, in the process, you become one."

Alfred's footsteps receded into the distance, leaving Bruce alone once again in the cold, shadowed depths of the cave. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a deep breath. Alfred's words lingered in his mind, though he fought to ignore them. What if I can't?

His gaze returned to the schematics, his expression hardening with resolve. There was no time for doubt. His mind was caught in a tug-of-war between logic and fear, but he knew he couldn't afford to lose that internal battle. Because if that monster returned, he had to be ready.

No matter the cost.

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In the silent library, Naruto was completely absorbed in his notebook. The pencil in his hand moved quickly, sketching lines and writing words with the urgency of someone afraid that the memories might slip away. His thoughts flowed like an overflowing river, every detail captured in rough but fervent strokes.

The massive warrior was the first figure he drew. His imposing armor dominated the page, shining with a brilliance that wasn't merely physical but also symbolic. To Naruto, the warrior embodied authority, justice, and an uncompromising strength. The sword he wielded—almost as long as Naruto himself—seemed both an instrument of salvation and destruction.

—"He was definitely the leader…" —he murmured quietly, his eyes never leaving the sketch.

Next came the fox woman. There was something about her that felt nearly impossible to capture on paper, as though her presence defied the limits of imagination. Naruto tried to recreate the intensity of her gaze, those piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through to the soul, revealing secrets best left buried. He drew her movements as if they were made of wind and shadows, graceful and hypnotic, as though even in stillness, she continued to dance in his mind.

—"Elegant… but dangerous," —he thought, adjusting the lines of the swirling tails that surrounded her figure.

The pencil paused for a moment when he moved on to the monstrous figure wielding the club. There was something about him that made Naruto uneasy, even now, far from that strange place. His features were grotesque, disproportionate, as though someone had shaped him with rage and carelessness. But what unsettled Naruto the most was the creature's sheer presence. It felt as though this being was destruction incarnate—a force of nature clad in flesh and stone. Naruto frowned as he sketched the massive club, immense and heavy, a natural extension of the creature's body, designed for one purpose: to crush.

—"A monster, but not a mere brute…" —he whispered, a slight shiver running down his spine as he remembered the colossus's eyes, filled with a restrained fury that seemed capable of obliterating everything.

Finally, he sketched the young woman with the scepter. Her appearance stood in stark contrast to the others. While the other figures radiated power and danger, she exuded a warmth that seemed to envelop him even now, far from her presence. Naruto carefully drew her light armor, which reflected a gentle glow, as though it had been crafted from stardust. But what stood out most was her expression: resolute yet serene. There was something about her that gave him hope, a feeling that, no matter what happened, she would be there, standing against the darkness without hesitation.

—"She's different…" —he thought, adding small bursts of light around the scepter, trying to capture the radiance that had pierced even the deepest shadows of that place.

Naruto set the pencil down and leaned back in his chair, taking in his work. The drawings were rough, marked by hurried strokes, but they managed to convey a fraction of what he had felt in that strange place. There was something about those figures that both unsettled and fascinated him. They weren't just characters from a dream. Every detail he remembered was etched into his mind with almost painful clarity.

—"This can't just be a dream…" —he murmured to himself, unaware that his words broke the quiet of the library. There was something too real about those beings, about that place. It felt as though he had truly been there, as if his mind couldn't fully grasp what he had experienced.

With a sigh, he closed the notebook and carefully tucked it into his backpack, making sure it was well-protected. Before standing, he glanced around the library. The space remained tranquil, with only a few students absorbed in their books. Despite the ordinary surroundings, Naruto couldn't shake the feeling that the world around him had shifted, as if something invisible was watching him.

Something inside him told him not to share this with anyone… at least not yet. It was his secret, something he had to understand on his own before he could even consider speaking about it to anyone else.

As he rose to leave, the morning sun poured through the windows, bathing the library in a soft golden light. Naruto walked toward the exit with slow, deliberate steps, his mind still spinning with the same questions.

—"What was that place?" —he wondered aloud, his eyes fixed on the floor. —"And why do I feel like it's important?"

He stepped out of the library and headed toward his next class, but his thoughts were far removed from the school hallways. The weight of the notebook in his backpack seemed to remind him that this wasn't the end, but the beginning of something much greater. Though he didn't yet know exactly what it was, there was a growing certainty within him: that place had called to him for a reason.