"Didn't the swarm, in a way, do us a huge favor?"
Standing atop the ruins of a dead planet, Firefly spoke absently, the freshly recovered Stellaron gleaming in her hands.
Their mission had taken them to a world on the edge of a Swarm Disaster—normally, it would've been crawling with Rift creatures.
But nearly all of them had already been wiped out by the wandering swarm bugs.
Now, aside from its scarred and broken surface, the planet held no signs of life.
For once, the Stellaron Hunters had completed their mission without breaking a sweat.
"Isn't that great? Saves us the trouble of warming up," Kafka replied lazily.
Easy missions suited her just fine. There were only two kinds she actually enjoyed: the ones so dangerous they sent a thrill down her spine—and the ones so effortless she could breeze through them half-asleep.
Anything in between was just tedious.
Before they'd left, Elio had warned, "This mission is extremely dangerous—you'll have to guard against swarm attacks while fending off Rift creatures."
So the Stellaron Hunters had dispatched three members at once.
Who could've guessed it would turn out like this?
It lacked the thrill and danger Elio had promised, but Kafka wasn't about to complain about an easy day's work.
What really caught her attention now was their other companion.
Firefly was busy securing the Stellaron, while Silver Wolf stood off to the side, grinding her teeth.
"What's wrong, Silver Wolf? You've been like that for days."
Kafka's curiosity finally got the better of her. Silver Wolf had been seething for a while now. Kafka had assumed she'd cool off on her own—but clearly not.
"Did you lose to someone in a game again?"
That was usually the only thing that could get under her skin like this.
"It's not that! Losing a game's whatever—I get over it fast."
Silver Wolf shook her head sharply and thrust something right in Kafka's face.
It was a news article from Punklorde, featuring a special commemorative prize from some game.
"The Galaxy Peace Medal?" Kafka frowned. "Isn't that only awarded to people who've done something big—like saving planets or curing diseases?"
That sort of medal had nothing to do with Stellaron Hunters. So why was Silver Wolf so worked up about it?
"Don't tell me you suddenly feel like doing good deeds? Should we ask Elio to line up a few charity missions for you?"
"No! Didn't you see? That Galaxy Peace Medal was awarded for playing a game!"
Silver Wolf pulled up the full story, and Kafka immediately caught the title: Swarmfall.
[Swarmfall has officially ended operations. Thank you to all players—your efforts have saved countless lives.]
[Producer Giovanni Epsilon announced: "Players who achieve a kill count of 100,000 will receive the Galaxy Peace Medal."]
[Official notice: Players with IDs like "Yellow Wings in the Bladder" or "Frog Pee Lover," please change your names—they may affect medal distribution.]
[Punklorde announcement: 317 citizens have qualified for the award. A grand ceremony will be held!]
With her quick mind, Kafka grasped it immediately.
"So the players were piloting real ships and killing actual swarm bugs... how fascinating."
She could almost imagine their faces when they found out.
All I did was play a game—and now I'm getting a Galaxy Peace Medal?
"Silver Wolf, don't tell me you're mad because you didn't get one?"
"No, no, no—I'm mad because everyone keeps shoving theirs in my face!" Silver Wolf snapped, her voice tight with frustration.
Her inbox had been flooded with messages from her Punklorde friends showing off their shiny new medals.
Punklorde was famous for hackers, black-market prosthetics, forged IDs, and obsessive gamers. On that planet, collecting trophies from popular games was basically a social requirement.
And if you didn't have one? You faked it.
But this time, she couldn't.
The Galaxy Peace Medal was loaded with anti-forgery tech, each one linked to a specific person.
Silver Wolf hadn't had time to play Swarmfall because of this mission—while all her friends back home had.
Now they were flaunting their medals nonstop, while she could only seethe from afar.
"Seriously, didn't the company already blacklist Punklorde as a lawless zone? Why are they even distributing medals there?!"
Silver Wolf raked her hands through her hair in exasperation. She couldn't win one, and she couldn't fake one.
Her friends were probably already laughing about it.
