The Uma Musu staked every honed skill they possessed upon this field, trading it all for a single, fleeting chance at brilliance on the track.
For the sake of glorious victory, they burned with competitive fire and a will to win, throwing themselves onto this battlefield of a course.
But Narita Brian couldn't feel any of that.
To have a conflict, you first need an enemy. To ignite that competitive spirit, you must have a rival worth pouring your entire being into defeating. Yet, Narita Brian couldn't find such an Uma Musu on the track.
And so, the races grew increasingly dull. The Satsuki Sho, the Japanese Derby, the Classic Triple Crown—one after another, these titles symbolizing glory were handed to Narita Brian like crowns, yet she found it all utterly tasteless.
Without a rival, glory held no aning.
Without an enemy, brilliance could not exist.
From the three-length victory in the Satsuki Sho to the five-length romp in the Japanese Derby, she had long abandoned any illusions about the level of this group.
They were like the background weeds lining the roadside, utterly incapable of sparking even a flicker of interest in Narita Brian.
Naturally, they couldn't sate the hunger gnawing incessantly from within her heart.
She was like a lone wolf, constantly prowling the turf, searching for one of her own kind—soone different from these bland, tasteless weeds. Only a kindred spirit could offer Narita Brian the taste of blood and flesh she craved, could fill the void of her hunger.
But even as the Triple Crown trail reached its final leg, the Kikuka Sho, with the year nearly spent, Narita Brian still hadn't found the kindred soul she sought.
Perhaps it was ti to stop hoping altogether.
Her beast-like golden eyes pierced through the curtain of rain, sweeping over all the Uma Musu before her like a predator scanning its prey.
Her deliberately suppressed aura erupted in that instant, the palpable sense of danger transforming into fangs that seed to scrape against the skin of every racer present.
Every Uma Musu there faintly sensed it—today's race would be different from all the ones before.
If, before the Kikuka Sho, Narita Brian had been holding back her thirst for the hunt, still hoping for one of them to surprise her…
Then today, that hope was gone.
She would win the Kikuka Sho, claim the honor of the Triple Crown winner, and step onto the stage of the Arima Kinen to challenge every Uma Musu still standing on the track.
This generation held no kindred spirit for Narita Brian. So, she turned her hopes to the seniors of previous generations, praying that among those battle-hardened veterans, she might finally find her equal.
Witnessing Narita Brian's terrifying presence, like a ferocious beast awakening, Star Man unconsciously swallowed hard. This was not the sa person she had seen in the Kyoto Shimbun Hai.
If her previous impression of Narita Brian was of a solitary, powerful Uma Musu, now, the figure before Star Man had morphed into a bloodthirsty lone wolf.
A chilling, murderous intent, sharp as a beast's fangs, grazed her cheeks, creating the surreal illusion that she was lost in a deep, primal forest.
Narita Brian's epithet was 'The Shadow Roll Monster.'
Star Man had thought it was just the usual exaggeration common in the racing world. But now, she saw the title 'Monster' was nothing but the plain, unvarnished truth.
A cool drop of rainwater trickled from her bangs, dampening her eyelashes. Star Man instinctively touched her back, already soaked through.
"Rain?"
'Nah, no way. That's definitely sweat.'
Staring at the fully unleashed nace of Narita Brian, Star Man muttered under her breath with a hint of resigned despair.
"How could anyone not be sweating bullets against an opponent like this?!"
Just as Star Man was faltering under the sheer aura Narita Brian had fully unleashed, the voice of the track-side comntator cut through the curtain of rain once more.
Unlike the younger comntator from before, this one seed to be a steady, middle-aged man.
Kentaro Sugimoto, looking at the na on his information sheet, addressed the entire Kyoto Racecourse.
"From Europe to Japan, from world-renowned fa to obscurity, even the most glorious honors are eventually worn away by ti. After all these years, as the Northern surna once again steps onto a G1 stage, can they reclaim the glory of the past?"
"The next to enter is contestant number five, Northern Dreams."
A rare trace of resignation tinged Kentaro Sugimoto's voice. No matter how much he wanted to believe in Dream Weaver, the gap between her and the power Narita Brian had displayed was simply too vast.
He had prepared a passionate introduction, planning to start with the forr glory of the Northern family, transition to Dream Weaver herself, and end with the customary words of high hopes. But the mont he spoke, his words involuntarily turned pessimistic.
The main reason was that the filter Kentaro held in his heart for the words "Northern" was far too deep.
When the long-unseen "Northern" na and the strongest of her generation, Narita Brian, stood on the sa track, how could he, after struggling so long between emotion and reason, not feel lost?
However, this hesitation was destined for Kentaro Sugimoto alone. Because aside from him, not a single spectator present cared about that so-called "Northern" legacy.
The era of the Northern family's past glory was far too remote for the younger audience mbers. And during the Northern family's peak generation, there were simply too many powerful Uma Musu; the more experienced spectators held other Uma Musu in higher esteem than the Northern na.
If not for that stunning encounter in his youth, perhaps Kentaro Sugimoto wouldn't be suffering so much.
If he had never held such expectations, he could have cheered for Narita Brian like the mainstream crowd. It was just a pity that the mories that word—"Northern"—had given him were far too precious.
The people in the stands showed no reaction to Dream Weaver's appearance. Even knowing she was a descendant of a once-great family, and so even knowing she had won the Kobe Shimbun Hai, so what?
Was there any Uma Musu in this generation who could possibly defeat Narita Brian?
Only Kentaro Sugimoto in the comntary box slowly closed his eyes. He put down the materials in his hand and began to pray once more in his heart.
'If gods truly exist, please let witness the glory of the Northern once again.'
But his trembling hands betrayed the truth. He didn't even believe in this so-called prayer himself. The victory in the Kobe Shimbun Hai was already a miracle. Could a miracle really happen a second ti?
Miracles weren't that cheap.
Amid the audience's indifference, Kentaro's prayers, and the trembling of all the Uma Musu under Narita Brian's pressure, Dream Weaver, who had been ready in the participant tunnel for so ti, adjusted the decoration on her chest, tied that red ribbon behind her hair, and strode forward into the curtain of rain.
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T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! Webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
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