[22 POV] Year 5, Day 205 (2 days until race)
The mountain peak where training was happening had simple setup. A transfer circle connected to other sanctuary sections. Wooden observation platform with benches. Few small cottages clustered nearby. Basic shelter for staff.
22 stood on the platform with Void, Null, and the Twins. Below, the mountain dropped away into valleys and distant peaks. Perfect flight training area. Plenty of space. Minimal obstacles. Clear sight lines.
Kira was already mounted on her wyvern. Vest on. Collar visible around her neck. Ready to begin.
X mounted the other wyvern. The creature lifted off smoothly. Professional handling. Centuries of experience showing.
He made a simple circle. Slow, controlled flight. Gentle banking turn. Return to landing spot. The wyvern touched down precisely where it had started.
X dismounted and gestured to Kira. “Your turn. Same pattern. Straight flight, gentle turn, return. Basic circle. Your family is famous for wyvern riding. You’ve probably seen this done countless times. Should be simple.”
Kira nodded. Mounted the second wyvern. Settled into the saddle. Took the reins.
The wyvern lifted off.
Kira fell within five seconds.
The enchanted vest activated. Slowed her descent. She landed in the grass with a thump.
22 watched with clinical detachment. X flew down on conjured wind. Helped Kira up. Patient. Encouraging. Back to the wyvern.
Second attempt. Kira mounted again. More careful this time. Focused.
Lifted off. Maintained position for perhaps ten seconds.
Then fell.
Third attempt. Same result. Fell before completing any meaningful flight.
Fourth attempt. Actually managed forward movement this time. Fifteen seconds of flight. Looking stable. Then just… tumbled off. No apparent cause. No turn attempted. No environmental factor. Just lost balance and fell.
X stayed with her through each attempt. Mostly calm. Nice-nice voice. Encouraging. Patient despite obvious frustration.
Sometimes he flew alongside on his wyvern. Demonstrating. Showing technique. Trying to provide visual reference.
Kira continued falling. Random times. Not even during difficult maneuvers. Just… falling.
Fifth attempt. Sixth. Seventh.
By the tenth fall, Void spoke. Confusion clear in his voice. “I don’t understand. She’s failing at basics. Simple mounting and balance. This shouldn’t be difficult.”
22 looked at him. “You know dragon riding?”
“Learned before…” Void paused. Uncomfortable. “Before slavery. Part of noble education. I actually enjoyed it. Found it peaceful. The flight. The connection with the dragon. It was…” Another pause. Something almost like nostalgia crossing his features. “One of few things I genuinely liked from my education.”
He watched Kira fall again. Eleventh time. “But this? Falling off during straight flight? Before even attempting turns? I cannot comprehend how someone fails this badly. The wyvern is doing all the work. She just needs to maintain seat.”
22 processed that information. Void had practical experience. Not just books. Actual riding. And he found Kira’s failure incomprehensible.
She shared that confusion. “Dragon essence should help. Should make this easier. Not harder.”
The Twins added their commentary. Cheerful despite the disaster unfolding. “Master Ealdred never fell! He was very good at dragon riding! But also nobody wanted to make him angry so maybe the dragons were extra careful!”
X called another break. Kira dismounted—collapsed off—and sat heavily on the grass. Breathing hard. Exhausted.
X flew back up to the platform. Landed. Expression carefully neutral. Professional mask maintained.
“Questions?” he offered. Addressing the observers.
Void spoke first. “The race. Can you explain the structure? I only know from books. Academic descriptions.”
X settled onto a bench. Gestured for others to join. Null remained standing behind Void’s chair. 22 and the Twins took seats.
“Three laps around Central,” X began. Casual lecture mode. “Two classes racing simultaneously. Unlimited class—that’s pure showoff. Rich people displaying expensive dragons. No real competition. No prizes. Just ego and spectacle.”
He leaned back. Comfortable. “Racing wyverns class is main attraction. That’s where actual competition happens. Combat allowed. Deaths common. Entertainment for masses.”
“Equipment restrictions?” 22 asked. Professional interest.
