"Acceleration mode!!" Leon roared, his voice surging with adrenaline.
The Tyrant began transforming instantly—its aerodynamic plates retracting, rear wing adjusting to a sharper angle.
The entire chassis compressed, becoming thicker and more compact, built for pure explosive thrust.
The co-pilot seat—already stowed away before the race—was now sealed beneath reinforced steel plates, constructed to endure the violent shock of Hell-grade acceleration.
Then—the impact hit.
A crushing wave of G-force slammed Leon back into his seat, the six-point harness digging into his body. His breathing hitched.
It felt like drowning and clawing for air at the same time…
And Leon loved every second of it.
His blood boiled.
His instincts screamed—
Faster. Faster. FASTER!
With a deafening blast, the Tyrant surged forward, overtaking car after car.
From the depths of the grid—somewhere past twentieth place—Leon shot upward like a rocket.
His ranking didn't simply rise… it never stopped rising.
Like an elevator that didn't believe in stopping floors.
He tore across the wet road surface.
Water exploded under his tires, spraying five to six meters high, rising like a shimmering curtain—a waterfall suspended in midair.
Drivers who caught a glimpse of the Tyrant were stunned.
"Too fast! Way too fast!"
"Blink and he's gone!"
"That speed's above five hundred—minimum!!"
"Has he lost his mind!?"
"This is a wet surface! And he's on slicks!"
"He's going to kill himself!"
Other racers sneered, their voices dripping with jealousy.
"Slicks on a soaked track? He's dead."
"No grip at all—let's see him spin out!"
"Arrogant idiot. He's finished!"
They waited—eager—to watch Leon crash.
After all, dry tires vs. wet track meant disaster.
Slicks had no tread.
No water channels.
No grip.
On wet ground, the moment water formed a film between tire and asphalt, traction went to zero.
So to everyone, Leon was a walking accident.
But Leon didn't care.
Within a two-kilometer straight, he blasted his way into seventh place, overtaking thirteen cars like they were standing still.
Momo's strategy kicked in hard.
She had calculated everything.
"He's catching up!?"
Hiyoshi Akira—the driver in sixth—was horrified. Moments ago Leon wasn't even visible. Now he was right behind him.
He checked his rear mirror and saw the Tyrant's headlights slicing through the mist like twin blades.
He snorted.
"Let him try. The next is a wet corner. Slicks can't brake in time. He'll slide right into the sand pit."
Just like street-racing newbies who assumed all tires were all-weather.
And sure enough—
Leon hit the brakes before the turn.
But the slicks skated across the wet asphalt, barely slowing at all.
The Tyrant began drifting—tires skidding sideways.
"Hah! Rookie mistake!" Hiyoshi jeered.
But—
"Air thrust system: reverse thrust engaged."
Momo's voice was calm.
Two adjustable air-thrusters on the Tyrant rotated forward—unlike Asurada's fixed fans—and released a violent burst of compressed wind.
A shockwave blasted from the Tyrant's rear.
The force slammed against the car, slowing it dramatically.
Then—
The Tyrant shot sideways into the sand trap, plowing through it.
Sand detonated like an explosion—
a massive spray blasting ten meters high.
Spectators gasped.
"A crash!!"
"He flew off the track!"
"Is the American driver done for!?"
The sand cloud was so thick nobody could see a thing.
Until—
BOOOOOOM!!
A thunderous engine shriek ripped through the dust—shredding the air itself.
The Tyrant burst out of the sandstorm like a demon waking from hell, its tires caked in dirt.
The crowd erupted.
"He did it on purpose!"
"He used the sand to dry his slicks! Increase friction!"
"That's insane!"
"Genius level! Even while sliding he had the presence of mind to do that!"
With the sand increasing traction, Leon dove into the turn smoothly—
Then slingshotted past Hiyoshi, taking sixth place.
"What—WHAT!?"
Hiyoshi's eyes bulged.
He didn't even see when Leon passed him.
"What kind of monster speed is that!?"
Fury overtook him.
"That bastard—how dare he overtake me!?"
"I'm not losing!!"
He stomped the accelerator.
Another turn approached.
Should he brake?
He hesitated.
Then clenched his teeth—
"If Leon can do it, so can I!!"
He didn't downshift.
He barely braked.
He dove into the turn at terrifying speed.
From 400 km/h down to about 250—
Still far too fast for the corner.
His car shook violently.
The lateral G-force tore at his body.
His arms trembled as he tried to turn.
But—
It was too fast.
The car snapped loose.
CRASH!!!
His vehicle shot off the track, nose lifted, flipping through the air.
It spun—
1024 degrees in a blur—
Then slammed down, roof-first.
BOOM!
The cockpit glass shattered.
A catastrophic wreck.
This time, the crash was real.
~~----------------------
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