The morning mist at Paris Manor had not yet dispersed, and a silver figure was already racing along the training track.
Ryo’s footsteps shattered the morning dew; her silver and blue training uniform carved a sharp arc in the morning light, while her red hair on the right side flickered like dancing flames.
However, every arm swing and every push off the ground was permeated with an indescribable sense of stagnation—after winning the Tenno Sho (Spring), her speed and explosive power seemed to have hit an invisible ceiling, and no matter how much extra training she did, she could not advance any further.
“It’s still far from enough.” She stopped abruptly, hands on her knees, gasping for air, her crimson eyes filled with unwillingness.
Sweat dripped down her jawline, soaking the grass on the track, while her mind replayed the broadcast of the Arima Kinen over and over—Rudolf’s steady lead, Maruzensky’s exquisite tactics, and the smiles of her friends standing on the podium.
The Irish Champion Stakes was right around the corner; she could not head to the race with this bottleneck.
Night fell quietly, and only her figure remained on the manor’s training field.
The evening breeze blew by with a hint of coolness; she lay on the lawn, gazing at the starry sky, her thoughts drifting involuntarily back to the nights at Tracen Academy.
She had once heard the seniors mention that the ancestors of the Uma Musume—the three goddesses standing at the pinnacle of the world—held the ultimate mysteries of speed, stamina, and agility, and only those with the utmost sincerity could seek their trials.
(A small personal headcanon)
“Perhaps…
this is the only way.”
At dawn the next day, following the records in an ancient book, Ryo found the forgotten ancient altar deep within the manor.
On the bluestone platform, three life-sized statues of goddesses stood silently: on the left, Darley Arabian wore a crimson robe, her hair curling like raging flames, and lightning seemed to flicker in her eyes, symbolizing ultimate speed and explosive power; in the middle, Godolphin Arabian wore a cerulean dress, her expression gentle yet filled with resilience, her skirt flowing like ocean waves, representing endless stamina and strategy; on the right, Byerley Turk was wrapped in a bright yellow cloak, her posture as agile as the wind, with a mysterious smile on her lips, signifying top-tier agility and adaptability.
She straightened her clothes, slowly knelt, her long silver hair draping to the ground, her crimson eyes filled with unprecedented devotion.
“Great Goddesses,” her voice carried the chill of the early morning, yet it was exceptionally firm, “I am Ryo, from the Tracen Academy Rigil Team.
I yearn to break through my bottleneck and prove myself on the track of the Irish Champion Stakes, to make up for the regret of missing the Arima Kinen.
I implore you, Goddesses, to grant me the most rigorous of trials; no matter how difficult, I will never back down.”
As her words fell, the air around the altar suddenly froze.
The morning mist surged like a living thing, swirling and rising around the three statues.
Three faint beams of light—crimson, cerulean, and bright yellow—spilled from the statues’ eyes, weaving into a dazzling pillar of light that enveloped Ryo.
There was no sound in response, but a majestic will pierced directly into her mind—the trial had begun.
In the next second, the scene around her turned upside down.
The manor’s lawn and track vanished, replaced by steep, rugged crimson mountains, covered in gravel and overgrown with thorns.
The howling wind whipped up sand and gravel, lashing against her face with bone-chilling pain.
“The trial of the Goddess Darley Arabian—Purgatory of Speed.” An ethereal voice echoed through the valley.
The moment the voice faded, a deafening roar came from behind.
Ryo snapped her head back to see a boulder several people high rolling down from the mountain peak, carrying mud, sand, and gravel as it charged toward her.
Her pupils constricted; with almost no time to think, she turned and sprinted down the mountain.
Her silver and blue training uniform was shredded by thorns, and fine beads of blood seeped from her skin, but she couldn’t care about the pain.
The gravel underfoot was slippery and difficult to navigate; one moment of carelessness could lead to a fall.
She subconsciously mobilized all her strength to sprint, but the stagnation caused by the bottleneck remained, and her speed could not reach its peak.
“Bang!” Her foot slipped, and she fell heavily to the ground; her knees and palms were instantly scraped raw by the gravel, and blood stained the ground red.
The roar of the rolling boulder grew closer, and the wind pressure almost knocked her over.
She gritted her teeth, trying to stand up, only to find a piercing pain coming from her right leg—the fall had sprained her knee.
“I cannot stop here!” Ryo endured the pain, using her arms to support her body, and limped forward.
The boulder chased relentlessly behind her, and gravel constantly pelted her back, leaving trails of blood.
Her breathing became increasingly rapid, her lungs burning like fire, but an unyielding flame burned in her crimson eyes.
