Time thinned the fury of the opening scramble—the body-checking, elbowing fight for lanes had burned off.
The race shape began to set.
Dada-dada-dada—!
Fourteen world-class Uma Musume—fourteen shooting stars—drove powerful strides over emerald turf, the pack stretched into layered bands.
Half the trip was gone.
Obey Your Master flowed in a perfect outside lane—about four meters off the rail.
Over a full lap that costs, at most, a couple dozen extra meters—numbers as crisp as crystal ticked through her mind.
Before joining Kuroha's team, holding this costlier line in a race this violent might have been a brutal ask.
But now—
"Haa—!"
In her eyes, that jet-black stellar afterglow churned, surging to burst its bonds.
Domain — True Self (Constraint Mode)!
Once pioneered mid-race by Fujimasa March, it had become the baseline core of any top-caliber runner—a force that could flip the board, now chained tight inside the body to purchase absolute control over one's state.
"The front-runner, Shirley Sky, hasn't opened enough; her late kick won't hold the gap…"
"Michelle Baby—same. And that early wrestling with Oguri has already taxed her legs…"
Data cascaded through Obey Your Master's head—every runner's position and tempo laid bare from this vantage. The reams of intel that once papered her walls converged, weaving beneath the star-sheen in her pupils, recombining—
Until the single law that leads to victory was written clean.
"Alright! Into the back half—we're approaching that decisive fourth turn!"
"Shirley Sky still leads! Michelle Baby in pursuit, running second—"
As the call rang across the course, Obey Your Master lowered her chin.
A streak of gold-dyed hair veiled her lashes, leaving only a small, secret smile at her lips.
She whispered inwardly:
Now.
BOOM!
A hammerblow of thunder rolled from the outside—the right-hand sky split—
A small, white figure wrapped in lightning snapped past her, like teleportation.
"Tamamo Cross!! Tamamo Cross rockets up from the outside!!"
The front pack collapsed into the fourth corner.
Oguri Cap, who'd taken the fore early, had somehow been muscled back into mid-pack.
In the space of a heartbeat, that white lightning carved straight through the middle tangle and—
with irresistible fury—smashed into the lead.
Oblivious to the crowd's quake, Obey Your Master tilted the barest degree. From the corner of her eye she caught the ash-grey shadow to her side.
Oguri Cap.
Sweat glittered on her face; breath heaved her chest.
Those eyes—usually pure fighting spirit—now held a tint she couldn't hide: fatigue.
She'd forced a tactic that wasn't truly hers, Pace Chaser instead of her native Late Surger.
She'd spent fuel in the opening's malicious bump-and-grind.
And the 2400 meters—already just beyond her ideal envelope…
Now, just keeping cruise speed with the main body looked to be draining the last of her reserves.
Obey Your Master's mouth curved with knowing—but she did not belittle the ash-grey girl.
Tamamo Cross had hit her mark on cue, detonating here to seize the fore and pave the last lane for her invincible late spurt.
And Oguri—though she looked spent—still carried that unreasonable Domain surge, ready to refill the tank for at least one more brutal push.
Both, however, were no longer pristine.
But she—
from the gun—had taken no scars.
Only one threat remained—
Her eyes slid past the jostling silhouettes ahead and locked on the radiant gold burning like a little sun.
"Tony Bianca…"
Another predator in perfect condition, a terror of this age, a true world queen.
"What will you do?"
Obey Your Master's smile sharpened, thin and cold.
Wait, stone-calm, for your spurt window?
Or will Tamamo's blast prick your pride, bait you into going early and brawling head-on?
You—who haven't truly tested high-speed Japanese turf.
You—who've underestimated this race.
You still dare to dream of victory?!
"—Michelle Baby on the rail; Obey Your Master just behind her!"
"And the world-class kick-monster Tony Bianca stalking Tamamo Cross—eyes locked from just aft!"
Thunk—! Hooves thudded the grass—deep, dense.
Tony Bianca watched the white thunder tear the air ahead; a barely-there ripple passed through eyes forged like molten gold.
So—Japan's queen finally shows?
Willing to pay distance and fuel to sling from the outside—
Such confidence.
But if you think that trick works on the world's very best—
You're mistaken.
Tamamo Cross!
Black-gold radiance erupted in Tony Bianca's pupils.
"Thinking you'll pass me—dream on!"
WHAM—!
Power without peer detonated; Domain streamers rippled round her frame.
Europe's monarch launched—her body a trailing afterimage—spearing for Tamamo Cross!
"Tony Bianca is accelerating! All fourteen tighten through the bend and hit the final straight!!"
Kakakakaka—!!
The grandstand became a geyser—cheers and shouts spearing to the dome.
The Japan Cup reached its critical crest.
They burst onto the final straight.
In an instant—
All fourteen made the same choice.
Burn everything. Spend the soul. Go all in.
"Huu~"
Tamamo Cross let out a single breath, feeling the colossal power coiled in her deepest core.
Crack—!
A serpent of thunder split her heart.
There it is.
A cold, wild smile touched her lips.
One ahead on this final run.
Watch closely, world.
This is Japan's—
RUMMMBLE!!!
It fell in a single instant.
Domain — White Lightning!!!
White thunder ripped the air, savaging toward the corner's apex with feral speed.
"She's coming—she's coming!"
"Tamamo Cross slings from the outside!"
"Terrifying speed—no one can match it!"
"Tamamo Cross leads!!!"
The call split to a ragged scream as she flew—a white comet on the final straight.
"Good—hold it just like that and—"
"—!!!"
A depthless shadow rolled over her back—swallowing the world.
"What… is… this…?"
Tamamo Cross turned, horror creeping slow across her face—
(End of Chapter)
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