Only One Year Left—I'll Become a Legendary Uma Musume!

"My goodness! Ladies and gentlemen, you're witnessing a legendary race unfold! From this quarter-mile mark until the very finish, every single step is decisive!"

"Whoever falters now will lose—it's a sixteen-way battle for victory!"

Usually, a "solo" described the final hundred meters, where two Uma Musume fought neck-and-neck for first place. But what was happening now on the track was an entirely different spectacle.

Because of that Uma Musume at the very front, all sixteen racers had abandoned their original strategies, frantically accelerating into an all-out sprint.

The Gotham Stakes might only be a Grade 3 race, not normally the stage for legendary moments—but this was an undeniable exception.

All sixteen Uma Musume had pushed themselves to their absolute limits, right from the start.

The racetrack was a battlefield. The race itself, a war.

This was a sixteen-horse free-for-all.

The winner would trample every rival underfoot, seizing glory with absolute dominance.

Yet Twilight Song, racing far ahead of the pack, paid no attention to any of this.

Why should she care?

She simply ran forward silently, her gaze fixed on the distant finish line—or perhaps, on something even further beyond.

In her previous life, after the Uma Musume game had introduced the first-person view, Twilight Song had spent days immersed in it, mesmerized by racing alongside the Uma Musume she had carefully nurtured. Watching as rivals fell behind, until the path ahead stretched clearly, endlessly before her.

Countless times, she'd failed to recognize the approaching finish line, wishing instead that the race could continue forever.

Was it really a failure to recognize it?

No—she simply didn't want to acknowledge it.

She wanted to run freely, without thoughts or worries, forever.

Even if her lungs burned, her legs felt as heavy as lead, her arms nearly immobile—

But still, still—

Who wouldn't welcome the chance, when carrying such heavy burdens, to cast away everything else, to think of nothing but the rush forward?

Twilight Song didn't even have the slightest desire to look back or open her mouth.

Those things would only slow her down, obstructing her victory.

Such distractions? She had eyes only for the finish line.

All she needed was herself, the track, and the finish line—nothing else mattered in this moment.

Twilight Song craved only victory, even if breathing became painful, even if her body screamed with every step. Victory was all she needed!

Everything else…

…was an enemy.

And enemies belonged far behind her.

Her breath quickened slightly, warmth rising from within her body. Her pale skin was flushed lightly, but in the next instant, her pace quickened even more.

She was boiling over!

Twilight Song clearly felt fifteen pairs of eyes fixed on her back, their desperate, frustrated gazes only further fueling her fierce, ruthless resolve!

See this clearly—I will take victory beneath your watchful gazes. As for you all? If you can't keep up, drown in defeat.

Charge!

Twilight Song lowered her center of gravity even further, moving so quickly now she seemed like a white blur skimming over the ground!

She hadn't even activated her [Skill] yet!

It was merely a one-mile race—she could easily push herself all the way to the finish, and even beyond.

"Incredible! Twilight Song is still accelerating! Can you imagine this, my friends? At just over halfway through the race, she's opened an unbelievable gap! The rest of the field is left scrambling desperately behind!"

"All sixteen Uma Musume on this track are sprinting at full force! This isn't just a last-minute dash or a final showdown before the finish line—this is mid-race! We're only now seeing the final corner come into view!"

Twilight Song's vision shook with every stride—or rather, the world itself trembled in rhythm with her running—but there was no dizziness, no confusion. All she needed was to plant each step firmly, solidly, decisively, shifting her weight seamlessly from one foot to the other.

At the second turn, she repeated her earlier maneuver perfectly.

Lean right, lower center, lower further, right to the edge of balance—

Holding steady at this precarious, nearly falling state was extremely difficult, but if executed perfectly, she could propel herself out of the corner like a drift!

This time, she didn't stumble at all.

In other words—her speed remained completely undiminished!

The dirt beneath her feet felt completely different from turf.

Sand compressed under her racing shoes, scattering and flying behind her with each stride. All Twilight Song could hear was her own breathing, the wind howling past her ears, and the muffled sounds of sand and cheering spectators.

Fans were fickle creatures. Except for a small number of loyal diehards, most simply followed one rule:

They cheered for the strongest.

Whoever conquered the track was the Caesar of this battlefield—the undisputed sovereign of the moment.

So let me be crowned here, then.

Twilight Song bit her lip gently, pushing forward on the final straight with unstoppable resolve.

"This is an overwhelming gap! Twilight Song is charging toward the finish line, while the other racers have only just cleared the final corner!"

But the situation behind her was even more desperate. Fifteen Uma Musume trailed far behind.

Festival Glory gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to cry. She had been this race's favorite—the audience's darling. Yet now, she was only fourth place.

Festival Glory wasn't known for stamina; she usually relied on a strong finishing sprint. But now, because she'd accelerated far too early, she had nothing left to give. Her energy was exhausted, leaving her trapped near the back of the chasing group.

In reality, she was sixth place. Nine others had already given up, their bodies exhausted, dropping back completely.

But Festival Glory refused to surrender. She ran on stubbornly, tears streaming silently down her face. She simply couldn't accept a complete defeat, a failure so total that she wouldn't even make the board.

At the very least, she had to finish the race.

Her eyes locked onto the distant figure far ahead, no longer caring about her footing or her pace. She barely noticed passing through the final corner, eyes fixed only on the faraway figure crossing the finish line.

The distance between them was the entire length of the final straightaway.

But Festival Glory—

She was less than ten horse-lengths from second place.

Though her vision blurred with tears, the former favorite forced her eyes open, bloodshot and burning.

Victory was impossible now—but she couldn't stop yet, couldn't relax, not here. At the very least, she wanted the proud winner to see her clearly, to recognize that she had defeated a strong rival who had been taken off guard by an unexpected assault.

Even if this demon wouldn't lower her proud head, Festival Glory would force herself into her line of sight!

Her will burned fiercely, desperately forcing her exhausted body to continue!

Yet, the race had already ended. Festival Glory's will, in the end, could not overcome reality.

She could only watch as the figure who'd crossed the finish line didn't even glance back at her defeated opponents.

The ruthless Caesar stood victorious, basking in the crowd's roaring applause.

Damn it… please, just look at me—just once.

As the victor, please don't forget those you've left behind.