Inside the starting gate, the only sound in Dream Weaver's ears was the pounding of her own heart. The comntator's analysis, the roar of the crowd—everything beyond the track had already faded into irrelevance.
Once a Uma Musu steps onto the racetrack, all that matters is how to win.
Bang!
The starting gun fired, and seventeen Uma Musu burst from the gates as one. Through the curtain of rain, their figures sliced forward like white streaks, covering several ters in the blink of an eye.
And that was only the beginning. Every one of them was a finely trained athlete. Within seconds, each had settled into the position dictated by their race strategy.
"Oh? Dream Weaver has fallen to the very back of the pack—was that a poor start?!"
Comntator Akasaki sounded surprised as he watched that striking red figure, vivid even in the gloomy rain, lagging behind the others.
"No, it must be intentional—a closing-style tactic. But we've never seen her run like this before. Did she train specifically for this race?"
Comntator Sugimura was equally taken aback. After all, no one had ever seen Dream Weaver adopt such a strategy.
Based on her previous races, she was more of a front-runner or pace-presser—the type to lead and control the rhythm. Who would have thought she'd beco the chaser this ti?
In the stands, King Halo watched the track intently, her expression tense. Like most of the audience, she was worried about Dream Weaver's sudden shift in running style.
Only Dancing Brave simply raised an eyebrow slightly and murmured to herself:
"Her form and positioning are much more polished than in past races. Is this what she's really best at?"
As a world-class Uma Musu, she understood the track intuitively—and saw the truth in an instant.
In previous races, where Dream Weaver had overpowered her opponents, she could afford to use tactics she wasn't fully comfortable with—pressing or leading—to pressure others into losing pace, thereby magnifying her advantage.
But this ti was different. Here, in the Satsuki Sho, Dream Weaver was far from overpowering—in fact, her stats placed her in the middle to lower tier among these seventeen racers.
She had to conserve her strength.
Squinting through the rain, Dream Weaver's vision blurred from the speed and the downpour. Yet that figure in violet and gold remained vividly clear.
T.M. Opera O was running a moderate pace, staying close—all Dream Weaver had to do was keep right behind her.
'Everything depends on the final sprint,' she gritted her teeth, staking it all on that last burst.
Suddenly, as if reading her mind, Opera O glanced back. Her athyst eyes blazed with wild intensity, her lips curling into sothing close to a ferocious grin.
"This—is hardly exciting enough!"
Before the words fully faded, her stride exploded with power. Her violet-gold cape flared like a gust of wind, cutting a sharp arc through the rain. In an instant, she shot forward like lightning, tearing through the pack ahead.
"What?!"
Dream Weaver stared in shock. They were only just past the halfway point, entering the third turn—how could she accelerate already?
What kind of moderate-paced tactic was this?!
Through the dreary rain, the golden pendant on Opera O's neck glead wet, reflecting Dream Weaver's stunned expression. She looked back once more, her gaze locking onto Dream Weaver as if saying:
'Aren't you coming?'
If you don't accelerate now, you'll never have a chance to win.
A suffocating pressure weighed down on Dream Weaver from shoulders to ankles. The very ground seed to tremble; every Uma Musu's steps grew heavy and sluggish. Mud and grass flew up in the rain like silent cries of exertion.
"Is this… her Zone?!" Dream Weaver shuddered under the overwhelming aura, biting her lower lip so hard that blood trickled out, leaving a faint red trail in the rain-washed air.
"She's accelerating! T.M. Opera O is accelerating! And we're only at the mid-stage!"
"She's too fast! Is she planning to sprint all the way to the finish from here?!"
Comntator Akasaki's voice echoed over Nakayama Racecourse, but Dream Weaver heard none of it.
The sound of rain and cheers faded from her ears; only the roar of her own pulse hamred against her eardrums. Her vision warped under the pressure, yet she saw clearly—that violet-gold figure slicing through the rain, the blazing trail left by her billowing cape in the turbulent air.
Opera O's whisper was like a tempered blade, piercing straight into Dream Weaver's nerves. It wasn't a sound—it was the physical form of her fighting spirit, crushing every ounce of resistance in Dream Weaver's bones.
'You want to make everyone bow before you—'
With a furious cry, Dream Weaver forged her pain into fuel. The instant her toes pushed off the ground, turf and mud exploded upward like teors flying in reverse.
"Oh, Tyrant—!"
Her black-and-red form suddenly transford into a drawn cursed blade—a slash so swift it even severed the rain into glistening fragnts.
Her pace abruptly quickened. The heightened perception granted by her concentration allowed Dream Weaver to sense the subtle shifts in the racers around her. Following instinct, she surged forward, cutting cleanly past them.
"What! Dream Weaver is accelerating too! This is insane—what are they doing?!"
Even Comntator Sugimura, a seasoned professional, was stunned. He'd never seen anything like it—a moderate-pace runner and a closer, accelerating fiercely as if competing, right in the middle of the race.
Rain stread down Dream Weaver's face, but it did nothing to cool the fire in her body. The power she had reserved for the final stretch was now pouring out uncontrollably.
Every Uma Musu ahead of her felt a chilling sense of danger from behind—like the ring of a drawn sword, sharper than the rain or the wind. Their survival instincts made them glance back almost against their will.
Through the dark curtain of rain, a blazing red light shot forward like a teor, tearing through the downpour with unstoppable montum, sending shockwaves rippling through the air.
"What in the—?"
Before Admire Vega, also running toward the rear, could process Opera O's sudden burst, she sensed sothing extrely dangerous approaching from behind—like a blade aid straight at her. Instinctively, she veered off her line to avoid it.
Whoosh—
Without hesitation, Dream Weaver blew past Admire Vega, then one racer after another ahead of her.
That violet-gold figure ca back into view.
"Now this is fun!"
Opera O didn't look back, yet Dream Weaver could almost hear her thoughts.
'How could a boring race like before ever push us to our limits?'
'Only under extre pressure can we grow stronger!'
'Don't fall too far behind, now—my rival!'
The exchange of thoughts lasted only a mont. Then Opera O kicked her speed up another notch, almost as if deliberately showing off as she blew past the Uma Musu in front.
"You think you'll leave behind? How arrogant—!"
Provoked, Dream Weaver laughed in fury. Ignoring her body's warnings, she pushed her speed even higher, pulling right up beside Opera O.
"Don't you underestimate !"
"T.M. Opera O!"
-- --
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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