With all the horse girls loaded into the starting gates, an exhilarating concerto suddenly rang out through Leopardstown Racecourse.
"All runners are in!"
The commentator's voice rose. "Now then—the G1 Irish Champion Stakes, 2000 meters on turf, watched by the whole world—"
Clack!
The lights shifted, and the massive gates snapped open in an instant!
"And they're off!"
In that moment, the seventeen horse girls who had been coiled to spring shot out like arrows, surging in perfect unison from the narrow iron stalls.
Thud-thud-thud—!!
Heavy horseshoes slammed into turf swollen with rainwater, and mud sprayed backward like fountains.
The field fanned out as one line and spilled onto the course.
"A beautiful break!" the commentator praised coolly. "No one missed the start. All of them came out together—an excellent, smooth opening."
"The runners are already fighting for the lead."
There was no probing, no patience. After only a few seconds of acceleration, a horse girl named Tremont suddenly knifed out of the pack!
Using the inside to her advantage, and before the other Front Runners could truly unleash their speed, she spent extra legwork to seize the prime lane on the rail.
She became the pacesetter for this race.
"…That jerk!"
In the Pace Chaser group right behind her, Sixton stared at the figure that had stolen the spotlight, a flash of displeasure crossing her face.
Known for sheer power as the "Steel Chariot," she'd intended to establish her dominance from the very first phase.
But with two even more threatening monsters lurking behind her, she forcibly swallowed the impulse to charge up and wrestle for the lead.
That didn't mean she would behave.
"Move! Don't block me!!"
Sixton roared, her muscles swelling as she shoved inward like a heavy bulldozer, forcing her way to the rail.
Her unreasonable maneuver made the turf thunder underfoot, clods of mud flying, as she drove straight toward the horse girls beside her who were still searching for their rhythm.
…
Oguri Cap, to her outside, frowned slightly.
Watching that iron-tower body crush toward her, the ash-gray girl's mind flashed through several responses in an instant.
If this were the old her—running on instinct alone—she might not have reacted in time and would've been flattened on the spot.
But now…
Kuroha's teaching, and the combative sparring she'd endured at the Hong Kong training camp with Folkqueen and Ellerslie Glory, had sharply raised her race awareness.
Like Trainer always said, handling race-day body contact might be unavoidable…
…but in the opening phase, wasting precious stamina in meaningless muscle clashes just to win a petty battle of pride was stupid.
At this moment, an intense, pure-white streaklight rose in her eyes.
True-Self Mode's absolute rationality let her make the correct choice at any time.
Let her have it.
Oguri Cap exhaled softly. The tension in her shoulders eased.
At the exact moment that brute force was about to slam into her, she adjusted her steps with icy calm and proactively yielded half a lane to the outside.
"Hmph!"
Sixton didn't realize it was a tactical concession. Instead, she took it as Oguri Cap being overwhelmed by her presence.
She surged cleanly into second.
As she passed Oguri Cap, she even swept a provocative, contemptuous glance over Oguri Cap and the other Pace Chasers she'd just bulldozed through.
Only then did the steel chariot from Great Britain settle in, satisfied, holding second place.
Like a moving fortress, she locked onto Tremont in front, sealing her in.
"That asshole…"
"So damn arrogant!"
Nearby, a few horse girls who'd been caught in her indiscriminate aggression looked furious, but faced with Sixton's overwhelming power, they could only simmer in silence.
Soon, the chaotic scramble of the opening phase gradually eased.
Every runner displayed top-tier professionalism, quickly finding her own ideal position on the muddy turf.
The pack stabilized.
Right on cue, the live commentary rose again:
"A thrilling start! No one's fallen into chaos despite the slick conditions!"
"Right now, Tremont is in first—she's holding the lead thanks to an excellent break!"
"Right behind her is Great Britain's war chariot, Sixton! Her power is incredible—she looks unstoppable!"
"Third is Candiglen, fourth is Oguri Cap! They're tracking steadily, half a length behind Sixton!"
"…And the two most anticipated title favorites, Somalz and Elmaamul, are currently running eleventh and twelfth!"
"Looks like they're sticking with their usual End Closer tactics—saving the suspense for the final stages?!"
On the course—
Da-da-da—!!
Mud sprayed. The thick grass was churned and shredded beneath their feet as the field, brimming with a murderous air, surged en masse into the first turn.
…
Up in the stands—
Kuroha stood at the railing, watching the pack advance in orderly fashion—and the gray-white figure mixed into the Pace Chaser group, moving without hurry or agitation.
A satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"She didn't get baited into losing her head. Oguri Cap really did take my words to heart…"
He was pleased, but as his gaze swept over the entire field, his brow suddenly twitched.
"Huh?"
A glimmer flashed in his eyes. His focus leapt past the front groups toward the rear of the course—
and finally locked precisely onto the blonde girl wearing a court ceremonial uniform.
"Somalz…"
To ordinary eyes, the top favorite still maintained her elegant End Closer posture.
But in Kuroha's eyes, her running looked stiff and awkward.
"Her stride doesn't suit this course!"
He reached a judgment in an instant. "Her body is rejecting this turf…"
"So the crushing defeat from the original timeline really is about to replay?"
…
Back in the rear group—
"Position… not bad."
Near the back of the field, Elmaamul felt the wind ahead—thick with dampness and cold—howling across her cheeks.
Her crimson eyes shifted slightly as she glanced, without drawing attention, at Somalz—one lane behind and a half-step off her left.
As a runner who also excelled at End Closer bursts, she was very satisfied with her current position.
Somalz was right in front of her.
At this distance, whether Somalz chose to adjust her position early or ignite her finishing kick ahead of schedule, Elmaamul would still have time to react.
"But…"
Elmaamul watched Somalz's back. It was still upright, but it also seemed… too tense.
For some reason, she felt that something about her powerful rival was off right now.
"She's running a little restrained… why?"
But with no answer coming, she quickly tossed the thought to the back of her mind.
What mattered now was controlling the whole picture.
Elmaamul's gaze pierced through the crowd, toward the front.
Besides Somalz, that bulldozer-like Sixton—and the unassuming Oguri Cap—were also worth watching.
"Heh… but with Sixton's big-muscle, no-brain personality…"
Elmaamul looked forward, the corner of her mouth lifting with amused confidence.
"Even if that horse girl tries to sprint on the turn or the straight, she'll probably get intercepted by that brute, won't she?"
To Elmaamul, Sixton was the perfect guard dog—someone who would grind down the edge of the other Pace Chasers, Oguri Cap included.
And Elmaamul only needed to stay behind, wait for them to tear each other apart, and then…
harvest every last one of them.
As if everything were already in her grasp, Elmaamul's smile grew even more confident.
A pitch-black streaklight flickered in her eyes for a brief instant, then quickly went out.
"Slowly…"
"Soon… I'll show you what a real gap looks like."
(End of Chapter)
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