Exactly what happened within those short few pivotal seconds next would depend entirely on whom you ask. Most people watching from padded-leather seats, would tell you it must have been a hefty breeze that went and did it.

If you ask the archers stationed atop their tiled rooftops, and they'd probably tell you it must have been a weak link, an odd-angled odd one out that toppled and crumbled the bunch.

I'm sure Bob, through mouthfuls of ink, would insist in his claims that there was no possible explanation how his impenetrable defense inexplicably fell forward onto him, and Frederick would undoubtedly be there to back him up on it… once he manages to rub the red from his eyes, that is.

And if someone were to ask me for my account, I'd just shrug, I'd just smile, and simply say, "Magic."

Because what else could it be? How strong could the ventilating indoors be to cause such a fall? How flimsy could the barrels be to all topple with just one awkward angle?

Bob and Frederick were close, there was no possible explanation for it, there was only the impossible.

No one saw that I had my palm outstretched, no one noticed that I didn't once slowed in pace, that I continued to charge into their trap regardless… almost as if I knew what would happen next.

Compared to summoning, compared to subjugating, toppling a wall was as easy as simply throwing a tennis ball at it… and funnily enough, that's exactly what it took. Not that anybody should know that, of course.

And as those short pivotal seconds came to pass, there erupted a rumble in the earth, an explosion of sound that blanketed the entire vicinity with a heavy drizzle of red mist.

The street was also flooded, flowing a deluge of crimson red that seeped wider and thicker. Anyone nearby didn't stand a chance against the bloody crashing tide.

Luckily I wasn't. Luckier Bob was.

I wasn't about to get caught in that mess there, the splatters, the stains, they'd end me. Thankfully Lyn and I were of one mind in that prospect.

With an echoing whinny that resounded all around, and a well-timed spring of hooves, Lyn completely maneuvered across the murky ocean of driftwood and sinking cargo in a single bound, landing gracefully on the other side, and forging forth without a single change in momentum.

In that moment, in that one brief instance, Bob and I locked eyes once more in that instant - if he could see right then, and if his eyelids weren't already doing their utmost filtering droplets of red from oozing in, he'd find that perhaps after all there may be a possible explanation for the impossible to tell in the after-event interview through thick sputters of red.

"It was him."

Utilizing my magic wasn't a notion that once occurred to me during this whole ordeal. I wanted to win without resorting to that, try to anyway. See if I could do it myself.

But in the end, magic was myself… it was a part of me, underhanded or not. And besides, right then, push came to shove.

All I did was just shove back.

One fell swoop, I overtook sixth and fifth, leaving both in a bend of a corner without even a single glance back… and now it was time for fourth.

Now it was time for Leon.

My little plight with Bob and Co didn't go unnoticed. Out of nowhere, in the high-rise panels all over, they showed a carriage-less man on a steed speeding through the theatre streets, and they stayed broadcasting that, just that.

All eyes were on me now.

If Tyler was allowed another chance on the mic right then, I've no doubt he'd implode the entire earth from within with solely just the levels of hype he'd generated in those bottomless lungs of his.

Probably for the best that he didn't.

Then as if reading my thoughts, the speakers suddenly crackled to life once more, then in a booming voice, a familiar voice, a statement sounded, "In a surprise turn of events, the fifth place has just been overtaken from the surprise underdog of the tournament - Big Man of House Playboy!"

Sounds like they got a last-minute replacement for Tyler, and who else would better qualify for the job than the old announcer himself? For the best, I guess. No bias, no favoritism… just strictly commentary and commentary alone.

"It seems Big Man is determined to sweep away most of the competition himself!" The announcer continued to spout. "But he'll find that his adversaries henceforth could prove mighty troublesome to his goals! Leon The Valiant has just overtaken third! Nick the Gallant Giant firmly in first!"

Somewhere down the line, I too came up against Leon's most recent opponent.

From what I could see, they looked desperate, furious. Leon's team had made a fool of them, besmirching one-half of their cargo in ink, and losing third place on top of it all only fanned the flames of their anger… leaving me to deal with the resulting wildfire.

They played dirty, played frantic. The defender from behind threw paint at me like I was a blank canvas, and he was channeling the spirit of Jackson Pollock. Meanwhile, the driver kept pressuring me off-road. They already lost a placement once, they certainly weren't going to lose twice.

Unfortunately for them, I'm of the same sentiment, and I also didn't mind getting my hands dirty.

There was a boom, and suddenly their carriage began shaking violently, slowing drastically, as one of their front wheels blew out into splintering fragments from under them.

Possibly a stray pebble on the road? Or maybe it broke from under their combined weight? Either one could serve as a perfectly plausible explanation. Hard to argue for the implausible, that it could just suddenly, magically, combust.

As for me, I lowered my hand back onto the rein, and simply continued on my way, usurping fourth, just as easily as I did all the others. What an unexpected gold streak of good fortune all a sudden.

And indeed, the announcer thought as much as well, proclaiming aloud, "Ah, what a turn of events! It seems Glen Of The Red, and his partner of The Old Guard has befallen upon a similar fate as with Big Man prior! Losing a wheel! Losing the skirmish! Big man not squandering the opportunity and blazing forth, taking fourth! Joining the final three on the last leg of the run! But will he manage to claw his way to the top? We are yet to find out! But he just might!"

