Bab 453: Chapter 415 The Start of the Flying Race

He felt like a worm in the soil, struggling to move forward amidst the crushing surroundings. Worse yet, because the soil did not have a mouth ceaselessly chattering beside his ear.

Beatrice's grip on Lyle's hand was indeed steady and strong; after the numbness of pain, a sense of reassurance surprisingly burgeoned in his heart.

It was like uncorking a wine bottle with a pop, Lyle made his way through the crowd and arrived at a spacious clearing.

"Prepare yourself here, I'll be back shortly," Beatrice said, then leapt away and disappeared into the crowd.

Black and crimson tentacles wriggled on the back of Lyle's hand, healing the flesh torn away by the girl's bright red fingernails. It seemed like there was an invisible fence around, keeping the congested crowd out of the race track.

Lyle was on a track, marked out by magic silk thread. In the distance stood dazzling signs that confirmed his guess, emblazoned with the word 'finish' in the languages of various races.