Dragon racing was expensive.

Whether it was underground or legal races, an obscene amount of money had to be spent. Always.

With underground races, the costs were more limited for the space itself was limited. As Jackal, I only had to worry about placing barriers on the Blocks’ borders to avoid troublesome legal cases. As for the lanes themselves, my costs usually went to construction companies to rebuild the structures and clean up the streets and maintenance to prevent mana leaks.

That was it.

Yet real races, races people were charged preposterous prices for a single ticket, those were different. Entire environments could be created and simulated, from volcanic activity to contained tsunamis, and hurricanes. Sometimes, it would take months to build and set up a race.

The StarWing race—the one Alantra Harris was so desperate to win—would only happen in seven years or so, and its lanes were already being designed. I even recalled an official announcement from the Crown, informing how they were already scouting people for the project.

Alchemists, architects, engineers, breeders, investors, trainers—there were so many different roles involved in the creation and conception of a dragon race, it almost justified the price charged. Almost. Which was why so many of the smaller noble houses crawled to the underground cities just to watch illegal races. 

Ergos Academy was the most esteemed and prestigious school for anyone interested in dragon racing. So I always knew they had the funds to build good lanes. Damned good lanes.

Yet having lived in the underground most of my life, while steering away from anything related to the upper city, I had very few opportunities to watch the real dragon races.

To witness how much the techniques and constructions had advanced from the races I remembered as a child.

Perhaps this was the main reason why, the moment Styx and I ventured into the third lane, I was completely taken aback.

Because there was no way anyone would be able to say the thing in front of my eyes was human made.

Thunders louder than any roar, a vicious wind doing its very best to knock me out of Styx—I had no way of knowing when or where the lightnings would strike, with them passing so close sometimes, I felt their electricity through my gear.

While being wet was not a problem, seeing I was already drenched, the rain was removing every ounce of visibility I could have, hitting my goggles without a second of break. It was relentless, as if it wished to drag us down to the ground by sheer force alone.

Blurs rushed past me one after the other as I struggled to keep a straight flight due the combined forces of the tempest. I could tell Styx was doing his very best to compensate—to guide me in the storm. Yet in the end, I was the one holding the reins.

I was the one who was supposed to guide us.

Apart from the lane in the woods, this and the other were the same size, with similar difficulty levels. I was not the only rider struggling, so if we at least kept a steady speed until the last stop, our position wouldn’t be as compromised.

Then we were struck by lightning.

Styx sensed it, way before me. He twisted and bent his entire body violently, trying to dodge to the side, but it was too fast.

And we were too late.

Being an artificial storm, the power of the lightning was not even close to the real thing—I knew that. Yet it was not in this lane as decoration, either. It was meant to stun.

Before we knew it, Styx was falling, our bodies twitching uncontrollably. I could feel every spasm of every muscle, my body not my own anymore. Styx did his best with the landing, already trying to raise himself and go back to the skies the moment we touched the drenched soil.

Lying on the ground, the wet scent of mud, stones, and rain impregnating my nostrils, I could do nothing but look above and see all the riders passing us by. I clenched my fists, bit my lip, tasted the blood. Felt its bitterness.

I can’t go down like this. Not before the final lane…

Not before I even get accepted into this stupid place.

With my fingers still numb and shaking, I opened one of my pouches and tried to grab one of the potions. Yet I couldn’t control my movements, much less did I possess enough strength, the vial slipping through my fingers.

I grunted and cursed, hot tears streaming down my eyes in anger. Frustration.

Almost fifteen seconds had passed when Styx let out a roar, one that made every single bone in my body tremble and rattle. I could sense his body twitch from the lightning, yet the dragon still moved his wings, using strong bursts of air to push us higher and higher in the sky.

I had to brace myself in the saddle so I wouldn’t fall over, taking me another fifteen seconds to recover my motor skills—to have control over my own muscles and movements again.

Though we came close to getting stricken again, Styx and I arrived at the final stop without any more accidents. The problem was, one had been more than enough.

8993rd.

My heart dropped to my stomach, dissolved in the acid, came back to my chest.

For the final stop, riders could stay a maximum of two minutes in the space before advancing to the final lane. However, they were obliged to wait at least forty seconds.

The black crystal placed on my glove displayed the countdown, right above my current placement.

