Time flew by amid grueling training.
Two days later, Ascot Racecourse.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Ascot Racecourse!"
The commentator's impassioned voice rang through the entire venue over the broadcast.
"The sixth race we are about to present to you today is none other than today's absolute main event."
"The highly anticipated King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes!"
"Everyone, I'm sure you've been waiting impatiently for this, haven't you? To be honest, my blood is already boiling!"
As the commentator's voice fell, the already noisy venue was instantly set ablaze. The cheers and roars of the spectators crashed endlessly like a tidal wave.
"Whoooooa!"
"Sanglamore!"
"Generous! Generous! You're the strongest!"
"Mejiro McQueen, do your best!"
"Terimon, show us your courage again!"
"This is so exciting! So exciting! Taking the day off to watch was definitely the right call!"
"To see this many top uma musume gathered in one place... Even if I died now, the ticket would've been worth it!"
"Hell yeah! I want to see a bloodbath!"
...
Leaving aside the bloodthirsty fervor of the British spectators, the atmosphere in the viewing seats with the best vantage point above the racecourse was completely different.
At that moment, numerous national-level trainers who had come on overseas expeditions were seated there.
Almost all of them wore solemn expressions. Even when they encountered colleagues they knew, they merely nodded in greeting at first before sitting silently in their own seats.
Their gazes seemed casual, yet from time to time, they would drift between two directions.
In those two directions sat the two expedition teams drawing the most attention.
One team was led by a middle-aged man past fifty.
His face was cold and stern, his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched the racecourse below.
Beside him, his assistants, assistant trainers, and other staff were all silent as cicadas in winter, standing quietly behind him.
The other team was younger overall.
The handsome young man at the head stood with his arms crossed, his posture relaxed. From time to time, there was even a faint, easy smile at the corner of his mouth.
Looking at those two camps, many trainers in the viewing seats could not help feeling a chill in their hearts.
One was Paul Cole, a man who had spent more than thirty years immersed in the trainer's profession, practically a living fossil among European uma musume trainers.
Not only did he enjoy the prestigious reputation of "Champion Trainer," he was also the most capable ace trainer serving Europe's reigning overlord.
The other was the twenty-one-year-old head trainer of Chasing Light: Kuroha.
He had only been in the industry for just over three years, yet under his care, two uma musume had already displayed terrifying strength on overseas racecourses.
And this year's Mejiro McQueen, in particular, was hailed as a jewel of the racing world.
In the first race of her expedition, she had cut down Sanglamore, a famous genius uma musume of her generation.
In the second, she had mercilessly crushed Terimon, another standout of that same generation.
Now, in only her third race, she had pointed her blade directly at Europe's throne.
Even so, not a single top trainer from any country seated there thought Kuroha was overestimating himself.
On the contrary, after repeatedly studying the race footage of both uma musume, the same thought had appeared in all their minds, one so absurd that even they themselves found it insane.
Could Generous really win?
At that moment, the commentator's impassioned voice rose again inside the venue.
"It seems everyone is fired up today! Then, please welcome the participating uma musume onto the stage!"
"Whoooooa!"
The roar in the venue climbed even higher as everyone eagerly awaited the appearance of the uma musume they were watching.
...
Compared with the outside world's clamor and the undercurrents swirling through the viewing seats, the atmosphere inside the competitors' tunnel had sunk to freezing point.
A breeze carrying the somewhat stifling heat of summer swept through the passage.
It should have brought heat and passion.
Yet at that moment, the uma musume were all clenching their teeth and fists, their faces full of unease and agitation.
At the very front of the group, two tassel-like locks of hair, one gold and one purple, drifted gently with the airflow moving through the tunnel.
Buzz.
Merely standing there normally, the two girls unconsciously allowed two terrifying, almost appalling auras to spread outward.
Those auras were like a heavy pressure condensed into physical form.
They forced the dozens of top European uma musume behind them to struggle even to breathe. Their bodies bent slightly forward, beyond their control.
