Even though every F1 event emphasizes safety,
there are always drivers who get greedy—
taking reckless risks, pushing for overtakes that defy common sense,
and inevitably causing crashes.
Collisions happen almost every race.
Fortunately, thanks to top-tier safety standards,
there haven't been any driver fatalities in recent years.
Hiyoshi Akira's injuries weren't serious—
at least he didn't break any arms or legs.
He crawled out of the wreck himself.
His racing suit was wrinkled and torn in several places.
The visor on his helmet was cracked.
He looked utterly miserable.
"Damn it!"
He ripped off his helmet, face twisted in anger,
and hurled it onto the ground while waiting for the rescue vehicle.
He originally thought this race would mark his glorious comeback—
his chance to shine again.
He had hoped for a solid top-ten finish.
Instead, he became the first one eliminated.
He was so furious he nearly vomited blood.
"Hahaha! Who the hell is that idiot? He actually flew off the track?"
"He think he's Schumacher?"
"A curve like that and you don't brake? Absolute moron."
"What a clown—brain must be full of water."
The crowd mocked him relentlessly.
To get knocked out before the official race even began…
utter humiliation.
Tomorrow's headlines would definitely include him—
and not in a flattering way.
His entire racing career might as well be over.
All for the sake of pride…
he had thrown away his own future.
Serves him right.
Watching the racing machines blast by,
Hiyoshi Akira felt a deep bitterness.
Regret flooded him—deep enough to turn his intestines green.
Leon glanced at the rear-view mirror,
then withdrew his gaze.
A guy who has no real skill yet insists on pretending—
crashing out sooner or later was inevitable.
With Hiyoshi gone, Leon's excitement surged.
He was now firmly in sixth place.
But that wasn't nearly enough.
He wanted more.
"Prepare for pit stop. Switch to rain tires," Leon instructed calmly.
"Roger that," Momo relayed instantly.
The pit lane was just ahead.
Leon slowed down, and the pit crew sprang into action.
This time they were even faster—
1.19 seconds for the full tire change.
Other cars were still tightening wheel nuts
when Leon was already speeding out of the pit.
He closed the gap to Franz Heinel in fifth place.
Heinel's stop had taken 2.24 seconds—
over a full second slower.
Plus, a two-second 0–100 acceleration difference
meant Leon narrowed the distance even further.
By the time Heinel ramped up speed after exiting,
Leon was glued to his rear,
ready to overtake at any moment.
"Damn it!!"
Cold sweat trickled down Heinel's refined, gentlemanly face,
now twisted with tension.
Leon's speed was too terrifying.
Acceleration, top speed, tire change, pit exit—
he was faster in everything.
This was the most monstrous opponent Heinel had ever faced.
"Not even SUGO or AOI ever gave me this kind of pressure!"
He clenched his teeth,
checking the mirror again—
Leon was still right there,
locked onto his tail like a shadow.
If Heinel slowed even a fraction,
Leon would pierce past him instantly
and tear open a gap.
"This guy—how the hell does he have the confidence to stay THIS close behind me?!"
The curve opened onto a long straight.
Heinel roared:
"If you've got the guts—KEEP UP! Avalanche!!"
He triggered his booster.
The Snowstorm-ST's deep-blue propulsion flared to life,
unleashing a blast of scorching flame.
The airflow howled behind him—
an avalanche of speed meant to pressure Leon back.
"Acceleration mode," Leon said calmly.
The Tyrant began transforming again—
rear thrusters igniting,
aerodynamic plates shifting,
drag decreasing—
its speed soaring even higher.
Both cars tore down the straightaway.
But on the straight,
Heinel was clearly struggling—
Leon was rapidly gaining.
Leon's speedometer needle spun wildly,
his output growing stronger and stronger.
Both machines broke 700 km/h,
and The Tyrant was still accelerating.
Even at that extreme speed—
Leon continued pushing the limit.
Where exactly was The Tyrant's limit?
"Come on!!"
"Pass him! If you pass him, I'll bet on you to win!"
"F**k! Heinel, accelerate!!"
"He's gonna get overtaken—idiot!!"
The spectators erupted—
cheers mixed with curses.
Fans of both sides even started arguing
and nearly fought in the stands.
The atmosphere was electric.
Finally—
Leon seized the moment.
With a proud, dominant streak of speed,
he blasted past Heinel's Snowstorm-ST
and claimed fifth place!
"Impossible!!" Heinel shrieked, face drained of color.
There would still be chances later,
but overtaking in F1 was notoriously difficult.
And Leon—
a driver who could handle corners at 160 km/h and up—
was basically unmatched.
How was he supposed to overtake THAT?
Heinel slammed the steering wheel in rage.
But when he thought of Hiyoshi's wreck,
cold fear washed over him.
This was only qualifying—
not the actual race.
There was no point risking his life over pride.
Let Leon go.
Heinel would simply maintain his own position.
He sighed and eased off the accelerator.
He would no longer clash with Leon head-on.
Leon surged ahead,
leaving Heinel behind,
securing fifth place steadily.
"Switch racing mode," Leon said as he approached another curve.
The Tyrant expanded its aero plates again,
adjusting its rear wing and components.
Reverse airflow from its vector thrusters
helped slow it down.
By the time he entered the curve,
his speed had dropped to around 170 km/h—
the perfect number for Leon's stable high-speed cornering.
Two consecutive corners later,
he was averaging 145 km/h—
so fast it made spectators dizzy.
And now,
he could already see the fourth-place driver—Randall,
the arrogant young master who had been slapped down by Leon earlier.
Still hadn't learned his lesson.
The track entered a dense forest zone,
the trees blocking wind but increasing danger.
One wrong move and you were out—
crashing into the trees meant an instant DNF.
Leon wasn't afraid.
He was just about to hit the accelerator when—
He heard a faint pattering around him.
A whisper of rain.
"Oh? It's starting to rain."
Leon raised an eyebrow.
"The weather just got interesting."
~~----------------------
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