"So fast! Unbelievably fast! T.M. Opera O and Dream Weaver have blown past every other Uma Musu and they're still accelerating! Are they turning the Satsuki Sho into their own private dueling stage?!"
Comntator Akasaka's fervent voice crackled through the speakers, distorted from his excitent as he practically swallowed the microphone. His usual composure was gone, lost to the spectacle unfolding on the track.
Even his partner, the normally unflappable Comntator Sugimoto, had forgotten his role to rein in Akasaka's enthusiasm. He was on his feet, pressing his face urgently against the comntary box window. "After all the years I've spent watching races, I've never seen anything like this! It's insane! Are they battling for the title of this era's one true monarch?!"
The crowd had erupted into a frenzy the mont T.M. Opera O kicked into her devastating sprint. And when Dream Weaver dug in, refusing to yield, the spectators' roaring passion felt hot enough to ignite the entire Nakayama Racecourse.
"Oooohhhhhhh! Incredible! Absolutely incredible! To witness a battle for the ages like this… I could die happy, I tell ya!"
"Now this is what I'm talking about! This is the stage we've been waiting for!"
The surging tide of cheers was like a wave of fire, the scorching air of their collective excitent circulating and growing hotter with every passing second.
King Halo's fingers clenched, digging deep into the fabric over her chest. The drumming of her heart was a violent thunderclap, fierce enough to feel like it might shatter her ribs. Sothing primal, almost savage, surged through her veins. Every single footfall from the track was a call to arms, awakening the deepest instincts she possessed as an Uma Musu.
Despite the gloomy, overcast rain, the world before King Halo's eyes shone with an impossible, dazzling brilliance. An intense longing burned within her—a desperate wish to be out there on that turf, racing alongside those two magnificent figures.
"So dazzling—"
The very sa gasp escaped Dancing Brave's lips. She was standing now, long retired from the track herself. Her pupils were narrowed to slits, and her ticulously maintained nails, a point of pride in her retirent, were gouging splinters from the armrest of her seat.
The impact of the duel between Dream Weaver and T.M. Opera O struck her even more profoundly than it did King Halo. mories of the racetrack, long buried under layers of ti, suddenly burst back to life with vivid intensity—the sound of hooves pounding the turf, the searing burn in her lungs as she pushed against the wind. Every sensory mory flooded back, resurrected by the adrenaline screaming through her.
"This is..." Dancing Brave's voice was a ragged, unfamiliar croak.
"This... is what true Uma Musu are."
Out on the track, Narita Top Road gritted her teeth, driving her body forward with every ounce of her will.
But a imnse pressure bearing down on her shoulders and a deep, instinctual urge to flee from the danger ahead made it impossible to find any more speed. No matter how loudly her heart scread for victory, her legs simply refused to obey.
"Just… move already—!"
Her desperate cry was futile. She could only watch helplessly as the two figures pulled farther and farther away.
The struggle Narita Top Road faced was shared by every other Uma Musu on the track. Under the overwhelming pressure exuded by Dream Weaver and T.M. Opera O, accelerating was out of the question; even maintaining their current speeds was becoming a battle in itself.
Though each one pleaded with her own body to respond, they could only watch as the two rivals vanished ahead of them.
Her heart was pounding madly. Every fiber of her being scread in agony; Dream Weaver could even hear a faint, horrifying creaking, as if her very marrow was crying out in protest.
Through their desperate sprint, they had reached the final stretch of Nakayama Racecourse. The glorious winner's circle was now a re three hundred and ten ters away.
Three hundred and ten ters—a distance usually too trivial to even serve as a warm-up for Dream Weaver.
But now, it felt infinitely far away, as distant as the other side of the sky.
Her stride was shortening. Her speed was fading. The searing pain in her lungs made each breath a struggle. She didn't even have the strength to keep her eyes wide open, and could only watch through a blurry haze as that figure in purple and gold began to slowly, inexorably, overtake her.
A total stat disadvantage. An unrefined [Zone]. A final burst unleashed too early. Every possible factor was stacking up, seemingly constructing the inevitable blueprint for her defeat.
'Is this my limit?'
'Is this as far as the Uma Musu called Dream Weaver can go?'
Her head dropped low. A torrent of bitter frustration roared through her veins.
'I don't want to lose. I can't lose. I want to win. I absolutely will win!'
'Even if it burns this failing body to cinders, I will seize final victory!'
Dream Weaver scread the words inside her mind, channeling everything she had into driving her body forward.
The cheers from the stands elongated into a distorted, droning hum.
She heard the agonized groaning of her bones under the imnse strain, the sickening snap of muscle fibers tearing one after another.
Yet even the pain would beco fuel for her advance. She would trade everything she had, her entire being, for one ultimate, transcendent explosion of power.
In her dazed state, a cold, chanical voice echoed in her ear.
[[Guts] Limit Broken.]
[[Zone] Awakened. Deploying.]
All color drained from her vision in an instant. Raindrops froze in mid-air, becoming suspended silver needles. Every single Uma Musu on the track felt it instinctively—that impossible mont, a fraction of a second where ti itself seed to stand still.
"Shiiiiing—!"
A sound as sharp as a blade being drawn sliced through the frozen temporal void. On the monochro battlefield, a blazing crimson teor suddenly tore through the curtain of rain.
An illusion? A hallucination born from extre pressure?
The sa thought crossed every Uma Musu's mind simultaneously.
But if that red light was just an illusion, then why could they all feel a palpable wave of scorching heat washing over them from ahead?
It's spring, right?
It's raining, right?
So why did it feel like they were standing in the heart of a furnace?
Their stamina evaporated along with their sweat. Maintaining their original speed was impossible; rely continuing to put one foot in front of the other was a testant to their rigorous training.
"What's happening? All the Uma Musu have suddenly lost speed?!"
Outside the track, Comntator Akasaka's shocked cry rang out. Those who weren't on the track couldn't comprehend what had happened in that fleeting instant. All they could see was the entire field of racers suddenly lose all their montum, as if their power had been collectively drained.
"Two hundred ters! One hundred fifty ters! Dream Weaver leads! Dream Weaver leads! It's Dream Weaver in front now!!"
As the comntator's voice grew hoarse with exertion…
T.M. Opera O, running tight on Dream Weaver's heels, felt the scorching heat waves wash over her body and her strength rapidly dwindling. A fierce grin suddenly spread across her face.
"Now that's more like it!"
A golden light exploded in her eyes like violent thunder. Another mont of temporal stillness descended upon the racetrack. Dream Weaver, who had just pushed into the lead, felt her body lurch downward abruptly.
Under the imnse pressure imposed by Dream Weaver, the [Zone] of the Conqueror awakened in that very instant.
-- --
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!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.
Reviews
All reviews (0)