Saburo Kitajima and Anjing Zhen, the two people whose hearts were wholly set on Kitasan Black, had long since fallen into extreme tension and excitement, completely losing their usual composure.
As if he had become decades younger, Saburo Kitajima stomped his feet and roared out broken, hoarse words at the top of his lungs.
Anjing Zhen's face was flushed red, bead-sized drops of sweat rolling nonstop down his forehead. His eyes were opened wider than ever, as though he wanted to carve out a path to victory for Kitasan Black with his gaze alone.
On the track.
Futanari Shingang felt as though her body were a crumbling high-rise, every inch of muscle letting out an overburdened wail beneath the crushing weight of exhaustion, as if she would collapse completely the next second.
Her breathing was rapid and heavy, her heart pounding madly within her chest cavity.
Sweat flowed freely like a burst dam, streaming down her cheeks and straight into her eyes, stinging her eyeballs painfully.
Yet her resolute gaze did not waver in the slightest as she strained to open her eyes wide.
As she stared at the figure so close before her, her eyes brimmed with determination and blazing heat.
An indescribable tremor rose from her spine and swiftly spread throughout her entire body.
It was the excitement surging from the depths of her soul when facing a powerful opponent, like standing before a towering mountain amid a raging storm, her blood boiling at the chance to contend against it.
To face Kitasan Black head-on in this Final Straight, in this pinnacle clash that would determine the title of Strongest of the Generation—to collide with her fiercely—this was what she wanted.
Only this way could she fully savor this ultimate tension and thrill, tasting every ache in her