Monster-Level

"Okay. Three, two, one!" Anjing Zhen gave the signal.

Kitasan Black launched forward in an instant.

Almost at the same instant, a dull thud came from behind as the turf was violently stamped.

A white figure shot toward her, so fast it seemed to tear through the air, like an arrow skimming the ground.

Along with it came a piercing shout in the Kansai dialect, carrying a scalp-tingling pressure straight into her ears. "Here I come, Little Kita—!"

Tamamo-senpai—so fast!

Kitasan Black's heart suddenly clenched.

Though she had been prepared, Tamamo Cross's utterly unrestrained acceleration was still fiercer than she had expected.

More importantly, unlike in a normal race, her body was currently in a period of "false calm" after severe exhaustion.

Her muscles ached, and her reactions were sluggish, casting a veil over her subtle judgment of distance and speed.

She could no longer clearly sense the exact condition of the opponent behind her or how much explosive power she had left, as she normally could.

All she could do was grit her teeth and desperately maintain the rhythm of her stride and breathing through the remnants of physical sensation and willpower.

Footsteps, panting, the wind, and the increasingly close, increasingly distinct sound of feet striking the ground mixed together, battering at her nerves.

In the eyes of Anjing Zhen and the others at the edge of the field, the white shadow was visibly devouring her already narrow lead.

Twelve meters, ten meters, eight meters, six meters—

As they entered the final hundred meters, that white bolt of lightning was already nearly level with her.

On the track, Kitasan Black could clearly hear Tamamo Cross's equally heavy but more powerful breathing. She could feel that blade-sharp aura pressing tightly against her flank.

No—I have to hold on!

She let