His words continued to ring in my ears as more and more of the town landmarks breezed past me in a blur… from the theatre to the farm, from the farm to the city center reverberating the chime of the belltower toiling, looming from above.

"Who among these promising contenders would be crowned the victor of the race? And Who could possibly topple the giant from a victory almost guaranteed? Will it be Leon, claiming second place so fast!? Erron of The Everfields trailing closely behind?! Or perhaps Big Man, hot on the heels of third?!"

I noticed the twists and turns were getting gradually familiar. Rows of buildings passed and long stretches of lanes taken, they weren't just a recognizable sight, they were an alarming one too.

The jousting arena was just right nearby.

The finish line was just right beyond the horizon.

"Keep going, Lyn," I spurred us faster, both princesses' hanging slump tightly in my grasp. "We're almost there."

Within seconds, I could hear the distinct sound of carriage wheels being strained and pushed to their limits, faintly at first… before they gradually got louder and louder.

I could see all three of them now.

The three could see me too.

And the announcer saw it all.

"Now Big Man has finally joined the final effort, the final struggle for first! It all comes down to this now, folks! Nick's doing his utmost to maintain his spot, but Leon is still slowly and surely wriggling his way close! As for the other scuffle taking place just right behind them, it seems Erron is adamant about giving up third place! Swiftly shutting down every attempt by the Big Man to squirm his way in!"

He wasn't kidding. The team in front of me was a pain, and a big one too. They didn't have any more paint in their reserves to fling at me so they had to resort to other tactics.

I go left, they turn left. I veer right, they veer just as quick. The defender was keeping a close eye, relaying my every move to the driver up front, who would then proceed to react accordingly by cutting me off… forcing me to begrudgingly tail them from behind.

That was their plan. They knew first place was beyond them, so they were fully content with setting on third place. Now all they had to do was to ensure they didn't lose that position.

Getting lucky once was convenient, getting lucky twice was coincidence, if I got lucky thrice… I think even the most skeptical individual would be raising an eyebrow or two if all a sudden my opponent here mysteriously lost control of their carriage.

Magic was out of the question.

Yet I can't stay just chasing their wheels forever. The cobbled path had turned to dirt again, the buildings that once surrounded us had become a fleeting blur of green and brown… and the cheers and hollers of a distant crowd were gradually getting closer and louder.

"HOMESTRETCH!" The announcer bellowed, unable to contain his own excitement. "THE FINAL FIGHT! WHO WOULD BE CROWN THE FIRST PLACE VICTOR?! "

Beyond third, I could second and first, Leon and Nick, neck-to-neck with each other, both on the offense, both on the defense.

There was as much paint-flying as they were paint-dodging, neither was giving the slightest edge over the other, and neither intended on conceding either.

They were both each other's worthy adversaries.

So where does that leave me, then? Second-best? Not even. Third-best? Fourth-best? A position so far out of sight, so far out of mind, I wasn't even a concern, a threat?

Not on my fucking watch.

"Lyn…" I whispered, inhaling deep, holding tight. "Jump it."

One second I felt the hard thud of trodden solid dirt, just as I always have before. The next, coming in an instant, was a weightless sinking sensation. Lyn jumped, Lyn soared, and Lyn landed.

On top of the carriage.

All four legs touched down onto the rickety platform, cushioned by the blow of soft cargo from below, bursting in a cloud of feathers before the petrified paling defender's eyes as he fell over backward in utter shock.

All at once, the repercussions came ramming against my skull just as my brain from within did just that. Horses are heavy, and wood can get brittle. I whispered again, urgently this time, "Jump again!"

Lyn did not stall for another second, just as she did before, she vaulted over the driver, his horse, like slow-motion. I saw him from under us, his gaping wide-eyed expression shaded by the silhouette of our leap from above.

There wasn't a single word from the announcer, from the speakers - instead, replacing it came a collective gasp, shrill screams, piercing the silence. I remembered gasping too at that moment, holding in a suffocating breath through gritted aching teeth.

Then we stopped sinking, the weightless sensation immediately stopped, and once more the feel of solid dirt reverberated throughout my whole body in a galloping rhythm.

To the left of me, Leon. To the right of me, Nick. Both equally as shocked as the other to see me coming between them. And to the front of me, the Jousting arena, and painted in the dirt of the entrance in a white grand line was the finish line.

So close, so very close.

Twenty meters.

"Come on!"

I lashed at the reins, buckled my legs. To the corner of my right, Nick growled, hastily taking over the reins. And to the corner of my left, Leon bared his teeth, scrunched his gaze.

All three of us, head to head.

Fifteen Meters

The announcer's voice has become a blur, a murky echo lost to focus, as did the cries of the crowds, the cheers from all around. All that mattered to me was that one white line inscribed in the sand.

Ten Meters.

Nick roared out loud, bending forward.

Five Meters.

Leon hissed in a breath, doing just the same.

Three.

I took my hands off the reins.

I jumped, both Princesses' held tight, soaring through the air, feeling weightless, rapidly sinking - falling… landing in the dirt, just right beyond that white line.

Then a moment later, I heard the creak of wheels speeding just right past me from both sides… finishing second and finishing third.

Coming up right after me, just a split-second after… laying sprawled out, winded on the ground, both soft, fluffy cargoes piled atop my rising and failing chest...

Finishing first.