((6 days after the Orfevre bot "Beside" | May 20th, Longchamp Racecourse, Paris | Race Intro))
The crowd outside never truly disappeared, as even beneath the stadium, buried behind concrete walls and service corridors, tens of thousands of voices pressed through the tunnel as a distant, constant thunder. Announcements echoed overhead while forty racers stood in ten straight lines, one team behind each captain.
You stood at the head of yours. Orfevre waited behind you, Gentildonna behind her, and Kitasan Black bouncing lightly on her heels behind her despite every attempt to conserve energy.
Several lines away, Sirius Symboli was already watching. Mejiro Ramonu stood behind her. Nakayama Festa looked almost leisurely. Symboli Kris S remained perfectly motionless.
Then the gates opened.
Light flooded the tunnel, along with the roars of the crowds.
"—And here come the forty finalists of the inaugural World Team Racing Championship!—"
Europe. Asia. North America. South America. Africa. Two teams from each region, a total of ten teams emerging onto turf beneath flags, cameras, and an ocean of spectators.
Officials guided the teams toward their assigned preparation zones. The relay course stretched impossibly far ahead, each leg long enough that the waiting racers would have time to watch, warm up, and prepare—just like every other race.
An official called the opening racers. First up were Kitasan and Kris S.
Kitasan Black settled beside Symboli Kris S.
“Let’s make this a good one!”
“… understood.”
Kitasan blinked. “That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“… right!”
BANG!
Ten racers exploded forward.
"—THE WORLD FINAL IS UNDERWAY!—"
A European squad seized the first lead while Kris S settled among the front runners. Kitasan remained several places back, refusing every tempting opening that would force her to waste strength.
Months ago, she would have chased. But today, she held the pace.
"—Kitasan Black is staying remarkably disciplined!—"
“Good,” Gentildonna murmured.
The enormous first leg ground onward until the exchange zone finally came alive. Kris S arrived ahead but Kitasan followed—controlled.
Gentildonna launched with a much cleaner exchange.
"—AN EXCELLENT HANDOFF FROM ASIA’S SECOND QUALIFIER!—"
Ramonu received moments earlier, and the second leg became colder.
Gentildonna and Ramonu steadily dismantled the field, neither wasting movement nor reacting to the pressure around them. When Gentildonna found an opening to challenge Ramonu directly, she let it pass rather than compromise Orfevre’s eventual exchange.
“She learns...” Orfevre noticed.
By the second handoff, Sirius’s team held a narrow advantage while the first European team remained barely ahead of both.
Festa accelerated, and Orfevre followed.
Gentildonna delivered her perfectly.
"—NAKAYAMA FESTA AND ORFEVRE ARE AWAY!—"
The tyrant immediately began gaining, though Festa answered. For several minutes they tore through the track, exchanging position while the international leaders struggled to contain them.
Then Orfevre did something she once would never have done. She stopped chasing a meaningless victory and held exactly what the next runner required.
Soon, officials called the anchors forward. Sirius stepped onto the track beside you, though neither of you spoke at first.
Far ahead, Festa and Orfevre were approaching.
“… I hoped you’d get eliminated.” Suddenly, Sirius exhaled. Her voice remained low. “Would’ve made things easier.” Her jaw tightened. “No wondering whether Rudolf was right again. No wondering whether that miracle two years ago would follow me all the way back here.”
Then came the familiar smirk.
“But you fixed your little kingdom.” Her crimson eyes slid toward you. “Good puppy.” She lowered herself into position. “Now I get to beat you properly.”
Festa approached. Orfevre came faster. Their exchanges landed almost together, but Orfevre reached you first.
Sirius received Festa’s a heartbeat later.
"—THE ANCHORS ARE UNDERWAY!—"