The training track gradually returned to calm.
The wind that had been stirred by the earlier sprint slowly died down, leaving only the faint scent of grass and sweat lingering in the air.
Gold Legend stood alone at the starting line.
"…Too solitary, huh."
She lowered her gaze slightly.
The words spoken by Maruzensky and Mr. C.B. earlier kept replaying in her mind, refusing to fade.
Not an accusation.
Not even advice, really.
More like… a warning.
A path they had already walked.
"Tch."
Legend lightly clicked her tongue and stretched her legs.
"Thinking too much won't help."
With a soft exhale, she lowered her posture—
—and ran.
Unlike before, there was no overwhelming pressure.
No Domain.
No Perfect Internal Harmony.
Just… running.
Each step landed cleanly on the track, the rhythm steady, almost mechanical.
But something felt off.
"…Slower."
It wasn't her speed.
It was everything else.
No resistance.
No clash.
No presence chasing her from behind.
No one beside her.
No one ahead.
"…So this is what they meant."
Legend gradually slowed down, her footsteps echoing faintly as she came to a stop.
Silence.
A different kind of pressure.
Not from competition—
—but from absence.
"Oi."
A voice broke the stillness.
Legend turned her head.
At the edge of the track, a familiar figure leaned lazily against the railing, arms crossed.
Narita Brian.
"…You're still here?" Legend asked.
"I never left." Brian replied flatly. "You're the one who came back."
"…Fair."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
"You run weird."
"…Excuse me?"
Brian pushed herself off the railing and walked closer.
"When you run with us, you're sharp. Focused." She gestured vaguely. "Like a blade."
"And now?"
"…Like a machine."
Legend frowned slightly.
"That bad?"
"It's not about good or bad." Brian stopped a few steps away. "It's inefficient."
"…Hah?"
"If you're going to run alone, then at least run properly." Brian's tone remained as blunt as ever. "Otherwise, what's the point?"
Legend crossed her arms.
"And what exactly is 'proper' to you?"
Brian didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she turned and looked at the track.
"…You're holding back."
"…"
"You turned everything off." Brian continued. "Your rhythm, your instincts, even your domain awareness. You're just moving your body."
Legend didn't deny it.
"…I was thinking."
"That's the problem."
Brian glanced at her.
"You think too much when you're alone."
"…And you don't?"
"I don't need to."
"…"
That sounded annoyingly convincing.
Brian clicked her tongue and stepped onto the track.
"Run."
"…What?"
"With me."
Legend blinked.
"That's your solution?"
"Yes."
"That's a pretty simple patch."
"It works."
Brian lowered her stance slightly.
"Or are you scared?"
"…You really don't know how to provoke people subtly, do you?"
"Why would I need subtlety?"
"…Fair enough."
Legend sighed, then smiled faintly.
"Alright."
They started at the same time.
No signal.
No countdown.
Just instinct.
This time—
—it felt different.
Not the overwhelming pressure from earlier.
Not Maruzensky's crushing experience.
Not Mr. C.B.'s unpredictable control.
Just—
clean.
Direct.
Sharp.
Brian's pace wasn't explosive, but it was precise.
Every step carried intent.
Every movement had purpose.
Legend matched her almost instantly.
"…Better." Brian muttered.
"You say that like you're grading me."
"I am."
"…You really are something."
Their footsteps overlapped.
Rhythm syncing, then diverging, then syncing again.
No Domain.
No special techniques.
Yet—
—the pressure returned.
Not from power.
But from presence.
"…I get it now."
Legend spoke while running.
"…Hm?"
"It's not about being alone." Legend's gaze sharpened slightly. "It's about losing reference."
Brian didn't respond.
But the slight upward curve of her tail betrayed her thoughts.
They ran one full lap.
Then another.
And another.
Until—
Legend gradually slowed down.
Brian stopped a few steps ahead.
"…That's enough."
"Yeah."
Legend placed her hands on her hips, breathing steadily.
Not exhausted.
But grounded.
"…Thanks."
"…Huh?"
Brian glanced at her.
"For the 'patch.'" Legend smirked faintly.
Brian clicked her tongue.
"Don't call it that."
"Too late."
"…Tch."A brief silence followed.
Then—
"…They weren't wrong, you know."
Brian spoke suddenly.
"…About what?"
"Your teammates."
Legend's expression shifted slightly.
"…I know."
"You don't act like it."
"…I said I know."
Brian stared at her for a moment.
Then—
"…Then fix it."
Simple.
Direct.
Uncomplicated.
Legend let out a slow breath.
"…Yeah."
Far in the distance, the faint sound of chatter echoed from the academy buildings.
Training would resume.
Life would continue.
Races wouldn't wait.
"…Hey, Brian."
"What."
"Tomorrow—"
Legend paused briefly.
"…I'll train with them."
Brian didn't look at her.
"…Do whatever you want."
But this time—
she didn't walk away immediately.
The wind picked up again, lightly brushing across the empty track.
Not as intense as before.
Not as silent as earlier.
Something in between.
And somewhere beyond that—
the next race.
The next consequence.
The next price.
---------------------------------
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