'Oh no!'
The moment the race began, Myriad Dreams's heart sank.
She could clearly feel the tangible sense of power and explosiveness coming from her opponents.
The propulsive force in their every stride and the ease of their breathing rhythms while maintaining such high speeds were far beyond anything she had encountered in Japan or America.
'So... so fast! And... so strong!'
The massive attribute gap hit her head-on like an invisible wall the second she started.
She put all her effort into pushing forward according to the optimal route planned by the system, only to find that the mid-pack positions she should have easily occupied were already being cut off by other Uma Musume with even more ferocious speed!
She was forced to restrain herself, watching helplessly as several figures overtook her from both sides with superior acceleration, squeezing her toward the back.
"The race has begun! The opening pace is incredibly fast! Northern Dancer and Sandstorm are leading! Sagamix is in an excellent position! And Myriad Dreams..."
"Myriad Dreams seems to be struggling at the start! She failed to secure a favorable position and is currently toward the rear of the pack!" The commentator's voice carried a hint of surprise.
The race progressed rapidly, the first half passing in the ultra-high-speed tempo set by the lead runners.
Myriad Dreams grit her teeth, her blue eyes filled with indignation and stubbornness.
'Keep up! I have to keep up!'
She desperately churned the power within her body, pushing the efficiency calculated by the system to its absolute limit.
Her form remained textbook-perfect, and her route selection stayed precise, every step was an attempt to convert power into forward momentum without waste.
But it wasn't enough! It was nowhere near enough!
The opponents ahead, especially those seasoned European powerhouses, possessed not only terrifyingly high base attributes but also a mastery of turf tracks and tempo control that had reached a transcendent level.
They were always able to maintain a suffocating speed in the most economical way possible.
'Damn it... the attribute gap... is too big!'
Myriad Dreams felt like her lungs were on fire, and a dull ache began to creep into her legs.
This was a situation that rarely occurred in her previous races.
She could only fix her gaze on Sagamix's steady back ahead of her, treating it as a target and desperately trying to close the distance inch by inch.
However, reality was cruel.
Despite her best efforts, she not only failed to narrow the gap but, due to the high speed of the overall pack, her rank unknowingly slipped backward...
One, two...
By the time she had painfully completed the first half and entered the final bend, she looked at the giant screen by the track and realized with horror that she had actually fallen to the very last position in the entire field!
"Myriad Dreams! The situation is dire! She seems unable to adapt to the ultra-high tempo of the Arc de Triomphe level! She has fallen to last place! The gap is widening!"
The commentator's voice was filled with regret and tension.
Outside the track, Trainer Okino and Yaeno Muteki were extremely nervous.
Trainer Okino stared fixedly at the big screen, the veins on his forehead bulging.
The lollipop stick he was biting had long since been chewed out of shape and shattered, yet he didn't even notice.
'As expected... was it too much after all...?'
Okino's heart sank to the bottom.
He knew better than anyone how cruel it was to ask Myriad Dreams— a child who had debuted barely half a year ago— to challenge the Arc de Triomphe, a gathering of the world's top veterans.
The chasm in strength and the disparity in experience were magnified infinitely on this ultimate stage.
Seeing Myriad Dreams's struggling figure falling further behind on the screen, he felt a heart-wrenching sense of powerlessness.
Over at the Team Spica clubroom in Japan, there was total silence.
Special Week held her hands tightly to her chest, her eyes full of worry, Silence Suzuka's brow was furrowed, and Tokai Teio had put away her usual smile, her expression grave.
In the stands where the Gold Family sat, the previous clamor had quieted significantly.
Gold Ship held her megaphone but forgot to speak for a moment, Dream Journey tilted her head, Orfevre crossed her arms, her gaze heavy.
At home in Japan, Brilliant Radiance and Swift Stride gripped each other's hands so hard their nails nearly dug into the skin.
They could see the hardship on their daughter's face, and their hearts ached beyond measure.
Even Symboli Rudolf in the VIP room knit her brows slightly.
An atmosphere of despair began to shroud everyone supporting Myriad Dreams through the internet and airwaves.
Was it possible that a miracle truly wouldn't occur on this legendary turf?
Was this Eastern super-rookie's first Arc de Triomphe journey destined to end in such a pathetic defeat?