0:32

0:31

0:30

In front of us, in a cave bursting with dragons and riders, there was only one path ahead. A giant exit from the mountain, revealing the outside world. The real sky, the real sun. The benches and the audience, the mana barriers and the liquid silver orbs.

I noticed a huge crack on my goggles, touching the crack with stiff fingers.

It probably happened when the lightning struck us…

I gripped the reins so hard my hands went numb.

“We need to get back to the first 4500, at least. Otherwise, we are out,” I muttered to Styx.

0:20

0:19

0:18

“I brought some supplements. If you need to recover your energy before—”

Styx's growl was more than enough to know his stance.

“Don’t slow down, then. I will also make sure to keep others away.” Because, just like the first lane, riders could engage in direct combat.

And we had not even one second left to spare.

0:08

0:07

0:06

Styx flexed his wings, his claws scratching against the rocky ground.

0:04

0:03

0:02

I clenched my jaw until it hurt. Until I could not see my position blinking in the black crystal in my hand—dropping more and more.

When Styx took flight, we were outside in less than a second.

I had to wrap both my arms in the reins, the air boost so strong it took every ounce of control and strength I had to remain seated. The narrator seemed way more agitated, desperate even, as he commented on the race. I couldn’t understand a single word, my ears focusing on my competitors.

As soon as Styx stopped the boost, the world around me slowing down, I heard the hundred roars, grunts, and screams echoing through the sky. Whatever chaos ensued during the first lane, it became undoubtedly worse in the last.

Riders were not only bolder and daring with their attacks, they were more desperate. Aggressive. The official rules stated riders could not kill each other, with lethal injuries being avoided at all costs.

The keyword being avoided.

A few meters ahead of us, I saw a girl shoot an arrow that went straight into another rider’s ribs. He fell down almost instantly, his wingless mount wrapping their body on his as they descended. Before he even reached the ground, the girl had another arrow ready, searching for another target.

Many dragons were using their attributes, four-legged especially. From what I had observed, there were no dragons with exceptional attribute power. Still, the last thing we needed was another delay. Constantly I would steer Styx away from blasts and shots, some aimed at us, others being misfires or the result of poor aim. Twice, Styx got hit.

The first time was near his tail with ice, and though I felt Styx flinch, it didn’t slow us down. The second time, however, was an attack directly aimed at us.

There were at least sixteen riders around us, and three of them had their dragons wildly attacking with no pattern or aim whatsoever—as if the bloody idiots would be more than happy if they hit anything at all. Poison, fire, and water shots kept coming randomly, rampant, forcing me to keep dodging while trying to surpass the idiotic happy trio.

Then a four-legged dragon appeared from below us, their orange and gold scales the last thing I saw before the world became one blinding light as the fierce and intense glow radiated from them.

A light attribute, this strong…

For the next few seconds, my vision was completely gone. Styx’s as well. We were not only in the middle of a crossfire, we had just become easy targets to be taken down. Before being blinded, I had spotted at least five riders getting ready to strike.

My mind became a map. I knew where each of their positions were, the possible attack patterns, the current openings. I knew where Styx was, and where he had to go. I knew exactly what I wanted him to do.

I just didn’t know how to guide him.

So for the following seven seconds, I did my best.

“Boost up!” That was the most I managed to shout and instruct him to do.

As a burst of air sent us higher, I pushed the reins to the side, and then leaned downwards. I sensed as Styx threw himself to the right and then dove, hearing and feeling the other dragons’ attacks pass us by. I pulled the reins to the right and then to the left, wanting Styx to go on zigzag and then up, flying above the riders and finally leaving them behind.

Yet that time, Styx didn’t understand me.

And he got hit right on his left side, the heat of the flames reaching me in a heartbeat.

Styx let out a cry, and without any notice he began to spin while doing another air boost, forcing me to grab the saddle with everything I had. I got dizzy, nauseous, my vision not fully recovered.

When I was finally able to open my eyes and see, Styx had surpassed the group. But there were still flames burning his wing. I immediately opened one of my pouches, grabbing a potion and pouring its contents on his wing, the flames subsiding until they were completely gone. However, I could tell Styx was in pain.

Because his speed dropped, significantly.

He boosted us a few more times, however neither I had the strength to hold on to the saddle and stay seated nor Styx had the energy to prolong it.

It was in that state that we crossed the finish line. With me barely holding the reins, and Styx with his left wing burned and twitching every time he moved it.

In 6113th place.