Only One Year Left—I'll Become a Legendary Uma Musume! Chapter 202: Only One Year Left—I’ll Become a Legendary Uma

But in truth, in the eyes of a certain person on the racetrack right now, what could be seen was sothing entirely different.

Or perhaps, in the eyes of several people?

The ears could still clearly hear the comntator’s voice, the cheers of the crowd, and the soft rustling that ca from hooves striking the turf.

Yet alongside that faint feedback from the ground, what kept pressing in was the malice surrounding her.

No matter how overwhelmingly strong Sunday Silence was, compared to Gotham Song she still fell slightly behind. Even now, that black specter bared its fangs, wanting to swallow the Uma Musu ahead whole as it accelerated—but that wish had not yet been fulfilled.

And at this mont, what posed an even greater threat to Gotham Song?

It was the figure running almost neck and neck with her, seen only by her, by Sunday Silence, and by jiro McQueen.

Phantom Ruka’s speed was just as terrifying. Once freed from the restraints of McQueen’s body, restored to the full speed she was ant to have, that quasi-phantom Uma Musu was displaying her power without reserve.

Even halfway through the race she could still bite firmly at Gotham Song’s heels, the two of them dashing forward, nearly side by side, refusing to yield an inch.

"If this is all you’ve got, Gotham Song, I can still go faster!"

Phantom Ruka’s voice tore through the windscreen, flung backward by the current, yet even under such conditions Gotham Song could hear her perfectly clearly.

But she gave no reply. Not a word. Only silence—deep breaths as she kept accelerating, accelerating, chasing toward the front of the track.

What was there to say to Phantom Ruka now?

Or rather, what need was there to say anything at all?

That child was like a stray cat, locked away for too long in a lonely house, hissing and spitting because she had to vent her grievances sohow.

Maybe once she hissed enough, she would settle down.

Well, Gotham Song did feel a little guilty about Phantom Ruka’s existence—after all, it was indeed because of her that Phantom Ruka was "born" into this world, alone.

But only a little guilty.

The truth was, she hadn’t known Phantom Ruka would co into being. Back then she’d had no other choice.

So now, how should she choose to answer Phantom Ruka?

Gotham Song curled her lips into a grin. Lowering her body, freezing the world’s speed around her, she began her second acceleration as the scenery howled past.

Since you so desperately want to see at full throttle... then I’ve got no choice but to ignite the engine.

Just hope, little kitty, that you don’t end up crying after the race, my dear Phantom Ruka, born from my own hands.

Let grant you this wish, let you face head-on, completely.

But then again... maybe your greatest opponent in this race isn’t at all, but the one behind us.

"Ohhhh! At last, faced with so many challengers pressing from behind, Gotham Song can’t hold back any longer! Halfway through the Arima Kinen, she’s begun her second acceleration! And this speed—it’s already at the level of the final spurt other Uma Musu would save for the end! But the Arima Kinen has only just passed the halfway point—there’s still a long stretch to go for even the front-running horses!"

"To show such composure and conviction, to make people believe without doubt she could keep this pace all the way to the finish—there’s only one Uma Musu who could do that! Gotham Song alone!!"

Yes. Only Song-neesan could do that.

The Arima Kinen track is, in every sense, a true long-distance course—two thousand five hundred ters.

Ordinarily, that distance suits jiro McQueen perfectly—more than perfectly, in fact.

But that’s only in the ordinary case...! If McQueen were to run at her usual finish-line rhythm, by the ti she crossed, Song-neesan’s victory parade would already be wrapping up.

That won’t do. That absolutely won’t do!

McQueen stared at that figure far ahead, at Phantom Ruka still circling Gotham Song, still refusing to be shaken off, still holding her place in pursuit. Her heart pounded with anxiety.

Can I really... just wait like this?

If I don’t accelerate now, I might still finish third. After all, Phantom Ruka and that black phantom aren’t even on the official race list. But—

But what aning is there in a ranking that exists only on paper, in honor only in the records?!

For McQueen, such a thing would be humiliation. Because that wouldn’t be "third." It would be, in truth, fifth.

A fifth place that would haunt her for life.

Before the race, she had declared she would chase, that she would prove to Song-neesan the strength that belonged to jiro McQueen alone. If she had said it, then no matter what, she had to do it.

McQueen’s heart blazed. Born into a prestigious house, how could she accept fading into diocrity on such a stage?

More than that—the one waiting for her to catch up ahead... was the person she loved most, her dearest, dearest Song-neesan!

She couldn’t wait. She absolutely couldn’t wait. A "safe victory" was worthless. What mattered now was the new McQueen stepping onto the stage—no matter what, she would give her all to chase. Even if only for a short stretch, she would prove to the whole world—

I am Twilight Song’s sister!

"jiro McQueen is accelerating too! Even Oguri Cap has started to speed up in this section?! Unbelievable—if they launch now, without trendous stamina, there’s no way they can last to the finish!"

"So what these Uma Musu are doing... is abandoning the chase for overall victory, and instead, here and now, aiming only to challenge the Demon King at the front—no matter if it’s only for this mont!"

"Utterly insane!!"

For Uma Musu, the greatest reward should be victory.

But now, sothing entirely different was happening. Victory had been cast into second place. The one goal every Uma Musu on this track was chasing—

Was to push Gotham Song behind them.

Sunday Silence still ran with a savage grin. She had held back so strength earlier, but now even that margin was gone.

