As the Road Tyrant, the Diomas Nilo possessed overwhelming advantages.
Behind the wheel, Gisele found herself more comfortable than in any car she'd ever driven. Smooth, responsive, almost alive—it was like the car anticipated her every move.
Her excitement was uncontainable. She felt like a child who'd just found the ultimate toy. If she had the money, she would have bought the car on the spot.
"This is the most comfortable car I've ever driven. Not even close!" she exclaimed.
The leather seats had the perfect firmness, the panoramic view opened the road ahead, and the true heads-up display projected real-time data directly onto the windshield. Every metric—speed, steering angle, braking distance—was right there.
The driving assist system stunned her even further. It warned when to brake, when to turn, and by how many degrees to rotate the wheel. If human reflexes lagged, the AI could even take over seamlessly.
The technology was years ahead of anything she'd seen.
"Are you ever going to sell this car? How much would it cost?" Gisele finally asked, half-joking, half-serious.
Before Leon could answer, Elena leaned in, grinning mischievously.
"Forget it, you couldn't afford it—forty billion!" she teased, holding up four fingers.
Gisele froze. Forty billion? She was stunned speechless.
If she had that kind of money, she wouldn't still be running as a navigator. She'd be running her own corporation, maybe even taking it public. Was Leon really that wealthy? He didn't look it.
But Leon just shook his head.
"No. That was the old price. Not anymore."
"What? It's gone up again?" Hattie cut in, wide-eyed. "It's only been a couple of days."
Leon replied calmly, almost casually:
"Two hundred billion."
The words landed like a thunderclap.
The three women gasped, their faces drained of color. Two hundred billion—for one car?
That was Forbes Top 50 billionaire territory. And someone would spend it on a car? If the deal ever went through, the Diomas Nilo would instantly become the most expensive vehicle in human history, shattering every record ever set.
Gisele's heart trembled. She'd heard of people paying ninety million just for a rare license plate, but two hundred billion for a car? It was madness. She could only laugh through the sting of being impossibly out of reach.
Leon, meanwhile, was amused by their shock, his mood lifted.
—
After overtaking Shaw earlier and burning precious hours on the road, they finally returned to Oslo, Norway, well past midnight.
The city had calmed. Streets bustled with late-night life, yet traces of destruction lingered. Damaged storefronts had already been cleared, reconstruction teams working overnight. It was like driving into a construction zone.
"What happened here…?" Gisele frowned, confused.
"Nothing much," Leon shrugged. "Had a little fight with Eteon earlier. Things got messy."
"A little fight?" Gisele's eyes widened. "You blew up half the street!"
Even the second and third floors of nearby buildings had collapsed. The battle must have been insane.
Leon only shrugged again.
"First, that big guy didn't dare face me head-on, so I chased him down. Then some blond idiot in a plane strapped a bomb to my car. Blew up half the block. Collateral damage, nothing serious."
"Nothing serious?!" Gisele nearly slammed the brakes.
"You mean… Brixton? The black cyborg?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Yeah, that's him," Leon said, calm as ever.
"Are you kidding me? That guy's a cyborg! He's got the strength of an elephant, reflexes of a cheetah, and the speed of a falcon. He's practically unbeatable in Detroit—and you chased him down?!"
Leon smirked. "He's afraid of me. Every time he sees me, he runs. I only beat him once or twice—pinned him down, couldn't even get back up."
Gisele's heart skipped a beat. Her foot slammed the brake hard, the tires screeching. She turned to look at Leon, disbelief etched on her face.
Was this man even human? He had beaten Brixton, the so-called superhuman weapon, like it was nothing.
Leon was a monster. A tyrant. And Gisele finally admitted it to herself—she completely respected him now.
—
Meanwhile, in a massive auto shop, a white SSC Tuatara sat gleaming under the lights.
Tobey Marshall slid out from beneath the car, hands and clothes stained with oil. The Tuatara had been heavily modified—the widebody kit gave it monstrous presence. Its front grille gaped like it could swallow the world, halo fog lamps shining menacingly. The chassis had been widened—100mm in the front, 150mm in the rear. Suspension lowered 38mm in front, 51mm in back—ground-hugging, aggressive.
And the engine? A new beast entirely. The output had been raised from 1,800 horsepower to over 3,000 horsepower. To balance that, 22-inch forged alloys with Brembo brakes gave it control to match its speed. The "Great Lizard" had been reborn.
Tobey knew this car was his chance—a weapon to stand against Leon's Diomas Nilo.
But trouble was already knocking.
"Bad news," his teammate Benny said, walking over with his phone. "Dino Brewster just got out."
Tobey froze, then scowled as he took the phone.
Dino—the rich-kid entrepreneur and racing powerhouse. Years ago, to prove his superiority, he challenged Tobey, but their race ended in tragedy—Tobey's friend Pete died, and Dino framed Tobey for it.
Tobey had eventually gotten his revenge, defeated Dino on the track, and sent him to prison. But now? Released early for "good behavior."
"F**k," Tobey growled.
He knew it wasn't good behavior. Money had changed hands. Strings had been pulled.
And Dino wasn't the type to forgive. His first move would be to come straight for Tobey. Their rivalry was blood-deep—unfinished.
Benny added grimly, "Word is, he's got a new ride."
"What is it?" Tobey asked.
"A modified Koenigsegg One:1."
The ultimate rival.
~~----------------------
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