Half a month later again.
Hong Kong Training Grounds, a special-made turf track.
"Thud-thud-thud—!"
Heavy, rapid hoofbeats detonated through the air.
There was no dazzling glow, no flowing brilliance. On the track, only four lithe figures were sprinting.
They were doing the most ordinary kind of running.
Yet every terrifying stomp seemed to make the entire track shudder. Horseshoes bit deep into the turf, and dirt flew up in high sprays.
Like they were skimming the ground, they chased and pressed each other, tearing toward the finish at a suffocating five-hundred-pace!
"Bam!" "Bam!" "Bam!" "Bam!"
"—Done!"
The instant the four figures crossed the line, Kuroha stood beside the finish and flicked a glance at his stopwatch—1:08.90—before barking in a low voice.
Beside him, Fumino moved fast and clean, precisely recording the data from this high-load training race.
Not far away, the four long-legged silhouettes eased down, silky hair streaming in the wind and revealing their faces.
Fujimasa March, Mejiro Ardan, Oguri Cap, and—Folkqueen!
Just now, these four top-class horse girls, each at the peak of her career, had finished an intense practice match to their hearts' content.
But this match had one iron rule set in secret:
No using [Domain].
And the distance had been set to a 1200-meter Short.
With [Domain] forbidden—no explosive acceleration on demand—this distance was extremely unfriendly to Ardan and Folkqueen, who excelled at Medium to Long.
That, however, was exactly Kuroha's purpose.
For a top-tier horse girl, [Domain] might be the decisive blade. But without [Domain] to lean on, solid fundamentals were the real foundation of dominating any track.
Kuroha wanted them, under the suffocating pressure of multiple elite rivals running shoulder-to-shoulder, to carve every step's force output, every breath's rhythm, and every contact technique in a scramble into their bones.
So that in any situation, they'd have the confidence to seize control of the race.
Of course, this was mainly special training for Oguri Cap.
March and Ardan had long since reached the summit in this area. Now they were simply the highest-level sparring partners, helping Oguri adapt.
As for Folkqueen…
In the time she'd been here, she'd stolen quite a few tricks.
But without Kuroha's long-term, systematic conditioning, her baseline growth in pure fundamentals still wasn't keeping pace with Oguri's surge.
"Ha… huff…"
At the finish, Folkqueen lightly wiped sweat from her temple, her breathing a touch ragged.
A mere 1200 meters, without tapping [Domain], was only a warm-up for a world-class powerhouse like her.
"Half a month here… I've gained nearly what I'd get from months of grinding on my own…"
Folkqueen narrowed her striking heterochromatic eyes as she looked at the Chasing Light members beside her, who still seemed relaxed.
"But… can I really improve this much just by watching and listening?"
"Chasing Light… what kind of monsters are these, exactly…"
"Healthy Land shishou."
As Folkqueen sank into thought, a voice suddenly came from beside her—steady in tone, but somehow adorably deadpan in practice.
A vein twitched on Folkqueen's forehead. She turned with a weary sigh, no longer bothering to correct the bizarre form of address.
Oguri had come up to her, panting as she made a stiff, slightly awkward sideways "shooting" motion, her face full of curiosity.
"Shishou, in your races, is it always like this?"
Folkqueen glanced at Oguri's movement and nodded.
"Yeah, that. That's what you trainers use to simulate live conditions and show you."
She paused, then continued. "Over on our side of the Atlantic, the racing style is more physical than what you're used to in Central, but it's not as extreme and rough as White Eagle over there."
"But since you're going on an overseas expedition, getting used to high-intensity body contact like this in advance is mandatory."
"It really is extreme…"
Ardan clasped her hands before her and smiled gently, shaking her head.
"I respect other countries' running styles, but that kind of barbaric racing… no matter how many times I see it, I still can't get used to it."
"Mhm, but the one who'll be suffering later is Oguri."
March put one hand on her hip and teased with a grin. "For the two of us, we probably won't have a chance to witness that kind of scene again."
Hearing that, Oguri tilted her head.
"If March wants to go, you can train hard with me?"
"You're way stronger than me. If you ran there, you'd definitely do better than I would!"
"Heh… if only it were that simple."
March smiled helplessly.
She understood her own strength very well: it was the pinnacle of "technique."
But in raw physical stats, she'd always had a weakness.
Kuroha had said it before—if you want to go overseas, the prerequisite is being a pure "stat monster" first. Technique comes second.
Otherwise, just enduring frequent body contact with overseas horse girls would break most of them long before the final kick.
"Break's over. Get ready for the next set!"
At that, the four girls saw Kuroha's hand signal from the side.
After responding, all four walked back toward the start line.
…
At the trackside, once he gave the start command again, Kuroha opened Oguri Cap's 5.5 system panel.
[Oguri Cap]
[Surface Aptitude: Turf A, Dirt A]
[Distance Aptitude: Short F, Mile A, Medium A, Long B]
[Running Style Aptitude: Front Runner F, Pace Chaser A, Late Surger A, End Closer D]
[Unique Skill: Festive Miracle LV5]
[Domain: Miracle White Star]
[Skills: Shake it Out, Inside Scoop, Hydrate, A Small Breather, Extra Tank, Triple 7s, Innate Experience, Corner Acceleration ◯, Ramp Up, Cloudy Days ◯, Corner Connoisseur, Nimble Navigator…]
[Speed: 1366, Stamina: 1295, Power: 1380, Gut: 1376, Wit: 1265].
(End of Chapter)
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