Chapter 265 The First Run

Chapter 265 The First Run


Cassian’s POV

The arena pulsed with energy long before the first whistle ever sounded.
Atlas and I stood side by side on the announcement platform overlooking the entire course.
I stepped forward slightly, gripping the edge of the platform before leaning into the microphone.
“Alright,” I called out, my voice carrying clean across the arena as the noise began to dip. “Ladies and gentlemen… this year’s tournament is about to begin.”
That did it.
The crowd surged louder, cheers echoing off the stone and steel.
I smirked slightly, letting them have their moment before continuing. “This year follows tradition. The course stands as it always has. No shortcuts. No changes. Just you against it.” I paused, letting that settle just enough. “Each runner gets two attempts. If you fall, your run ends there. You come back for your second shot, and that’s all you get.”
I glanced toward Atlas briefly before looking back out. “Fastest time takes the win,” I continued smoothly. “A million dollars… and a place in our Royal Army.”
That earned another roar. Yeah. That part always did.
I let the noise ride for a second before lifting a hand, bringing it back down just enough to regain control. “And to start things off…” I said, drawing it out slightly, because why not build the suspense? “…we’re setting the bar high this year.”
Atlas shifted beside me, already knowing what was coming.
I grinned. “We have our former Queen, Trixie… running side by side with our reigning Queen, Elara.”
The reaction was immediate.
Louder. Excited in a way that cut through everything else.
“Oh yeah,” I muttered under my breath. “They like that.”
“Of course they do,” Atlas said dryly.
I leaned back into the mic. “Put your hands together for these two.”
The applause rolled like thunder as both women stepped up to the starting line.
And damn. Even from up here, they looked locked in.
Trixie stood loose but ready, shoulders relaxed, eyes forward. Elara, on the other hand, held that same calm intensity she always carried.
The whistle cut through the air. And they were gone.
They hit the first section like it was nothing. No hesitation. No missteps. Just clean, controlled movement as they navigated the opening obstacles with ease.
“Damn, look at them,” I said, shaking my head slightly.
“They’re not even warming up yet,” Atlas replied, though there was a hint of impressed amusement in his tone.
They cleared the first part without breaking stride and entered the second.
The beams. Thin. Elevated. Designed to throw off balance and force hesitation.
Neither of them cared.
“They’re still side by side,” I pointed out, narrowing my eyes slightly. “Those beams didn’t slow them down at all.”
“Nope,” Coban’s voice came from behind us, his attention locked on the course. “Not even a little.”
They moved like they’d done this a hundred times.
The second section bled straight into the hanger. The rings suspended at varying heights, requiring strength, timing, and enough grip control to keep from swinging off completely.
They didn’t just pass it.
They flew through it.
I let out a low whistle. “Alright, that’s just showing off.”
Atlas crossed his arms, clearly entertained. “You sound jealous.”
“I am jealous,” I shot back. “I’m not even going to pretend otherwise.”
They dropped cleanly into the third section.
The climb. Vertical. Brutal. Designed to drain whatever energy the course hadn’t already taken.
They hit it hard, both ascending with speed that most competitors wouldn’t even attempt.
Halfway up Elara slipped.
Just for a fraction of a second.
But I saw it. We all did.
My grip on the railing tightened instinctively.
She recovered immediately, claws digging in as she pulled herself back into rhythm, but that moment, that tiny moment cost her.
“Trixie’s ahead,” Atlas noted.
“Barely,” I said quickly, watching closely.
“Still counts,” Coban added.
They pushed through the rest of the climb, muscles straining but movements still controlled. By the time they reached the top, Trixie held only a few steps advantage.
Nothing dramatic. But enough.
“They’re insane,” I muttered under my breath.
“Correct,” Ryder’s voice came from behind us, followed by a low whistle. “They’re setting the bar ridiculously high.”
“No argument there,” I said.
They dropped into the fourth section.
Fire blast. Jets of flame triggered in staggered bursts, forcing precise timing and fast reactions.
Trixie powered through cleanly, weaving between bursts without losing speed.
Elara. She did something else entirely.
She ran straight into it. Then dropped low and slid under the final blast like she was diving into home plate.
I blinked. Then barked out a laugh. “Oh, that was smooth.”
Atlas shook his head. “Show off.”
“She learned from the best,” I said, smirking.
They hit the final section.
Ice. And just like that, both of them slowed.
Not out of fear.
Out of respect.
Even from up here, you could see it, the subtle shift in their posture, the way they adjusted their footing. They paused briefly at the edge, sharing a quick high five and a single nod.
Then they moved.
The first stretch was slick but manageable.
Trixie slipped.
Just slightly.
My breath caught.
But she adjusted instantly, retracting her claws just enough to regain traction before continuing forward.
“Nice recovery,” Atlas said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “That could’ve ended her run.”
Elara hung back just enough to adjust her pace before pushing forward again, clearly realizing she’d need to close the gap.
They pushed through the final stretch.
Stride for stride.
Closer and closer.
The finish line loomed. And then Trixie crossed. Three steps ahead.
I exhaled sharply, a grin pulling at my mouth.
“Well, hell,” Elara’s voice carried faintly from below, followed by Trixie’s laugh.
I straightened, stepping forward again as I brought the microphone up.
“Alright, everyone…” I started.
Then froze. “Oh, fuck.”
Atlas turned his head slowly. “You left the mic on,” he said.
I winced slightly as the crowd reacted with a mix of laughter and cheers.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered before clearing my throat and continuing like that absolutely did not just happen.
“So,” I said smoothly, because recovery is a skill. “Let’s talk times.”
The arena quieted just enough.
“Throughout the years, this course has seen some incredible runs,” I continued. “Our first full tournament winner, that is after the initial cancellation, was Blake of the White Claw Pack with a time of three minutes and twenty-eight seconds.”
I paused deliberately.
Let it build.
Then I smiled. “Well,” I said, glancing toward Atlas briefly before looking back out at the crowd, “you all have your work cut out for you this year.”
The silence stretched just enough to sharpen the moment.
“Our Queen…” I continued, letting the title carry weight, “finished with an amazing time of three minutes and fifteen seconds.”
The reaction started building again.
“And our former Queen…” I added, just a touch faster, “came in even faster at an astonishing time of three minutes and thirteen seconds.”
The arena exploded.
Cheers. Shouts. Pure chaos.
I leaned back slightly, lowering the mic with a satisfied smirk. “Yeah,” I muttered. “Good luck beating that.”