The rain over Nakayama Racecourse seemed to split apart by two streaking meteors, golden and crimson trails tearing across the slick turf, leaving waves of scorching air in their wake.
Announcer Akasaka pressed her lips against the heated microphone, her voice hoarse from shouting.
"T.M. Opera O! T.M. Opera O is charging forward! She's catching up to Dream Weaver!"
Gold and red, two streaks of light raced across the track at a speed that felt like it could shred the very rain. Watching these two figures running almost neck and neck, not only the spectators but even the commentator couldn't help but feel their blood boiling.
Such a close contest, such suspense—what could stir the heart more than a scene like this?
"But—Dream Weaver hasn't fallen behind! She's closing in again! Only a hundred meters left to the finish! Who will become the champion of this year's Satsuki Sho?!"
Akasaka's voice grew raspy from yelling, but nothing could stop her from conveying the passion burning inside her to the audience.
In the stands, countless spectators roared and cheered, their eyes glued to the track, eager to witness the outcome of this moment.
The crowd had already descended into madness.
A middle-aged man in the front row tore open his expensive shirt, waving the fabric like a battle flag as he shouted.
A young girl wearing glasses gripped the railing tightly, her lenses fogged by her own breath.
A child perched on his father's shoulders clutched a cheer flag in his small hand, forgetting to wave it, his clear eyes reflecting only the two entangled figures on the track.
At this point, no one cared who was whose fan anymore. Just being able to witness this moment—no matter who lifted the trophy—was enough to bring unparalleled satisfaction to every spectator.
"Go, Dream! You can do it!"
King Halo clenched her sleeves tightly. From the moment Dream Weaver and T.M. Opera O began overtaking the others and charging ahead, she had thrown her entire heart and soul into the race.
All her cowardice, confusion, and desire to flee had been shattered by the thunderous footsteps on the track. The thrill of the race, the excitement of brilliance, stirred King Halo's heart so deeply that she could hardly tell whether it was her own heart beating or the pulse of the race itself.
In this moment, she was no longer bound by the duty of being an older sister, no longer burdened by the responsibility of becoming a top-tier Uma Musume. She only wanted to use her own eyes to witness—to witness Dream Weaver's shining moment.
Tears streamed down Dancing Brave's cheeks. She wiped them away absently, almost bewildered.
Was she crying?
She was only watching. Her rational mind hadn't even processed what was happening, yet her emotions had drawn tears forth without conscious thought.
As she watched that red figure on the track, the tears flowed uncontrollably. No matter how hard she tried to wipe them away, they wouldn't stop.
The child she had watched grow up, the one with ordinary talent, had through sheer effort burst forth with such dazzling brilliance. Dancing Brave could feel the aura radiating from the track, sense the willpower contained within it. Finally, she could no longer hold back her tears and let them flow freely.
In a daze, Dancing Brave recalled what Dream Weaver had said to her yesterday in the café—those sparkling eyes felt as vivid as if they were right before her.
"So... dazzling."
"Your brilliance."
Amid the cheering, jubilant crowd, Dancing Brave stood alone, choking back sobs as she whispered to herself.
On the track, Dream Weaver felt every muscle, every bone in her body trembling. Each step felt as heavy as bearing a thousand pounds, and even her vision was gradually blurring under the terrifying pressure.
This was the Zone of the Conqueror of the Century's End. A golden light flickered around T.M. Opera O like violent thunder. With every step she took, the entire track seemed to bow down to this born ruler.
Forged under extreme pressure, Dream Weaver broke through her own limits, unleashing a dazzling aura of her own.
And as her strongest rival, T.M. Opera O also awakened her own Zone amidst their mutually intensifying pressure.
This innate ruler, this Conqueror of the Century's End, her awakening was a coronation written in the stars—as natural as the full moon dominating the night sky.
Dream Weaver had long been prepared. So even as she endured pressure beyond imagination, even as every fiber of her being screamed in agony, she still managed to smile—even if that smile was twisted by pain.
"So this is what makes you a tyrant."
As if sensing Dream Weaver's thoughts, T.M. Opera O at her side grinned fiercely. Under the influence of Dream Weaver's Zone, she wasn't having an easy time either.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! My rival—this is why you and I are destined to be rivals!"
"Look! The spectators are cheering for our brilliance! This is our glory!"
