In the heart of a restricted sea, a sleek white speedboat tore through the waves, its magic-fueled engine humming with a rhythmic “putt-putt-putt.”
The wake parted like fabric snipped by scissors, rippling outward from the boat’s sides.
At the helm stood a youth with tousled black curls, his tall frame clad in a two-piece swimsuit that accentuated every chiseled muscle.
His body moved with the boat’s rhythm, a dance of strength and precision.
A barrage of water-element projectiles hurtled toward him from afar.
With a deft twist of the wheel, the boy maneuvered the boat, dodging the shimmering orbs with the ease of a seasoned pilot.
“Damn it, why can’t I hit him?”
Hui dashed across the sea’s surface, matching the speedboat’s pace despite lacking an engine.
His legs, nimble and unrestrained, allowed him to pivot directions with enviable agility.
What frustrated him was Lyte—nothing like the dossier described.
The records painted Lyte as a landlubber, untested by the sea and clumsy with vehicles.
Yet here he was, outpacing pursuit and rendering water bullets useless.
Lyte’s skill turned what should have been an easy victory into a vexing challenge.
But Lyte was no hotheaded fool.
Reborn as the mightiest hero, he carried the weight of past experiences even if his full strength had yet to return.
His driving skills might have been rusty at first, but a decade of adventuring had honed them to a fine edge, like a dull rod ground into a needle.
Lyte adjusted the gaudy pink sunglasses sliding down his sharp nose.
Cheaply made, they wobbled with every ear twitch, threatening to fall.
He dodged another volley of water bullets with effortless grace.
Time ticked on—less than a minute remained.
His opponent, Hui, was done holding back.
“Phwee-phwee!”
A piercing whistle cut through the air.
Hui blew hard into the lifeguard whistle dangling from his neck.
The sea around him trembled violently, and countless water arrows rose from the surface.
On the shore, spectators buzzed with excitement.
“What a terrifying ability. The black-haired guy’s done for,” a bikini-clad onlooker remarked, her voice tinged with awe.
Her words reached Noi, standing nearby.
“Lyte won’t lose. I believe in him,” she declared, her tone unwavering.
The woman shot Noi a skeptical glance, sipping her chilled drink as if dismissing the claim as empty bravado.
Noi’s lips said faith, but her heart fluttered with worry.
Winning didn’t matter to her, the only thing that mattered to her is that Lyte should return unharmed, without a scratch.
“Hui, you got this!”
“Go, boss!”
“Take down that cocky punk!”
Hui’s crew and a gaggle of adoring women rallied behind him, their cheers joined by thrill-seekers egging on Lyte’s defeat.
Noi’s delicate brows furrowed, her nose wrinkling as she squinted at the noisy crowd.
Why wasn’t anyone cheering for Lyte?
Her teeth ground together, her gaze locked on Lyte as he weaved through the water arrows aboard the speedboat.
Each attack tightened the knot in her chest.
She wanted to shout, to fuel his spirit with her voice, but the crowd’s size made her hesitate.
What if they stared at her with knowing, teasing looks?
Then she imagined other women cheering for Lyte.
Her teeth clenched harder, a spark of defiance flaring.
‘No way. Only I can cheer for Light. Only I get to claim that right. An empty field of rivals suits me just fine.’
Her resolve solidified.
Cupping her hands like a megaphone, Noi let her suppressed emotions burst free.
“Lyte! You’ve got this!”
Nearing the boundary of the restricted zone, Lyte’s head turned toward the shore, as if sensing her call.
His sharp eyes caught the faint, snowy-white figure of Noi, her shout fueling his heart with a surge of courage.
A bold, unrestrained grin spread across the gallant youth’s face.
Hui blew his whistle again.
A final wave of water arrows formed, unlike the earlier ones Lyte had dodged.
This time, Lyte was cornered at the boundary’s edge.
One more move, and he’d cross the line, losing the race.
“Fall already, you cowardly waste of a hero!” Hui taunted, charging alongside his water arrows.
Lyte’s expression darkened, as if Hui’s words had struck a nerve.Â
His face grew stormy, heavy enough to wring out water.
“You want me to face you head-on? Fine. Wish granted.”
He released the wheel.
A holy sword, sheathed in bronze, materialized from thin air, hovering behind him, controlled by his magic.
Gripping the hilt, he flicked the sheath open with his thumb, revealing the dark, meteoric iron blade inch by inch.
Steady as a rock on the swaying boat, Lyte assumed a half-squat stance, gripping the sword with both hands.
His presence seemed to solidify the air around him.
“Crack!”
The black sword met the leading water arrows, its strange runes absorbing their elemental essence, casting a faint blue glow across the blade.
Channeling his vast, ocean-like mana, Lyte infused the sword, its surface flaring with deep azure light.
A cruciform sword wave sliced through the air, shredding the remaining water arrows mid-flight with a warped, spatial intent.
Hui, unable to stop his momentum, barreled straight into the cross-shaped strike.
If a sword’s gleam marked a master’s skill, a sword wave was the exclusive flair of a grandmaster.
Hui knew Lyte was skilled, but no one had warned him that Lyte was a martial grandmaster.
That intel was sorely outdated.
At the last second, Hui transformed into a puddle of water, merging with the sea to narrowly escape the lethal blow.
Seizing the moment, Lyte grabbed the wheel again, veering the boat to avoid crossing the boundary.
One and a half minutes remained in the race.
Though he held the upper hand, Lyte stayed vigilant.
His senses, fully unleashed, painted a vivid mental image: Hui, darting like a swordfish through the water, planting “time bombs” in his wake.
What was he planning?
Before Lyte could unravel the bombs purpose, he felt their intent.
“Boom!”
A towering water column erupted nearby, its force nearly capsizing the boat.
Light floored the accelerator, but another column exploded in the boat’s wake.
The speedboat rocked wildly, battered by the blasts and Lyte’s evasive maneuvers.
“Such a troublesome ability,” Lyte muttered.
Hui’s underwater speed was formidable.
Without the race’s rules binding him, catching Hui would’ve been a grueling task.
Even a martial grandmaster wasn’t invincible—Hui’s ability was unnervingly practical.
Frustration gnawed at him, but Lyte held firm, guiding the scarred speedboat to the two-minute mark.
“Yee-haw!”
A bizarre cry echoed from below.
Lyte’s instincts screamed, and he leaped from the boat, using his mastery of mana to walk on water.
A moment later, a “swordfish” pierced the boat, rendering it useless wreckage.
Hui somersaulted through the air, landing back on the sea’s surface.
His hands dipped into the water, movements suspicious.
Clutching his holy sword, Lyte, as the defender, could only counter, not attack.
His earlier Crossflower had been laced with mana threads, designed to dissipate on contact without causing real harm.
“Ever felt the power of a tidal wave, kid?” Hui sneered.
“What?”
Before Lyte could react, Hui lifted the sea itself.
A colossal wave rose, roaring toward Lyte Montis, who stood ready, resolute, and unyielding.
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