Apocalyptic Dragon Riders

Chaoter 11

The heat was sweltering, and the backstage air conditioning barely worked. With foundation and heavy makeup covering their skin, the cosplayers were sweating buckets, and without a dedicated makeup artist keeping watch, their carefully applied makeup would have smudged before even stepping on stage. Only elite teams made it this far, so they knew better than to make rookie mistakes. After the performance, professional makeup removers would wipe away all traces of powder and paint.

“Hehe! If they don’t show up, it’s totally my stage! The sinister Evil Mage’s stage! Oh my god, the audience will be losing their minds… I can already imagine the chaos!” A cosplayer dressed in a black hooded cloak, twirling a skeletal staff, let out a wicked laugh. Fortunately, they were backstage — on the street, they’d probably scare any toddler into tears.

The villain cosplayer immediately earned a chorus of eye-rolls. In cosplay competitions, villains are basically cannon fodder: flashy at first, then defeated by the hero. Rarely does a villain emerge victorious, since audiences generally expect “good triumphs over evil.”

“Hey, hey! Fi-jie, finally got through to you! Your iPhone 4, what a terrible signal! We nearly had a meltdown over here — it’s almost our turn! Lin Mo’s with you too, right? Perfect. That kid kept showing as ‘powered off.’ You two really know how to make us sweat. Hurry! Hurry! You’re the last ones. Alright, thirty minutes, I’ll talk to the organizer to push our group back,” yelled Ding Tuo, the minotaur cosplayer with the double-bladed axe, frantically holding the phone. After hanging up, he finally exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. “Fi-jie overslept, ran into Lin Mo, and they’re coming. Half an hour and they’ll be here. Phew, finally.”

No sooner had he wiped the sweat than the makeup artist screamed, “Ding Tuo! You i***t! You smeared your makeup again! Keep this up and I’ll make you look like a savage!” Her piercing scream nearly made him drop dead on the spot, her voice sharp enough to rival a banshee’s.

“Shen Zhan Team! Everyone accounted for? You’re next!” The backstage coordinator called out, holding the updated schedule. They called for the team leader — but, predictably, the leader was late.

“Almost here! Almost all here!” Ding Tuo and the others watched the clock, having confirmed a minute ago that their teammates were still outside the main stage entrance.

“Ding Tuo, Qian Jie, Xi Mingshan, and Sister Chen Ying — we’re here!” A magical girl in a blue robe, holding a delicate, slender staff, appeared, dragging along a black-armored warrior who stomped onto the floor with a resounding clang of steel boots. Everyone backstage gawked — the black armor was massive, clearly high-quality and heavy-duty.

“Finally! We made it. Lin Mo and his new equipment… huge and heavy. I had to rent a little pickup truck to get him here,” said the girl in blue, effortlessly reaching Ding Tuo, the musket-wielding dwarf, and the Evil Mage.

“Whoa! Lin Mo, you look so epic!” Ding Tuo’s eyes widened like copper bells as he examined every inch of the black armor. “Totally worth the delay.”

“Where did he get this armor? It can’t be real!” The dwarf ran his hands over the black plate, feeling the cold metallic surface and intricate etchings. His mind screamed: This isn’t real! This isn’t real! Next to Lin Mo, his own gear looked like a joke.

Everyone backstage was awestruck. The armor covered him from head to toe, leaving only his intense eyes visible. The gleaming, imposing design, the nearly-human-sized sword on his back, and the tattered crimson cape gave him the aura of a battle-hardened veteran just stepping off the battlefield — every movement oozed lethal precision.

“One minute! Shen Zhan Team, report to stage!” The backstage staff announced.

The host was already calling the next group.

“Let’s do it just like in rehearsal,” said the blue-robed magical girl, Qi Fei. She extended her hand, and the team stacked their hands together. Lin Mo, still frozen in shock, was tugged into the center.

“We are champions!” they shouted in unison, sprinting toward the stage entrance.

The black-armored warrior still looked dazed, not fully processing what had happened. He had come from some massive metal crate and into this bustling, chaotic scene of cosplayers, some of whom resembled familiar classes: warriors, mages, beastmen — but most were unrecognizable.

He couldn’t understand what was happening. The magical girl had dragged him here, seeming to recognize him, but everything else was unfamiliar. Passively, he let himself be guided.

This year’s cosplay finals were the most prestigious yet. Every team reaching this stage was elite, performing high-level stunts with lighting, sound, and even pyrotechnics. Cosplay had evolved from simple costume mimicry to full-on fantasy spectacle.

“Next up, Shen Zhan Team!” the host announced after the previous group.

Roar! Ding Tuo, nearly two meters tall, with silicone muscle padding, massive limbs, and long minotaur horns under a bronze helmet, ran onstage swinging his double-bladed axe. Pre-recorded monster sounds amplified the effect, sending the audience into a frenzy.

The crowd went wild. The makeup and props were nearly Hollywood-level — Chen Ying had spent over three hours just on makeup, and their moves were choreographed with help from martial arts experts.

Next, the dwarf with the oversized musket stormed in, swinging a battle hammer on his back. His musket discharged a puff of smoke and a muffled bang — high-quality replica, not a fake prop. Whistles of excitement followed as he swapped in another powder charge and fired again, drawing a second wave of applause. Cameras flashed relentlessly, burning through memory cards and batteries.

Shen Zhan Team’s success wasn’t just in acting or makeup — the meticulously crafted props played a huge role.

Finally, the blue-robed magical girl floated onstage. Twirling her staff, the gem atop it glowed, leaving a circle of light in the audience’s vision. The gems on her robe also lit up, radiating a mystical aura and prompting an even louder cheer — men, women, old, young, all intertwined in applause.

“Shen Zhan Team’s gear must have cost a fortune!” muttered a nearby cosplayer dressed as a character from One Piece, clearly impressed.

The judges smiled, impressed with the clever props and special effects.

Suddenly, the sound system shifted, playing a sinister, eerie tune. A puff of black smoke erupted from the stage, carrying a hunched figure upward. Pale skeletal flames scattered from the staff, adding a creepy edge. The Evil Mage made his entrance. If this costume had appeared in a quiet alley at night, it would’ve terrified anyone. Here, though, the audience welcomed him with cheers.

Two stage entrances now held two factions of the same team. The minotaur, dwarf, and Evil Mage portrayed the villains — melee, ranged, and magic covered. The magical girl stood alone on the other side, seemingly outmatched.

After a long pause, she noticed the black-armored warrior, who should have been with her, still frozen like a statue at the stage entrance.