Gotham Song was simply too fast. Too fast!

On this narrow track, the leading figures all shone with lights of every color.

And yet, in the midst of that strange spectacle, Gotham Song appeared the most ordinary of all.

She hadn’t even released her [Zone], hadn’t lit up her own brilliance—just with her overwhelming body, she was colliding head-on against the crystallized miracles of wish and fire burning in those behind.

So then—what sight did this mont of the race hold?

The Eagle, who had first dared to challenge, was now falling behind. The cost of accelerating so fiercely, so early, had co due. Her stamina wasn’t weak, but... it depended on who she was compared against.

Gotham Song’s response to her had been simple. At first, she allowed the Eagle to draw close. Then, each ti the Eagle accelerated, Gotham Song accelerated even more.

Driven by pride, the Eagle kept rushing forward, kept trying to surpass Gotham Song’s limit.

But such a dream bore no fruit. In the end, endlessly accelerating against that wall, the Eagle burned out her strength.

anwhile, those who had held steady to their own rhythm began closing the gap when Gotham Song eased, ever so slightly.

The Eagle’s advantage crumbled completely.

She had stalled.

And then—?

And then ca the story of Twin Turbo, who had always run close in rank to the Eagle, opening her [Zone] to climb higher; of Manhattan Cafe surging to the front; and of jiro McQueen, who had been in the vanguard all along, breaking through the encirclent.

At the very head of the track, the brightest color was, of course, the dazzling silver-white that blazed forth once McQueen’s wish ignited—shining noble and pure, for the sake of fulfilling her vow. Imdiately behind it spread the pitch-black shroud of Manhattan Cafe, ferocious and grim.

And in between the two, crushed beneath their overwhelming presence yet refusing to fall, stood Twin Turbo. Though her space was being compressed, her existence narrowed, she still held herself like a proud little boat, upright, forcing forward, forward.

anwhile, flickers of particles kept scattering from two figures without any clear signs—and those were the two phantom Uma Musu.

Sunday Silence and Phantom Ruka, each spurring the other on, accelerating and accelerating as though locked in a duel, while the one figure neither of them could catch remained at the fore—Gotham Song.

Only, to that dazzling Demon King who drew all eyes upon herself, yet could only be looked at and never touched, things were beginning to feel a little... dull.

Or rather—she decided it was ti to end it.

Since you’ve given everything, straining to catch , and still you cannot—then perhaps I should turn up the heat once more?

After all, Uma Musu... are creatures who live for the challenge of the mountaintop.

So let show you, then. What does it look like when one called a god among escape runners, a god in human flesh, unleashes at full power...?

Gotham Song bared her teeth. And in that instant, as hysteria tore free and the madness she had kept hidden on her young face was revealed without disguise, a fla like an eternal fire burst from her body.

First orange. Then red. Then at last, crystalline blue turned into silver-white—

A fla so dazzling it could compete with the sun itself in brilliance, even while running!

[Co forth in the grand opening—the Demon King’s throne descends!]

Everyone on the track witnessed it, clearly, impossibly—this scene beyond beauty.

Gotham Song’s small figure seed set alight, wreathed in silver-white fire that defied reason, flawless and pure, covering her body, her feet, even marking the ground with glowing traces at each step, radiating outward in waves.

And this fire—it had heat!

Not only the Uma Musu could see it. Every human in the world, whether in the stands or watching the broadcast, anyone who turned their eyes to that sight could confirm it—an undying blaze, burning to ignite the entire racetrack!

"Is she—on fire?! No, no—that can’t be right, is this really okay?! Uh... ah, o-oh, w-we’ve just received word—it’s only Gotham Song’s [Zone]! It’s just her [Zone]...! Anyway, anyway, there’s no danger! The race will continue, yes, the race... will continue...!"

The comntator herself could hardly believe her own words. But this was a race held beneath the gaze of the Three Goddesses. That ant, without question, it was absolutely safe. In other words—

Was Gotham Song’s legendary [Zone] truly a power of such magnitude?

What kind of joke is this—it’s just running...!

Inevitably, many in the pack were shaken, so even faltering in their stride, unable to keep running for a mont.

But even before the wall of fire, there were still a few who pressed forward.

Manhattan Cafe and jiro McQueen both broke through the curtain of flas in turn, wrapped in silver-white as they wrung the last of their strength to chase.

And Oguri Cap—without hesitation—joined them. The three of them launched their true offensive in the second half of the race!

Flas rose, wall after wall, growing ever more violent. Yet the three vied for position, surging forward shoulder to shoulder. Then, in one instant, McQueen seized upon a gap left open by Manhattan Cafe, rushing past. She hurled herself straight down the clearest line, into a zone where the fire had not yet risen so high.

And what she saw there—was an image she would never forget for as long as she lived.

The one who should have been so mighty after splitting from her, the Phantom Ruka who claid to hold all the sa power as Twilight Song—was slowing. Slowing, unwillingly, with a look full of bitter regret. But the price of sustaining such impossible speed was exhaustion. Her body could endure no more.

By contrast, Sunday Silence—though trailing far behind—still ran on stubbornly.

But Gotham Song paid no heed to either. That silver-white Demon King gazed only at the finish line, proud and unbending.

She had already cast aside the powerful self of her past, had shattered every obstacle before her, and continued forward, forward.

No one could halt Gotham Song’s stride. So long as she willed it—

Victory belonged to this na alone.