"So fast! Unbelievably fast! T.M. Opera O and Dream Weaver have blown past every other Uma Musume and they're still accelerating! Are they turning the Satsuki Sho into their own private dueling stage?!"
Commentator Akasaka's fervent voice crackled through the speakers, distorted from his excitement 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 Commentator Sugimoto, had forgotten his role to rein in Akasaka's enthusiasm. He was on his feet, pressing his face urgently against the commentary 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 moment 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 excitement 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. Something 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 Musume.
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 same gasp escaped Dancing Brave's lips. She was standing now, long retired from the track herself. Her pupils were narrowed to slits, and her meticulously maintained nails, a point of pride in her retirement, 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. Memories of the racetrack, long buried under layers of time, 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 memory 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 Musume are."
Out on the track, Narita Top Road gritted her teeth, driving her body forward with every ounce of her will.
But a immense 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 screamed 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 Musume 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 screamed 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 mere three hundred and ten meters away.
Three hundred and ten meters—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 Musume 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 screamed 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 immense strain, the sickening snap of muscle fibers tearing one after another.
Yet even the pain would become 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, mechanical 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 Musume on the track felt it instinctively—that impossible moment, a fraction of a second where time itself seemed to stand still.
"Shiiiiing—!"
A sound as sharp as a blade being drawn sliced through the frozen temporal void. On the monochrome battlefield, a blazing crimson meteor suddenly tore through the curtain of rain.
An illusion? A hallucination born from extreme pressure?
The same thought crossed every Uma Musume'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; merely continuing to put one foot in front of the other was a testament to their rigorous training.
"What's happening? All the Uma Musume have suddenly lost speed?!"
Outside the track, Commentator 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 momentum, as if their power had been collectively drained.
"Two hundred meters! One hundred fifty meters! Dream Weaver leads! Dream Weaver leads! It's Dream Weaver in front now!!"
As the commentator'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 moment of temporal stillness descended upon the racetrack. Dream Weaver, who had just pushed into the lead, felt her body lurch downward abruptly.
Under the immense 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.