Aoi-chan, Hina-chan, and I stood together to watch the first race of the Flying Board tournament finally get underway.
The tournament began with the preliminary races, which were simple straight shots across a vast lake. The first group to reach the opposite shore would advance to the finals. The finals themselves featured a far more demanding course, starting at the lake before heading into a rocky mountain area for a full circuit of the perimeter. However, with only the first-place winner of each heat moving forward, making the cut seemed like a daunting task.
"It’s finally starting," Hina-chan said, practically vibrating with excitement.
"I wonder what the best approach is," Aoi-chan added, her mind already occupied with technicalities. "The course is short... perhaps it’s better to ignore magic power consumption and just push for maximum speed?"
While she contemplated their strategy, the start time arrived. At the official's signal, the teams set off all at once.
One team immediately attempted the exact tactic Aoi-chan had just suggested. They ignored their magic power reserves and gunned for top speed, shooting forward with incredible momentum. An instant later, their board dipped at a sharp angle—reminiscent of a forkball pitch—and plowed straight into the lake, sending up a massive plume of spray.
After staring blankly at the sheer absurdity of the crash, I couldn't help but laugh. I finally understood what "highly temperamental flight" meant. With trajectories that erratic, pushing for too much speed meant losing any ability to correct your course. Once you lost control, recovery was impossible. This sport was surprisingly deep.
Fortunately, the safety magic was robust. The team that had face-planted into the water seemed uninjured, protected by a barrier that had deployed around the board. However, triggering that barrier automatically deactivated the flight functions, resulting in an immediate retirement from the race.
As I continued to watch, I saw boards wobbling through the air like they were drunk. Some nearly collided with rivals, while others would pull sudden U-turns just as they were nearing the finish line. One mishap followed another in rapid succession.
"Watching this is actually pretty entertaining," I remarked.
"It really is. With so many accidents, you can’t predict who’s going to win. The way they all fly so differently is fascinating."
Some boards zig-zagged like lightning, while others performed bizarre, unwanted ascents and descents. It was a chaotic mess. Yet, that was precisely what made it fun; the lead changed constantly. A group that had fallen completely behind at the start would suddenly find themselves in first place, while a team that had maintained a steady lead would hit a weird trajectory and come to a dead stop right before the goal.
"The flight paths are truly unpredictable," Aoi-chan observed. "The safest bet seems to be accelerating only when you catch a good trajectory. If you overdo it, the risk of a sudden change making recovery impossible is just too high."
"Yeah. It’s a lot more technical than the comical appearance suggests," I agreed.
"Plus, it seems like even with perfect preparation, pulling a bad trajectory can just end your race," Hina-chan added. "Teamwork in the heat of the moment is going to be the deciding factor. This is getting exciting!"
We talked through our observations as we watched. Just as Hina-chan had hoped, the competition was clearly designed around team cooperation. I appreciated that the ban on magic leveled the playing field; despite the massive disparity in combat power between me and my two juniors, the rules allowed us all to contribute meaningful roles.
According to the officials, things like my Sympathy Magic—which usually remained active or triggered automatically—were categorized as a "physical constitution." As long as I declared them in advance, there was no issue, though using them intentionally was still strictly forbidden.
Once the second race concluded, we began moving toward the starting point for our heat. Along the way, an idea occurred to me, and I called out in my mind.
Shiro-san, do you have a moment?
(What is it?)
Is it possible to make it so your blessing doesn't apply to the Flying Board? I know this isn't a game won by luck alone, but your blessing gives such a massive boost to luck—not to mention the high-tier effects from other gods' blessings—that I’m worried it might make things too easy for us.
(It is possible. Very well, I shall ensure my blessing does not influence the behavior of the Flying Board.)
Thanks. I wasn't particularly desperate to reach the finals anyway; it seemed much more fun to just enjoy the preliminaries naturally and then spend the rest of the time spectating.
Main Blessing of Fate: "Hey, boy... haven't you forgotten something important? Usually, I don't get a turn because the higher-tier Blessing of the Creator God overshadows me, but since that's out of the way, Me's gonna give it my all this time, okay?"
Provisional Blessing of the Sky: "Leave the aerial competition to me~!"
Provisional Blessing of the Earth: "...Can't help you if your feet aren't on the ground."