Crimson opened her eyes.

She was floating on top of a small pond. Hundreds of other dragons swam in the pond beside her, flew in the air above her, or ran on the ground nearby the pond. Crimson quickly recognized the plain, gray walls of the quadrant. I won, then, she realized. Against Wocky…She thought back to the race against the Ruby Dragon. I dashed that dragon's hopes and dreams. If not for me, he could have won…Crimson shook the thought away. He wouldn't have won anyways. I'll win this…for Wocky. For Stoney.

"It's about time you woke up," Crimson heard a voice call out from behind her. She turned, half-expecting the annoying Fog Dragon to reappear. Surprisingly, it was another Panlong Dragon, even bigger than she.

"W-who are you?" Crimson asked, backing up.

"My name's Cucoo. Pleasure to meet you. Ever since Mari lost or was transferred, we're the only Panlong Dragons in this quadrant, so I may as well get to know you. Where are you going?" Cucoo asked as Crimson sped away. She smiled a little to herself as Cucoo raced after her. If I beat Wocky, I can beat anyone. She quickly turned around the corner and continued turning to avoid crashing into the wall. When she turned, Cucoo was rapidly gaining on her. You fool! Cucoo probably went through the same thing I did last round. Just because I won in the second round doesn't mean I can outspeed anybody. Crimson dived to the ground, only to run headfirst into an Olympus dragon.

She paused momentarily, stunned. "Olympus Dragons are bred for the sole purpose of winning the Dragon Games. I hear they appear every year at the closing ceremony to honor the one who places first, second, and third." Crimson felt a tear welling up in her eye, remembering the happy voice of Stoney. I'm so glad he's not in the Dragon Games with me.

"Told you that you'd never outrun me," Cucoo teased from behind her. Crimson glared at her in disgust, annoyed at being taken out of her memories.

"Can you just leave?" Crimson muttered. "Or stop bugging me?"

"What's with you?" Cucoo asked. "I think Skyla said you were avoiding her. Figures."

"Skyla?" Crimson replied, her curiosity overcoming her.

"Young fog dragon. Either transferred quadrants or eliminated last round. I doubt he was particularly fast, so I'd guess it would be the second." Crimson's mind screamed for her to get away from this dragon, but part of her mind craved for someone to talk to like her good friend Stoney. The parts of her mind clashed, and she knew that she would regret making the decision regardless of which one she picked.

"D-do you know what the next round's event will be?" Crimson finally asked. What are you doing? If you befriend this dragon…

"Dunno. First event is always racing, final event is always fighting. The others are always swapped around."

"Oh." Crimson flew away. I can't let myself slip like this again. What if yesterday…or the day before… Crimson suddenly noticed that she had no concept of time. I should have asked Cucoo. But I should have avoided talking with her in the first place! If I had known Wocky before the event, I would have let him win. I know that, and yet I still ended up talking to Cucoo.

Crimson felt an aching pain surge through her. What? She fell to the ground, struggling to think of what was causing it. The answer came to her immediately as she heard a rumble. Hunger. I haven't eaten anything since the day before the 4,096 dragons were called. Although only two thousand of them are left now. Where would I find something to eat?

She turned and began to look for Cucoo, despite the fact that she knew if they were paired together, it would be all over. The chances aren't that high, but we are in the same quadrant…She finally spotted her fellow Panlong and flew over.

"Nice to see you back again. Did you bring me a flower?" asked Cucoo.

"What?"

"That was a joke."

"Not much of-er, do you know where I could get something to eat?" Crimson inquired.

"You don't. I think they inject us with something while we're unconscious before and after an event that apparently serves as food and water."

"Then why am I so hungry?"

"It's been a day and a half since the last event. I don't know what's taking them so long."

"Interesting." Crimson thought for a while. "Do you know what quadrant we're in?"

"No, but I was in Quadrant 1 last time. I got 999th place. Pretty nice number."

"1005th," Crimson responded, before stopping herself. End this. Now. "Bye," she murmured awkwardly, flying away back towards the pond. Cucoo stared at her, confused. What am I doing? Regardless of what questions I have, I need to stay away from that dragon, and any others. Especially if I make it to the last few, where I would know everybody. Could I possibly win there? I don't think I was the right dragon to win these games. My poor Breeder...

Another jolt of hunger hit her. Crimson sighed. Again with this? This doesn't feel like it's been a day and a half. Crimson set her head down in the water, closing her eyes. No use in not resting. After a while, she managed to fall asleep.

Crimson awoke to beams of light flooding into the Colosseum. It's starting? she thought, flying out of the pond and into the sky. As was normal, there was a large gathering of wizards on the pedestal. She turned to the crowd, looking for her Breeder. She spotted him in the first row, and once again spun in mad circles, happy to let him know she was still in it. The Breeder smiled at her.

