The three consecutive corners ahead looked like a chain of tight turns.
But after Momo's precise calculations—
This path was actually a straight line.
As soon as Leon cleared the first corner,
the rest could be taken as a straight-through trajectory.
He could close the gap instantly!
The Tyrant shot forward like an arrow, momentum unstoppable.
A violent gust tore across the track as he charged.
He occasionally skimmed the shoulder, but stayed mostly on the asphalt.
Speed climbed crazily.
Wind howled.
The thrusters poured out power without restraint.
The Tyrant became a missile—
a straight line of death
cutting straight through everyone's expectations.
Its sheer ferocity
crushed the spectators' wills.
Just the momentum alone made them unable to breathe,
let alone resist.
Meanwhile, Kazami Hayato was still cornering,
enduring the brutal deceleration that twisted his face in pain.
Suddenly—
He heard a sound behind him.
He snapped toward his rearview mirror—
Leon was charging straight at him,
still going in a perfect straight line,
not even turning!
At this speed—
he could still find a shortcut?!
Kazami's youthful face twisted in disbelief.
No wonder they called him the American Car God
—his race experience was terrifying.
Leon easily closed the distance,
effortlessly finding the ideal racing line.
He didn't even need cornering techniques.
He simply bulldozed through.
Simple and brutal—
that was Leon's driving style.
If this were an outside mountain road with hills,
Leon would still drive diagonally across it.
And on a professional track with no obstacles?
He didn't even need to consider going off-course.
As long as he didn't intentionally plow into the grass,
race control wouldn't penalize him.
"Can't let him just pass me like this!"
Kazami narrowed his eyes.
"Use Airflow Interference!"
With a turbine-fan-equipped machine like the Asurada,
this was absolutely possible.
By transforming the car and creating unstable air currents,
the front vehicle could disrupt the car behind—
airflow chaos that would force the pursuer out of balance.
Kaga had once used this trick to force the Silver-Gold Iron Combo into retirement.
Today, Kazami was going to use the same technique.
Both sides of the Asurada opened their fan arrays.
The turbines roared to life.
Air compressed violently—
then blasted backward like artillery
straight toward Leon.
Race cars were always designed around aerodynamics.
Stable airflow pressed the car down,
keeping it from sliding or lifting.
But when wind became chaotic—
like driving into a typhoon—
the car would lose stability.
Sure enough—
The Tyrant charged straight into the chaos zone.
The stability indicators lit up red.
His speed dropped sharply.
Even accelerating became difficult—
and brute-forcing through that "hurricane"
would burn fuel like crazy
with no guarantee of success.
Kazami, meanwhile, sped up as if he had activated thrusters himself.
From 300 km/h…
to 400…
to 500!
The crowd erupted.
"Go!! Asurada, we're behind you!"
"Show the speed of Japan!"
"Hold steady! Don't let the American pass!"
"Beat Leon! Chicken dinner tonight!!"
They cheered wildly—
and occasionally stopped to insult Leon.
A spectacular duel was unfolding.
Leon remained calm, unshaken.
"Any countermeasures?" he asked calmly.
"I don't recommend forcing your way through,"
Momo advised.
"You can switch to Tyrant Mode and expand the stabilizer fins."
That was the safest option.
But—
Because of the track layout and the Tyrant's design,
switching to Tyrant Mode at over 1,000 km/h
could cause the car to shoot straight into a wall.
Formula cars could lose grip and flip
if forced to turn under that load.
Leon considered it—
Then his eyes flashed.
"No need. We open our turbines.
You correct the airflow using wind direction, turbulence speed, and pressure data."
Airflow interference worked by
disrupting the air behind the lead car.
So—
If the rear car used turbines to fix the airflow,
the technique became useless.
A perfect counter.
No energy waste.
Minimal fuel burn.
Click.
The Tyrant opened its turbines.
The black aero-boost system spun up,
its mechanical growl unmistakable.
Air flooded in, compressed—
and then blasted out behind him.
The Tyrant swallowed the chaotic wind like a dragon drinking water,
sucking in all the unstable air currents,
then firing them out the rear to create acceleration.
Using Kazami's interference
as fuel for propulsion.
Both neutralizing the wind
and accelerating—
A perfect two-for-one.
"So smart!"
Kazami was stunned.
From the mirror, he could see it clearly—
The Tyrant was no longer unstable.
And it was rapidly closing the distance.
Using his own airflow to boost speed—
Leon was inching closer.
"Airflow interference ineffective. Recommend shutting down."
The Asurada's system alerted.
"…Shut it down."
Kazami gritted his teeth.
Any further use would just waste energy.
It wouldn't stop Leon.
The turbines powered down.
And instantly—
Kazami's speed dropped from 500
straight down to 300.
As if he had plunged into glue-thick air.
And that was all the Tyrant needed—
Leon shot past him like a steel arrow.
The chassis scraped the ground violently,
sparks spitting out from beneath,
spraying the Asurada as he passed.
Like the Tyrant was spitting sparks at him.
So fast!!
Kazami's face turned grim.
He had just taken the lead—
and now he lost it again.
Even with his ultimate tricks—
he still couldn't compete with Leon?
His driving skills were terrifying.
Kazami was impressed—
but far from discouraged.
He stuck to Leon's tail,
eyes sharp,
searching for any chance to counterattack.
But the Japanese spectators were furious.
"Trash! Can't you drive?!"
"You got second place and still got overtaken?!"
"My four-year-old drives better than you!!"
"Useless! Let me drive!!"
They were exploding with anger,
cursing loud enough to shake the stadium.
They wished Kazami would perform seppuku on the spot
for losing to an American.
Their "Japanese Car God"
looked pathetic.
The drums thundered,
the shouts shook the stands—
"GO!! JUST FLOOR IT!!"
"Push the damn pedal!!"
"We! Japan! Cannot! Lose!!"
Their necks bulged red from screaming—
But it didn't matter.
Kazami couldn't hear a thing.
He was too far.
Inside the cockpit—
Leon smiled faintly.
Even without any fancy tricks—
he could still overtake.
That was his skill.
"Charge, Tyrant."
Time to settle this with pure technique.
~~----------------------
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