I raised my stick dramatically like some kind of referee about to start the Olympics of stupidity.
"On my mark… three, two, one—GO!"
But before anyone could even move an inch, I shouted, "STOP!"
Erza, Allen, and even little Elena froze mid-motion.
Erza turned to me, eyebrow twitching. "What now?"
I pointed my stick at her like I was accusing a criminal. "I can't trust you."
She blinked, clearly offended. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," I said, narrowing my eyes. "What if you secretly use magic in an invisible way and win the race? Huh? You think I don't know your tricks, Miss Dragon Queen?"
Erza folded her arms and scoffed. "What nonsense are you even spouting? Do you think someone of royal dragon blood would stoop so low?"
"Who knows?" I shrugged. "Everything's fair in love and war... and racing against your overpowered wife."
She groaned, rubbing her temple like she regretted marrying me. "Fine. If that'll make you shut up, I'll place a magic restriction on myself. Happy now?"
"Now that's what I call fairness!" I said proudly, puffing out my chest.
Allen just stood there with Elena on his back, probably questioning all his life choices.
Elena tilted her head innocently. "Papa, Mama, can we start now?"
"Soon, sweetie," I said, glaring back at Erza. "Just making sure your mama doesn't pull out a secret dragon boost halfway up the hill."
Erza smirked, folding her arms as she looked down at me.
"You talk too much, mortal," she said coolly. "Shall we test which is faster—your words or your legs?"
I snorted. "Bring it on, Lizard Queen."
That was how it started.
The moment we moved, Allen shot forward without hesitation, Elena held securely in his arms. Her laughter echoed behind them as they quickly pulled ahead. Erza followed soon after, her steps light and effortless, as if the mountain path itself bent to her will.
And then… there was me.
I didn't sprint. I didn't even try to keep up.
Instead, I settled into an easy jog, my breathing steady as I moved forward at my own pace, the outline of Mount Fuji looming quietly in the distance.
Sprinting only works for a short time. Anyone who knows even a little about endurance understands that. I'd read it once in a jogging book—something about stamina, rhythm, and not wasting energy at the start.
I caught myself smiling.
—No, wait. I'm explaining too much. Focus, Yuuta.
From where I was, Erza and Allen were already far ahead. Elena's laughter drifted back to me, carefree and bright, completely unaware of what I was planning.
I slowed slightly, letting the gap widen.
To anyone watching, it probably looked like I had already given up.
But that wasn't it.
I smiled again—this time quieter, sharper.
I had let them go first on purpose.
There was another route. A narrow path I'd seen once in a travel vlog—less obvious, less crowded, but faster if you knew where to look. Finding it would take time, and rushing now would only drain my strength.
So I kept jogging, conserving my stamina, watching the terrain carefully…
…while letting the others run straight ahead.
So I kept jogging, conserving my stamina, watching the terrain carefully…
…while letting the others run straight ahead.
It didn't take long.
Half-hidden behind thick bushes, I noticed it—a small, weathered temple standing quietly to the side of the trail. Moss clung to its stone walls, and beside it stretched a long staircase, narrow and uneven, climbing upward at an angle that didn't match the main route.
My heart jumped.
I stopped.
"…Found it," I muttered, then laughed under my breath. "I actually found it."
I couldn't believe how easy it was. All that preparation, all that patience—and there it was, almost like it had been waiting for someone to notice.
I bent forward slightly, catching my breath, my chest rising and falling as excitement mixed with relief. Then I turned toward the staircase.
The entrance was covered in thick spider webs. I hesitated for a moment before brushing them aside, silently apologizing to whatever small creatures I was displacing. The air felt colder here, heavier somehow, as I stepped onto the hidden path.
The temple loomed beside me.
A Buddha statue sat within, cracked and abandoned, its expression calm in a way that unsettled me. The paint had faded long ago, and shadows gathered around it as if refusing to leave.
I looked away.
No reason to overthink it.
The path ahead was silent. Not peaceful—silent.
No tourists. No voices. Not even the sound of birds or insects. It felt wrong, like the mountain itself was holding its breath.
I swallowed and kept walking.
That was when I felt it.
A presence.
Someone—or something—watching me.
My steps slowed. I turned my head sharply, scanning the trees behind me.
Nothing.
Just branches, leaves, and tangled roots.
"…I'm imagining things," I whispered, though my voice lacked conviction.
I picked up my pace, breaking into a light sprint, my heartbeat quickening as unease crawled up my spine.
Then—
Crack.
The sound was sharp and loud, echoing through the quiet.
I reacted too fast.
My foot slipped on loose gravel, my balance vanished in an instant, and the ground disappeared beneath me.
"No—!"
My body tumbled down the slope. I rolled over and over, branches tearing at my clothes, pain exploding through my limbs. The world spun violently until—
Impact.
A stone slammed into my head.
Everything blurred.
Warm liquid ran down my face as I lay there, my vision shaking, my body screaming in pain.
I was bleeding. Badly.
Yet somehow… I didn't lose consciousness.
My head throbbed.
Each heartbeat sent a dull wave of pain through my skull, my vision swimming as I tried to focus. Sunlight filtered through the trees above me—this was supposed to be afternoon, yet the forest felt unnaturally dark, as if shadows had thickened on purpose.
I tried to sit up.
A sharp pain shot through my side, forcing a groan from my throat. My fingers came away warm when I touched my head. Blood.
"Great…" I muttered weakly.
That was when I felt it again.
The presence.
Not behind me.
In front.
My breathing slowed, not by choice, but by instinct. The forest had gone completely silent now. No wind. No insects. Even the leaves seemed frozen in place.
Then—movement.
Something shifted between the trees.
My vision was blurred, edges distorted, like I was looking through water. I squinted, forcing my eyes to focus, but the shape refused to sharpen.
It was tall.
Too tall.
A long neck rose above the bushes, bending slightly, unnaturally smooth. Below it, a massive body rested on four legs, thick and grounded, like it belonged to the mountain itself.
Horns.
I was sure of that much.
They curved upward from its head, dark silhouettes cutting through the dim light.
I couldn't see its face.
But I knew—
It was watching me.
Not rushing. Not attacking.
Just… observing.
My throat went dry.
Every instinct screamed at me to move, to run, but my body refused to listen. My limbs felt heavy, useless, as if the ground itself was holding me in place.
The creature took a step forward.
The forest creaked.
Not a roar. Not a growl.
Just the sound of weight shifting.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs. This isn't real, I tried to tell myself. I hit my head. I'm hallucinating.
Yet the fear was too sharp.
Too real.
I blinked hard, and for a brief moment, the shape wavered—almost fading.
Then it leaned closer.
Close enough that I could feel it.
Its gaze.
Cold.
Ancient.
As if it had been there long before paths, temples, or foolish humans trying to be clever.
My fingers dug into the dirt.
"Don't… move," I whispered to myself, though I didn't know if I was warning it—or begging my own body to obey.
The afternoon light dimmed further.
And in that suffocating stillness, I realized something terrifying.
Whatever that thing was…
…it had no intention of leaving.
To be continue...