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[Warhammer 40K: A Multiverse Saga]
[Warhammer 40K: They Said I Have No Soul]
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"The race begins!!!"
With the clang of the gates—
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! …"
Sixteen figures shot out like loosed arrows. Rain spattered off their bodies as iron shoes shattered the puddles; hoofbeats and the crowd's roar braided into one, striking up the overture of this G1 Arima Kinen.
"All the Uma are lined abreast—what a beautiful break… here it is! As expected, Fujimasa March takes the lead!"
The commentator diligently called the scene on the ground.
But in a lightning-flash instant, a silver-white form burst forth!
Just a few strides, and like an arrow leaving the string she was already in front—seizing the Front Runner position!
"Fuu~"
Fujimasa's breath flowed smooth and long; silver-white flames were already rising in her eyes. As virtually the only runner in the field with Short aptitude, that terrifying starting explosiveness let her surge past the pack in a heartbeat and clamp down on the point.
Hot on her heels came a cherry-colored shadow.
Sakura Chiyono O fixed on Fujimasa's back, sensing the faintly radiating domination from that figure ahead.
A bona fide top-class veteran of countless battles—
One who, with a pure Front Runner tactic, had faced down and defeated head-on a front-runner once lauded as the strongest of the last twelve years.
Yet she felt no fear.
"Just like this. Stay with her!"
Cherry-bright lightning sparked in Chiyono O's eyes. Her powerful race awareness, heightened by her "True Self" state, should on any ordinary course let her read and control the whole board with precision.
But here at Nakayama, everything felt different.
Her face grew solemn.
As the group began to string out toward the first corner, besides Fujimasa and Chiyono O there were three more lights—dazzling as sun, moon, and stars—flashing in separate positions with their own radiance:
On the rail just behind, the tranquil blue glow of Mejiro Ardan.
Mid-pack, Obey Your Master's cold, data-stream starlight as she surveyed the field.
And far in the rear, crouched and waiting—Inari One's smoldering blaze.
Five fierce wills drove bodies honed a thousand times; like shadows at noon, they ran on without a word.
Only Oguri Cap and Super Creek felt a chill at that sight.
"Those five… the Chasing Light Uma…"
A bead of sweat slid down Creek's brow. She grit her teeth. "I… can't predict or control their emotions or actions at all."
"Instead, it's like they're controlling everything!"
An unprecedented pressure bore down on her. Her race sense—usually her pride—felt wholly smothered by several invisible forces, then—
—rolled round, pressed flat, ground to paste.
In the heart of this "eternal top three" of the old timeline, the five figures before and behind loomed into five ever-taller, near sky-blotting black silhouettes—only the depths of their pupils burning with soul-freezing fire.
Oguri's stride stayed steady, but light leapt in her eyes.
No matter her doubts about herself, the will to fight never died.
"So… this is the view from the summit?"
"Fujimasa… A-mei…"
She murmured, fists tightening. Though the cold crept in, the heat in her chest only surged brighter.
The commentator's voice cut through rain and wind over the speakers:
"Leader right now—Fujimasa March! With unmatched speed she's crashed to the front and seized control!"
"Second is Sakura Chiyono O—she's glued to Fujimasa. Third is Mejiro Ardan…"
"…Inari One is still around 14th—looks like she plans to stick with her usual End Closer strategy."
…
"Da-da-da—!"
They tore through the first bend at shocking speed.
Fujimasa still led, just as always, pulling the entire field into her rhythm and drawing those behind into the pace she chose.
Chiyono O clung on, the gap not widening by even a hair.
Ardan stayed rock-steady in third on the rail.
"Uoooo—!!"
"Let's go!!"
The atmosphere had fully ignited. On Nakayama's stands the cheers rose like waves.
Lightning writhed overhead; thunder and shouts braided together, as if drumming war beats for this epic duel.
"Shh-la-la—"
The rain seemed to strengthen a touch; the fine drizzle, whipped by wind, slanted across the grandstand. No one cared. Every gaze was soldered to the course.
Those flying figures were writing their legend in mud and glory.
