Burn, Youthful Love! 3 - The Suin Road Race Championship
There were some spectators scratching their heads over why a witch was even classified as a suin. But with a starving witch—no, a famished Witchcraft like Wiyu chasing after the suin contestants while muttering how delicious they looked, it was no wonder.
The suins were sprinting across the track with several times their usual desperation, like they'd regressed to wild beasts in a lawless jungle. If someone timed them, this race might even shatter world records. The raw, burning desire to survive etched on their faces was palpable—the kind of potential they never knew they had, awakened by sheer survival instinct.
Instead of helping Revo, Wiyu Witchcraft had collapsed after buffing the enemies. Amid the chaos, the referee bellowed that attacking opponents was fine, but debuffs were forbidden—prompting Bukureshti to click her tongue in frustration.
The starting signal had fired long ago, and catching up to those who'd not just lapped but surged ahead seemed impossible. Should I at least buff Revo and give him a push? Kali pondered, when—
A crisp, explosive crack echoed, defying belief that it came from mere footsteps pounding the ground. Something brown streaked across the field like a bullet.
Fast—insanely fast! Whether in the cramped academy halls, indoor spars, dungeon crawls, or stamina drills, how often did a horse suin get to unleash full throttle?
Ever since the herbology professor vanished and Revo—now the new hire—started bustling as the resident expert, he'd been running around nonstop. Kali, being a fellow suin, had long sensed his freakish talent from his gait alone. He could zip to Beatus's side and vanish like the wind before anyone blinked. He probably didn't even realize it himself, too buried in his studies and scholarly passion over raw instinct.
Even so, Kali believed Revo had a solid shot in this race.
"Whoa, insane! Wiyu won't eat us, but he's wearing those competition undies?!"
"So I wasn't seeing things..."
"Hot? Dead serious."
"Tch, as an incubus-succubus, it's possible? Not impossible, I guess."
"Yes! Hope lives!"
"That hope just died screaming—shut your trap."
Even the greatsword dummy just here to watch could tell why Revo was grinding his teeth and bolting, yet the Grand Duke was throwing a fit and flopping over. But as the Duke flapped his wings, wailing that those undies only looked hot on big-chested girls, the greatsword dummy kindly clamped his beak shut. No one needed the mood ruined while everyone was glued to the race.
On the flip side, someone was hyping the vibe in their own way.
"Ugh, so hungry... The meat smell's got my appetite raging. Wait, I learned divine magic from Senior Bukureshti. One bite, then heal—should be fine, right?"
The suin boy right in front of Wiyu whipped around in panic. What the fuck did I just hear? Sure, Wiyu had raised livestock back home, but horse meat or yukhoe? Not exactly farm staples. Her own body might smell like barbecue, but those sturdy thighs screamed Witchcraft blood stirring to life again.
Gotta finish quick, score points, and hit a restaurant. She'd blown her savings on Ephemera, but cafe gigs were paying off lately, and random income streams had banished her broke days for good. Wiyu ramped up her pace, dreaming of a post-race feast.
...Only for everyone else to see her acceleration very differently.
"I don't wanna die!!!!"
"There's always next race!!!"
"Uwoooo!!!! Radamu Lands Suns' number one... number one... fuck!! This ain't it!!"
Wiyu's stamina was bottomless—only her raw strength sucked. The more she ran, the faster she got, overtaking even goat suin Beatus with ease. Sure, horse suins had the edge, but what if she never tired against their full sprint? What if her legs and arms pumped harder, accelerating relentlessly?
Yunryong, Radamu Academy's speed demon rep, swore he'd never yield pride-wise. But the terror of Wiyu closing in—the dread of the Witchcraft name—broke him. He bolted. Races could wait. Would a psycho muttering "one bite, then regen" stop at that? Or chew you alive, leaving you writhing undead meat?
No way it'd happen, but the Witchcraft rep alone packed that punch. Thus, a rare spectacle: runners ditching each other to survive.
Amid it, the greatsword dummy spotted the woman leading casually—Kashiro Academy's star, dubbed the Hero's Star in the heroes' academy.
Grim Ponaineight. Born pureblood Horvarpnir from the suin noble Grim house, she was a horse suin who'd awakened her heroic bloodline's power at birth—a true hero. Blessed with a constellation skill, a star-born authority.
Surprisingly common, those skills—flashy names hiding duds like "summon fried chicken." But hers? Legendary legend-tier, next-gen top hero material.
"No way..."
Was she waiting for Wiyu to enter range on purpose? Glancing skyward in alarm, a red something plummeted. No star falls from a sunny sky unless a grand mage intervened.
"【Eight Demonic Swords: Bopal Weapon】!!"
"What?!"
Dead set on killing a Witchcraft? Unleashing her constellation skill - [Bopal Weapon] mid-race?
"I'd wondered. Never thought I'd test it here—lucky me. Can the mightiest witch bloodline endure?"
One sword hurtled from the heavens. Four adventurers once felled the Demon King sans "hero" title—a darksword warrior did the deed. Honored as proto-hero by gods as spirits. History said the first hero Radamu got it from those four legends.
Among Cronycal Continent's famed eight demon swords, the strongest. No replica like the greatsword dummy's—this was the real deal!! Post-warrior, even first hero needed constellation hacks to wield it. "Kills whatever it cuts"—a concept with endless epithets.
Ponaineight inherited the first hero's skill genetically but couldn't draw or swing it. She just summoned for vertical drops. Still, a direct hit? Dragon-slaying power.