"Listen up, Silver Wolf," she muttered bitterly to herself. "Punklorde's throwing a huge ceremony with every big name in attendance—and guess who's not invited?"
"You~~~~~~"
The thought made her temples throb.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!" she screamed, sounding for all the world like a furious marmot.
Damn it! If I ever find the person who made this game…!
...
"Achoo!" The silver-masked man suddenly sneezed.
"What's wrong, Mr. Giovanni? Feeling unwell from the long trip?"
"No, no—someone's probably talking about me."
Giovanni waved off the guide's concern and lifted his gaze to the planet under construction.
Once called Tartaro, the Soul Springs, it now overflowed with an endless stream of people.
In recent days, the worlds ravaged by the Swarm Disaster had gone on the Galaxy Net to declare they would no longer accept the IPC's protection. Instead, they'd formed a federation of their own.
And the headquarters of this Federation now stood here, on what was once the Soul Springs.
Every time Giovanni thought about it, it still felt unbelievable. "I never expected you guys to actually form a Galactic Federation."
The IPC was one of the most influential forces in the universe—over eighty percent of planets were under its protection.
But these planets, originally sheltered by the IPC, tore up their contracts before the terms had even ended.
It was like stomping on the IPC's face.
What astonished Giovanni even more was how the IPC swallowed the insult without a peep. They simply issued a statement saying they would withdraw all weapons and equipment—and that was it.
Such meekness from the IPC was rare in this galaxy.
And all of this was because—
"Isn't it because the IPC knew it was in the wrong this time?"
Jobs gave a dry chuckle. As someone who knew the IPC inside out, he knew exactly how they operated:
Stage One: deny anything happened.
Stage Two: admit something might have happened but insist no action is needed.
Stage Three: agree something should be done but claim they're powerless.
Now, because Sora resolved the Swarm Disaster far too quickly, they'd reached Stage Four: We should've done something earlier, but it's already too late.
The IPC had no moral high ground left. That was why Jobs could pressure them into backing off with almost no effort.
On top of that, Jobs—the man the IPC had once hailed as "always victorious"—had now openly chosen to oppose them.
Such things were vanishingly rare in the galaxy.
As a result, most people's attention had been drawn to the feud between Jobs and the IPC.
Jobs knew it was just a tactic to divert attention, yet given the company's current reputation, it worked.
Giovanni, naturally, found the situation intriguing. A former director falling out with the IPC wasn't something you saw every day.
"This investment turned out profitable again—and entertaining, as always."
But whether it was rare hardly mattered to Giovanni. If it was entertaining and profitable, he was satisfied.
"It doesn't matter." At first, Jobs only planned to cash in a few favors to save his daughter from the Swarm Disaster.
Unexpectedly, those favors hadn't diminished—they'd multiplied.
That result truly exceeded Jobs's expectations.
Not that it mattered to him right now, because his attention had been stolen by something odd behind Giovanni.
"Why is there a gold-coin pattern on your backside? And… why is it glowing?"
Indeed, Jobs's gaze was fixed on Giovanni's rear.
A glowing gold-coin motif was sparkling on Giovanni's butt.
Why was Giovanni's butt glowing—and why was he showing it off so casually?
"Is something wrong with your body? Did a shadow creature latch onto you?"
Given Giovanni's status, getting rid of a shadow creature should've been trivial, so Jobs couldn't make sense of it.
"Well…" Giovanni chuckled.
"It's just something fashionable at our place these days. It's not just gold coins—there are butterflies, birds…"
As he spoke, the pattern on Giovanni's backside shifted, the glittering lights changing color.
"Does it… have some special meaning?"
"Who knows? But it's amusing, isn't it?"
Jobs fell silent, suddenly remembering which faction his old friend belonged to.
For Giovanni, chasing any bit of fun—no matter how ridiculous—was perfectly normal.
"Alright, let's go. I heard you've already chosen your Federation leaders. I should show my face and bank some goodwill."
Giovanni led the way, curious who the newly formed Galactic Federation had picked.
These planets had survived the swarm onslaught; whoever they chose had to be capable enough to command their respect—
"I told you you're illiterate, didn't I? How can someone illiterate share the same position as me? Yihihihihihi!"
