The atmosphere above the athletic track of Advanced Nurturing High School no longer felt like a school sports festival. The air surrounding the stadium shrank, replaced by a gravitational pressure that seemingly forced everyone to hold their breath. The blinking scoreboard froze, concealing the final calculations until the very last finish line was crossed.
"Attention to all students!" The committee's voice through the loudspeakers shattered the suffocating silence. "The special rules for the 1200-Meter All-Generation Mixed Relay will commence shortly! This ultimate event will utilize the six main lanes! Every grade—first, second, and third years—is required to send two elite representative teams to champion the Red Team and the White Team!"
The announcer took a brief breath before continuing with an impassioned tone. "From the first-year cohort, Class 1-B steps forward to represent the White Team, while Class 1-D monopolizes the Red Team's right! Each team is entitled to send exactly six representative runners, with no gender restrictions. Every runner will cover a distance of two hundred meters. The final runner, or the anchor, will determine the fate of 5,000 Pure Faction Points!"
In the final baton exchange zone, Koroizumi Seiji walked with a relaxed rhythm to take his lane. Amidst the tense atmosphere radiated by the school's rulers surrounding him, Seiji's presence felt incredibly casual, as if he were merely an ordinary student preparing for an afternoon workout.
In the third-year White Team lane, Student Council President Horikita Manabu stood tall. His posture was the manifestation of absolute discipline, cold and flawless.
In the second-year Red Team lane, Student Council Vice President Nagumo Miyabi stretched his neck while twirling an empty baton in his hand. He stared at Manabu with a predatory smirk full of ambition to destroy the old ruler.
And in the first-year Red Team lane, stood Ryuen Kakeru as the anchor for Class 1-D. Unlike the other runners who were already exhausted, Ryuen's body was in one hundred percent prime condition, having intentionally conserved his energy since morning. His sharp smirk widened with absolute confidence, glaring straight at Seiji with the gaze of a predator ready to pounce.
Four rulers from different territories now stood aligned across the available six lanes. The other two anchor runners from the remaining factions seemed like mere decorations, swallowed by the pressure exerted by these four students.
"First lane, Class 1-B. You are truly full of surprises," Nagumo's voice flowed provocatively from his lane, his eyes narrowing sharply at Seiji. "But unfortunately, this inter-generational stage operates on an entirely different level, Koroizumi. Your success in toying with the first-years will not hold up against your seniors."
Seiji merely offered a wide smile. Not a cynical or condescending smile, but rather the warm smile of an educator observing a student in need of correction. "This stage is indeed grand, Nagumo-senpai. That is why we prepared the finest actors to perform upon it."
At the starting line, Onodera Kayano crouched, pressing her fingertips against the sand blocks. The girl took a deep breath, clearing all doubts from her mind.
Tweeeet!
The flare gun fired. The fate-deciding relay officially began!
Onodera shot forward like an arrow released from its bow. Her short-track specialization blazed through the first two hundred meters. She ignored the Class 1-D representative and the other senior runners, focusing her gaze solely on the track ahead of her. She sliced through the wind, maintaining the lead position until she handed the blue baton to the second runner.
"Keep it going, Chiaki!"
Matsushita Chiaki grabbed the baton. The cheers in the Class 1-B stands instantly buzzed with confusion. Until now, Matsushita had only been known as a fashionable girl who always kept her grades at the average threshold, never standing out academically or physically.
However, the moment her fingers gripped that baton, the facade of the clumsy girl shattered into pieces.
Matsushita's eyes sharpened. She angled the corner of her shoulder, executed a precise mechanical push-off against the track's surface, and detonated her speed. Her strides were incredibly long, efficient, and lethal. She surged past the second-year representative from the Red faction attempting to block her path, leaving the entire stadium wide-eyed as her true potential was unveiled to the public.
At the end of the next two hundred meters, Horikita Suzune was already leaning her body forward.
"Excellent work, Matsushita-san!" Suzune snatched the baton from Matsushita's hand with a completely seamless transition without losing the slightest bit of momentum.
Suzune ran with perfect posture. Her breathing was steady, her eyes fixed straight ahead. When the runner from the Red Team attempted to apply pressure from her right side, Suzune didn't flinch. She utilized the rotation of her hips to extend the reach of her stride, refusing to yield a single centimeter of the track to her enemy.
"Sudou!" Suzune yelled, extending the baton in the final hundred meters.
Sudou Ken, the athletic ace of Class 1-B, grabbed the baton with a booming roar of spirit.
"Leave it to me!"