“Any equipment allowed,” X said with slight smirk. “Except legendary gear for attacking or boosting. Legendary dresses, coats, defensive items? Those are fine. Traditional garments, cultural clothing, all acceptable. But no legendary weapons giving combat advantages. No legendary artifacts boosting speed or power.”
Pause. Important detail. “Also—and this disqualifies many participants—no spatial storage access during race. Everything you carry must be physically carried by the wyvern. Item boxes, dimensional bags, any spatial magic? Instant disqualification if usage detected. Keeps field somewhat level.”
22 filed away these details. Tactical assessment forming. Everything had to be decided beforehand and physically carried. No mid-race adjustments. No accessing stored equipment.
X continued. “Beyond that? Anything goes. Kill opponents. Sabotage their wyverns. Set traps along the route. Only rule is: complete three laps to finish. How you manage that is your business.”
Down below, Kira was mounting again. Twelfth attempt.
Lifted off. Straight flight for twenty seconds. Stable. Looking better.
Then fell. No warning. No trigger. Just… fell.
X stood. Sighed. “Back to it. Excuse me.”
He flew down to continue instruction.
Around the second hour of training, a dwarf arrived through the transfer circle. Clearly a craftsman based on the tools visible at his belt. Professional bearing. Carrying something wrapped carefully in cloth.
He approached X immediately. “Boss. This is the best I managed with the hurry.”
X took the wrapped item. Unwrapped it carefully. Revealed a necklace. Delicate design. Magical shimmer visible in the metalwork. Beautiful craftsmanship despite rushed construction.
X called Kira down. She attempted landing. The wyvern descended. Kira fell off just before touching ground. The vest activated. She landed with a thump.
X sighed. Audible. Frustrated. “Can’t even land properly yet.”
Then he gestured to the dwarf craftsman. “But you can’t race with that collar on. Would raise too many questions. This will do instead.”
He removed the collar from Kira’s neck. She gasped slightly as the restriction lifted. Relief visible.
Then X placed the necklace around her neck. Secured it carefully. The magical signature activated. Similar effect settling over her.
X looked at the dwarf. “Any limitations with this one?”
The dwarf shook his head. Professional report. “Nah. Same effects as the collar. Just limited charge. Perhaps a week or two maximum wear time. And maybe two to three activations before power depletes entirely.”
X nodded. Satisfied. “Should be fine for race day. Thank you.”
Kira bowed to the dwarf. Genuine gratitude. “Thank you. This is much better.”
The dwarf nodded acknowledgment. Departed through the transfer circle. Professional efficiency.
22 observed everything with clinical interest. But more importantly—she noticed Void’s reaction.
Relief. Visible relief. His posture relaxed. Expression calmed. Tension releasing.
He’d clearly hated seeing Kira in that collar. The visual reminder. The trauma association. Even knowing it was necessary for safety hadn’t made it easier.
But the necklace? Different. Still restriction. Still enforcement. But not collar. Not that specific symbol of slavery and suppression and two centuries of suffering.
Small mercy. Significant impact.
The pattern continued. Fall after fall after fall.
By afternoon, several of X’s staff had arrived. Apparently word had spread about the “training session.” They settled near the cottages. Watching. Some amused. Some concerned. All professionally interested.
22 noticed Galadriel among them. The beautiful elf female who’d called X “Master” earlier today. Her expression carried complex mixture of curiosity and assessment.
Probably evaluating Kira. Determining if she was competition. Another conquest for X’s collection.
22 felt brief spike of irritation. Pushed it down. Not relevant. Not her business. Just observation.
By mid-afternoon, X called halt to training. Gathered everyone at the starting point. His expression carried genuine confusion now.
“Have you ever flown before?” he asked Kira directly. “Ever been on a wyvern or dragon? Any practical experience at all?”
Kira wiped sweat from her forehead. Exhausted. Frustrated. “When I was small. Very small child. I held the reins few times. Family tradition. Everyone does it. This kind of circle looked easy then.”
X waited. Sensing more coming.
“But then I left for adventuring after school. Became B-rank. Never had reason to ride dragons professionally. Adventurers use other transportation methods mostly. It’s been…” She calculated. “Over a century since I actually rode anything.”