The moment Giovanni stepped onto the top floor, he heard a voice that didn't sound human at all.
Stranger still, when he looked around, there was no one there.
The voices seemed to be coming from the air itself, two of them arguing heatedly.
"Jobs, your leaders… aren't here right now?" A chill ran down Giovanni's spine. "And the music here is… unusual."
Wasn't this supposed to be where the Galactic Federation's leaders stayed? Yet he didn't see a single person.
Worse, the bickering was only getting louder.
Jobs's eye twitched. He knew exactly what was going on.
A certain group had insisted on having two leader positions, and the two chosen were now quarreling over seniority.
Apparently, they still hadn't settled it…
"Ahem, they're not here at the moment. Why don't you come rest for a bit—"
"Huh? Who said I'm not here?"
Giovanni turned toward the voice, glimpsing a faint figure starting to coalesce—
But before it fully appeared, it vanished again.
"You haven't even finished today's lessons, and you're already thinking about leaving?"
"SORA!!! YOU STUPID IDIOT!"
The quarrel burst out around them once more.
"This…" Giovanni stood there, stunned.
"Ahem… it's normal. Completely normal."
In what way is this normal?!
No matter how you looked at it, something was definitely off with their leaders.
Jobs stepped forward, slinging a comforting arm around Giovanni's shoulders. "Relax. This is perfectly normal. If you don't believe me, come with me to ask the planetary leaders who joined the Federation."
We'll see about that, Giovanni thought. Would those leaders really acknowledge someone they couldn't even see properly?
Reality proved—yes, they would.
"No one is more suitable to lead us right now than Mr. Sora and Commander Titania."
"Indeed, those two are the heart and soul of our Federation."
"It's because of them that we're gathered here safe and sound. If not them, who else could we choose?"
A wave of absurdity washed over Giovanni.
It's over. Completely over.
In this universe, there was actually a faction more ridiculous than the Masked Fools.
Mouth suddenly dry, Giovanni asked nervously, "Jobs, just tell me—exactly which AEON do you people believe in?"
They had to be wary; this was a formidable rival to the Masked Fools.
Jobs glanced toward the emblem of the Federation of Hope and answered plainly, "We don't trust the AEONs. We trust them."
The emblem depicted an infinity symbol intertwined with two crossed blades—one black, one white.
The infinity stood for Sora; the blades symbolized Titania's dual swords and her distinctive black-and-white hair. Together, they formed the emblem of the Federation of Hope.
Their symbol.
And their faith.
---
INTERLUDE:
"Come and duel me!"
Sora blinked, wondering what kind of nonsense Titania had come up with this time.
Titania, on the other hand, had a gleam of excitement in her eyes as she faced him head-on.
Looks like there's no escaping this… Fine, let's see what she's up to now.
When it came to Titania, Sora already had a full set of countermeasures.
No matter what wild ideas she threw out, the trick was simple: endure it, humor her, and wait it out. Give it a few days and she'd forget what she'd said in the first place.
Titania's famous three-minute attention span never failed him. All he had to do was find out what she wanted this time.
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
Seeing that he'd taken the bait, Titania huffed proudly. "Naturally, we'll settle this through a duel—to decide who should be the true leader!"
"As the saying goes, 'A country cannot have two sovereigns.' Between the two of us, we must choose the one most suited to guide the Federation's future!"
Sora's mouth twitched. Titania, quoting proverbs like some ancient philosopher? Something was definitely off.
Had something happened?
As he tried to figure it out, Unkyō leaned over and whispered, "I heard she's been binge-watching Xianzhou dramas lately. Especially the ones about secret power struggles."
That explained everything.
So she'd just gotten overly invested in TV again.
If that was the case, there was no need to take her too seriously—just wait until her enthusiasm burned out.
Titania noticed Sora whispering but ignored it. As someone about to become the supreme leader of the Federation, she had bigger things to focus on.
Her top priority right now was defeating Sora once and for all!
"Having two leaders will only throw the Federation into chaos. We must decide who's really in charge!"
