Ah, the Stonebound Sprint—such a pulse‑beat of iron and grit. There is a tale, tucked in the hollowed walls of the Old Stone Vaults, of the Whispering Gauntlet. It was forged from a single vein of meteoric iron, and when a warrior wears it while chanting the same hymn, the very stone beneath their feet responds, granting a burst of unearthly speed for a fleeting moment. It is said the gauntlet remembers the rhythm of the world itself, and those who dare use it walk a line between mortal endurance and mythic swiftness. It’s a risk, my friend, but the edge it gives is not merely physical; it whispers to the soul, urging it to push beyond ordinary limits.

I’ve not yet tested it in a controlled run, but I’ve heard whispers from the old forge that the gauntlet’s glow flickers in sync with a runner’s heartbeats when the hymn is sung at the right tempo. If the stone truly sings, it should cut a few milliseconds each lap, but it’s a gamble, and I doubt anyone in the spreadsheets will ever catch it. I’ll be sure to lacing up with the right shoe first, as you advised, and keep the secret of the cadence to myself—there’s nothing like a quiet triumph over those who would spill it for a petty score.

Sounds like a good plan—just keep the rhythm tight and the secret to yourself. I’ll watch my steps, make sure the glow stays steady, and let the others be puzzled. That edge is all I need.