The final race of the Flying Board tournament was finally here. To say that the competitors lined up at the start were all elite athletes who had seized first place in the preliminaries made for a nice narrative, but in reality, luck played such a massive role that nearly half the field consisted of first-time teams.
However, the finals wouldn't be won by luck alone. Strategy and situational judgment were about to become critical.
"Thank you for waiting! The Flying Board final race... begins now!"
At the starting signal, several boards shot forward with incredible momentum. In this sport, a start-dash was a valid and effective tactic. After all, the leader generally held the advantage. Since the boards were prone to veering off course by nature, overtaking from behind was difficult and carried a high risk of collisions. As we had learned in our own preliminary heat, staying in the lead allowed you to use the space for more dynamic moves.
"They really went for it," Aoi noted. "Just as we expected, it looks like most of them are rookie teams."
"Let's stick to the plan," I said. "We’ll proceed cautiously while keeping an eye out for collisions."
"Understood!" Hina replied.
We had actually considered a start-dash during our strategy meeting, but we concluded it was too risky for the finals. The biggest issue was the mana capacity of the magic crystals. Since mana management was a key part of the competition's depth, it was impossible to maintain top speeds for the entire course. There were only so many times one could push the board to its limits.
If you took the lead early, could you really fend off a constant stream of challengers while making your mana last until the finish line? Unless you were an expert, the pressure of being chased usually led to mistakes. It would be different if a seasoned veteran had calculated their consumption to the decimal point, but I doubted a bunch of rookies who simply didn't want to be caught in the pack could manage their pace effectively.
In the end, veterans like Scarlet Blue and Black Muscat had the edge when it came to pacing and choosing their lines. The fact that those teams were holding back proved that a start-to-finish dash wasn't a realistic path to victory.
"The veterans aren't budging," Aoi observed.
"Just like we thought. The real race won't start here."
I breathed a sigh of relief as Aoi spoke. The development was matching our strategy perfectly. We predicted the turning point would come toward the end, specifically near the forest area before we headed back to the lake. At the very least, it wasn't happening now. The rookie-led group at the front was already fumbling their lines; at this rate, their lead would evaporate in no time.
As I ruminated on this, the first checkpoint appeared over the lake. It was a square gate marked by four glowing magic crystals.
"...It looks smaller than it did on the map," I muttered.
"It’s a tight window," Aoi said. "Hina, lower our altitude a bit."
"Got it. How's this?"
The checkpoint was indeed narrower than I had imagined, requiring precise adjustments. Fortunately, while our board still wobbled, our current flight path was relatively stable. As long as we didn't hit any sudden turbulence, we could clear it.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, two teams from the lead pack missed the gate entirely. It was a devastating setback. While they were allowed to circle back and try again, turning a Flying Board around was a clumsy affair that required a massive detour. Those two were effectively out of the running for the top spot.
We cleared the checkpoint cautiously and left the lake behind, heading toward the rocky mountain area. This was the first major obstacle, where jagged peaks rose up to block the path at lower altitudes. Per our plan, we began to climb. The other teams followed suit, ascending to clear the peaks... until a voice cut through the air.
"The turning point is here! Give it everything!"
"Right on!"
I reflexively looked back and saw one team—Scarlet Blue—diving toward the ground while accelerating. While everyone else was climbing for safety, they were dropping lower.
Wait, are they going to dive into the mountains at full speed?!
"Oh no! Kaito, this is bad!" Aoi shouted.
"Aoi?"
"If they pull this off, we'll never catch them!"
Aoi’s warning hit me like a physical blow. The checkpoint inside the rocky mountains was set at a low altitude. Our plan—and the plan of most other teams—was to stay high for safety and then descend gradually to clear the gate.
Scarlet Blue had chosen the exact opposite: a high-risk, high-speed dash through the canyons. It was dangerous, but by cutting out the climb and descent, they were taking the shortest possible path. Furthermore, since the checkpoint was already low, they could blast through it at maximum velocity without slowing down to adjust their height. If they cleared the obstacles, they would gain a massive lead.
This wasn't a reckless rookie gamble; this was Scarlet Blue, a veteran powerhouse team. If they pulled ahead here, catching them in the final stretch would be nearly impossible.
If we didn't want to be left in the dust, there was only one choice.
"Hina! Dive!"
"I had a feeling you'd say that! The steering is all you, Kaito-senpai!"
We had to chase them. We were going to thread the needle through the canyons at low altitude. In a machine that refused to fly straight, this was a suicide mission... and it was exactly where the race would be decided.
Steeling my resolve, I joined the other teams who had decided to follow Scarlet Blue into the abyss. We dropped our altitude, accelerated, and plunged into the jagged rocks.
Serious-senpai: "Wait... This is actually good! This is exactly the kind of development I've been waiting for!"
???: "I'm not sure if you can call a sports competition 'serious' in the way you usually mean, but it's certainly a straightforward, earnest development."