"So, Sora—fight me seriously! Let everyone see who's truly fit to lead!"
Sora nodded lazily. "Yeah, yeah…"
Seeing his half-hearted response, Titania slammed her palm against the table.
"Hey! I'm not joking!"
Sora just stared at her, realizing she was genuinely fired up.
But before he could figure out a way to dodge this, Titania leaned in close and whispered by his ear.
"Sora… you seem to really enjoy muttering to those little printed-out figures in your room, don't you?"
As the saying went: To defeat your enemy, know your enemy.
Since Titania had found her rival, of course she'd gathered intel.
Just yesterday, during one of her "intelligence missions," she'd overheard Sora mumbling to himself in his room.
"Hehehe, Touma-sensei… hehehe, half-baked tough guy… hehehe, Heisei Luckiest Rider…"
She had no clue who those people were, but one thing was obvious—they mattered to Sora!
Now that she had their names, she'd found his Achilles' heel.
Although she wasn't exactly sure what "Achilles' heel" meant, it definitely sounded impressive.
Anyway, knowing this gave her leverage. Now was the time to use it.
"Sora, you wouldn't want other people finding out what you mutter to yourself at night… would you?"
The moment she said that, Sora nearly spat out the water he'd been drinking.
After a long coughing fit, he finally croaked, "Where on earth did you even learn a line like that?!"
"Hmm? Why, is something wrong? In the dramas, whenever someone says that, the other person always gives in immediately."
Titania tilted her head innocently, but then remembered why she was here in the first place.
"Wait—forget that! Just tell me, are you accepting my duel or not?!"
Right. She was here to decide who deserved the leader's seat—not explain her script choices.
Sora didn't know exactly what she was thinking, but one thing was crystal clear:
If he refused, she'd keep memorizing more melodramatic lines from TV—and keep testing them on him.
To preserve his hard-won peace, Sora made up his mind.
"I accept your duel. You pick the place."
Let's just get this over with.
But Titania froze. "Hah? Who said anything about combat?"
Sora had literally kicked apart the AEON of EQUILIBRIUM.
Titania believed herself on par with that AEON, but even she wasn't reckless enough to fight him head-on.
Physical battle—DENIED!
"The duel I've chosen this time is a ceremonial contest that tests strength, intelligence, and endurance equally!"
Oh? That was quite the fancy description.
Sora's curiosity was officially piqued. What kind of "duel" could possibly test all three at once?
"Welcome, everyone, to the live broadcast of the Interstellar Long-Distance Race, proudly sponsored by the Federation of Hope!"
That's right—Titania's "duel" was a marathon.
A long-distance race across the stars, testing physical power, strategy, and endurance.
Arms crossed, Titania grinned broadly. "Mhuhuhuhuhu~!"
Facing Sora in direct combat was a no-go, but running? That was her field.
After every big battle, hadn't Sora always needed her help just to limp home?
Victory was practically guaranteed!
Meanwhile, Sora stood to the side, speechless.
Settling leadership through something as ridiculous as an interstellar marathon made him genuinely question the sanity of everyone involved.
And yet… everyone else was thrilled.
Within half a day, they'd raised the funds, booked the location, and built everything needed for the event.
They even...
Sora glanced toward the side of the course, where a commentary booth had been set up.
They'd even invited Robin and some "special guest" as commentators.
Apparently, that guest was "the fairest existence in the galaxy."
Now that… definitely caught Sora's attention. Who on earth could that be?
As the countdown clock wound down, the live broadcast finally came into focus before Sora's eyes.
"Welcome, everyone, to today's Interstellar Long-Distance Race! I'm your host for this battle for supremacy—Robin."
Robin looked like she'd been dragged into this against her will. Standing beside her was a figure Sora instantly recognized.
"Welcome, everyone, to today's Interstellar Long-Distance Race! I'm your other host for this battle—Fenille."
Jobs's daughter.
And next to them stood one more person—whose very appearance made the corner of Sora's eye twitch violently.
"Welcome, all, to witness this glorious interstellar race, brimming with honor and brilliance!"
