There are limitations to the Footfield, limitations I am aware of without fully understanding. The field doesn't play well with matter; somehow, the ground beneath the feet isn't part of the effect, but obstacles are troublesome. When I say troublesome, I'm definitely understating it—the field can't be operated near obstacles, trees, walls, or people without risking near certain destruction. This awareness is ingrained by training, and stories of Griidlords not taking sufficient care and suffering accidents are almost unheard of.

There's an ancient story, going back generations, of a Griidlord becoming merged with a tree, dying as the matter of his body became tangled with the matter of the tree—atoms mingled, organs failing. Throughout history, there are only a handful of accounts and stories like this, and at least half of those are probably invented. Whatever the case, the conventional wisdom is that you don't want to be under the effects of the Footfield when you are even within 100 yards of an obstacle, like, say, the wall of the field I was rapidly approaching.

I had two problems. First, if I deactivated the field a couple of hundred yards shy of the wall, then I would still be 100 yards behind the last-place racer. The second problem I faced was more universal: I didn't know how to deactivate the field. As I streaked past running suited figures, not bothering to turn my head to see who I was overtaking, I scrambled with my consciousness to turn the field off.

The voice screamed, "You're going to hit the wall! Oh, what a tremendous experiment this was! I suppose it was always doomed to end like this, but what an experience!"

I wrestled for the right mental impulse to deactivate the field. All these attributes were like new muscles, each with its own ghostly nerves springing from my brain. Finding the way to turn off the field was like trying to close a hand that wasn’t there.

Suddenly, the world around me returned to normal. It was like hitting a wall of jelly. One moment I was careening faster than I had ever moved in my life, faster than I had ever imagined. The next moment reality and normal time took hold of me again, dragging me back to mortal speeds.

I couldn't help but take a moment to turn my head and look behind me. As it turned out, I had that moment to spare. Slacked jaws pointed towards me. Some of them had stopped. Even Gideon, 50 yards behind me, was after slowing to a jog as he realized what had happened. To some of them at least, it might have seemed like I had just materialized.

A smile plucked at my lips. This… this felt good. This was how it was supposed to feel in the arena against Lance on the previous day. I had been prepared to shock them all with what I could yesterday and had been drooling at the chance to finish in first place for the day. Lance had bested me then. But there was no Lance today. Today it was me and them. And I had unlocked a power from the gods.

The voice in my ear, a little giddy itself, said, "They can't believe it. None of them can. You've just rewritten the rules, Tiberius."

For a brief moment, I stood there, basking in the sheer impossibility of what I had achieved. The knights beyond the wall were wheeling and regrouping. They had not been prepared for my sudden appearance, they were neither in position nor formation to intercept me properly.

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The wind from the sea whipped around us, carrying the salty tang and the distant cries of gulls. The sun was climbing higher, casting long shadows across the fields. The air was charged with the tension of the race, the momentary pause only heightening the sense of urgency.

Gideon broke the respite and pounded forward. At first, I couldn't tell if he intended to attack me or retake the lead, but he chose the latter, not wanting to waste time attacking me while the others passed him again. I turned, bounded, and leapt over the wall. The knights in the stubble field were still in disorder, unprepared for me, their clearly favored target.

As Gideon and I raced across the field, the knights wheeled and came charging. The charge was chaos—hooves pounded, dirt flew, and power weapons glowed with deadly intent. Gideon had accidentally put himself between me and them, a temporary shield.

We dodged and scrambled, each trying to get ahead of the other. The impacts of energy weapons behind us signaled that our classmates were also being intercepted. The huge bodies of horses barreled down on us, and I knew I couldn't use the Footfield in such confined spaces. But a fire was lit in my gut—I wouldn't be satisfied with just surviving or even second place. This was my turn to win a day.

I judiciously used my CUT attribute to smash power weapons aside, my sword blazing with energy as it clashed with theirs. The clang of metal and the sizzle of energy filled the air. I leapt over the fence, back into the open of the next straight stretch.

As I hit the ground, I tried to calculate the odds of successfully using the Footfield on the next straight stretch. The voice immediately came to my ear, said, "It's not worth the risk now. Truly, I enjoy your madness and the crazy things you do more than anyone can, but in this moment, it's you and the suit. The Footfield needs a longer straight stretch to be of any use."

I listened now, not wondering if the voice was my own madness or some sinister spirit haunting the suit. I just trusted it and sprinted forward. After a few steps, I became aware of Gideon alongside me, both of our mechanical bodies pumping, churning the earth, streaking forward like prized racehorses.

Gideon’s neck strained as he clenched his jaw. He was an animal of pure determination and rage. That’s what he had always been. I didn’t hate this man. He might have seen me as nothing but common dreck, but all he did was compete. I could see the burning desire in him. He would not be bested. Not if he had an ounce of blood left to pour into the effort.

We both went airborne, passing the fence and landing in the pasture. The grass was tall and green, waving in the wind like an ocean of blades. Ahead of us, the knights were organized, a formidable array of power and precision. These were the knights of Lance's house, and they had eyes for no one but me.

Gideon seemed to know this and darted to the side, taking a slightly longer route rather than passing straight across the field. I could see that this small expense in time would be worth it to him. He intended to give the knights free run at me and didn't want to get entangled with them even by mistake. As I sprang forward, I saw the knights didn't even turn their heads to look at him or the other classmates as they started to pour over the wall behind me. These men had been subtle before. The population of the city was watching and they did not want to be seen to be targeting the people’s champion. But it was clear to them now that the only way to get me to fall into the bottom two places would take a focused intervention on all their parts.

Twelve giant chargers, an arsenal of flowing weapons, bore down on me. It was enough to kill an experienced Griidlord of middling rank, let alone a trainee in a half-suit. The wall of horseflesh, armored gladiators, and pulsing energy weapons closed in on my world, occluding reality from sight.