“Okay.” X processed that. “But that doesn’t explain why you fall during straight flight. What are you doing? What are you thinking when it happens?”
Kira hesitated. Embarrassed. “The wyvern doesn’t fly straight. I try to correct it. Guide it back to proper path. But then I lose balance.”
Silence.
Then X started laughing. Genuinely laughing. Not mockery—just realization. “You’re trying to FIX the wyvern’s flight? You think YOU know better than the wyvern how to fly?”
“It felt wrong,” Kira protested weakly. “Unstable. Like it was drifting. So I tried to correct—”
“The wyvern IS flying correctly,” X interrupted. Still amused but gentler now. “It’s compensating for wind. For air currents. For its own body mechanics. YOU are overcorrecting. Giving commands too strong. Probably because your inner dragon has standards this wyvern can’t meet. You’re treating it like it should perform at dragon level when it’s just a wyvern.”
Understanding dawned on Kira’s face. Embarrassment following quickly.
X continued. “New approach. Let the wyvern fly itself. You just give basic directions. Left. Right. Land. Up. Down. Simple words. Wyverns are intelligent. They understand human speech fairly well. Don’t try to control every movement. Just indicate destination and let them handle the flying.”
He demonstrated with his own wyvern. Speaking clearly. “Circle left.”
The wyvern banked smoothly. Completed a circle. Returned to starting position.
“Land.”
The wyvern descended. Touched down gently.
X dismounted. Gestured to Kira. “Your turn. Just words. No reins control. No physical commands. Just verbal directions.”
Kira mounted. Took breath. Centered herself.
“Up.”
The wyvern lifted off. Smooth. Controlled.
“Forward.”
The wyvern flew forward. Stable flight. Kira maintaining seat.
“Left.”
Gentle bank. Circle beginning.
But then 22 saw it. Kira’s legs tensing. Trying to control through pressure. Her hands twitching toward the reins. Dragon instincts emerging despite conscious effort to suppress them.
The wyvern felt the conflicting signals. Confused. Adjusting. Compensating.
Kira fell off.
But it was improvement. Almost completed the circle that time.
X called encouragement. “Better! Much better! The dragon inside wants to control. Needs to let go. Focus on just words. Nothing else. Again.”
By evening, Kira had managed to complete a full circle. Twice. Still falling occasionally when dragon instincts overwhelmed conscious control. But actual progress visible.
The group gathered near the cottages. Training break. Rest needed.
Null and the Twins had been exploring the cottage facilities. Discovered grilling equipment. Cooking supplies available for staff use.
They emerged now carrying plates. Strange food. Meat between bread slices. Layers visible—fresh green leaves, bright red tomato slices, the cooked meat patty, some kind of yellow sauce. Additional components 22 couldn’t immediately identify. All assembled into compact, handheld form.
22 accepted a plate from Null. The Twins served everyone with synchronized efficiency. Null pulled bottles of coca-cola from her Item Box. Cold. Perfect temperature.
Null had mentioned once that this food goes well with coca. Should be eaten together. Kira had even tried to patent the combination. Dwarven Union had laughed—you can’t patent a strange two-sided sandwich.
It had been named “hamburger.”
22 bit into it. The flavors hit immediately. Savory meat. Fresh vegetables. Soft bread. The textures and tastes worked together surprisingly well. And with cold coca-cola?
She took another bite. Then a drink. The pairing was genuinely excellent. Complementary in ways that enhanced both components.
Around her, others were discovering the same thing. Void’s expression showed pleasant surprise. X was eating with genuine enthusiasm. His staff members were nodding appreciation. Galadriel looked almost annoyed that she was enjoying it.
Void swallowed a bite and asked, “Why haven’t you made these interesting foods before? This hamburger or English breakfast? They’re quite good.”
Null froze. Her expression going blank. Uncomfortable. No answer coming.
The Twins rescued her. Speaking in cheerful unison while serving more coca-cola. “Big sis makes us interesting things often! During our play sessions!”
“But Master Ealdred punished her once! When she tried to make them in main kitchen! Wanted to show other maids!”
“He said this kind of food is not proper for maids! So now big sis only makes it when Master Ealdred is far away!”
