"Alright, you can see all runners have cleared the first three furlongs—the race has officially entered mid-game."
"Up front, the two great-escape runners, Stardust Illusion and Miho Bourbon, have stabilized their speed. Looks like they've decided to keep this safe eight-length gap!"
"Leading the second echelon remains Mejiro McQueen. The Mejiro runner is very composed—saving it to decide the race in the back half?"
"Behind that, the six French runners still occupy the remaining forward positions. Their running is very steady—power plus stamina. Is this the strength of the French exchange team?!"
"Then it's Narita Brian and Taiki Shuttle. Their situation doesn't look good—if they can't break through the front… wait!"
The announcer was in full flow, painting the race.
But he suddenly realized something was off in the picture.
In the next instant, a pale-pink lightning bolt ripped through the rain—from third-last all the way up—blurring to the back of the second echelon almost in the blink of an eye!
Only then did the host catch up and clutch his mic, shouting:
"It's Zhuofu! The French runner Zhuofu has caught up!!!"
"Zhuofu, who had been holding a stalking position, suddenly accelerated in the second curve—she's dropped Wangzu and the closers Hishi Amazon and Gold Ship—her speed is incredible! And her movement is unbelievably light!"
"She's on Narita Brian already! Is she going to join the front echelon?!"
"Wha—"
The host fell silent again.
In the stadium, spectators following the race also fell silent in unison; the once rowdy stands were hushed.
Right before their eyes, Zhuofu passed three runners in one breath and arrived in front of Mejiro McQueen.
What on earth had happened?!
The whole crowd was too stunned to speak.
(Since I was little, this is a first… Granny Hyde!)
(I finally stood on this track again, competing with other opponents!)
Zhuofu gulped air.
She'd just blown past three in a row; now she was resetting her breathing rhythm.
She dipped her head slightly and drove after the front.
(This is nothing like pair-running practice or secretly training by myself—)
In her mind, Zhuofu replayed running side by side on the track with her older sisters, and all those years pounding the streets of Paris.
Her eyes prickled—but it didn't affect her state.
(Behind me lurk strong foes who can close at any time; ahead, the opponents I want to defeat…)
(This feeling… I did it—I can finally compete with everyone on the track!!!)
She had never felt such exhilaration; the corners of her mouth curled up where no one could see.
Even the tears sliding at the corners of her eyes couldn't blur her aim; in Zhuofu's sea-blue, jewel-bright eyes, only one back remained—
Stardust Illusion!
————————
In the VIP box, Maruzensky and Symboli Rudolf hadn't missed the scene.
Both straightened in their seats, watching intently.
"She… just went through them?" Maruzensky turned to Rudolf. "Who is that runner?"
With her keen eye, she understood what that overtaking meant.
Rudolf frowned slightly and didn't answer at once.
Only now did she understand why Wangzu had to add this filly to their lineup at the last minute.
Zhuofu was very likely the highest-ceiling runner in this meet.
Perhaps even above Stardust Illusion!
Rudolf and Maruzensky had both the strength and experience at the pinnacle—and they were born with extraordinary eyesight.
So, unlike the crowd now boiling over, neither believed Zhuofu literally passed through bodies.
Rudolf replayed the scene.
Charging up, Zhuofu had slipped under Narita Brian's right-side visual blind spot at the last instant.
Before Brian could grasp what happened, Zhuofu had slipped by.
Next came the two French runners; Zhuofu did the same—hiding along the left of one, even steadying a hand at the opponent's waist to avoid contact, then flowed past.
Finally, Mejiro McQueen—because the previous two passes were so quick, McQueen didn't have time to sense what was happening behind. Just as McQueen turned left to look, Zhuofu had already gone around on the right and broke through.
The deluge itself seemed wholly co-opted by Zhuofu, the perfect curtain to obscure her petite form and light footwork.
And in front of everyone, she staged a piece of passing magic!
"Her style is nothing like Stardust Illusion's wrecking-ball, broad-stroke run."
Maruzensky savored the replay, then sighed:
"With the smallest possible steering and the purest speed—like flowing water—she slid past each opponent's field of view and twisted free… such feather-light feet!"
"And the key difference—Stardust Illusion disrupts the opponent's judgment with sudden speed changes, then hits her top speed in that instant."
"But Zhuofu, by contrast, uses weightless, pixie-light steps to twist past anyone in her way… all while holding top speed!"
Maruzensky's eyes were shining, battle lust rising—she almost wanted to plunge into the race and test this unbelievable runner herself.
"Her name is Zhuofu," Rudolf said, closing her eyes briefly with a sigh. "A newly scouted runner from the French academy."
Seeing Zhuofu's run, Maruzensky's swelling war-spirit, and recalling Wangzu's regard, Rudolf had to concede: this runner was almost certainly a nailed-on torchbearer for the next French era.
Which also meant… Zhuofu—along with her miraculous steps—would likely take over from Wangzu, barring the way of Japanese challengers to the Arc de Triomphe for years to come.
(Symboli Sirius, the Golden Master…)
Rudolf thought of her two friends now campaigning overseas.
Because of certain regulations, they couldn't easily keep in touch from abroad, so she didn't know their latest status.
But she knew this: before leaving, both had told her with fire in their eyes they would take world titles and bring glory home.
Meeting evenly matched—or stronger—opponents in a race is something to rejoice in.
But what of their dreams…
Symboli Rudolf had no answer for herself.
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