Chapter 493

NO. 76: The performance of the local horse girl is not very good.

"Excuse me, did you miss anything here?"

"What could happen? It's still the same as always…"

The Metron alien has poor patience; compared to lengthy talk, they prefer to explain with actual visuals.

Now one can see a hand extending from the coil of their feelers; a swipe in midair summons countless screens around, showing battle images from different times and places to the newcomer.

An unnamed Ultraman, a servant known only unilaterally, and that super agent, plus the fringe runners mercenary corps member who caught their eye…

"This surveillance work is completely pointless, boss—they don't close the door, just keep letting people in; now even those coming to the base to cause trouble are strangers you don't know. Are you interested in these matters? Or do you know any of them?"

"Not many acquaintances; it feels like someone slipped a request into the real mercenaries' station—these are all strangers suspected to be mercenaries."

Aomo watched as several men and women on the screen easily attacked and bound a few aliens, then destroyed the surveillance footage; it's hard to tell which side in the screen is the villain.

But these people are indeed unknown to them; it's unclear whether the fringe runners spread the news or some other mercenary source is well‑informed.

After all, neither the officials nor Chaldea nor the Clock Tower have imposed information control.

"Mercenaries? Yeah, this world's mercenary industry is also well‑developed," they said, staring blankly at the screen, giving up thinking; the Metron alien kept watching, then suddenly looked up and asked, "Wait, why are you here?"

"Your reflex arc is a bit too long."

In this dim, sealed room, Aomo paced back and forth, now examining the trend of values on a physical screen.

Before the Uma Musume label, Tewei'er was undoubtedly a fervent fan, so eager to cover for Aomo—if Aomo would take them to the race venue to watch, they'd also get a chance to take photos.

But even such fervor couldn't outweigh the oppression of work on the corporate slave.

Today they didn't mention the race venue to Aomo again, instead returning to their work post.

But even so, the corporate slave has their own way of resisting, for example… watching Uma Musume race livestreams at their post.

When the supervisor is away, a little slacking off is the lowest threshold of resistance and also helps adjust fatigued body and mind.

Especially for aliens like them who lack the ability to break free from this data world.

A full‑time post in the data world already means a prison‑like confined experience; moreover, having to watch lower‑level staff occasionally be literally "obliterated" by so‑called "justice warriors" makes it worse.

"Isn't that just how life is for the higher‑ups of a villain organization? ~ We're all on the road to being killed by heroes~"

"Don't stand there saying that with a relaxed face! Your Uma Musume isn't racing, is it?!" The Metron alien lowered their head slightly, glanced at the live Uma Musume gate entry above, then looked at this "irresponsible" trainer, instantly flying into a rage.

"Is that the point? You really lack any sense of being a technician."

"I'm not a technician! Just happening to know how to debug equipment for the Nakel alien—I'm only responsible for status statistics."

Although angry, as an eyewitness who saw them kill the third‑generation Magmar alien, the Metron alien still lacked the courage to act.

"Don't be so angry; I still need you to help guide me to find the Nakel alien," said Aomo, having just stepped back from the terminal's recording function, turning to look at them. "How about this: I'll tell you why you don't need to worry about Bourbon, and then you can try being a bit more serious."

"What reason? She's being targeted by all the Uma Musume! In this race, if more than three Uma Musume focus on her, it's hard to escape; she'll be surrounded."

It's like a city traffic jam—front and sides are occupied; unless you have enough strength, it's hard to break out of the encirclement.

But even with sufficient strength, wasting stamina on a forced breakthrough isn't a good choice, after all the venue is sand, which consumes more energy and stamina than grass.

"Then… is there a possibility?" Aomo stepped closer to their side, looking at their normally displaying screen, "She doesn't need to worry about being surrounded, does she?"

"" The Uma Musume‑fan‑like alien was taken aback.

Like Mihama Bourbon, who just a few months ago was still a rising Triple Crown seed, they wouldn't be unfamiliar, nor would they be unfamiliar with that consistent running style.

——

——

At the moment the gate sprang open with a crisp sound, the sound of breaking wind gathered as well.

Henceforth, the cries rising from the Saichang were no ordinary cheers but shocked, awe‑filled shouts.

"Mihama Bourbon! A runner has left the gate! That's the chestnut super‑express that's won seven straight!"

She still chose the leading‑away running style at today's Kokura Stadium!

With a margin of two horse lengths over the second‑place runner, Stone Command!

！

The stands erupted in an uproar.

Although they all know that Mihama Bourbon's consistent style is to lead away, i. e., to flee.

If one were to list the most famous escape horses of recent years, Mihama Bourbon's figure would certainly be among them.

But even so……

Ten steps.

Ten steps after leaving the gate.

That astonishing acceleration had already brought her to the very front of the pack, with a lead of two horse lengths over the other escape horse behind her.

That silent Mihama Bourbon, who, since stepping out of the passage, has ignored everyone—just as rumored, like a bloodless, tearless cyborg—interpreted that oppression born of speed with their silent steps.

That is the oppressive feeling that makes one almost feel despair after leaving the gate.

What is despair?

Despair is knowing your own condition is excellent, aware you have no injury, while the opponent is not a "gate‑horse" activated by a "red skill"; they simply overwhelm you with sheer speed.

You have no hope.

You find no excuse.

You clearly know the opponent is famed for the great escape, and you have repeatedly watched and studied their past race recordings.

You deeply know the strength of their early‑stage acceleration, to the point that you and others must first unleash binding‑type skills.

Even the source‑energy "off‑board trick" that can appear in OP races and the Dream Cup, not belonging to the Three Goddesses line, is also primed and ready.

But when the opponent actually steps, kicking up countless sand and gravel in that instant—those hearts that had long been scheming, eager to move, were all easily trampled underfoot.

By those legs that keep accelerating, seeming tireless and utterly merciless.

【Concentration】 / Focus

【Escape Straight Line○】/Escape Horse Straight Line○

【Click Up】/Ultra Speed

Almost equivalent to the power of a passive skill, it was honed through countless months; as long as she is in the opening and locks her target on first place, she becomes like an overloaded speed machine, its core pumping that unparalleled power.

Yet within that seemingly over‑accelerated stride lies a will named precision.

Her slightly tilted posture is extraordinarily stable, and her running stride is so precise.

And those blue eyes of hers even refuse to spare the slightest attention to what's behind.

No pride, no pity, and even when looking ahead, there is no satisfaction or anticipation.

She merely gazes forward.

That's all.