The fourth two-hundred-meter stretch became a proving ground for Sudou's physical endurance. Utilizing all the energy he had conserved thanks to Seiji's tactics during the Scavenger Hunt, he exploded his acceleration with powerful, wide strides. Sudou continued to widen the gap, leaving the Class 1-D runner and the seniors behind him to secure a massive lead for Class 1-B.
However, in the fifth exchange zone, the Red Team did not let Class 1-B stroll away easily. Nagumo's second-year faction deployed their ace sprinter to cut the distance, while Class 1-D relied on the sturdiness of Albert Yamada. With aggressive strides, both runners were ready to pressure Class 1-B's fifth runner.
And Class 1-B's fifth runner was Kouenji Rokusuke.
Kouenji stood casually, one hand combing through strands of his golden blonde hair. As Sudou approached and handed off the baton with panting breaths, Kouenji accepted it with an incredibly elegant motion, as if he were receiving a glass of champagne at a ballroom dance.
"Good manual labor, Red-Haired Boy. Now, let beauty take over."
Kouenji began to run. In the adjacent lane, Albert propelled his massive body with aggressive linear speed, attempting to apply massive physical pressure, while the second-year runner also stuck close to close the wind gap.
However, the arrogant smile never faded from Kouenji's face. While running, his memory drifted to the conversation three days ago in the dormitory corridor.
He remembered how Koroizumi Seiji's hands—moving at a speed nearly impossible for the eye to track—massaged the acupressure points on his neck and back, releasing all his muscle tension in an instant. He remembered the young man's promise, a voice that tantalized his ego with an offer he couldn't refuse.
"If you step onto the track for the 1200-Meter Relay, and then blaze past Class A and Class D without a single drop of sweat ruining your handsome face. You will prove that your existence is an untouchable, absolute beauty... Furthermore, if you secure first place, I will provide this master-level relaxation massage service every week for the remainder of the semester."
"Hahaha! Naturally!" Kouenji's laughter erupted in the middle of the track, shocking Albert and the second-year runner attempting to flank him. "This red carpet has already been rolled out, and I will not allow a single speck of dust to ruin this masterpiece!"
Kouenji drastically altered his postural angle. His leg muscles, resting in a state of absolute recovery thanks to Seiji's massage technique, contracted with terrifying explosive power. He did not run with ordinary athletic technique; he bounded with long leaps like a cheetah, his feet barely touching the ground.
In a matter of seconds, Kouenji left Albert and the dumbfounded second-year runner in the dust. He ran slicing through the wind, creating a visual illusion as if he were gliding without the hindrance of gravity. He was the pure embodiment of unrivaled physical perfection.
At the end of the track, in the final runner's (anchor) exchange zone, Seiji Koroizumi was waiting.
Kouenji extended the blue baton with flamboyant flair. "Our deal is locked, Koroizumi-boy!"
"Outstanding work, Kouenji-kun," Seiji replied as he grabbed the baton.
However, at that exact same second, the main runners from the other lanes also handed off their batons. The second-year runner handed the red baton to Nagumo Miyabi, and the third-year runner handed the white baton to Horikita Manabu. Meanwhile in his lane, Albert handed the baton to Ryuen with an incredibly solid hit of running momentum, sending Ryuen surging forward without delay.
The final two hundred meters. The climax of the entire festival.
Nagumo Miyabi shot forward with aggressive acceleration. His constant, highly pressurized running style seemed intentionally designed to demand the attention of the entire stadium. "I will be taking over this lead position, Horikita-senpai."
Beside him, Horikita Manabu responded without altering his stride rhythm in the slightest. Every swing of his arm and push of his foot was measured with extraordinary efficiency, maintaining a stable, flawless linear speed. "You are too hasty, Nagumo. This track cannot be conquered by ambition alone."
However, in the midst of the prestige duel between the two Student Council rulers, an anomaly occurred.
The wind in the first lane suddenly felt different. Seiji Koroizumi was not running with Nagumo's aggressiveness, nor with Manabu's rigid precision.
The young man was running with... silence.
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, watching from the Class 1-B stands, narrowed his eyes sharply. What kind of movement is that? he thought, his analytical gears spinning rapidly. There is no air resistance. He places the impact point of his soles on the gravitational sweet spot, minimizing contact time with the ground down to the millisecond. He isn't running... he is continuously 'falling forward' and controlling the momentum of his fall into absolute speed.
To Manabu and Nagumo, Seiji's presence in the innermost lane felt like a ghost. The first-year student casually caught up to them, running right beside the two of them without panting in the slightest.
Nagumo turned his head, his eyes widening as he realized the first-year student he had been watching from afar was now running in step with him, wearing a completely relaxed expression. "Koroizumi... you!"
