The man in the suit suddenly let go of his right hand and shifted into a normal running posture, picking up speed as if trying to catch up to the two people ahead of him.
Seeing this, the two in front also accelerated.
Suddenly, the suited man’s right hand moved—swiftly switching to his left—as if he were about to press something…
The two in front immediately went on high alert.
Their nerves sharpened in an instant, and they stopped in their tracks, preparing to defend against a possible teleportation ambush from the man in the suit.
However…
The suited man didn’t press it.
Instead, he reverted back to a normal running posture, a mocking expression appearing on his face.
Running in lane six, LeftHandForFriendship suddenly realized something.
They had already reached the 800-meter mark—only 200 meters remained to the finish line.
He was currently about 60 meters ahead of the suited man.
If, hypothetically, the suited man used his maximum teleportation distance—100 meters—he would end up at the 840-meter mark, which would place him 40 meters ahead of LeftHandForFriendship, who was currently in first place.
It looked like the outcome was already set.
LeftHandForFriendship had only teleported about 70 meters earlier in order to ambush sinAmaterasu—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to outrun him at all.
But now that sinAmaterasu was out of the picture, the suited man was free to use his maximum teleport range without worry.
The reason he was toying with them now was likely just to guarantee victory with higher certainty.
As long as he kept his hand poised on the teleport trigger, the two in front of him would be forced to stay constantly on guard.
There was no way they could sprint at full speed under those conditions.
And even if they tried to sprint, whoever took the lead would become his target.
Having realized this, LeftHandForFriendship had no choice but to start sprinting.
Because at this point, he had already lost—running with everything he had was the only possible shot at winning.
If he could stretch the gap beyond 100 meters, he’d be safe.
But he wasn’t just running in a straight line—his head was darting around, and his path formed a slight S-curve, as if trying to dodge a possible surprise teleportation attack at any moment.
The suited man couldn’t run much faster—he was barefoot.
The ground was hard, his feet were already raw and blistered, and every step felt like fire.
The gap was widening again.
He would have to teleport and attack before the opponent got outside the 100-meter range.
But LeftHandForFriendship had unknowingly hit upon his weakness.
“Damn it! F***!”
Realizing his plan had been exposed, the suited man couldn’t help but curse.
Just as he was about to teleport and take out LeftHandForFriendship, he suddenly heard rapid footsteps behind him—accompanied by a low, beast-like growl.
Startled, he had no time to identify who it was and instinctively hit the teleport button.
But due to the distraction, the teleport wasn’t precise—he landed at the very edge of his maximum range.
Still, it was fine.
He began sprinting again while glancing behind—
And what he saw stunned him: a face had suddenly teleported close and filled his view.
That face was covered in scratches, exuding a terrifying aura of bloodlust.
Before he could react, a heavy punch slammed into his neck.
He collapsed, his head and body twisting into a grotesque 180-degree angle.
His death was horrifying.
“Running? A race?” The newcomer turned toward runners #6 and #7, roaring,
“Run your f***ing race! None of you are leaving here today!”
The man in blue and runner #7 both froze in place—clearly too scared to approach the raging beast.
They’d seen what had just happened.
No one wanted to take a punch from this Saitama-looking madman.
This bald guy had already taken down #1, #3, #4, #5, and #8.
And judging by his expression, he clearly meant to take down everyone.
“You—LeftHand, right? You’re that LeftHandForFriendship guy from the chat group, right?” He pointed at the man in blue.
Suddenly, he moved—but his target wasn’t the man in blue.
It was runner #7.
Two bounding steps brought him right in front of #7.
The punch that followed carried a mountain of rage. #7 frantically raised his hands to block, but it was useless.
The massive force smashed his own hands into his face.
His whole body flew backward, sliding nearly five meters on the ground and leaving a long bloody trail.
Meanwhile, LeftHandForFriendship had already begun sprinting with everything he had.
Even if he knew he couldn’t outrun the guy, he had to try—this was his only chance.
While the bald man was distracted with #7, he had to put everything into running forward.