Before everyone's eyes, those two overwhelming presences suddenly surged, wantonly displaying their strength.
It was as if only that noble gold and profound purple remained between heaven and earth, while everyone else inevitably faded into dull gray.
Generous and Mejiro McQueen.
One was the "Emperor" who had long sat upon Europe's throne. The other was the challenger who had come to overthrow that royal authority.
But was that... truly all there was to it?
Unlike the gentle smile she had worn two days before, Generous had now changed into a gorgeous racing outfit. Her right hand even rested on the hilt of a Western sword, and her beautiful face looked cold as she stared ahead.
Only her gaze was trembling almost imperceptibly.
"She's even more troublesome than I imagined..."
The blond girl's eyes shifted, and from the corner of her vision, she glanced at the purple figure beside her, who stood with arms crossed and eyes closed in quiet repose, appearing perfectly calm.
After a moment of silence, she softly exhaled and worked to adjust her competitive state to its absolute peak.
She could faintly sense it.
The coming race might become the most difficult race she had faced since her debut.
Among the uma musume behind the two of them, reduced to background figures, only two barely managed to withstand that ultimate pressure without losing their balance.
"Hiss... These two are completely different people when they're racing compared with how they usually are!"
Cold sweat seeped across Sanglamore's forehead. She raised her right hand in front of herself, trying to block that aura that made her heart tremble.
The other uma musume beside her was not nearly as calm.
At that moment, the girl was panting like an ox. Her thick, muscular arms, veins bulging across them, were trembling violently beyond her control.
Damn it!
Damn it!
How can they be this strong?
Damn it all!
The musclebound butch clenched her fists with all her strength as anxiety spread wildly through her heart.
Can I really outrun them?
I'll probably... lose just like last time, won't I...?
Her thoughts suddenly jammed at that moment.
After falling into an eerie silence for several seconds, the musclebound girl abruptly raised a hand.
Then, with a sharp smack, she slapped herself hard across the face.
It was punishment for the shameful weakness that had tried to retreat just now.
"Mm!"
Startled by the sudden act of self-harm from the musclehead beside her, Sanglamore's hair practically stood on end. "What are you doing, Terimon?!"
This musclebound girl was none other than Terimon, whom McQueen had defeated under Kuroha's command in the European Cup some time ago.
The way she had lost was exactly the same as Sanglamore.
In the final straight, she had gathered her courage and activated her Domain, preparing to fight with everything she had. In the end, McQueen had treated her like a speed bump and mercilessly run her down.
"Pre-race preparation."
After slapping herself, Terimon clearly calmed down quite a bit, and her voice was hard as she answered.
"...Is that so?" Sanglamore scratched her head, unsure how to judge that.
As the commentator's voice echoed outside, calling names one after another, each uma musume whose name was called let out a breath of relief as if granted amnesty, then hurriedly escaped that suffocating competitors' tunnel.
Soon, only four uma musume remained inside.
"The next uma musume to appear..."
Outside, the commentator paused, then shouted with a highly provocative passion.
"She is the ruler of the Dante Stakes and the conqueror of the French Derby! Today, will we once again witness that peerless, stunning closing kick?"
"The fourth favorite: Sanglamore!"
"My turn!"
The red-haired girl took a deep breath and stepped forward first.
When she passed the purple-haired figure in white, her footsteps paused slightly.
After thinking for a moment, Sanglamore turned around and walked backward while raising her right hand to her brow, making a playful gesture like a blooming flower bud.
"I'll be heading out first, McQueen."
McQueen was slightly startled. Then she opened her eyes, smiled calmly, and offered a sincere blessing.
"Good luck, Sanglamore!"
"Haha, I'll take that blessing. When we're on the track later, remember to go easy on me!"
Sanglamore felt her heart loosen. After making that joke with a giggle, she turned around without hesitation and strode quickly out of the competitors' tunnel.
(End of Chapter)
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