That flowing red hair, knightly armor, and the roses blooming across his attire—there was no mistaking him.
"It is my great honor to share with you the radiant glory of courage and wisdom that shall shine from our two competitors today."
"I am your third host for this event—Argenti."
Yes, that Argenti. The same one Sora had crossed paths with before, now standing proudly in front of the cameras with the air of someone narrating an epic poem.
Why Argenti had been chosen as commentator for this marathon was… a story in itself.
When asked, two "anonymous" participants had vouched for him:
A girl with her eyes suspiciously covered said, "I believe Argenti-san's commentary will be unquestionably fair and impartial, accurately recounting every moment that unfolds."
A tall figure with long white hair and similarly hidden eyes added, "Indeed. The Knights of Beauty's fairness is renowned across the galaxy. Thus, we recommended Argenti-san for the role."
It didn't take a genius to recognize them as the Iron Cavalry who'd fought alongside Argenti on Zieltworth.
As the saying goes, true friendship is forged in battle. And though Argenti's actual combat performance might've been… less than stellar, his "virtue" had apparently left a lasting impression.
Naturally, they invited him to witness and narrate this "decisive" marathon.
Conveniently, Robin was on Sora's side, Fenille backed Titania, and Argenti stood proudly neutral.
The hosts were perfectly balanced—or so someone must've thought.
...
Meanwhile, Sora's eyelid twitched harder. Seriously—just covering their eyes with mosaics? Everyone could still tell exactly who they were!
Sigh…
What had started as a simple way to humor Titania had somehow turned into a galaxy-wide spectacle.
And just as Sora let out another weary sigh, the culprit herself appeared before him.
"Heh heh heh. Sora, if you think you're not up for it, you can always surrender now and hand over the leadership willingly."
Titania's confidence practically radiated off her.
Nobody, in her mind, understood long-distance running better than she did—after all, she'd spent who knows how long zipping around the galaxy lately.
"Hmph! Not up to it? A man never admits he can't perform!"
Her jab hit Sora right where it hurt: his pride.
He'd expected Titania to settle this quietly, but now that she'd made it a public event, he couldn't afford to back down.
There was no way he'd embarrass himself here.
"Well then," Titania said, turning away with theatrical flair. "I'll just have to let you experience true despair firsthand."
Had he surrendered, she might've gone easy on him. But since he was being stubborn, she would crush him without mercy.
"This time, your defeat is guaranteed!"
She strode off, leaving Sora staring after her.
"…That's one huge flag you just raised," he muttered.
Clearly, she'd been watching way too many dramas—and hadn't realized that every time someone shouted something like that, the one who said it usually lost.
These were the exact kinds of death flags Sora had learned to avoid since the day he arrived in this universe. Titania, however, seemed determined to trigger every single one.
"If I don't win this time, it really won't make sense anymore," Sora sighed—then froze.
Wait. Did I just raise one myself?
As preparations neared completion, the decisive marathon was about to begin.
Under the eager eyes of countless viewers, the "battle for the sole leadership of the Federation" finally kicked off.
"Ah~ each time I witness scenes overflowing with courage and passion, I cannot help but sigh in admiration."
Argenti spoke fervently from the commentary booth. "The praise of humanity is the praise of courage! Each spark of bravery reminds me of the teachings of beautiful IDRILA—"
"Under the radiant blessing of beautiful IDRILA, glory shall be eternally—mmphhh?!"
Before he could finish, Fenille clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Director! Cut that part! This is the Federation of Hope's broadcast, not a Beauty recruitment drive!"
Watching even the commentary desk descend into chaos, Sora actually felt himself relax a little.
At this point, whatever happened, happened. With so much effort and money already poured in, he might as well go all in.
"I won't hold back this time, Titania!"
Today, he'd show her what true long-distance supremacy looked like.
Under the eyes of the entire galaxy, the interstellar marathon duel officially began.
"This long-distance duel will consist of three segments," Robin explained smoothly, ignoring the muffled scuffle between Fenille and Argenti behind her.
"First: the Space Segment, descending from orbit to the planet's surface.