They say people can unleash unimaginable potential in moments of desperation—and sure enough, by the time the bald man snapped back to attention, the man in blue had already pulled ahead by 50 meters.
He immediately gave chase.
His speed was so fast that he looked like a shadow—you couldn’t even make out his face.
Only 100 meters remained.
Just 10 seconds to the finish line.
One ran.
One chased.
Even though the bald man was covered in bruises and exhausted, he was still running faster.
He tore off his restrictive shirt, revealing a muscular, jet-black torso.
Combined with the murderous intensity in his eyes, it sent chills down anyone watching.
His gaze never once left the man in blue.
Closer.
Closer.
With every passing moment, the gap narrowed.
Finally, at the 970-meter mark, sinAmaterasu extended both hands and gave the man in blue a hard shove.
The blue-shirted runner stumbled forward and fell flat, sliding 7 to 8 meters on his face.
The bald man clearly had no intention of letting him off the hook—not even with the finish line right in front of them.
Panting heavily, he walked over.
But just then, the man in blue on the ground suddenly turned over and swiftly kicked his right leg straight into the bald man’s groin.
A direct hit.
The bald man let out a pained growl, clutching his crotch.
But the two didn’t engage in a brawl.
LeftHandForFriendship had started running again.
He pushed himself up from the ground and, instead of attacking sinAmaterasu, turned and sprinted toward the finish line just ahead.
His face, nearly skinned from the earlier fall, was terrifying—blood pouring down in streams.
Still, he gritted his teeth and kept running through the searing pain.
“Don’t run! Weren’t you the one who challenged me to a fight to the death? Why are you running now?” the bald man chased again, though his running posture looked odd—clearly the indescribable pain in his crotch hadn’t worn off yet.
“Who the hell said anything about fighting to the death with you?” the man in blue kept running.
Closer now.
The finish line was just a few more steps away.
“Then why did you go out of your way to switch bodies? Wasn’t that aimed at me? Didn’t that mean you wanted to duel me?” the bald man picked up speed again.
Maybe he sensed he was about to lose and could no longer afford to worry about the pain.
“F***! You overthinking idiot. I changed bodies precisely because I didn’t want to get targeted by you!”
Yes—LeftHandForFriendship and sinAmaterasu’s identities had been exposed in the group.
He knew this bald guy was wild, with insane combat power, and never followed rules during matches.
Most of the time, he just relied on brute strength.
Think about it: if she were still in her original delicate female body, one punch to the face like earlier would have probably killed her.
That’s exactly why LeftHandForFriendship had spent 1,000 points to create a male body like the one now—average looks, average build, easy to overlook.
And just as he had hoped, sinAmaterasu hadn’t recognized him at first—not until the final surprise teleport attack.
LeftHandForFriendship specialized in ambush tactics—always looking for chances to strike unexpectedly.
That was info exposed by Wind of Remembrance in the chat group.
In the previous Dark World match, she had pretended to be a corpse underwater, holding her breath for two whole minutes—escaping danger and instantly killing an enemy who came close to inspect her.
Since her appearance and tactics had already been exposed—and she had to face one of the group’s three notorious berserkers—she had no choice but to switch bodies.
It was the only way to avoid being targeted and to wait for a critical moment to strike.
The ambush had succeeded—but it still hadn’t completely taken down sinAmaterasu.
This bald guy was just too tough.
His terrifying physique made a head-on fight unthinkable.
Luckily, there were still game rules.
No matter how strong he was, a win was a win.
The finish line was right there—just three steps away.
The bald man didn’t have time to stop him now.
LeftHandForFriendship only needed three steps; the bald man needed six.
He crossed the finish line! A look of relief and survival bloomed on LeftHandForFriendship’s face.
He had made it.
In that moment, he almost forgot the pain on his face.
Then, the system’s emotionless voice rang out again from the void:
“Race complete. The winner is… Number 9.”
“…Huh? Number 9?”
Both Runner 6 (LeftHandForFriendship) and Runner 2 (sinAmaterasu) froze.
There was a Number 9 in this race?