Brief pause. Then proudly: “Big sis has gotten better at cooking over years! Her food is more yummy now!”
X started laughing. Actual belly laugh. Genuine amusement. “Ealdred’s maid training is killing initiative? That’s priceless! The man who lectures about proper servant development is suppressing creativity because it doesn’t match his cultural standards?”
He was still laughing. Wiping eyes. “Oh that’s perfect. That’s absolutely perfect.”
Void’s expression had shifted. Serious. Firm. “This needs correction. Everyone should be able to offer new ideas. Food or otherwise. Innovation benefits operations. I’ll sort this out with Ealdred when we return.”
22 noticed visible Null’s relief. Gratitude. Permission granted. Validation received.
One of X’s staff—a younger male, human—spoke up between bites. “This is really good. What was that other dish mentioned? English breakfast?”
Void looked at Null. “Could you make that for everyone later? Let them taste it as well?”
Null hesitated. Then nodded. Simple acceptance.
X added casually, “If you need any ingredients, my people can get them. Just let them know what’s required.”
The meal continued. Comfortable. Pleasant despite tomorrow’s looming disaster.
22 sat with her hamburger and coca-cola. Watching the group. Processing the day.
Kira had made minimal progress. Could now complete basic circle if dragon instincts didn’t interfere. Tomorrow was final training day. Then race. Then… whatever came after.
But for now? Hamburgers and coca-cola on a mountain peak. Professional courtesy meal. Moment of peace before catastrophe.
22 allowed herself small satisfaction. The food WAS quite good. Null’s cooking had improved significantly. Innovation valuable even in unexpected areas.
She finished her meal and reached for second hamburger.
Might as well enjoy it while she could.
X asked casually while everyone ate their hamburgers. “Can anyone see any way Kira can actually win this race?”
Silence. Everyone processing. Calculating. Coming up empty.
22 had no ideas. The failure was too comprehensive. The timeline too short. The skill gap too vast.
Void looked troubled but said nothing. Null watched Kira with clinical assessment. The Twins munched happily, unconcerned with tactical planning.
Then one of X’s staff spoke up. A daemon—horns curving back from his forehead, dark skin, professional bearing. He addressed Kira directly.
“You are Kira Razorclaw? Fighting against your sister Raja Razorclaw?”
Kira nodded.
The daemon continued. Clinical. Informed. “You’ll never win properly. You’re just baggage on top of a dragon. Rider plus dragon always wins over solo dragon because they can split tasks. A proper rider can even have telepathic link with their mount. Your sister is probably in that category.”
He paused. Memory surfacing. “I remember your sister from races. She’s quite good actually. Was among leaders at start of second lap six years ago. But then got disqualified—started fighting with some unlimited class dragon for no real reason.”
Another pause. Weight building. “Razorclaw patriarch has been trying to win the wyvern race for decades. Sponsoring riders. Providing resources. But never managed to put Razorclaw name on trophy. Your sister is probably their best chance inside the family. But she does strange things. Pointless fights. Disqualified several times over stupid decisions.”
He considered. Clinical assessment. “But even with all that? She’s probably not winning material. Good, yes. Competitive, certainly. But not champion level.”
Another pause. Significant. “The fact that your family allowed this bet to happen? Shows they’ve kind of given up on her. Using her as disposable piece against you. No real loss if she fails.”
Final assessment: “There’s a joke among dragon racers. Razorclaw don’t need better dragons. They need a psychologist.”
X laughed. Genuine amusement mixed with respect. “Damn you and your encyclopedic knowledge about dragon racing. Show-off.”
The daemon shrugged. Accepting the mixed compliment.
Silence settled again. Everyone thinking. Processing the impossible situation.
Hopeless?
Then Null spoke. Single word. “Survive.”
Everyone looked at her. Confusion showing.
Null elaborated slowly. Thinking through explanation. “Kira doesn’t need to win. Just needs to outlast her crazy sister.”
The statement landed. Shifted perspective. Changed framework entirely.
Not victory. Survival. Different objective. Different tactics. Different possibilities.
22 felt her mind engage. Strategic assessment recalculating. “Raja is probably not racing properly. If she is, we’ve already lost traditional competition. So let’s make it messy. Something that forces Raja out of the race. What are even the conditions for elimination? Start is probably super messy. What else in the race can help us?”