Second: the Planet Segment, where competitors must reach a designated point and race toward the Federation Leadership Tower.
And third: the Tower-Climbing Segment—a final sprint to the summit, where ultimate victory awaits."
Behind her, Fenille continued wrestling Argenti into submission while Robin narrated like nothing was wrong.
"All contestants are now ready. The race will begin shortly."
The screen shifted to show Sora and Titania at the starting line.
"I'm definitely taking this victory!" Titania declared, full of bravado.
"To restore the honor of long-distance running, I accept this sacred duty!" Sora replied, matching her theatrics.
The crowd roared in anticipation.
All systems ready.
3—
2—
1—
Ready…
Go!
...
As the old saying goes: if you don't have the right tools, don't try fixing porcelain.
Since Titania had confidently chosen a long-distance race to decide who would be the Federation's sole leader, she obviously had a plan.
Why else would she suggest such a ridiculous method? There was no way she'd dig her own grave.
After thorough research, Titania had confirmed one crucial fact:
While Sora was absurdly powerful, speed had never been his strong suit.
And though he was now a spiritual entity like her, there was a clear, fundamental difference—she was a deity.
And as a deity, Titania possessed abilities Sora completely lacked—like moving freely through outer space.
"Hehehe… Sora, from the moment you agreed to this duel, your defeat was already sealed!"
Without the ability to maneuver in zero gravity, how could he possibly return to Tartaro?
From the very beginning, Titania had set a perfect trap for him.
And the space segment was the longest of the three stages!
Which meant that right from the start, Sora had already been placed firmly in the losing seat.
Titania rubbed her hands together, her victory speech already written in her head. Everything was ready; all that remained was the start.
And thus, the battle for the Federation's leadership officially began.
All eyes were fixed on the two competitors waiting in a small space station.
Titania, known to everyone as "Commander," had become a beloved figure during the Swarm Disaster. Her self-proclaimed divinity only added to her mythos—especially among kids, who adored her.
And Sora? The savior who had led entire worlds back from the brink. His face wasn't splashed across billboards, but his image had quietly become a symbol of hope, even worship, in countless civilizations.
Without these two, the event wouldn't have drawn half as much attention.
Then—
Ready… Go!
"All right! The duel has officially begun—and yet neither contestant is moving?!"
With the chaos in the commentary booth finally settling down, the three commentators could now focus on their jobs.
But the sight before them was baffling: both competitors just stood there, motionless.
Were they seriously waiting for each other out of courtesy?
Inside the station, Titania chuckled leisurely, her confidence unshaken.
Sora, without the power to fly through space, you've already lost.
Sora sighed under her smug gaze and took a slow step forward—floating gently out of the station and into space.
Unfortunately, his pace was… painfully slow. At this rate, it might take days to finish.
"How about it, Sora? Can't speed up? Might as well surrender now!"
"It's only just started—what's the rush?"
"Hmph! Refusing to cry until you see the coffin, huh? Then let me show you the true speed of a deity!"
Titania didn't waste another second. She transformed into a streak of dazzling light, tearing through space in an instant.
"Ooohhh! And they're off!" Fenille shouted excitedly. "Titania takes the lead, blazing ahead in a flash of light! Meanwhile, our hopeful Sora—uh, what is he doing?!"
The camera zoomed in. Far behind Titania, Sora drifted through space, calmly…
"…Making a phone call?! Contestant Sora is actually making a phone call?!"
Indeed, to everyone's astonishment, Sora had pulled out his phone and was casually talking to someone.
"But this is a duel! That won't make him any faster!"
"Could it be… he's giving up?" Fenille wondered.
"No," Robin said firmly. "Sora wouldn't surrender that easily."
"Exactly! Within Mr. Sora burns the beauty of resilience and determination!" Argenti added passionately. "He must have found a way to overcome this trial!"
Still, most spectators remained skeptical. Outside assistance was forbidden—so who could possibly help him now?
Was Titania truly about to win this easily?
Then—
A brilliant silver light streaked across the far reaches of space.
"What… what's that?!"
