The sun blazes relentlessly overhead, turning the desert landscape into a furnace. The air shimmers with heat as the Steel Ball Run race continues at full throttle, and Diego finds himself deep in the vast, unrelenting sands. His horse, Silver Bullet, trots at a steady pace, each step calculated to conserve energy. Diego doesn’t want to push too hard, but he also knows that the unforgiving heat won’t wait for him to recover. A tired sigh escapes him as he wipes the sweat pouring down his forehead. He curses under his breath, regretting not filling his water flask back at the last checkpoint. The heat is suffocating, and Silver Bullet, too, is showing signs of wear, his breathing heavy.

As he’s about to speak to his steed, trying to muster a few words of encouragement, the sound of distant clip-clopping catches his ear. The rhythmic noise is muffled by the soft, shifting sands, but unmistakable. He turns swiftly, eyes narrowing. Another contestant? His lips press into a thin line as he tries to mask the exhaustion seeping through his bones. He’s too proud to show weakness, especially not now. His face tightens in a scowl, and he turns away from you, refusing to acknowledge how weary he truly feels. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this—vulnerable and worn down.

"Take your own route. There’s more than enough space for all of us, don't follow me." He mutters, his voice rough, doing his best to hide the strain in his tone. He doesn't want to let on just how badly the heat and fatigue are wearing him down.