Albert rose through the wooden elevator, branches curling upward like a breathing staircase.
The moment the canopy parted, a gust of cold acid-scented wind hit his face.
Piere was already gone. A faint blur far ahead, sprinting through the melting terrain like a comet skimming the ground. Albert narrowed his eyes.
He didn't waste a second…. of course he didn't.
The Second Checkpoint Tree hummed behind him, glowing with soft green light. Its sigils shifted into a translucent shop-screen.
Albert opened his token counter.
[ Balance : 19 Soul Tokens ]
He scrolled through weapons, relics, tools. Each one was too expensive or too dangerous. Piere had already bought his plasma blade-gun earlier. Albert needed something that could counter not just speed…. but terrain.
He tried selecting a weapon:
[ Insufficient Tokens ]
[ Insufficient Tokens ]
[ Requires 25 Tokens ]
Damn it! Albert clicked his tongue. Can't even buy a stick without the forest taxing me like a landlord.
He noticed a beast-shaped silhouette made of white flame.
[ RAGNVLAR — The Purity Dragon ]
[ Cost: 15 Tokens ]
[ Effect: Immunity to all corrosive, cursed or toxic environments while mounted.
Cannot attack unless commanded with True Will ]
[ Duration: Until rider dismounts or loses consciousness ]
Albert's heart punched his ribs.
"…A dragon?"
He hesitated seeing its size.
Not because of danger—
but because riding a dragon mid-tournament was the kind of thing that gets you written into history books or declared insane.
But five seconds later, he pressed, [ CONFIRM ]
White light surged from the tree roots. Swirling upward like a tornado of feathers.
A massive white dragon materialized.
Scaled like polished marble.
Eyes blue as glacier rivers.
Wings great enough to eclipse the as if refusing to let the world touch their rider.
Albert stepped closer.
The dragon lowered its head, slow and dignified.
"….So you're Ragnvlar."
The beast huffed softly. Warm breath washed over him without scent.
He climbed onto its back. The scales were cool, smooth as moonstone.
The moment he gripped the ridge behind its neck, rain around him transformed.
Acid turned to harmless mist, dissolving before touching him.
Albert leaned forward.
"Let's go. We're behind."
Ragnvlar spread its enormous wings.
The shockwave after it roared alone shattered the nearby puddles.
The dragon launched itself into the raging sky, carrying Albert like a silver comet toward the next checkpoint.
Wind slicing against his face, rain dissolving harmlessly around him.
when a sudden thought struck him like a hammer.
"….Wait."
He looked down at himself.
His shirt was gone.
Burned into threads by plasma, torn by rain, shredded by Shiapup's fangs and probably insulted by destiny itself.
His trench coat? It was torn earlier in the beginning.
His chest? Completely exposed to the world, glowing faintly from leftover anti-matter burns and radiation's released by Shiapup.
Albert blinked.
".…I am literally half-naked riding a divine dragon."
Even Ragnvlar paused mid-flight, letting out a slow, judgmental exhale.
".…Turn back, please." Albert muttered.
The dragon curved in a wide arc. Wings cracked the rain apart as they descended toward the Second Checkpoint Tree again. The green glow welcomed them. A perfect umbrella of safety in the acid storm.
Albert hopped off and brushed dust from his bare chest.
"Okay, Albert. Priorities. Dignity first. Winning later."
The shop interface shimmered open again, swirling symbols arranging into items.
He scrolled past.
[ Acid-Proof Cloak – 10 Tokens ]
Too expensive.
[ Nimbus Armor – 18 Tokens ]
Too heavy and too broke.
[ Lurker's Mantle – 7 Tokens ]
He didn't want to look like a sewer assassin.
[ Traveler's Breath Jacket — 2 Soul Tokens. ]
Lightweight.
Sturdier than it looked.
Built with mana-fiber that reduced stamina loss by 12%.
And most importantly.... not ugly.
Albert crossed his arms.
"….Finally, something reasonable."
He tapped *PURCHASE*.
The jacket materialized in a soft ripple of light,
dark auburn leather with silver lining, fitted sleeves, high collar and light armor pads hidden inside the fabric. Stylish, practical and less flashy.
"Perfect."
He slipped it on.
Warm.
Comfortable.