The daemon answered immediately. Professional knowledge. “Four ways to be removed from race:
“First: Disqualification for breaking rules. Using spatial storage. Attacking spectators. Damaging city infrastructure beyond acceptable limits.
“Second: Touching ground. Must stay mounted entire race. Feet touch ground? You’re out.
“Third: Judge disqualification if mount is seriously wounded. No such rule for riders—they can decide themselves whether to continue.
“Fourth: Death of rider.”
Pause. Tactical assessment. “Start is always messy. Few deaths every year. Probably our best opportunity to attack. Force your sister off her wyvern or wound her mount enough for judges to intervene. There’s short straight line at start. But after that comes complex section with many turns. Your wyvern flying solo without proper control? You’ll lose there for certain.”
Kira didn’t look happy. “So I need to attack my sister at the starting line to have any chance?”
22 stated clinically. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your sister has same idea. Given what we’ve seen and heard about her.”
Brief pause. Then harder: “Or you can just give up.”
Kira’s expression tightened. Unhappy. But no counter-arguments emerged. Just grim acceptance of reality.
X started giving commands. Pointed to a kobold among his staff. “Jack. Go find us one wyvern. Buy from certified racing wyvern renters. Wild male. Preferably caught from wild, not bred. Something near-impossible to ride normally.”
Jack looked confused. “That’s probably the strangest wyvern purchase I’ve arranged. But okay… how do you even get one like that to compete properly?”
X grinned. Shameless. “Show him some females in one of our breeding grounds here. Promise if he does well, he can have some fun afterward. All males are easy to motivate in that area.”
22 couldn’t help commenting. “At least you’re honest.”
“I’m just a simple guy,” X replied with mock innocence. “Plus if Kira overloads this wyvern with dragon essence, the result might be really unique individual for breeding program anyway.”
Galadriel spoke up with a practical suggestion and professional tone. “Let’s get a collection of weapons typically used on wyverns. See tomorrow what works better with Kira’s style. Plus we can get more wyverns and simulate the start. Have Kira experience what to expect.”
X nodded. Approving. “Good idea. Get twenty to thirty wyverns tomorrow with riders. Simulate start conditions as accurately as possible. Multiple practice runs.”
22 felt internal irritation. Damn. Galadriel was offering useful ideas. 22 had no breakthrough insights that would outmatch this practical planning.
She needed to contribute something. Needed to prove value.
22 had noticed something during training. Null watching the wyvern strangely few times during Kira’s flights. Like she was observing something others couldn’t see.
22 opened private network connection to Null.
«What did the wyvern Kira flew today think about all this?»
Null’s response came. Clinical. Direct. «That Kira is idiot. Wyvern really hates her. Was seriously considering attacking her few times.»
22 processed that. Useful information. Very useful actually.
She spoke aloud. “The wyvern we get for Kira tomorrow should either tolerate stupidity extremely well… or be very well motivated.”
X and everyone else looked at her. Confused.
22 explained. “The wyvern Kira flew today really hates her. For being such a terrible rider. Was almost ready to attack her.”
X looked genuinely baffled. Few others shared the confusion.
“You can use mind magic now?” X asked carefully. “I didn’t detect any spells or artifacts.”
22 wanted to curse internally. She’d been so focused on proving herself useful that she’d forgotten—mind magic was RARE. Ultra rare.
There were many spells and tools to simulate it. But actually having innate ability? Exceptionally uncommon. She’d tried understanding how Null did it for years. No success. Some kind of passive ability as far as 22 could determine.
She checked reactions quickly. Null and Void looked relatively calm. Probably not fully aware of the rarity. Void’s knowledge was academic in many areas—mind magic was niche field often over-explained through various workarounds in scholarly texts.
What was somewhat amusing: Galadriel clearly panicking. Had she been thinking something inappropriate? Obviously yes, given the looks she’d given earlier.
X focused on Null. Already guessed the source.
Then X addressed his staff firmly. “Everyone here keeps this secret. If Master Void wants to expose his servant’s abilities, that’s his decision.” Pause. Weight building. “Also, Master Void now owes me BIG TIME.”
