“The speed is still increasing!
Ryo is still accelerating!” Akasaka Misato on the commentary stand suddenly rose, her green hair swaying with her excited movements.
“She’s widening her lead—oh my god!
She’s already ten lengths ahead!”
Yutaka Take gripped the microphone, his usually steady voice tinged with intense shock for the first time: “This isn’t the stamina and explosiveness a rookie should have!
Her running form shows no fatigue at all; every step is perfectly timed.
She’s ‘killing the race’!”
The cheers from the stands had long since pierced the sky.
Maruzensky leaned on the railing with one hand, the amusement in her eyes completely replaced by astonishment.
Symboli Rudolf’s body tensed slightly, her golden eyes fixed on the unstoppable silver figure on the track, her fingertips unconsciously clenching.
The moment Ryo’s hooves crossed the finish line, the entire venue fell into a brief silence, then erupted into a thunderous ovation.
The numbers on the timer froze, and the referee loudly announced over the broadcast: “Champion—Ryo!
Lead advantage, eighteen lengths!”
Eighteen lengths, a practically crushing difference in real horse racing, meant the race had lost all suspense from the latter half.
Ryo stood before the finish line, casually stretching her wrists and ankles, her breathing as steady as if she had just completed a routine training session.
She looked up, scanning the entire venue, her gaze precisely piercing through the crowd and landing on Symboli Rudolf in the stands.
Without any superfluous movements, she took out the white glove symbolizing a challenge from her palm, flicked her wrist, and the glove, like a messenger cutting through the air, flew steadily towards Symboli Rudolf.
Immediately after, she tilted her head, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, and formed a V-sign with her right index and middle fingers, gently placing it by her eye, making a playful and flamboyant cute expression.
This action, completely different from her dominant image on the track, caused the cheers of the entire venue to intensify once more.
She, however, paid no mind, turned and waved, calmly walking towards the lounge, leaving behind the roaring crowd and Symboli Rudolf, who tightly caught the glove.
This battle completely ignited the entire horse racing world.
The pre-race taunts of “an ignorant little filly dares to challenge the Emperor” had all vanished.
Those who had questioned her slacking off and denied her talent were thoroughly slapped in the face by the crushing victory of eighteen lengths.
The race video spread wildly online, and keywords like “corner acceleration,” “eighteen-length victory,” and “Emperor-style provocation” dominated the trending topics.
Ryo’s name became a household name overnight.
When she returned to Tracen Academy, she was no longer the “mysterious rookie who loved to slack off.” Along the way, both junior students and classmates stopped, respectfully bowing and greeting her: “Good day, Senior Chili!” The slightly disdainful glances of the past were now replaced only with awe and admiration.
She still maintained her leisurely demeanor, nodding in response to the greetings of her juniors, but her crimson eyes held an undeniable sharpness—the legend of the “Unchallengeable Emperor” had only just begun.
The cheers at the finish line still echoed above the track, but Symboli Rudolf in the stands remained with her head bowed.
Her dark brown, almost black hair fell, covering most of her face, revealing only her tightly pursed lips.
Her shoulders trembled slightly, not by much, but with an uncontrollable intensity that made Maruzensky beside her furrow her brows: “Rudolf?
Are you alright?
Are you upset about being provoked by that girl?”
Maruzensky reached out, intending to pat her shoulder, but at the instant her fingertips were about to touch, Symboli Rudolf sharply raised her hand to avoid it.
The next second, she slowly lifted her head.
The iconic white forelock on her brow was particularly striking under the lights, and her dark brown eyes showed no trace of disappointment or unwillingness.
Instead, they burned with a fierce fire—a pure, almost scorching fighting spirit, mixed with the extreme excitement of finally finding a true opponent.
The trembling was not due to weakness, but from the surging hot blood within, the instinctual roar of a desire to clash with a strong adversary.
“I’m fine.” Symboli Rudolf’s voice carried a hint of imperceptible hoarseness, yet it was exceptionally firm.
“I’m just…
too happy.”
Finally, an opponent had appeared.
One who could make her go all out, one who could make the “Emperor’s” throne feel threatened.
The glove Ryo threw was like a spark igniting a long-dormant wasteland, giving her monotonous training life a clear goal.
She tightly clutched the glove in her palm, her knuckles slightly white from the force, the light in her eyes astonishingly bright.
Maruzensky looked at her, first startled, then smiled knowingly: “It seems you’ve truly found an opponent.
But that girl certainly has the right to be arrogant; an eighteen-length advantage is no joke.”
Symboli Rudolf didn’t respond, merely turning her gaze back towards the lounge where Ryo had departed.
In her dark brown eyes, fighting spirit and a hint of complex emotion she herself hadn’t noticed intertwined.
The next day after school, the sun shone brightly at the Tracen Academy gate.
Ryo had changed into casual clothes, her silver hair loosely draped over her shoulders, the red streak on her right side gleaming in the sunlight.
She stood at the gate, waiting for Maruzensky as they had agreed.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Little Ryo!” Maruzensky’s voice carried a hearty laugh, her brown long hair fluttering in the wind.
She quickly walked to Ryo’s side and naturally linked arms with her.
“Today, I’m taking you to a super awesome custom shop.
Winners Uniforms like these absolutely have to be custom-made to be special enough!”
“Alright, the shop Senior chose definitely won’t be wrong.” Ryo smiled and nodded, her crimson eyes full of ease and contentment.
After yesterday’s race, she was now a well-known figure in the Academy.
Juniors she met on the way respectfully greeted her, and she responded to each of them, composed yet approachable.
The two chatted and laughed as they walked towards the custom shop outside the Academy, their intimate posture observed by a figure not far away.
Symboli Rudolf had just finished extra training, sweat soaking her training uniform, her white forelock clinging to her skin.
She had originally gone out to run an errand but happened to witness this scene—Ryo and Maruzensky walking side-by-side, smiling brightly, speaking intimately, as if they had endless things to say.
For some reason, an inexplicable discomfort suddenly surged in Symboli Rudolf’s heart, as if something had gently stung her.
She frowned, a trace of confusion flashing in her dark brown eyes.
This feeling was strange, neither the frustration of a training failure nor the emptiness of not finding an opponent.
It was more like…
something she cherished had been touched by someone else?
She shook her head, trying to dispel this strange emotion.
She and Ryo were just rivals, and her relationship with Maruzensky was that of senior and junior; this uncomfortable feeling must be an illusion.
She watched the two walk into the custom shop, clenched her fists, and quickly turned towards the training ground—now was not the time to think about these things.
To catch up with that person, she had to put in more effort.
Inside the custom shop, a dazzling array of fabrics and design sketches was overwhelming.
Maruzensky pulled Ryo to sit on the sofa, and a sales associate immediately enthusiastically presented a catalog: “Ladies, are you looking to customize Winners Uniforms?
We have the latest styles here, and we can also design something exclusively for your needs.”
“That’s right, we’re customizing a set for this junior!
She’s Ryo, who rose to fame in yesterday’s race!” Maruzensky patted Ryo’s shoulder, her tone full of pride.
“It needs to be designed to match her temperament and also be eye-catching on the track!”
Ryo opened the catalog, her gaze drifting among the various designs, a hint of anticipation flashing in her crimson eyes.
What she didn’t know was that at this very moment, in the training ground, Symboli Rudolf was running with all her might, driven by that inexplicable “discomfort,” her dark brown figure carving a resolute path on the track.
The blessings of the three goddesses might already be quietly brewing, and this story, centered around victory and fluttering emotions, had just begun a new chapter.