"The Flying Dragon Rider" was a multiplayer racing mini-game in the online game *Heavenly Wonder Continent*. Players became dragon knights, soaring atop their mounts over forests and canyons—the first to cross the finish line won. Along the way, they could attack opponents, grab power-ups for speed boosts or shields, all wrapped in an immersive holographic system that made it wildly fun.
In that world, many found it odd such a thrilling game was just a side feature. Even Mushiyu had wondered why it wasn’t spun off as a standalone title.
But that confusion had vanished. If *Heavenly Wonder Continent* mirrored this fantasy realm, then "Flying Dragon Rider" being a mini-game made perfect sense—it *was* a game in this very world!
So how did it work here?
Mushiyu stood on tiptoe, curious, only to see a sea of dark heads blocking her view. Beyond them lay the screen—and nothing else.
"Let’s queue up!" Ata grabbed her arm, mistaking her curiosity for eagerness, and dragged her to the end of the short line.
Though crowds gathered to watch, few dared challenge. The rules were simple: pay silver coins to duel the reigning champion. Lose, and your coins went to them. Win, and you became the new champion—free of charge. The current champ had crushed several challengers already. Most spectators figured it wasn’t worth the humiliation.
*If Mushiyu knew their thoughts, she’d have rolled her eyes.*
—*Too scared to even try? Go back to school.*
But Mushiyu’s attention was locked on the magic screen. Two riders clashed fiercely. The left player held a slight edge—until the right snatched a speed boost and surged ahead. After watching closely, Mushiyu decided the left would win. Their obstacle dodges were sharper, their overtakes timed perfectly, their mistakes fewer.
Just as she predicted, the left rider crossed first. Cheers erupted. The next match began.
Match after match, the left player dominated. No challenger succeeded. From the sidelines, Mushiyu noted their style: cautious, skipping risky power-ups; intimately familiar with trap zones that tripped others but barely slowed them.
—*A veteran player.*
Beside her, Ata vibrated with excitement, eyes glued to the screen, practically wishing herself into the challenger’s seat. That fiery thrill of facing a strong opponent reminded Mushiyu of shonen manga heroes. She understood it well. If this were *Heavenly Wonder Continent*, she’d feel the same facing a worthy rival. In some ways, they were alike.
*Alike…?*
Soon, they reached the front of the line. With fewer bodies blocking the view, Mushiyu finally saw how it worked.
Two chairs sat beneath the screen. Their occupants sat motionless, eyes closed—deep in the game. Mushiyu’s gaze lingered on the left player: the undefeated champion was a slender boy of fourteen or fifteen. Beneath each chair glowed a small magic circle, pulsing with soft white light.
*Like a VR headset,* Mushiyu realized. *It pulls your consciousness into the game.*
*How convenient magic is—*
Then she paused. *Isn’t advanced technology just like magic? At a certain point, where’s the line?*
Philosophy could wait. Ata had already plopped into the right chair.
"Ten silver coins," the boy said flatly, eyes flicking open.
*Ten silvers… no wonder few challenged him,* Mushiyu thought.
Ata tossed the coins onto the small table between the chairs, grinning challengingly. The boy ignored her, shutting his eyes.
The magic circles flared. Both vanished into the game. Their avatars appeared on-screen. A dragon’s roar echoed from nowhere—and they plunged off a cliff, neck and neck on their mounts…
***
Two days earlier.
Loran awoke wrapped in soothing green light.
Above her hovered Melissara’s impassive face. The glow flowed from her hands, sealing Loran’s wounds and easing the deep ache in her bones.
"I failed, Your Highness," Loran rasped, looking away.
Melissara ceased the spell. She rose, her expression unreadable.
"The Dark Aura clinging to you… differs from those human envoys."
Loran stood, swaying slightly. "Grace… suddenly erupted with pure, profound magic. A force I couldn’t resist here."
*In the Deadwood, Elvenkind draws no strength from nature.*
Melissara nodded. "Come. We leave."
As Loran followed, she scanned the area. "Your Highness—did you see a ring? Beside me when I fell?"
"I saw none."
*Strange.* Loran distinctly recalled Grace placing a ring in her hand before she lost consciousness, begging her to return it to that human. After a final search, she gave up.
Walking behind Melissara, light gradually seeped into the gloom. They rounded a massive tree—and burst into open air. Life-rich wind washed over Loran, making every cell sigh with relief.
