Enveloped by Symboli Rudolf's unquestionable aura, Myriad Dreams could only act like a kitten caught by the scruff of its neck, casting a futile, pleading look toward Yaeno Muteki.
However, faced with the absolute authority of the Student Council President, even Yaeno Muteki could only offer a helpless look of sympathy.
She watched on as the sleepy-eyed Myriad Dreams, her clothes still slightly disheveled, was briskly led out of the dormitory by Rudolf.
By the time Myriad Dreams was "escorted" to Team Rigil's training ground, the morning mist had not yet fully dissipated.
Yet members like El Condor Pasa, Air Groove, and Grass Wonder had already finished their warm-ups and were starting their morning training with high spirits.
Seeing Myriad Dreams personally "delivered" by Rudolf, El Condor Pasa waved energetically.
"Oh! Myriad Dreams-san, good morning! Come on, let's get sweaty together!"
Myriad Dreams wailed internally, but under Rudolf's majestic gaze, she had no choice but to bite the bullet and join this terrifying early morning special training.
High-intensity dirt adaptation runs, core strength circuit training, explosive sprint intervals...
After a series of combined drills, the already dizzy and sleep-deprived Myriad Dreams felt as if her limbs were filled with lead and her lungs burned like fire.
Finally, after a dirt slope sprint, she could no longer hold herself up.
She collapsed directly onto the track, panting heavily, feeling as if her soul was about to drift out of her mouth.
"Huff... huff... I can't... is this... the hell of the... 'Night Owl' status...?"
El Condor Pasa jogged over with light steps, leaned down, and said with her signature hearty smile:
"Myriad Dreams-san, this won't do! You're falling over at just this level? You're too weak!"
"I... I'm not... weak..." Myriad Dreams retorted feebly, her voice sounding like it was being squeezed out of her throat. "It's... I'm not used to... demon training... this early in the morning..."
At that moment, the gentle Grass Wonder walked over, handed her a clean towel, and said with concern:
"Myriad Dreams-san, are you alright? This is the regular morning training intensity for Rigil. You'll need to adapt quickly."
"Reg... Regular training?!" Myriad Dreams took the towel, propped herself up halfway, and couldn't help but vent in despair.
"The intensity is this high... and I have to get up so early... I am incredibly grateful now that back during team recruitment... I didn't choose to join Rigil... this is devastation for the mind and body..."
Her words were full of heartfelt lingering fear, causing Air Groove to let out a soft huff while El Condor Pasa burst into loud laughter.
Standing not far away, Tojo Hana calmly recorded the training data, seemingly long accustomed to such "tragic" scenes.
After the training ended, Tojo Hana sat alone at her desk in the Rigil office, the desk lamp illuminating the detailed training data report in her hand.
Her fingertips slowly slid across the table recording Myriad Dreams' various ability values.
On her usually calm and self-possessed face, a rare, irrepressible look of astonishment surfaced.
Soon, this astonishment transformed into a burning light dancing behind her glasses.
The data on the report was nothing short of magnificent— it was perhaps the most exhilarating thing she had seen in her coaching career.
Strategy Aptitude: Front Runner, Pace Chaser, Late Surger, End Closer... all mainstream strategy ratings were A or above.
This meant she could flexibly adjust her tactics according to any race pace or opponent's strategy, without being bound by a fixed style.
Surface Aptitude: Turf (S), Dirt (S, and continuously improving), Heavy Track (A-)...
She had almost no obvious weaknesses and could quickly adapt to tracks with different characteristics across the globe.
Distance Aptitude: From Short (S) to Long (S), her distribution of stamina and explosive power was perfect, as if she were born to handle any race schedule.
Sprint Ability (S+), Skill (S-), Decisiveness (A+)...
Every piece of data pointed to one ruthless conclusion: Myriad Dreams was a nearly flawless gem, a genius born for competition.
The versatility she displayed had already far exceeded the requirements for dominating the American Dirt Triple Crown.
Tojo Hana's breathing unconsciously quickened.
Her thoughts had already leaped across the Pacific and landed on that sacred turf in far-off Europe.
"This kind of data... this kind of potential..." she whispered to herself, her fingertips turning slightly white from the force of her grip. "Forget the American Dirt Triple Crown, even the... 'Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe'..."
She didn't continue, but the title hailed as the "World's Greatest Race",the ultimate dream of all Uma Musume, thundered in her heart.
That was the sanctuary that Japanese Uma Musume had yet to truly conquer, the ultimate stage where countless legends had met their downfall.
At this moment, in Tojo Hana's mind, a plan originally formulated only for an expedition to America was expanding and restructuring at an incredible speed.
She looked at Myriad Dreams' name on the training data as if seeing a supernova about to illuminate the world's racing stage.
"It's not just about winning..." Tojo Hana's gaze became incredibly sharp, as if piercing through the barriers of time and space.
"Perhaps... you really can be the one... the miracle who brings home the Arc de Triomphe crown for us."
She closed her notebook, but the fire of ambition ignited in her heart could no longer be extinguished.
The training of Myriad Dreams would no longer be just for American dirt, but for that more distant, more glorious ultimate goal that would be etched into the annals of history.
She saw hope. An unprecedented, incredibly real hope.