In Dream Weaver's vision, the world had narrowed to just the track ahead and that purple-gold figure. In this isolated space, the rhythm of their two heartbeats gradually synchronized. Their thoughts communicated without need for words.
"We... us?"
"T.M. Opera O... can glory really be shared by two people?"
T.M. Opera O's response echoed directly in her mind:
"You've earned that right."
"Why?"
The tyrant, racing at full speed, curled her lips into a smile. The gem on her crown refracted a blinding light through the rain.
"Because—"
Her mental voice carried an air of unquestionable authority.
"You are the Tyrant's Rival!"
Even as they raced toward the finish line, even with the race still undecided, there was no sense of fierce competition in their mental exchange. It was almost like a casual conversation.
Dream Weaver's vision grew increasingly blurred, her thoughts slowing. Dragging a body that felt like fading embers, she asked:
"T.M. Opera O... why do you want to win?"
"Why?"
The tyrant's wild laughter exploded in Dream Weaver's mind.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!"
"For a tyrant, is there any need for a reason to claim victory? It's only natural!"
Sensing the burning fighting spirit radiating from her rival, a resolute curve appeared at the corner of Dream Weaver's lips. She poured every last ounce of strength into her legs, like throwing the final log into a furnace.
"No victory has ever been natural."
"T.M. Opera O... I will win."
Before the words fully faded, the black-and-red figure abruptly tore through the curtain of rain. The crushing pressure of the tyrant's Zone seemed to vanish in that instant. Each step she took sent fan-shaped sprays of water arcing outward, her red ribbons leaving a blazing trail behind her.
"What—!"
T.M. Opera O's pupils contracted sharply. She watched as the figure that should have been suppressed instead advanced against the Zone's power.
The rain blurred T.M. Opera O's vision. Across the gloomy track, she could only see that dazzling red streak—like a drawn blade—ripping a tear through the territory ruled by the tyrant.
Outside the track, the commentary booth had descended into madness. Announcer Akasaka's microphone picked up static from her overly excited movements, but the passionate words bursting through were enough to overshadow it all.
"Only thirty meters left! These will be thirty meters for the history books! Who will become the champion of the Satsuki Sho?!"
Sugimoto, the commentator, ripped off his tie, veins bulging on his forehead. Usually composed and articulate, he was now stumbling over his words from excitement.
"Is it T.M. Opera O?! Is it Dream Weaver?! T.M. Opera O?! Dream Weaver?!"
Beyond the commentators, an eerie silence fell over Nakayama Racecourse. The sound of raindrops hitting the ground seemed audible. Tens of thousands of spectators held their breath simultaneously, countless eyes locked intently on the track, awaiting the final outcome about to be revealed.
"Dream Weaver! It's Dream Weaver! Dream Weaver is accelerating again!"
"She's overtaken T.M. Opera O! The gap is widening, still widening! Ten meters! Five meters! She's done it! Across the line!"
"The winner is—"
"Dream Weaver!"
A clattering collision sound followed, then a hum from the microphone—likely from the announcer flinging it aside in her excitement.
But none of that mattered. A mere hum could easily be drowned out by the spectators' passion.
Like a powder keg ignited, the wave of sound erupting from the stands made the rain seem to hesitate. Spectators in the front rows hammered madly against the guardrails; those further back embraced and jumped together. Some, overwhelmed with excitement, tossed their cheer flags straight into the air.
People were pressed together, shoved shoulder to shoulder—but who cared about that now?
Nakayama Racecourse surged with a boiling tide of sound, cheers and shouts weaving together into a blazing ocean.
Amid this deafening roar, Dream Weaver, her consciousness already fading, finally caught—as if in a daze—the mechanical prompt she had dreamt of for so long:
[Main Quest Completed.]
As those words faded, T.M. Opera O, who had crossed the finish line, breathed heavily. Dragging her exhausted yet still upright body, she slowly paced over to Dream Weaver's side.
"Ha—"
She let out a long exhale. Sweat streamed down her face, but it couldn't hide the light sparkling in her eyes.
"Truly magnificent... As expected of my... ri... val?"
T.M. Opera O's voice suddenly trailed off. Her pupils contracted sharply in the rain, reflecting the figure slowly collapsing before her.
--+--
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.