Chapter 21 – The Second Race
The sun hung lazily overhead, casting warm light through the apartment windows.
Riya sat with Muramasa in the living room, dark circles under his eyes betraying the sleepless night filled with... unwelcome noises.
Suddenly, Riya broke the silence.
"Hey, Muramasa," he said, leaning forward with a grin, "can you forge me a pair of shoes? I need them to make me faster."
Muramasa raised an eyebrow. "Why? You planning to outrun death or something?"
"Worse," Riya muttered. "A woman."
Though confused, the swordsmith still obliged.
In a few short hours, a sleek pair of magical running shoes gleamed in Riya's hands, humming lightly with spiritual energy.
Even with this boost, though, he knew it wouldn't be enough.
But Riya had a plan.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars took their places, Riya lay down and let sleep carry him to the familiar dreamscape.
There, beneath a moonlit sky and nestled between an ancient tree, stood Atalanta.
She was waiting, arms crossed and ears twitching with amusement.
"You really showed up," she said with a smirk, eyeing the new shoes. "Still won't be enough, you know."
"We'll see," Riya grinned, stretching. "One race. Tree to tree. Let's go."
"Sure your on" she said with a grin.
The race began.
And so did his plan.
As they bolted forward, Riya tapped into Jack the Ripper's powers and with them her agility, boosting himself to Atalanta's level—but he didn't stop there.
A soft flick from his fingers activated Jack's second Noble Phantasm: The Mist.
The fog surged from the ground, a swirling, sulfur-laced shroud that wrapped around the course.
While Atalanta wasn't harmed, the mist took its toll—slowing her, dulling her instincts.
For once, her steps faltered.
And in that moment of hesitation, Riya surged ahead, crossing the finish line with a gasp and grin.
Atalanta emerged from the mist seconds later, blinking.
Then her lips curved into something between a growl and a smile. "Clever," she admitted, walking toward him, her steps graceful and tail swaying with every move.
"You beat me. And I'm a woman of my word."
She reached his side, her body warm and close. "Now," she purred, clinging to him, "let's have one more race... a very different kind of "race"."
As the moonlight bathed the clearing, and their moans mingled with the night breeze...
Riya woke up in his bed with the widest grin plastered across his face.
He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
Victory had never felt quite so sweet.
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RIYA RIOT STATS:
Atalanta:
Skills:
Independent Action:(A)
Beast Enhancement:(B)
Magic Resistance:(D)
Crossing Arcadia:(A)
Aesthetics of the Last Spurt:(C)
Calydonian Hunt:(A)
Self-Evolution:(EX)
Noble Phantasms:
Agrius Metamorphosis:(B+)
Tauropolos Skia Thermokrasia:(A)
Phoebus Catastrophe:(B+)
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