A red-glowing demon sword stabbed the crater's heart, exuding eerie menace. Legends of transcending heroes, Demon Kings, evil gods piled on its threat, mutating it further.
It razed the field on impact; distant runners ate dirt from the shockwave. Spectators survived Grand Duke (Change)'s barrier, but the backlash shattered it, forcing vomited blood.
"Goddamn, seeing that nightmare weapon three times in my life..."
No users post-warrior/hero, yet here it was. Change spat blood, cursing fate.
"It hit Wiyu!!"
Direct skull-smash. The greatsword dummy saw it clear, gaping at Ponaineight. Witchcraft was infamous, but instant kill on sight? Shocked, the replica's guardian collapsed, legs jelly.
How to handle a friend dying in Revo's race?
"N-no... s-she's tough... probably fine?"
Orochi clung to faint hope, but...
""
Top witch or not, straight shot = DOA. History devoted 17 lines to Demon King twisting to dodge—vivid amid faded myths.
That sword explained it. As dread and grief loomed...
"Ugh, my head's splitting."
Wiyu staggered up, sword lodged in her crown. If it could talk, it'd wail in pain too.
""
"Guess I was dumb trying to block it."
To Wiyu, it was just an unseen bump—no damage. Unperceived attacks shouldn't hurt, but this demon sword shattered that, landing a hit. It couldn't slice—just a head-sized lump.
Thud.
She clawed from the crater desperately, but nosebleed flowed; too hard a hit. She blacked out.
Other suins littered around, shockwave-KO'd. Anyone reaching the goal won—but only Ponaineight stood.
"Revo!!! Get up and run, idiot!!!"
Bukureshti, half-buried in debris, yelled. Everyone finally spotted Revo—legs peeking from a ground hole.
"Revo!! Get up!!!"
"Looks dead..."
Orochi called, but Zeke figured surviving was heroic. Shockwave craterized his frail ass?
As pity set in...
Quiet Beatus raised a hand, bellowing.
"Hear that, Revo?"
Face-sitting. For a woman offering a man that? Pheromones, scents, marking—bold flirt. Incubi-succubi used it for seduction; suins, especially horse suins, heard "riding" as erotic across genders.
Beatus wasn't dense. Knew why her crush crossdressed ridiculously for this race. Piano prize screamed intent—adorably obvious.
...So, knowing his effort, could she withhold womanly cheer? For the boy vowing to love her male side too?
"He's out cold...?"
Revo rose eyes-closed, blood drooling—unconscious?
""
No losing in victory undies. Devil's whisper from Change snapped Revo's eyes open.
Ponaineight smirked, daring chase. Revo pulled a candy-like potion.
"...Doping?! Allowed?!"
"Herbology cert holders can self-dope!! I checked!!"
Kali assured worried Beatus. Use your best when it counts. Rekindling resolve, Revo crunched it, roaring.
Love confession so bold it embarrassed listeners. Academy Revo? Shy, herb-fiddling wallflower.
But fate's romcom: love at first sight. Maybe just an extra in life's story. Still, one life—one unmissable love. Change or seize it.
Shattered glasses? Screw visibility. Full sprint, no looking back, grab her.
Not a fighter, not dashing? Then outrun everyone now!
"Uwooooooo!!!"
Earth-shaking launch. Thighs ballooned waist-thick, breaths ragged. Numbing senses, lifespan-shaving dope.
Didn't matter—post-race agony or fractures? Fine. Crossdress broadcast to pals? Fine. Bolder than shy potion gifts? Worth running world's end.
Usually timid, stammering. But for her? Friends cheered hoarse, awed.
"Ha... total idiot."
Beatus flushed, touched he saw only her purely. Words failed.
"Fast...!"
"Doping and still can't pass?!"
"She's a hero!! Plus horse suin bloodline gap—like lizardman vs. dragon!!"
Suins took strongest bloodline hits. Pure horse/hero lineage. Doping lifespan-burn barely matched.
"Impressive. Few my age match my speed."
No magic, no aura footwork. Pure body dashing earth.
"Beautiful."
Desaturated speed world. Ruthless to Witchcraft, but praise for heroic fighter.
But Ponaineight was hero—arrogant, aloof fame. No mercy for talent; crush utterly.
Boom—!!
Full stomp warped space, gap exploding. One length, two, three—
Revo chased desperately, unyielding.
"Mongrel limits."
Light verdict on his effort. She finished overwhelmingly, scoffing at Pluwitch kids' glares—Kali rolled sleeves, stopped by friends.
"Haa... haa... haaak..."
All-out second. Cheers went to loser, not champ. She frowned, irked.
"Unexpected meet, but see you at exchange meet. Gotta kill ma-ma-level Demon King for hero cred..."
You're just warm-up. Arrogance beyond hubris.
Wiyu sighed—Mom's karma checks out—over rage.
Top hero vs. top witch? Buzzworthy... but here, both extras.
"Look at that sweat. Cute face all scratched."
"E-eh, n-no... s-smells!"
"Yeah? Lemme check."
"E-ehhh!!!"
"Stay still, cutie—I'll wipe your sweat."
Beatus pinned, licking blood despite flails. Roars erupted; winner and witch faded ghostly.
"...Grim Ponaineight."
"Oh, Wiyu Witchcraft..."
"...."
No eyes on their chat. Just Beatus teasingly wool-wiping sweat, tomato-faced Revo shrinking.
"...I won the race..."
Headshake. Honorable loss gets claps? Wiyu patted, consoling.
Hero vowed to kill her and Mom—didn't she hear? Baffled stare.