Best of all, he now looked like a functioning member of civilization instead of a deranged shirtless dragon rider.
Albert pulled the zipper. Swung his arms to test mobility then nodded in approval.
"Alright, now we hunt."
Ragnvlar lowered its body, wings folding slightly to let him mount again.
Albert climbed up, settled into position, and pointed forward into the acid-drowned forest.
"Let's move."
Ragnvlar roared and launched itself skyward once more. Now dressed and determined, flew toward the next checkpoint and the clash that awaited him.
....
The audience room had gone silent, then wild, then catastrophically unholy the moment Albert Newton had appeared on-screen wearing nothing few moments ago.
And by "wild," it meant,
Half the women in the hall went unconscious like dominoes.
One lady in the front row legit fainted with a soft "My heart…. my heart.…" before sliding out of her chair.
Another woman clutched her chest, whispering,
"Those shoulders…. those scars…. gods above…. I–I'm lightheaded.…"
A group of female hunters near the side screen simply froze, mouths open, pupils dilated, inhaling like dehydrated fish.
Someone dropped her drink.
Someone else lost grip of her popcorn and didn't even notice.
Another whispered,
"Is that man sculpted or summoned.…?"
Meanwhile,
Harriet Clover stood in the crowd with the deadest fish-eye expression imaginable.
".…Unbelievable."
He slowly looked down at himself.
His normal build.
His average arms.
His absolutely-standard chest.
His absolutely-standard everything.
Harriet sighed, long and heavy, as yet another woman fell to her knees whispering Albert's name like a prayer.
"….A woman saying hello to me is already a dream,l " Harriet muttered, shoulders drooping. "To him? They seems like are ready to abandon their families and run away.… gods, why am I alive…."
Someone behind him gasped, "Look at his back muscles!"
Harriet winced like he'd been stabbed.
"My entire existence is a background prop, universal bachelor." he whispered.
He mourned himself quietly
as the women continued collapsing
for Albert Newton.
....
Tom soared across the Drowned Canopy's twisted, acid-drenched horizon on the back of Ragnvlar.
Wind tore past him. The dragon's scales shimmered like folded moonlight. The forest below seethed, boiling under the constant fall of corrosive rain.
Tom's mind wasn't calm. Piere Lal.
Where was he now?
He squinted downward, scanning the endless black-green canopy. Every tree looked like a broken cathedral. Every clearing seethed with steam. No footprints remained long. The acid erased the past within seconds.
Tom clicked his tongue.
He's fast…. too fast. By now he may even be nearing the 3rd checkpoint. Or.… outer of it.
That thought irritated him more than the acid had.
Ragnvlar rumbled under him, sensing the tension. Tom gently patted the dragon's neck.
"This wasn't a luxury." he muttered. "This was investment."
He meant it.
This dragon wasn't just a mount. It was a weapon, a shield, a strategic pivot for every unpredictable storm this match might throw at him.
Later conflicts…
Tom's eyes narrowed.
There would be many.
And having a creature like this meant one less thing threatening survival.
Up above, clouds rolled like molten iron.
Below, the forest blurred into chaos.
Forward — only darkness and rain.
Tom leaned forward.
"Faster."
Ragnvlar obeyed, slicing through the acid-filled sky with a clean arc.
---
Meanwhile, far below—
Piere Lal sprinted across the melting forest floor.
His coat burned at the edges, his breath sharp, his movements calibrated with precision only he understood.
The 3rd checkpoint's green glow shimmered faintly ahead, barely visible behind curtains of falling acid.
Piere wiped the acid from his sleeve, letting it sizzle and evaporate.
He must be so far ahead.
The thought didn't worry him — it sharpened him.
Albert Newton had revealed too many layers already.
The rifle.
The katana.
The fate dice.
The reverse breathing.
Even the tricks Piere had rarely seen anyone survive.
Piere smiled faintly, though his clothes hissed under the rain.
Good. Let him go far.
Let him run himself dry.
Let him think he owns the lead.
Piere wasn't afraid of distance.
Distance could be reshaped.
Paths could be folded.
Time could be tricked.
Fortune could be rewritten.
He glanced once toward the sky.
"Run, Albert Newton," he whispered.
"Run as far as you can."
He stepped forward and vanished into the acid rain.