22 felt panic spike. Void clearly understood now—22 had talked too much. Exposed Null’s capability unnecessarily.
X turned to Null. Curious but professional. “Can you demonstrate your ability? Just scientific interest. Someone here definitely had some… interesting thoughts.”
22 saw opportunity. Sent hint through seed network. «Galadriel.»
Null pointed directly at Galadriel. Speaking clearly. Clinically.
“This one thinks constantly how to claim your ears. Make you hers. She’s afraid of 22 because she sees 22 as more powerful. More worthy. But also feels happiness that 22 is hopefully not free in all her decisions. While 22’s master allows you to have fun, she hopes we leave soon so 22 won’t have many opportunities.”
Brief pause. Continued: “She also has backup idea brewing. Should try approaching 22. Make a deal. Fully submit. She’s aware she’s tried for centuries and never succeeded with you. Sees 22 achieving more in days than she managed in centuries. Thinks maybe if 22 get your ears, she might receive leftovers if she can prove herself useful and not dangerous.”
X started laughing. Hard. Several others joined. Galadriel turned red as tomato—all her inner thinking exposed completely.
But 22’s opinion of Galadriel improved slightly. Realist. Strategic thinker. Perhaps someone worth working with someday.
Then 22 noticed Null asking Void something. Kitten eyes visible. Probably communication through seed network.
Void addressed X. “Can you or your people find something for my servant?”
X looked curious. “Sure. What?”
Void gestured to Null to speak.
“Study materials for mind magic. Names Maya and Torentos came up.”
X thought briefly. “Torentos was archmage who lived about twenty thousand years ago. Counted by many as father of mind magic. Before his death he published all findings as legacy—ten volumes. Very academic. Hard to read. Should be possible to find in Central. If not, the vault has copies. Might take few days.”
Pause. “No idea who Maya is though.”
22 decided to help. Contribute properly this time. “Maya was… complex person. Only one known who managed to understand all Torentos writings. Before his suicide, he also published ten volumes. Explained Torentos with many practical examples.”
She continued carefully. “However, given his troubled legacy and some life philosophy in his teachings, people don’t know him well. His work usually gets republished with edits—removing the madness—by later authors under their own names. Only those truly interested in mind magic or deep academics have perhaps even heard about him.”
X pointed to the daemon. “Is Maya a problem? Books forbidden or something?”
The daemon shook his head. “No. Just not popular. Actually I think our library here has Maya collection. Not sure why—just seen them on shelves. Torentos shouldn’t be hard to track down. Quite popular. Kind of status symbol even when most don’t understand ninety-nine percent of content.”
X nodded. “Okay. We can get you those books.” He looked at Void. Smirking. “And this adds to favors you owe me.”
Through the network, Void’s hesitant voice came. «Can we ever pay these back?»
Kira—who’d been quiet most of evening—sent through the network. «You can pay back using 22.»
22 agreed internally but didn’t comment. X the bastard would use those favors when convenient. Have his fun. Then run when things got serious.
What could she do about it? Nothing.
[But just wait until you ask for the seed, bastard. You’ll get everything you deserve then.]
X stood. “Okay. Time to call evening. Long day tomorrow. Kira—rest well. Might be last chance to sleep before the race.”
Everyone began dispersing. Heading to cottages. Rest needed.
22 sat for moment longer. Processing everything.
Tomorrow: final training. Weapon selection. Start simulation with twenty to thirty wyverns. Wild male wyvern acquisition. Practical combat preparation.
Then race. Then disaster. Then… name “removal” probably.
Then hot springs project. Teaching Null elvish culture properly—everything, not just the sanitized version. And if possible, using this opportunity to teach all the maids the full version, not the carefully sanitized one she’d been forced to use while avoiding topics that might make Master uncomfortable enough to intervene.
Then dealing with X the bastard someday. If he asked for seed. Hopefully he would.
Future complicated. Present exhausting. Past irrelevant.
22 stood. Headed to cottage. Sleep needed even if mind wouldn’t stop calculating.
Tomorrow would be interesting. In terrible, catastrophic, inevitable-disaster kind of way.
