The arrest drama deep beneath Egeera Mine was reaching its final act.
"Everyone, breach!"
Roughly ten meters back from the foot of the descending staircase, concealed within the side wall, lay a hidden door. Behind it was the hideout of their target, Garrison Yack Aux.
To be precise, Garrison had been disowned by the Aux house by this point, making him plain old Garrison.
"E-Eeeek!"
It was no wonder Laojun had not been concerned; the place was merely a hideout and nothing more.
"Secured!"
"Sir!"
There were six people holed up inside—four men and two women.
Excluding Garrison, the other five were "former" nobles of the Klein Kingdom. Though, technically speaking, Garrison was a former noble now as well.
"Noooo! I refuse to live as a commoner!"
"Unhand me! I am the second son of House Aux!"
"How dare mere common foot soldiers lay their filthy hands on noble blood?!"
"...This is the end. I surrender."
Even at this late hour, five of them still clung pathetically to their elitist delusions, while only one person accepted defeat with dignity—not one of the men, but a woman.
"All right, haul them away."
"Sir!"
And just like that, the plot to sabotage the Marikka Cup was nipped in the bud.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have less than two kilometers to go! The race has reached its final stretch!"
Bib #9 had held on stubbornly to first place, but Bib #1 and Bib #2 were mounting a ferocious pursuit, closing the once-comfortable lead to a razor-thin margin. It was down to a single craft's length at most.
Locked side-by-side, Bib #1 and Bib #2 engaged in a fierce duel, their wings flying so close they seemed on the verge of brushing against one another.
"Ro is really giving it his all," Sion murmured.
"Speaking of which, Lordtoss of Bib #1 is a relative of yours, isn't he, Sion-sama?" asked Queen Josephine Lumes Klein of the Klein Kingdom.
"Yes. He was adopted into the Puppet clan and now goes by their clan name, but he is my great-grandson."
"Your great-grandson, my word... The long lifespans of the Northern People are truly something to envy."
Being able to deliver such words with a warm, genuine smile—completely free of malice or subtle barbs—spoke volumes of Josephine's gracious nature.
"It comes with its own share of hardships, to be sure....Only recently, I lost a dear, lifelong friend."
She was, of course, referring to Marikka.
Sensing the gravity behind her words, the Queen smoothly shifted the topic.
"The finish line is just ahead. Do you think Bib #9 will take the victory after all?"
"Yes. Between the craft's performance and the way the race has been managed, they have been outstanding throughout."
Sion refrained from making a definitive prediction, though she readily acknowledged that Bib #9 held the upper hand.
"However, there are two distinct advantages working in Ro's—Bib #1's—favor."
"Oh? And what might those be?"
"Sion-sama, I would be quite interested to hear that as well."
The Klein Kingdom's Magic Technology Minister, Cowen Rakka Kido, leaned in eagerly.
"First is the concentration of free ether. As you well know, free ether becomes denser the further north one travels, and thinner toward the south."
"That is indeed true."
"Ah... I see where you are going with this."
The Queen nodded, and Magic Technology Minister Cowen Rakka Kido seemed to catch on as well.
"You speak of the efficiency of the Air Jet, do you not?"
Sion gave a gentle nod.
"You are half right. But it extends beyond just the Air Jet—it affects all magi-devices."
Lordtoss had engaged in deep, frequent exchanges with the southern realms, traveling back and forth repeatedly and residing here for extended periods.
In contrast, Kondak of the All-Creation clan had stepped outside the Nord Federation for the very first time for this competition.
Though the disparity in free ether was far less severe than it had been four centuries ago, the southern air was still measurably thinner—even if only by ten-odd percent.
"When it comes to the know-how required to squeeze every ounce of performance from limited resources, Ro has the edge."
"I-I see."
"The second advantage is that he is piloting the craft himself."
Bib #9 and Bib #2, who were battling alongside Lordtoss's Bib #1 for the lead, were both piloted by automata.
An automata's piloting was precise, stable, and completely free of mechanical error; however, when it came down to split-second tactical gambles in high-stakes moments, they trailed a step or two behind a living pilot.
Against someone with Lordtoss's wealth of worldly experience, the odds would inevitably tip against them, Sion explained.
True to her assessment, by the one-kilometer mark, the gap between Bib #9 and Bib #1 had shrunk to a mere half-length.
"Bib #1 is closing in with astonishing speed!!"
With less than a kilometer to the line, the commentator's voice had risen to a full-throated shout.
"The outcome will be decided in a matter of seconds!"
At speeds nearing two hundred kilometers per hour, a single kilometer was devoured in under twenty seconds.
The spectators leaned over the railings in breathless excitement, desperate to catch sight of the incoming craft.
"Just a little more... Go!!"
Lordtoss pushed his machine to its absolute threshold, relentlessly hunting down Bib #9 in the lead.
Thanks to his relentless push, the gap between them had practically vanished.
"...Tch, if only I'd managed to shave off just a bit more weight...!"
The internal mechanisms he had installed to balance stability with agile handling had cost him in added mass.
"Or maybe I should have used a lightweight golem like Bib #2... No, that would have left me helpless to respond in a true emergency."
When all was said and done, Lordtoss remained fiercely committed to piloting the craft he had forged with his own two hands.
"Damn it!...How can he be closing in like this against a machine built purely for speed?!"
Meanwhile, the creator of Bib #9, Kondak of the All-Creation clan, was biting his lip in raw frustration from the participants' gallery.
"Should I have taken the controls myself...?!"
Watching helplessly when he could clearly see what tactical maneuvers should be made only stoked his irritation.
Direct communication with the automata pilot was strictly forbidden, leaving Kondak to stew in helpless anxiety.
"As expected of Lordtoss. Is this as far as I go...?"
Harnata of the Puppet clan, the creator of Bib #2, was a longtime friend of Lordtoss.
Harnata had likewise left the piloting to an automata, watching the drama unfold from the gallery...
"Damn it, I really should have flown it myself!"
Watching from the sidelines left Harnata feeling thoroughly inadequate.
Deep down, however, Harnata knew that piloting the craft personally would likely have prevented them from staying in contention for the top spot in the first place.
"If there's a next time, I'm definitely taking the pilot's seat..."
And as this race—which felt both agonizingly long and fleetingly brief—rushed toward its finish, the contenders ranked fourth and below wrestled with their own thoughts.
Entry #3, Archista of the Gospel clan. Currently in 7th place.
"Maybe settling on a halfway compromise for the tuning was a mistake..."
Entry #4, Sergela of the Gospel clan. Currently in 9th place.
"I really should have flown it myself....Still, Oakroak, you'd better give me a full debrief the second you land!"
Entry #5, Zedice of the All-Creation clan. Currently in 6th place.
"You did fantastic, Zelal. Next time, let's aim even higher!"
Entry #6, Imimir of the All-Creation clan. Currently in 8th place.
"Marikka-sama, please watch over us! We promise to work even harder!!"
Entry #7, Byusack of the All-Creation clan. Currently in 4th place.
"The barrier between us and the top three is formidable... but I'll give it everything I have right to the end!"
Entry #8, Nikeris of the Puppet clan. Currently in 5th place.
"I couldn't break into the podium, but this tournament has taught me an incredible amount!"
Entry #10, Puppet of the Puppet clan. Currently in 10th place.
"Marikka-sama, I have realized just how green I still am. I will dedicate myself to improving further!"
Bearing the dreams and ambitions of every competitor, the ten Blow Floaters carved through the open sky.
And then—
"And they've crossed the fiiinish liiine!"
The winner was finally decided.