The Crozier, the airship carrying Mushiyu and her companions, was now piercing through a thundercloud.

Captain Crozier gazed out from the cockpit. Thick, dark clouds enveloped the massive vessel. Lightning bolts crashed against the magical barrier like giant waves, splitting and vanishing.

Crozier wasn’t worried about the lightning breaching the barrier. It was powered by internal magic crystals, its array crafted by a grand mage. No natural disaster could pierce this shield—thin as cicada wings yet unbreakable.

But…

He peered uneasily at the cloud-shrouded horizon ahead. A trace of unease stirred in his chest.

Suddenly, the dark clouds shifted violently. Fierce, chaotic winds erupted, forming turbulent currents. Even the steadfast Crozier swayed slightly.

Crozier opened the cockpit window. Howling wind rushed in, mixed with crackling sounds—he guessed it was the gale tearing at the barrier.

Above, the clouds twisted under the gale, funneling downward like hollow columns. They writhed like serpents, surrounding the tiny airship, showcasing raw power. Forces clashed within, as if monsters lurked or gods roared in fury.

Crozier stared, legs trembling slightly. In thirty years of flying, he’d never seen such a sight. The airship shuddered beneath him—his pride now nearing its limit.

Amidst the chaos, a glass-shattering crack echoed. A cold gust slapped Crozier’s pale face. In a blinding lightning flash, a dark shadow emerged—reflected in his pupils, slowly growing larger…

Whoosh—

Two figures raced through a canyon at breakneck speed, nearly neck and neck. But the one on the right fumbled slightly over obstacles.

Mushiyu glanced at her opponent, a body length ahead. She calculated the distance silently. The race was nearing its end—time for the final push.

She was already satisfied: her first game, nearly even with this seasoned boy. Winning mattered, but why lose a winnable game?

Her opponent avoided risks, ignoring power-up fruits in danger zones. Strength let him play safe. But Mushiyu, weaker, had to gamble—barefoot ones fear no shoes!

From watching others, she knew an acceleration fruit would sprout on a cliffside branch next. But the path was narrow; a misstep meant crashing into rocks—minor slowdowns or fatal falls. The safer route skipped the fruit entirely.

Her opponent would ignore it. Others who tried either crashed or fell too far behind.

Mushiyu gauged the dragon’s speed and the fruit’s distance. She recalled the cliff’s shape, gripping the reins tightly.

Three… two… one. She yanked the reins hard. The dragon veered toward the cliff-edge fruit.

Her opponent flew straight ahead, never glancing back. Mushiyu didn’t look at him either.

Focused solely on her goal, she executed her plan. Eyes locked on the glowing fruit, she weaved through branches and rocks. The dragon lifted its head, snatching the fruit mid-flight!

“Victory is mine~” Mushiyu whispered, a faint smile on her lips.

A dragon’s roar echoed. Scenery blurred as wind intensified. Mushiyu squinted, face calm, reins steady. While she’d turned for the fruit, her opponent had pulled several lengths ahead.

But that gap was an illusion before acceleration.

The dragon’s wings beat wildly, leaving afterimages. In an instant, it closed the distance. As they passed, the opponent finally glanced at her. Their eyes met—Mushiyu startled, then looked away as her dragon crossed the finish line.

White light flashed. Mushiyu opened her eyes drowsily. Surroundings blurred; shadowy figures shifted. She blinked hard, rubbing her eyes gently, slowly regaining focus. Then she froze at the sight before her.

“Ata, sister, this is…” Before she could finish, a gleaming knife pressed against her delicate neck. Icy chill seeped into her veins, freezing her in place.

Ata glared at the masked man beside Mushiyu, warning him still. Her voice softened. “Mushiyu, don’t fear. I’m here.”

Mushiyu nodded, breathing deeply to loosen her stiff muscles. She’d faced death before—she should be used to this… right?

Who could adapt to having their life dangled like a leaf in the storm? Only a ghost would!

(At this moment, Mushiyu felt her powerlessness deeply. In this world where lives were cheap, her weakness endangered not just herself but those she loved. Worthless. Helpless. She was done—she’d grow strong, crush those who trampled her dignity underfoot!)

—Well, apparently she had adapted.

Mushiyu blinked, pulling her thoughts from the isekai monologue in her head. She began observing her surroundings.