The racer who had once stood loftily upon the chariot like a deity now seemed rather odd, entangled in a tattered fishing net—it took a closer look to realize that it was actually a cape of fine quality. His face, which would remind one of the forging god Vulcan, was smeared black and grubby, with only the whites of his eyes and his teeth making it discernible as a human face. Wisps of smoke still trailed from his curly hair, the very image of a man who had just narrowly escaped a fire with his life.
The absurd and comical figure of the racer, intertwined with the eerily peculiar skeleton horse, left the audience in the Grand Arena feeling as if they were in the midst of a nightmare, until Komer's distinctive appearance finally drew raucous laughter from them, breaking the spell and causing an uproarious awakening throughout the stands.
