The Academy Ground was once again filled with an electrifying atmosphere as students gathered for the highly anticipated race. On one side stood the noble students, their faces displaying a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. They clutched their hopes tightly, praying for victory in this crucial round.
“Will Ren be able to defeat him?”
“I can’t decide. It’s so confusing.”
“I highly doubt even Ren can defeat him.”
Meanwhile, on the other side, the commoners were reveling in the thrill of the competition, fully appreciating Anon’s exceptional efforts. Their cheers and support resounded through the air, urging him to triumph once again, just as he had in the previous rounds.
“Anon, just one more round. You can do it!”
“Go Anon, go! Defeat him!”
“I have a feeling we’ll be celebrating tonight, huh?”
“Absolutely! It’ll be my treat if Anon emerges victorious in this round!”
“Wooohooo!”
In the heart of the Celestria Kingdom…
Anon and Ren stood side by side at the starting line, their eyes fixed on the track before them. The tension was palpable as they awaited the race to commence. Ren’s gaze shifted to Anon, a hint of uncertainty crossing his face.
Unbeknownst to the spectators, Ren clandestinely withdrew a bottle from his right pocket. It contained a thick, crimson liquid—a doping agent. From his left pocket, he retrieved an injector, revealing his intentions to enhance his performance through unconventional means.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Landon, the official commentator, his voice resonating through the arena. “We have an important announcement to make. Anon and Ren have decided to partake in a no-skill race, where they will rely on doping agents for propulsion rather than their inherent abilities.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. The use of doping agents in races had become scarce due to the risks involved.
“Oh, a no-skill race. It’s been years since I’ve seen anyone resort to doping agents. It’s a dangerous path,” commented Seraphina, an astute observer of such events.
“Without further delay, let the tournament begin. Ren and Anon, please prepare your doping agents and injectors,” proclaimed Landon, his voice booming with authority.
Ren, well-prepared, already held the doping agent and injector in his hands, his resolve unwavering. In contrast, Anon reached into his left pocket, retrieving a small bottle containing a vibrant blue liquid, along with an injector. The crowd watched in anticipation as the competitors readied themselves for what promised to be an extraordinary race.
“Position the doping agents behind the injectors and activate the spell,” Seraphina instructed, her voice carrying a commanding tone.
Ren and Anon meticulously followed her guidance, inserting the bottles of doping agents behind their respective injectors. They invoked a spell, causing air pressure to build within the injectors’ chambers.
“Now, at the countdown of 2, inject the solution into your bodies, and start running on 3. Are you ready?” Landon’s voice reverberated, filled with excitement.
Both Ren and Anon nodded in unison, their right arms extended, fists clenched with determination. Ren positioned the injector above a prominent vein in his left arm, poised to inject the potent substance upon the commentator’s signal.
As Anon replicated the same process, an unexpected phenomenon unfolded. Countless blue and green veins coursed through his hand, a testament to the intricate reconstruction his body underwent after each class upgrade. Anon’s expression shifted from anticipation to surprise as he observed the pulsating network of nerves.
“Now, let’s begin… 3,” Landon initiated the countdown, his voice echoing through the arena.
Anon’s mind raced, grappling with the dilemma at hand.
“What should I do?”
“No.300, where are you?” Anon mentally called out.
“Master, I am assisting Madam Sephie in her lab,” No.300 responded.
“Ask Sephie which nerve I should inject the doping agent into. I need an answer, quickly,” Anon urgently relayed his query.
“Yes, Master,” No.300 acknowledged before relaying the message to Sephie.
No.300 asked sephie.
“In humans, the doping agent should be injected into the left vein. However, if you’re wearing the Troll’s Locket, you can inject it into any vein, as no doping agent possesses the power to harm you,” Sephie promptly informed. 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘭．𝑜𝘳𝘨
“Do you have the Troll’s Locket on?” No.300 inquired.
“Yes.”
“In that case, you can inject it into any vein you desire, as Madam Sephie suggested,” No.300 relayed the crucial information.
“That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear,” Anon responded with newfound confidence.
Without hesitation, Anon injected the syringe into one of his random nerves, ensuring that the doping agent flowed directly into his vein. A surge of energy coursed through his body, though no external changes were visible. Anon’s pure doping agent granted him power without any side effects or visible traces of its administration, setting him apart from Ren.
“I knew it! That was a counterfeit. Get ready to pay the price, Ms. Letti,” Seti declared, her tone shifting from amusement to determination as she cast a stern gaze toward Letti.
Doping agents were considered pure and effective when they produced no visible side effects upon entering the human body. Ren’s body emitted a radiant red glow, indicating the release of heat—a telltale sign of impurity. Conversely, when Anon injected the doping agent, no such reaction occurred, signifying its purity.
Seti believed that Anon’s lack of physical response confirmed her suspicions. He had employed a fake doping shot, and Letti’s earlier claims were nothing more than empty bravado.
While Seti wrestled with her disappointment, Anon experienced an incredible sensation. He felt weightless yet invigorated, propelled forward by an indescribable surge of power—a feather equipped with an invisible rocket engine.
“This power… it’s diabolical,” Anon muttered, a mix of awe and determination in his voice.
“And 3… Both of you, RUN!” Landon’s booming voice echoed, marking the commencement of the race.
With explosive speed, Anon and Ren burst forth from the starting line, their legs a blur as they propelled themselves forward. Anon’s pure doping agent gifted him swiftness that surpassed Ren’s, and within a mere two seconds of the race’s commencement, he had already established a considerable lead.
Confusion clouded Seti’s face as she watched Ren fall behind.
“What’s happening? How can Ren be trailing?” Seti’s expression transformed from elation to grim concern.
Despite investing her saved funds in the doping agent, her student was still failing to secure victory. Doubt began to creep into Ren’s mind.
“How can this commoner run so fast?” Ren questioned himself, bewildered as he witnessed Anon’s remarkable display of speed.
“I must win. I cannot afford to lose. I am from the Denver House of Justice,” Ren resolved, fueling his determination to reclaim his position. The race was far from over, and Ren would fight until the very end.