"Welcome to the third round! Only 2,048 of our original 98,720 still remain. And after this round, it will only be 1,024. To make it this far, you would need extraordinary luck, or skill." So which is it for me? Crimson thought to herself. Luck, or skill? Or some combination of both? "The Dragon Games are meant to test dragons in all elements and all talents. This was demonstrated in the first round; even if a dragon were perfect on one judging category, if it wasn't good at the other four, it would lose. The themes of these rounds are much the same. They will be unrelated to each other, and only a truly all-around dragon will win the games." They're talking about winning in Round 3? 2,047 of us who are hearing this are going to lose sooner or later.

"I'm also glad to announce that betting will begin in the next round!" Crimson began to tune the wizard out, instead listening to the general clamor of the dragons around her. Cucoo was walking around impatiently below her. Crimson averted her gaze, trying not to think about the other Panlong dragon. For all I know, she could be my opponent. She turned back to the wizards.

"-will not have as much influence as ones made later, but at the same time will get less…" Boring. She stopped circling and peered at the wall. What could the event be? If it's anything like the last one, it'll be really strenuous. As if on cue, another wizard spoke.

"The event for the third round of the Dragon Games will be…Target Shooting!" What the heck is that? "In Target Shooting, dragons will launch their Elemental Breath at targets with the best accuracy to earn as many points as possible." The floor began to peel away. Here we go… "Have fun, and good luck to all dragons!" I think the only dragon who could have fun here is psychotic, Crimson thought before charging into the hole. Luckily, it wasn't nearly as cramped as last time, and Crimson found her own cozy little spot where no other dragons would bother her. Then the ceiling closed, and everything was dark. Now it starts...

Crimson woke up with energy surging through her veins. She opened her eyes to find herself on another pedestal, like the first. However, there was no racetrack in front of her. Round 3. She turned, looking for her opponent. She quickly spotted a Cold Dragon on a pedestal beside her. It caught her gaze and roared triumphantly. Crimson leaped back, and then roared back at it. The sound of her roar was pitiful compared to the Cold Dragon's.

"Cold Dragons are supposed to be the most intelligent of dragons. They come from cold places, and are usually calm and composed, based on what I hear," Stoney had told her. Crimson shook her head. Calm and composed. This has to be the worst possible match for target shooting.

"Match Q1#011, Blizzard VS. Crimson," called the wizard. Blizzard. Interesting name. Another wizard moved a large, floating target far ahead of Crimson. The target had ten, multicolored rings, and each ring had a number printed on it. Strangely, the numbers (from innermost to outermost) read in the wrong order: ten, nine, eight, seven, six, four, three, two, one, five. Can wizards not count? The 5 on the end was extremely thin, and Crimson wondered why it was even there.

"Rules: Your Elemental Breath is only permitted to hit three numbers at a time. If it hits less than that, then you will be allowed another shot. If it hits more than that, only the lowest three numbers will be counted. There will be three different scoring rounds." Crimson's tail waved impatiently. "The match will begin in five seconds. Five, four, three, two, one, GO!"

Blizzard quickly shot a snowball at the target. As Crimson watched, the snowball froze over parts of the numbers 9, 8, and 7. A number of 24 appeared above Blizzard's target. Crimson turned to her target, and, aiming for the middle, shot a blue fireball at it. She watched as the fireball burned through the numbers 7, 6, and 5. The number 18 appeared above her target. Crimson frowned. If I keep going like this, I'll be eliminated.

The targets were taken away, and replaced with another target that had all of the numbers doubled. Crimson stared as a strong gust of wind, blowing to the left, started.

"Good luck," Blizzard called out to her, smiling wryly. He thinks he's already won, Crimson thought. I'll show him.

"The wind is a feature of the second and third scoring rounds. Aim well. GO!" Thinking, Crimson shot her blue fireball towards the very right edge of the scoreboard, only to watch as it drifted left much faster than she expected. When it hit the target, it burned through the numbers 10, 2, and 4 on the left edge. Crimson turned to Blizzard and found, with delight, that he had missed the target entirely. The magical numbers above the targets changed once again; Crimson's 34 to Blizzard's 24. Angrily, Blizzard puffed and flapped his wings.

Another strong wind started, this time from below, pushing upward. The targets were replaced with targets with all of the numbers tripled from the original target. Oooh…Crimson thought about where to aim. The wind will blow it upwards, and to the left a good deal.

"Shoot!" called the wizard. She shot, not even towards the target but to its bottom right. She turned to see Blizzard's snowball freeze the 27, 24, and 21. He grinned. Gaah! I need to do really well or I'm done for! Crimson turned to see her blue fireball hit the target.

It had burned directly in the middle, earning her a 30, 27, and 24.

"Yes!" Crimson screamed as the final numbers appeared above the targets.

"The match has ended! Blizzard's final score: 96. Crimson's final score: 115."

"NO! THIS CAN'T BE! I…didn't lose…to a panlong dragon!" Blizzard screeched in anger. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" As Crimson's pedestal slowly lowered to the ground, Blizzard's words echoed in her ears. "I hate you! I hate you!"

What have I done? Crimson wondered. Why have I ruined this dragon's dreams? Hating herself almost as much as Blizzard did, Crimson collapsed to the ground and dreamed.