A few days later, at Tracen Academy.
The waste-disposal-room-turned-office had become Yorozuya Eiyuu's exclusive lair.
She stood before Hyuuga Sakikawa, watching as he opened the now-familiar silver case and took out a syringe. This time, the viscous liquid inside was an oily, golden yellow. It looked like a vial of crude oil, giving off a strangely heavy and oppressive feeling.
"Come here," he said. "After these few days, your body should be used to the strain of a real race."
Eiyuu gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable.
"Do you remember what I taught you? The feeling of every muscle fiber being torn apart, only for your psyche to piece them back together into something stronger?"
She remembered. How could she forget?
The daily side effects of the "Phantom Dragon" serum had become a familiar torment. The pain was less sharp now, blunted by repetition. The demon known as Sakikawa had adapted her to it. More importantly, she knew she had grown stronger because of his methods.
That wind-like power... it was more addictive than any drug.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice steady as she eyed the new concoction.
"Bedrock Dragon Gene Optimization Sequence," he replied matter-of-factly.
His voice remained flat as he calmly read from a mental instruction manual. "It increases your latent explosive power, allowing your muscles to break through the limits of your bone structure... Your bones will then shatter and regrow..." He jabbed the needle into a blood vessel in her arm without warning. "It also strengthens the ligaments that hold your skeleton together."
A heavy, earthen-yellow liquid flowed into her veins.
Unlike the icy chill of the "Phantom Dragon," this felt like her blood vessels were being filled with cement. The sensation was heavy, suffocating, and it spread slowly through her entire body.
"Alright, that's it. Let's go to the training grounds," he said, pulling out the needle and casually tossing it into the trash.
Yorozuya Eiyuu swayed, her legs suddenly feeling heavy. The muscles that had become as pliable as silk were now as rigid as steel cables. Every joint felt like a rusty hinge, creaking with every movement.
She wanted to stretch, but her body felt like a single, solid piece of wood. She couldn't even bend forward.
"I... I can't move..." Eiyuu's voice was laced with panic and pain.
This feeling was even more terrifying than the last. The "Phantom Dragon" felt like an external force attacking her. This time, it felt like her own back had betrayed her, trapping her from within.
"I'm breaking... Am I not supposed to break?"
"I told you to break through, not to stand there."
Sakikawa gave her a shove. Eiyuu stumbled forward, her movements stiff and robotic. She looked like a war machine from a museum that had just been brought back to life.
"Hurdles," he said, pointing. "Go."
Eiyuu's final destination was still the "training" grounds. But really, it was just a place for Saki and Kitahara to gather and watch the spectacle. All the horse girls who passed by stopped to look, their faces a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity.
Today's training was hurdles.
"Is that Yorozuya Eiyuu? What's wrong with her?"
"Look at her posture. It's so stiff... like a puppet."
The two girls watched with their hands over their mouths.
Eiyuu started her approach. Her body was a straight line, her dual ponytails bouncing in perfect, unnatural unison. Her steps were so even, so precise, it was as if she were a pre-programmed robot.
She reached the first hurdle and leaped. Her form was flawless, if a bit stiff. She cleared it. Then the second. Then the third.
She flew over the obstacles, a straight line of silver cutting through the air.
And then, just as she reached the very last hurdle, her entire body went rigid. She crashed straight into it.
Thwack!
She face-planted onto the track.
The entire field went silent for a moment.
A second later, a roar of laughter erupted. "Hahahaha! She made it!"
"What kind of comedy routine is this? This is hilarious!"
Saki and Kitahara were bent over, tears streaming down their faces from laughing so hard.
Eiyuu lay on the ground, twitching.
"Is that it?" Sakikawa's voice cut through the laughter. He sounded genuinely disappointed. He walked over to her. "I told you to use your head, not your face. Is this some new kind of movement style? The 'head-butt' style?"
He grabbed her by the collar and hauled her to her feet, his expression as impassive as a block of ice.
"I thought your body had improved. Looks like I need to step it up."
Without warning, he began to "adjust" her right there on the track. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled, a horrifying tearing sound echoing across the field as muscle stretched and bone popped.
"Agh—!"
"Arghh!" Eiyuu let out a scream that was barely human. The pain was so intense, she felt like her soul was being ripped in half.
"What the hell is that?!" a bystander cried out.
Sakikawa ignored them. "Muscles like yours, as hard as steel, need to be reforged after every run. This is part of your maintenance. Don't you understand?" he explained calmly, as if discussing the weather.
Kitahara and Saki watched, their faces pale with horror. "This is clearly some kind of punishment," Kitahara whispered. "That guy's a total sadist! He's not just sick in the head; he's a psychopath!"
"Hey, you two," Sakikawa called out, having overheard them. "Isn't she getting faster? Or do you think sick people get faster?"
He turned his gaze away from them, his eyes landing on a short, pink-haired horse girl who was watching them with wide, curious eyes. "You, with the pink hair. Come here. I'll give you a discount on the next round of treatment, how about it?"
The girl turned white as a sheet and fled.
Sakikawa just snorted, then returned his attention to Eiyuu. Strangely, after the excruciating "adjustment," her body felt lighter. The cement-like stiffness was gone, replaced by a strange sense of clarity.
After the training session ended, Sakikawa dragged the half-dead Eiyuu back to the office. While she lay motionless on the floor, he sat down at his console and cracked his knuckles. On the screen, the race schedule for Tracen Academy appeared.
"Hmm, what's this childish kindergarten-level race schedule?" he scoffed, scrolling through the list with a disdainful look.
He scanned the list, his fingers tapping as he searched for the perfect "test" for his product. His eyes stopped on one entry.
[Aisong Novice Stakes, 1000m, Dirt, Short Distance, Hurdles. Time: 1 hour from now.]
His deadpan expression finally showed a hint of a smirk. The power of "Bedrock Dragon" was perfect for a dirt track and hurdles. And a novice race was full of newcomers—the perfect control group for collecting combat data.
"This is it," he muttered.
Without a second thought, he clicked the mouse and submitted her entry.
He then turned to Eiyuu. "In one hour, you have a race."
Her whole body was a mess of scrapes and bruises, but a current of electricity shot through her at his words.
He looked down at her, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Win, and I'll let you come back in one piece. Lose, and I'll send you back to the furnace to be reforged."
Win the race.
The three words echoed in her mind, sending a jolt through her entire being. She was going to race.
She looked at Sakikawa's back, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles turned white. Her body still trembled from the aftershocks of his methods, but a fierce determination now burned in her eyes, a fire that overshadowed her fear.
She was no longer just a passive victim. She was no longer an empty puppet.
She would win. She would win this race to prove that all of this—all of this pain—was worth it.
-------
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