Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 453 - 415 The Start of the Flying Race

He felt like a worm in the soil, struggling to move forward amidst the crushing surroundings. Worse yet, because the soil did not have a mouth ceaselessly chattering beside his ear.

Beatrice’s grip on Lyle’s hand was indeed steady and strong; after the numbness of pain, a sense of reassurance surprisingly burgeoned in his heart.

It was like uncorking a wine bottle with a pop, Lyle made his way through the crowd and arrived at a spacious clearing.

"Prepare yourself here, I’ll be back shortly," Beatrice said, then leapt away and disappeared into the crowd.

Black and crimson tentacles wriggled on the back of Lyle’s hand, healing the flesh torn away by the girl’s bright red fingernails. It seemed like there was an invisible fence around, keeping the congested crowd out of the race track.

Lyle was on a track, marked out by magic silk thread. In the distance stood dazzling signs that confirmed his guess, emblazoned with the word ’finish’ in the languages of various races.

At first glance, Lyle noticed the word in Emo, also known as the Language of the Dead.

The word meant the irredeemable.

For the undead, that was probably what ’finish’ meant.

"Lyle."

Wearing casual, form-fitting clothes, William approached with a greeting. Aside from looking slightly weary, the young arcanist seemed well.

"You’re here too, William."

"Yes, I’ve had a rather... fulfilling time with Gulelia. If I remember correctly, this might be the last event she insists on participating in."

The central white tower was glowing, its magical shell earlier arranged by the arcanists, harnessing a gentle white light that allowed Lyle to keenly catch the joy and confusion on William’s face.

"William, you wouldn’t happen to be as clueless about the event as I am, right? You also don’t know why you were suddenly dragged into this flying competition?"

The golden-haired youth’s pupils dilated with surprise, and after a few seconds, he sighed.

"It seems Lyle is in the same boat," William turned to the side, pointing towards the other competitors lingering in place, their confusion as pervasive as mosquitoes on a summer night, "It looks like we’ve all been kept in the dark about the event’s details. Even when I asked Gulelia in advance, she only gave me an ambiguous answer."

"Same here, except for knowing that this event is related to a flying competition, I have no clue. I lack the ability to fly, and I don’t think Beatrice would sabotage her own race just to play a trick on me."

"Was it the vampire landlady who invited you?"

"Yes, she initially planned to invite Alianna, but I ended up taking her place."

William gave a slight smile, nodding as if affirming something.

"Isn’t that good? Beatrice must be planning to mend the poor relationship between you two. Although Gulelia didn’t answer my questions directly, she did say that this event is one that allows participants to get closer and enhance their rapport. Lyle, it seems that your existence, your hot-tempered aunt, is gradually coming to accept you."

"Are you sure? The way Beatrice looks at me is like she’s regarding an abscess on her cheek, wishing I would just vanish."

William shrugged, lightly patting Lyle’s shoulder with his hand.

"Every girl eventually comes to terms with the reality of acne; isn’t that just proof of growing up? What Gulelia said is quite credible. She has no need to deceive me; for the Demon Race, bullying is much simpler than deceiving."

That’s how William’s eyes came to lightly bear dewdrops, convincing Lyle with an argument verified by life experience.

That Beatrice wanted to improve our relationship was truly inconceivable. A surprise that came out of nowhere descended into Lyle’s heart, bringing with it a joy steeped in fortune, and Lyle decided he had to cooperate well with Beatrice.

Observing everything around him, Lyle quickly defined the event as a running competition.

For no other reason than that the venue and the people both bore a striking resemblance. There was a racetrack, competitors at uniform starting positions, and a finish line.

"On your marks!!!"

There was also a starter’s command, and with a smile, Lyle braced himself to sprint. Others, still utterly befuddled, remained stationary, looking around for the source of the noise.

"Go!!!!!"

From behind the crowd, there arose a cacophony of thunderous noises, akin to swords slicing through the air.

Lyle instinctively started running forward, and beside him, William and a few others who were lost in confusion, also instinctively took a few steps influenced by his action.

The cluttered noise didn’t fade; in fact, it even intensified, Lyle would later realize, not because it was getting louder but because it was getting closer.

As they ran, they came to a halt, unable to contain their curiosity and looking back.

All kinds of wings fluttered in the air; feathered wings, bat wings, scaled, and magical, shadows compounded to create a skyline far darker than the night. The owners of these wings, locking eyes with Lyle and the others looking back, revealed smiles.

Among the shadows, Beatrice’s eyes, sharp as dripping blood, held a teasing glint. She tilted her head and gave Lyle a bloodthirsty smile before flapping her Blood Wings and swooping down.

It was a wild expression Lyle had never seen before, one that could induce physical discomfort. Even the male guests who had stood still were finally catching on. These ladies, who were usually gentle and serene, now radiated a dangerous allure.

Following their instincts, the running competition officially began, with the men feeling as though they were being chased by demons.

"Ahhh!!!!!"

The chilling screams from behind compelled Lyle to look back, only to see a straggling competitor snatched into the sky by a lady of the Harpy Demon Race, beginning her journey dozens of meters into the air along a special racetrack lit by magic.

Lyle understood the fate of these aide-de-camps.

The City of Wandering flight race was a manned flight competition, and these unwitting participants were about to be carried into the sky as cargo, having the entire journey foisted upon them as mere tools.

Screams, mingling with the relentless wind sounds, rose into the high skies, making Lyle’s legs tremble as he ran.

He, most definitely, had to sprint to the finish line before Beatrice caught him.

During his conversation in the Memory of Dusk, Lyle had vaguely learned of the flight race’s track from Echel.

It was a colossal racetrack enveloping the high skies over the entire City of Wandering, passing through the Twenty-Four Zones of Light and Dark.

The thought of hanging high up in the air like a punching bag, with no other solid support within Beatrice’s reach except for her arms, made Lyle’s stomach churn.

Halfway through the race, as one of the initial runners, Lyle could clearly see the runes on the finish line’s sign. Those were the runes of an air-banishing array, signifying that reaching the finish line would indeed ensure safety.

A fitting finish line indeed.

If you can’t make it to the finish line, you might just end up at the final destination of life.