Just as the boulder was about to crush her heels, she saw a narrow mountain crevice ahead.
She used her last ounce of strength and threw herself sideways into it.
The boulder whistled past her back, slamming into the rock wall ahead and shattering into countless pieces.
Ryo lay in the crevice, gasping for air, sweat mixed with dirt sliding down her cheeks, while sharp pain radiated from the wounds on her back and knees.
But she did not stop; after catching her breath, she leaned against the rock wall and slowly stood up.
However, the trial was not over.
On the other side of the crevice was a steeper slope, and below the slope was a raging mountain torrent; the muddy water, carrying broken wood and rocks, roared as it rushed into the distance.
“The trial of the Goddess Godolphin Arabian—Journey of Resilience.” The ethereal voice rang out again, “Follow the mountain torrent down to the end of the valley to pass.”
Ryo looked at the turbulent torrent, feeling no trace of fear.
She took a deep breath and leaped into the water.
The icy current instantly engulfed her; she struggled to surface, only to be swept downstream by a massive force.
She tried to control her direction, but the current kept slamming her against the rocks, causing dull pains to ripple through her body.
Halfway through, a piece of broken wood rushed down with the current, slamming hard into her shoulder.
She let out a muffled groan, her consciousness wavering for a moment, and her body began to sink involuntarily.
“No…
I cannot give up yet…” She snapped back to reality, using all her strength to grab a floating branch, steadying herself with its buoyancy as she swam toward the end of the valley.
It was unknown how much time had passed, but she finally reached the end of the valley and crawled onto the shore, dragging her exhausted, injury-ridden body.
But before she could even catch her breath, the scene switched again, turning into an intricate forest maze.
Towering ancient trees blotted out the sun, branches intertwined like a web, and the ground was covered with protruding tree roots and hidden traps.
“The trial of the Goddess Byerley Turk—Maze of Agility.”
As soon as Ryo stepped into the forest, the ground beneath her feet suddenly collapsed.
She instinctively rolled sideways, dodging the trap, but slammed into a nearby tree trunk, causing a sharp pain in her shoulder.
She propped herself up and vigilantly observed her surroundings.
There was no fixed path in the maze, and every turn could lead to new obstacles.
She focused her mind, mobilizing all her agility to weave between the trees and traps.
At times she stooped to crawl under low branches, at times she leaped over wide, deep gullies, and at times she made sharp turns to avoid obstacles that appeared suddenly.
But the stagnation caused by the bottleneck and physical exhaustion led to frequent mistakes: during one jump, she miscalculated the distance, her toes grazed the opposite ground, and she fell, bruising her knee; during one turn, she failed to dodge an overhanging branch in time, leaving a bloody scratch on her cheek; and another time, she stumbled into an area full of vines, getting her ankles tangled, and it took a long time to break free, wasting time.
Every mistake was accompanied by pain, but she never stopped.
If she fell, she stood up immediately; if she was injured, she simply pressed to stop the bleeding, the light in her eyes growing brighter.
She knew that only by undergoing such devilish tempering could she break through her bottleneck and reach new heights.
As the sky grew dim, the scene of the forest maze finally dissipated.
Ryo returned to the ancient altar; her training uniform was already in tatters, covered in bloodstains and mud, and her stamina was exhausted to the limit, to the point where she could barely stand.
Yet, in her crimson eyes burned a light more intense than ever before.
The three goddess statues still stood silently, the faint light in their eyes seeming to dim slightly, yet they held a bit more recognition.
Ryo slowly straightened her body and bowed deeply to the statues again: “Thank you, Goddesses, for the trial.
I will persevere and will never let this tempering go to waste.”
She dragged her exhausted body back to the manor; her mother, seeing her appearance, reddened with heartache and immediately summoned a doctor to treat her wounds.
Chisato Shigeaki stood to the side, watching the undying fighting spirit in his daughter’s eyes, and nodded with satisfaction: “The trial is bitter, but this is the necessary path to the pinnacle.”
That night, Ryo lay in bed, the pain in her body making it difficult to sleep.
But in her mind, she replayed the scenes of the day’s trial—the sprint during the boulder chase, the struggle in the mountain torrent, the weaving through the forest maze.
Every mistake and every breakthrough gave her a deeper understanding of power.
She knew this was only the first of three trials, and more difficult challenges lay ahead.
But she had no fear; instead, she was filled with anticipation.
Because she understood that only by experiencing such devilish tempering could she bloom with the most dazzling radiance on the track of the Irish Champion Stakes.