…
On one side of the stands.
Moonlight Lunacy and the others had fallen silent; only Toni Bianca watched the unfolding board with lively interest.
"Those few… are they the same as us?"
Lunacy's brows knit; the ease had fallen from her face. She watched the Uma below with utter seriousness.
"Not the same as you." Toni shook her head lightly.
She sipped her milk tea, glanced at the silver-haired, odd-eyed girl beside her, and smiled. "They're the same as me and… Folkqueen."
"…"
Lunacy had no words. After a beat, she sighed softly. "You're right. Staying to watch this race—no regrets."
"Right?" Toni chuckled.
Then the former Queen of Europe looked down again; the smile drained from her lips.
"Truly… terrifying…"
…
Top tier of the Nakayama grandstand.
Several figures stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass.
Symboli Rudolf and Maruzensky stood just behind Kuroha, while Mr. C.B. leaned against a pillar, arms folded—eyes flicking from the track to the man in front, a crisp, capable smile ghosting across his face.
Behind them, Mejiro McQueen and Tokai Teio watched the course, a little tense.
No one spoke. All eyes only watched, and waited—
—for the birth of Central's strongest sovereign of this era.
"…"
Kuroha stood at the window, gaze steady on the sixteen streaking silhouettes.
He'd always known.
His girls were strong.
Under his training, whether in physiology, race awareness, or that power called Domain, they'd lose to no one in Central.
Even on the technical side—
Kuroha wasn't exactly short on Pt anymore.
His Chasing Light Uma had learned gold-tier cornering, recovery, and acceleration skills by the dozens.
General-purpose skills for any condition? Beyond counting.
But the same teachings, poured into each Uma, flowered differently in each.
Just like the five of them—their optimal, already-fixed tactical styles were all their own.
Kuroha's eyes locked on the leader up front—Fujimasa.
She had shed the "Front Runner/Pace Chaser hybrid" of Kasamatsu and become a pure Front Runner.
After a clean, face-to-face win over Oguri, she could now be called Central's strongest leader.
Beyond the usual fight for the point and end-phase explosion, her hallmark was using a many-sided toolset to subtly guide and manipulate the pack's tempo behind—
making them grow anxious at the wrong places and times, bleeding away stamina for free—
while she could reset without loss and secure a monarch's lead.
Right behind came Chiyono O and Ardan—both Pace Chasers.
Chiyono O leaned more on straight-line burst skills, preferring to tuck at the leader's elbow and lock the most favorable pace-chase slot.
Ardan cared less about the exact lane within pace-chase.
She prized the inside path—riding the rail to save every drop, then unleashing the Mejiro house's proud endurance in the late stages.
Mid-pack, Obey Your Master ran coolly.
Cold-eyed and data-driven, she harvested information in-race and plotted accordingly, favoring the middle of the group.
Her toolkit emphasized vision and hazard-avoidance, with a huge share invested in end-phase clinchers.
Last of the five, hanging off the tail, was Inari.
A plain-spoken, no-frills End Closer.
Under Kuroha's tutelage, she loved only one thing: mid-to-late acceleration bursts.
She'd bide her time early, then—mid to late—cut everything down with pure, absolute closing kick.
And beyond Kuroha himself—
The five had long since learned one another's strengths, flaws, and habits better than the back of their hands through training that dwarfed any race in length.
That produced a peculiar outcome:
Their calculations and schemes, their every plan—on outsiders, yes. But on each other? Almost useless.
So the win condition was clear.
On the course, the light in those five pairs of eyes blazed ever hotter; it felt like they could barely cap the surge of madness and fighting will.
Exactly.
When all gambits, layouts, and traps fail because they all know one another to the bone, victory returns to the most primitive and brutal truth:
Overwhelm with power.
A clash of wills. A collision of Domains—
Whose Domain is more complete… more absolute!
"On the final straight—settle it!"
Fujimasa and the others breathed the vow in their hearts.
"Crack—!"
Lightning veined the sky. The leaden clouds blackened as the race wore on, as if a boundless wrath brewed within…
(End of Chapter)
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