"It's the Silver Radiance! Sora's spaceship, the Silver Radiance, is approaching!"
Indeed, that shining comet was none other than Sora's own ship.
"I protest! That's cheating!" Fenille yelled immediately. "This duel is strictly between two individuals! Why is a spaceship joining in?!"
"Oh? Is someone really piloting it?" Robin replied with a faint smile, switching the camera to the ship's interior—completely empty.
"That's…" Fenille froze.
"That's right," Robin continued smoothly. "The Silver Radiance isn't being piloted—it came on its own, guided by its bond with Sora."
"No wonder! I can already see the beauty of friendship shining from that vessel—it clearly possesses a will of its own!" Argenti proclaimed with fiery conviction, leaving Fenille speechless.
"So, since the ship arrived entirely of its own accord, it doesn't count as outside interference!"
With the ruling established, the Silver Radiance smoothly drew up beside Sora.
"Let's run this lap together, partner."
Sora and the ship exchanged a brief glance. Then, without hesitation, he merged into it.
"[Hen… shin]!"
'[KAIGAN! ORE!]
'[LET'S GO! KAKUGO!]'
'[GO GO GO! GHOST! GO! GO! GO! GO!]
A small horn extended from the ship's prow as rainbow-hued light rippled across its silver hull.
"Now—I'm absolutely invincible in terms of speed!"
With that, the Silver Radiance ignited, turning into a brilliant streak that cleaved through the cosmic dark.
Titania had taken off first, flying swiftly through the void and building up a comfortable lead—
But then, a blinding silver flash tore past her in an instant.
Her eyes widened, barely catching the fading glow of thrusters disappearing into the distance.
"NANI?!"
The Silver Radiance could, at full output, rival a fraction of the Astral Express's warp velocity. Having repaired itself near distant stars, it now demonstrated its full, terrifying power.
Titania had been first off the line, already covering nearly a third of the course—
And in the blink of an eye, Sora overtook her effortlessly.
By the time she reached the halfway mark, he was already entering Tartaro's atmosphere.
Of course, the Silver Radiance couldn't be used within the planet's gravity field.
Sora released his fusion, reverting to human form, and checked in at the waypoint marking the end of Stage One.
Then, without pause, he began sprinting toward the next stage.
Without his ship, he couldn't rely on sheer speed anymore—so he'd have to use the lead he'd gained to its fullest.
"You're not the only one who did your homework, Titania."
Just as she had prepared for the space segment, Sora had planned for the planetary one.
He'd already arranged a special mode of transportation for this section.
Parked right where he landed was a sleek motorcycle—waiting patiently on an empty street cleared for the race.
Sora grinned, throwing a leg over the seat.
"You're a hundred years too early to beat me in preparation, Titania!!!"
Sora swung a leg over the motorcycle and twisted the throttle.
"Contestant Sora has successfully mounted the vehicle he prepared in advance—this duel's outcome already seems all but decided."
"A duel is not merely a contest of strength, but also of intellect. The brilliance of wisdom shining from Sora's form shall soon lead him to victory."
Robin and Argenti took turns narrating, their words painting Sora as the inevitable victor.
Unfortunately, at that very moment, Fenille smiled faintly.
"Is that really the case?"
Her quiet remark drew both commentators' eyes at once.
"Could Sora truly win?"
Fenille's calm, deliberate tone made Robin's brow crease, the feathers by her ear shifting to a puzzled yellow.
Could Titania still have some kind of reversal ready?
Robin thought hard—until, all at once, realization struck. Her feathers flushed bright red.
At that exact moment, everyone watching saw it too—
Sora had just twisted off the entire handlebar of his motorcycle.
"What?!"
"Could it be that Sora's grip strength is too great, so it just snapped off?!"
"No—this isn't a real motorcycle!"
A sharp-eyed viewer spotted something strange beneath the torn handlebar—something solid, mechanical, and far too simple.
The "motorcycle" was only a shell—an illusion shaped from condensed Memoria.
Its true form was—
"A… bicycle?!"
