The moment the starting gun fired, thirteen Uma Musume burst onto the track.
In each of their eyes shone a raw desire—for the race itself, for victory. They poured every ounce of their training onto the course, driving their power into the earth with every stride. Torn-up grass and cold horseshoes glittered mid-air, reflected in every falling drop of rain.
But among them was an outlier.
Unlike those charging ahead, she lingered quietly at the very back of the pack. Her dark pupils were veiled by the pouring rain, like an assassin calmly sharpening her blade, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
"The front-running escape types have entered the turn! Tokai Teio, running as a stalker, follows close behind, while the rest of the pack trails a bit further back."
Dream Weaver mentally mapped the flow of the race. The Tokyo Racecourse's 1200-meter track had only one turn, beginning around the 200-meter mark and stretching until about 600 meters in, followed by a final 600-meter straight sprint.
She checked in with her own body—still fresh, the race having only just begun.
'Conserve energy through this 400-meter curve, find the best path to overtake, then decide the race in the final 600-meter straight!'
Once her plan was set, she held her position, carefully observing the movements of the stalkers ahead. She adjusted her path bit by bit, all while committing every detail to memory for future races.
Three hundred meters.
Four hundred.
Five hundred.
Dream Weaver stayed hidden at the tail of the group, seeming almost invisible—as if she'd already given up and was just running for fun.
But only she knew just how much calculation and strategy those few hundred meters had cost her.
'Lanes nine and five are holding steady. Is number one really running like that at this stage?'
Fine beads of sweat formed on Dream Weaver's forehead, quickly blending with the relentless rain until you couldn't tell one from the other.
She gritted her teeth; her mind was so cluttered it felt ready to burst.
'This isn't working—I'm running from behind for the first time. I don't even know what intel is useful and what's not. If I try to record everything all at once like this, my brain won't hold up!'
Squinting through the rain, she searched for the figures of the Uma Musume ahead. That white crescent—Tokai Teio—had already surged to the very front.
She still hadn't found the perfect moment or path, but time was running out.
"No more hesitation!"
Dream Weaver stopped worrying whether her sprint path might clash with another runner. The moment she exited the curve, she launched forward along her predetermined route.
Her red ribbon fluttered wildly as her speed suddenly jumped. Within the gray curtain of rain, a flash of red was slicing forward, little by little, from the back of the pack—like a sharp blade finally gleaming with deadly intent, cutting through the group.
"Tokai Teio takes the lead! Only 500 meters left! Can she maintain this advantage all the way to the end?!"
The commentator's energetic voice echoed over the racetrack. Every remark about Tokai Teio was met with roaring cheers from the crowd.
But she was a professional. While feeding the audience's hunger for their rising star, she also kept a close watch on every shift in the race.
"Oh! Number three, Nice Nature, seems to be breaking free from the pack! Can she reach the trail left by the genius?"
Nice Nature, who had just fought her way out of the crowd, gave a faint, self-mocking smile at those words.
"There's no way someone like me could…"
But before her thoughts could wander further, the commentator's next words cut her off.
"Number thirteen? It's number thirteen! Dream Weaver is charging up from behind!"
"She's still accelerating, still gaining! Can this Uma Musume pierce through the pack and reach the heart of the genius?!"
People longed to see genius on display—to witness that radiant brilliance.
But at the same time, they craved a truly thrilling performance. A solo act by a genius was dazzling, but if another challenger appeared—one who could truly shake things up—they were more than willing to give their excitement freely.
That darting red figure had, unconsciously, captured everyone's attention through sheer force of will.
Even Nice Nature, still in the race herself, glanced back, eager to see whether this red streak cutting through the crowd could really drag genius down from its throne.
To charge from last to first—to pierce through everything with extreme speed—perhaps that was the allure of the deep closure running style.
Dream Weaver didn't know she had accidentally captivated the entire stadium. Borrowing from the crowd's anticipation for the genius, this challenger had gathered attention rivaling the star herself.
All she knew was that she was nearing her limit.
Every muscle in her body was trembling. Her lungs, flooded with rushing air, felt like they were burning. It was her body's warning—the limit of the Uma Musume named Dream Weaver.
She had never been a particularly gifted Uma Musume. Even getting into Tracen Academy had taken everything she had.
If anything, making it this far—even catching the eyes of the entire crowd—by relying on fragmented memories from past races was already more than enough.
200 meters left from the finish.
Her strength was fading.
Her speed was dropping.
Every breath was agony. Every step was a struggle.
And that white crescent remained ahead, suspended like true moonlight in the sky—always out of reach.
Dream Weaver reached out a hand, placing it over that figure ahead, but touched nothing.
Suddenly, she clenched her fist tightly, as if crushing every last bit of strength she had left. Ignoring her body's cries, she accelerated once more.
She wasn't the type to just sigh and admit defeat!
Perhaps it was her guts—the only D-rank stat she possessed—finally kicking in. The red ribbon once again danced within the gray rain, and before she knew it, she had overtaken several front-runners.
This black-haired, dark-eyed Uma Musume had truly become a sharpened blade, thrusting fiercely toward the genius.
100 meters.
No breath left for a battle cry, Dream Weaver charged ahead in silence.
30 meters.
She even overtook Nice Nature, who was in second.
But that was her limit. Shortly after passing Nice Nature, the blank screen beside the track flashed with the first result of the race:
First Place: Tokai Teio.
[Stage Task 1 Completed]
[Rewards Distributed]
In the second before her world turned upside down, that mechanical voice rang in Dream Weaver's ears once more.
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T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
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If you guys wanna check it out.