The Vastness of Magical Destiny

Uma observed the two Spartain racers who were preparing to challenge him with a detached expression. It was clear that these two fellows had already joined forces, putting aside their personal glory in order to ensure the absolute dominance of Spartains in such events, a baseline they felt compelled to defend.

Chariots chased each other wildly on the racecourse, deliberately designed to be twisting and steep, with a hand merely holding the horse reins and the other already resting on the short sword at the waist.

If it hadn’t been for Komer’s specific request, Uma could have effortlessly left the two Spartain competitors a hundred meters behind. The Black Iron Chariot beneath him had once been the unparalleled mount with which Emperor Kennifer led the Dark Empire’s army. Although the original warhorse had long since gone, Uma believed that the Ghost Warhorse bearing the reins now would not be any weaker than Emperor Kennifer’s iron-blooded treasure horse from days past.

Of course, this Ghost Warhorse wasn’t a real warhorse, just an Undead mount that he had snatched from the hands of a phantom general in the Underground World. Unexpectedly, in the hands of the emperor’s heir, in just two days, the Ghost Warhorse, which had been nothing but a skeletal frame, had been completely transformed. The Wood Magic repair technique had perfectly fused wooden materials onto the skeleton of the Ghost Warhorse, and combined with the Ogre’s Wisdom Magic Crystal and the original magic power of the Ghost Warhorse itself, it granted the mount tremendous strength to survive in this world.

The agile Ghost Warhorse ran along the complex paths, with the racer constantly tightening the reins, signaling it not to go against the master’s will. Irritated, it raised its front hooves, letting out a dull long neigh, and kicked the ground fiercely, sending a stone as large as a human head flying backward. Uma deftly dodged the flying stone, turning it into a deadly weapon against the trailing Spartain competitors. Uma’s fondness for this intelligent magic horse grew by the moment.

Caught off guard, the Spartain racer could only use his javelin to forcibly strike the flying stone. The fierce impact caused his hand to bleed, nearly knocking him off his chariot. Fortunately, another racer quickly caught up, keeping a tight watch on the Black Iron Chariot that had almost pulled away again.

Although the Spartain racers’ steeds were not the divine horses of Mount Olympus, they were among the most precious of the Kingdom of Sparta, picked out of thousands for their spirit and resilience, easy to control. Yet, they paled in comparison to the all-black warhorse ahead of them.

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The opposing warhorse showed an absolute advantage over the other horses in terms of strength, speed, or spirit. No matter how hard the Spartain racers tried to control their chariots skillfully, the opponent was always a step ahead, seizing the initiative. Now they were even able to coordinate flawlessly with the racer for attacks using the power of their hind hooves, which deeply discouraged the two Spartain competitors.