Seiji turned his head slightly, offering the friendly smile he usually displayed in the classroom. His gaze remained calm, observing the running rhythm of the two seniors beside him as if he were enjoying an interesting situation.
"The running techniques of you two are very impressive," Seiji said, his voice flowing calmly amidst the roar of the wind on the track, as if they were taking an afternoon stroll. "Nagumo-senpai, your speed is born of ambition. Manabu-senpai, your speed is born of dedication. But..."
Seiji's black eyes suddenly glinted, radiating the depth of an endless abyss. For Horikita Manabu, his rational instincts instantly screamed. For Nagumo, his arrogance froze. They realized, in that fraction of a second, that the young man beside them existed on an entirely different plane of existence.
"...the two of you have forgotten the essence of speed itself," Seiji continued with a cheerful tone. "True speed is not about how hard you push against the ground, but rather about how you make peace with the air."
In the final fifty meters, Seiji utilized one hundred percent of his understanding of human biomechanics. Without a single wasted movement, he optimized every angle of his foot's push-off and his body weight distribution, creating a constant thrust that instantly severed the distance, blazing past Manabu and Nagumo.
Whoosh!
Seiji surged. He vanished from the peripheral vision of Manabu and Nagumo, leaving behind a sharp gust of wind that scrambled the Vice President's running rhythm. Nagumo tripped over his own rhythm for a split second, while Manabu immediately forced out the rest of his energy, locking his focus to chase Seiji's fading shadow.
In the rearmost lane, Ryuen could only stare at Seiji's back, his eyes narrowing sharply. His wild smirk actually widened further, radiating a dangerous, feral satisfaction despite seeing his opponent speed away untouchably. "Monster bastard..."
No one could catch him. For the remainder of the track, Seiji Koroizumi ran like a guided missile slicing through a vacuum.
With a single, relaxed swing of his chest, Seiji broke the finish line tape.
Prwiiiit!
A long whistle blew, accompanied by absolute silence from every corner of the stadium. Even the committee members in the broadcast booth froze for a moment, unable to believe the recorded time just etched by the first-year student.
Two seconds later, Manabu finally crossed the finish line in second place, followed by Nagumo punching the air in frustration in third, and Ryuen clicking his tongue in frustration behind them, while the two extra anchor runners trailed behind, panting heavily.
The stadium instantly erupted into a deafening roar of cheers. The giant digital screen hummed loudly, spitting out the ultimate accumulated numbers that sealed the fate of the entire cohort.
============================================================ FINAL RESULTS OF THE ADVANCED NURTURING HIGH SCHOOL SPORTS FESTIVAL
First Place 1200-Meter Relay Event: CLASS 1-B (WHITE FACTION) Pure Faction Point Bonus: +5,000 Points
🏆 FINAL FACTION STANDINGS 🏆
WHITE FACTION : 27,700 Points (ABSOLUTE OVERALL CHAMPION)
RED FACTION : 21,300 Points (TRAILING)
Hysterical cheers erupted from the Class 1-B tent. Ike, Yamauchi, and Sotomura jumped up and down, hugging each other. Sudou pumped his fist into the air, roaring with pride. Horikita Suzune stood frozen, staring at the numbers on the scoreboard, her chest pounding violently. They hadn't just won; they had just swept the deciding points of this festival.
At the finish line, Horikita Manabu regulated his breathing. The Student Council President stared at the back of Seiji Koroizumi, who was stretching his arms without sweating excessively. Manabu now understood; the offer for the Student Council Vice President position he extended wasn't rejected out of arrogance, but because this young man was simply too grand to be bound by the school's structure.
On the other side, Nagumo Miyabi stared at Seiji, his eyes glinting with a new obsession. He licked his dry lips. The resentment over his pawn being destroyed at the beginning of the month was now replaced by a lethal curiosity. So this is Koroizumi Seiji... the anomaly from Year 1. Interesting. Very interesting.
Seiji turned around, looking at the sea of students chanting his name from afar. He gave a casual wave, his signature smile spreading wide beneath the autumn sun.
To everyone else, this was a massive victory. But to Seiji, this was merely the first step in testing the potential of the people around him. Seeing the glint of ambition directed at him from the eyes of Nagumo and Ryuen—while Ayanokouji merely observed with a flat face from afar—Seiji knew that the focus of the entire school was now officially locked onto him.
------------------------------
"Like my work? Catch up to Chapter 70 over on my Patreon!"
P - Gem_Blanks
Thank you so much for your support — you make all of this worthwhile.)