Indeed. As the shimmering illusion peeled away, what appeared beneath was a simple, unmistakable bicycle—the kind used in ancient times.
The sight left the audience completely speechless.
And there was only one person capable of setting up such a convincing Memoria trap.
"Damn you, Titania!" Sora shouted.
Of course. No one but Titania could have pulled this off. She must've predicted his plan long ago and rigged his preparations from the start.
"Fufufu~ Didn't expect that, did you, Sora? I already saw right through you!"
Every purchase Sora had made for this race—Fenille's team had access to the records. With just a few subtle tweaks, they'd swapped his motorcycle for something almost no one in this era even remembered how to use.
No motorbike. No engine. Just a pedal-driven antique.
Titania had already broken through Tartaro's atmosphere. Sora could see the faint glimmer of her form streaking far ahead through the winds.
"Damn it… Don't underestimate me!"
And just when everyone assumed the match was decided—
Sora moved.
Far slower than a motorized vehicle, yes—but this was his speed, born from his strength.
As long as something could be ridden, he could drive it forward. That was his creed.
There was no such thing as despair.
Even within despair, Sora would always find the hope to push on.
That was what it meant to be a Kamen Rider.
"What?! How can he even ride such an ancient contraption?!"
Even Fenille gawked in disbelief.
Bicycles—long extinct relics from a forgotten age. Yet Sora rode it as though he'd done it all his life.
"Ora, ora, ora!"
Flashes of memory flickered through his mind—
Middle school days.
The summer sun.
Pedaling hard down familiar streets, wind in his face.
That rhythm, that pulse, that feeling—he rediscovered it all in an instant.
Now, Sora—carrying both his past and his present—had become something more.
He was rewriting a legend:
Abicycle faster than a motorbike.
His legs blurred into afterimages; the whirring chain sang like harp strings, harmonizing with his heartbeat.
After countless furious strides, the tall tower marking the finish line finally came into view.
Just a bit farther. If he could just make it there—
Sora's heart blazed with hope. Victory was within reach.
Then—
A sharp sound cut through the air behind him.
Titania was catching up.
"Though you're fast—so very fast—your fate is already sealed!"
Sora had pushed himself to the absolute limit. But flight was still faster than running.
And Titania—was flying.
Even after falling far behind, she was closing the distance rapidly.
"You're strong, Sora. But I'll forever remember you as the loser of this duel!" she called out, drawing closer with every heartbeat.
Sora didn't answer. He just kept pedaling, eyes locked on the tower ahead.
The final stage was right there.
He wouldn't lose focus now.
Gradually, Titania drew even with him.
Both reached the base of the tower almost simultaneously—and in the next instant, both vanished into thin air.
Only the bicycle remained, rolling to a lonely stop.
In that final stretch, both had dematerialized, phasing straight into the tower walls—
the fastest route upward, invisible to the audience.
The cameras could only pan upward, following the unseen chase, as every viewer held their breath.
The climax was coming.
"Who… who's going to win?!"
Even the commentators had gone silent, waiting for the victor to appear.
Then—
"I won!"
"I won!"
Two hands grabbed the victor's medal at the same time.
"HUH?!"
Sora and Titania stared at each other in shock.
"You idiot! I won—let go!"
"Heh, you illiterate fool! I clearly arrived first—let go!"
As they began bickering, Robin and Fenille both covered their faces in despair.
Meanwhile, Argenti—utterly moved—declared, "Ah, such radiant beauty shining amidst a fierce struggle! This victory… should belong to both of them!"
"Impossible! Clearly I won!"
"In unison?!"
They shouted the same words at the same time—then froze.
"Why are you copying my lines?!"
"You're the one copying me!"
They locked eyes in a deadly stare, then turned away in perfect synchronization.
"Hmph!"
And thus ended the Federation's most absurd duel, with each commentator offering a different verdict:
Robin: "Titania wins." So Sora can finally rest for once.
Argenti: "In the light of beautiful IDRILA's blessing, both are victors!"
Fenille: "Considering all the obstacles overcome… I'd say it's Sora's win."
After a long debate, the result was finally announced—
Draw.