In the locker room, Dream Weaver unzipped her backpack, ready to pull out her racing outfit.
But with every ounce of her energy poured into training, she clearly had no effort left to spare for deliberating over a race uniform.
Back when the design consultant had asked for her input, Dream Weaver, mind filled with nothing but the image of the academy's standard uniform, had offhandedly said, "A sailor outfit is fine," and never gave it another thought.
It was only now, at this mont, that she was seeing her racing outfit for the very first ti.
It was a rather retro-style black-and-red sailor uniform. The top and skirt were both pure black, making the few bright accents stand out all the more. Several red stripes, like trails of blood, cut across the collar and eventually converged at the chest, tying into a ribbon.
Besides this sailor outfit, Dream Weaver also found a pair of black thigh-high socks and a set of fingerless gloves inside the box.
After changing into the racing outfit, she held a red ribbon between her teeth, about to tie her hair up into a ponytail.
"Bwahahahaha! My rival! Are you ready to take the stage for the first chapter of The Legend of the Conqueror of the Century's End?"
Just then, the locker room door was thrown open with a sudden bang. Amidst a burst of triumphant laughter, T.M. Opera O appeared before Dream Weaver.
Startled, Dream Weaver's hands trembled slightly, almost undoing the hair she'd just arranged. She shot a glance at the still-cackling Opera O but said nothing, swiftly finishing her ponytail with practiced ease.
Seeing that Dream Weaver was ignoring her, Opera O switched tactics, stroking her chin as she looked her over.
A black sailor uniform typically gave off a serious, formal vibe, but on Dream Weaver, that solemn, mountain-like gravitas seed to have been forged in fire and iron into the sharpest of blades, gleaming with a chilling edge.
The red patterns on the outfit resembled both blood and molten tal, radiating danger just by existing. The large red ribbon tied at her chest pulsed with her breathing like a furnace of blazing flas ready to erupt at any mont.
Her deep, abyssal eyes, accentuated by the outfit, took on the keen edge of a dark, mysterious sword, while the high ponytail and ribbon beca the blade's body and tassel.
Intense, sharp, and piercing—like a drawn sword ready to strike—that was the impression Dream Weaver gave in her racing outfit.
As if drawn in, Opera O gradually closed the distance, her smile growing wilder and more unhinged. She looked Dream Weaver up and down several tis, as if appraising a rare treasure, before slowly speaking.
"My rival, it seems you are ready to be unsheathed."
"But—"
Opera O paused, leaning in until her athyst eyes were level with Dream Weaver's, and proudly declared:
"The one who will claim victory is ! The Conqueror of the Century's End—T.M. Opera O!"
The crown on Opera O's head glittered brilliantly under the lights, as if using its radiance to proclaim the arrival of royalty.
"There can be only one winner."
"And I will not be the one who loses!"
Not to be outdone, Dream Weaver t Opera O's gaze sharply, her retort just as piercing.
They leaned in close, their heated breaths trapped in the narrow space between them. Their burning resolve and fighting spirit drove them on, as if they were about to turn this preparation room into a battlefield ahead of schedule.
"Um… do you two not get along?"
Suddenly, a third voice chid in from the room. Opera O and Dream Weaver both turned toward the door to see Narita Top Road looking at them with a sowhat awkward expression.
Interrupted by Top Road, Opera O imdiately returned to her usual self, laughing boisterously and slapping Dream Weaver on the shoulder—a far cry from the unrestrained arrogance she'd displayed monts before.
"Not get along? Of course not! We're fated rivals! Bwahahahaha!"
"They're just like this when they get chuuni—don't mind them," Dream Weaver said, nodding to Top Road.
After a mont, she added, "Your racing outfit suits you. The bow is cute."
Unlike Dream Weaver, who'd chosen her design carelessly, Top Road had clearly put thought into hers. Her violet one-piece minidress, adorned with golden accents, looked exceptionally elegant, and even the high boots beneath her purple garters were ticulously tied with a pair of bows.
Hearing the complint, Top Road blushed deeply—especially since Dream Weaver had noticed the small, personal touch she'd added to her outfit. She imdiately forgot about the tense standoff from monts prior.
"Hehehe— Really? I was worried the bows might seem a bit out of place," she said, giggling a little foolishly.
Just then, Opera O squeezed herself between them, demanding of Dream Weaver, "What about ? What about ?"
As she spoke, she spun around dramatically, her cape whipping across Top Road's face and earning a startled "Wah! Hey!" from her.
Truth be told, Opera O's gold-and-purple racing outfit did carry a certain flair. The pendants hanging from her cape glittered midair with her every movent.
"How exactly is that little crown staying on your head?" Dream Weaver asked, ignoring Opera O's fishing for complints and instead pointing curiously at the crown atop her head.
"A monarch has her thods!" Opera O hmphed twice. Seeing that Dream Weaver wasn't going to praise her, she simply strode out of the locker room first.
"Your cape is so annoying!" complained Top Road, trailing behind her and flinching as the pendants swung too close again.
"The cape is the symbol of a conqueror!" Opera O declared.
"Where does she even learn this stuff…" Dream Weaver murmured, following them into the player's tunnel.
"Louis XIV The Sun King was exactly like this!"
"You really are T.M. Opera O, through and through…"
As they chatted, they soon reached the end of the tunnel, where a figure was leaning against the wall as if she'd been waiting there for a while.
"Vega—!" Top Road popped out from behind Opera O, calling and waving. Dream Weaver, further back, also gave Admire Vega a nod.
"You're late," Vega said coolly.
Top Road, completely unbothered by her tone, replied warmly, "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Hearing this, Admire Vega turned her face away slightly, a little awkwardly. "I wasn't specifically waiting for you. I just… got held up by sothing and happened to run into you."
"BWAHAHAHAHA!"
Opera O suddenly burst into unrestrained laughter, the sound seizing the attention of all three like a spotlight on a stage. She flung her cape back, its golden ornants tracing brilliant arcs in the air.
"The cast is finally assembled!" she proclaid, spreading her arms with the dramatic flair of an opera perforr, her cape rustling sharply behind her.
"And so—" she pivoted with a flourish, pointing toward the entrance to the track, her eyes blazing with intensity, "—Chapter One of The Legend of the Conqueror of the Century's End begins now!"
Dream Weaver strode forward quickly, keeping pace with her, the black and red of her racing outfit flowing like flickering flas. Narita Top Road and Admire Vega exchanged a glance, then stepped forward in unison.
Four figures, like strings of fate intertwined, stepped together onto the stage of their destined showdown.
-- --
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, 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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If you guys wanna check it out.
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