– CHAPTER EIGHTEEN –

  PRE-GAME

  "Such a cute little creature!" said Seth, rubbing his hand over the black fox’s head.

  "Not cute! He’s a killer," Poppandacorn snapped back.

  "Don’t say that, Poppa!" Americ-Ana intervened. "He’s just jealous."

  Americ-Ana, Wwwyye, Astyam, Poppandacorn, and Seth were walking through the corridors, where living vegetation covered the floor, ceiling, and walls. Americ-Ana held the black fox in her arms.

  "Since Director Popess Rock has cleared all of you, I need to pass on a few instructions," said Seth, pulling a clipboard and pencil out of his mouth. He immediately began checking off a list.

  They stopped in a room with a circular water fountain at its center.

  "All right! Since you’ve been selected by the Four Organs, you now have access to the cell you’ll be sharing during the seven years of your stay here at Equal One Zero. But first... a few pieces of information," said Seth, scratching his head with the tip of his pencil as his eyes moved across the list on his clipboard.

  "You were each given a chain and a ring made from the material that corresponds to the Organ you now belong to. The Commander is bronze, the Messenger is platinum, the Strategist is gold, and the Guardian is silver. Your KING MatNat sphere must be fitted into either the chain or the ring. That means you can wear and carry the sphere as a necklace or a ring. What truly matters is that you never lose your spheres. Under no circumstances should you walk through any area, including any of the pyramids of THE-IMPERIUM, without your sphere. From this moment on, they are part of your identity," Seth explained, still absorbed in his notes.

  "Let me see here... I think I’m forgetting something..." Seth bit his pencil. "Oh, right! I forgot to congratulate you on being chosen by the Four Organs. CONGRATULATIONS!"

  Seth pulled out a handful of confetti and tossed it awkwardly over the three of them. Most of the pieces stuck to Wwwyye’s hair.

  "Seriously, Mister Green? It almost went into my eye," Wwwyye complained.

  Seth didn’t seem to hear. He simply continued, engrossed in his task list.

  "Welcoming them with colorful confetti? CHECK!"

  He scribbled on the page, as if his notes were finally beginning to make sense.

  "Very well! Now comes the essential part. Follow me!"

  Seth led them toward the access area of Crown Eden. When they arrived, Americ-Ana’s Bugatti and Wwwyye’s light pink helicopter were already waiting. Next to them stood a Ferrari SF90 Spider, Grigio Scuro, gleaming under the moonlight.

  A few scholars and initiates lingered nearby, passing the time while waiting to return to the main hall.

  "All right! I’m now going to show you the location of your 'Cell'," Seth began to say. But he was abruptly interrupted.

  "What do you mean 'show the location of the cell', Lemonade?" Nome-Rocky had stepped forward.

  Seth’s expression hardened as he replied:

  "I am the Acting President of the Student Council and a member of the Welcome Committee. It is my duty to show them where they will stay."

  "Still, for that, you’d need at least a vehicle. Don’t tell me you were going to ask one of them for a ride?" Nome-Rocky sneered.

  The others nearby began to move closer.

  "If my mother were the Director, maybe I could ask her for money and buy myself a vehicle. What I have, I earned through my own effort, not through my parents’," Seth replied.

  "Oh, so that’s the excuse you came up with to justify not knowing who your parents are, half-blood?" Nome-Rocky provoked.

  "Ooooooohhhhhhh," the ones gathering around began to say.

  "I’m just doing my job. I’m not here to start trouble," said Seth, after taking a deep breath.

  "As it happens, the Director, my 'mother', was the one who told me to escort them to the Cell," said Nome-Rocky.

  "And as it happens, the Director, your 'mother', was the one who appointed me Acting President and member of the Welcome Committee. I can’t just ignore that," Seth began to explain.

  "Or what? You’ll flunk out again? I know my mother gave you those duties because she pities you. But to me, you’re nothing more than a leech, uninterested, uncommitted. Most of us here are descendants of people who fought for years so that their heirs would deserve to be here. You can’t even focus, let alone commit to your own studies. Typical of someone who’s never struggled for anything. You want everything served to you on a silver platter. If you actually studied, you wouldn’t be stuck taking on these positions you clearly despise and carry out so sloppily," said Nome-Rocky.

  "The way I live my life is my business! It’s nobody else’s concern," said Seth.

  "It concerns your aunt, the Chancellor. She suffers for having a nephew like you," said Nome-Rocky.

  Seth clenched his fists and stepped closer to Nome-Rocky.

  "Don’t you dare talk about my family! You think you know something, but you know nothing!" Seth shouted.

  Wwwyye stepped between them and pushed them apart, one to each side.

  "Hey! Hey! Hey! Things are heating up. Let’s all calm down. Cool our heads."

  Nome-Rocky gave a sideways smirk. He adjusted his crimson velvet blazer, looked over at Americ-Ana, and fixed his gaze on the black fox resting in her arms.

  "What name are you giving him?"

  "ANTICHRIST!" Poppandacorn yelled.

  The little fox perked up its large ears and began to wag its tail the moment it heard the voice of the plush robot.

  "Poppa, please! Don’t say that," Americ-Ana pleaded.

  "But he is the Antichrist, Mommy! He murdered Mister Hippopotamus!" Poppandacorn replied.

  Seth tapped his clipboard with his fingers and said:

  "Can we stop stalling? I’ve got a schedule to follow. I need to show you the Cell where you’ll be staying."

  Nome-Rocky turned to Seth again.

  "I already told you, Lemonade! I’m the one who’s going to do that!"

  Seth took a deep breath.

  "And I already told you, too. I have duties to fulfill."

  "Why don’t you play Rock, Paper, Scissors? The winner can take us to see the Cell," Poppandacorn suggested, flashing LED-lit emojis of a rock, a sheet of paper, and a pair of scissors in his eyes.

  "Why don’t you play a real game?"

  The voice was deep and hoarse.

  Patron Uvo had just approached. He walked straight toward Nome-Rocky.

  "People like him never had to fight for anything. They live off scholarships, quotas, and the privilege of simply having been born. We, on the other hand, have to fight for what we want. What we own was earned, not handed to us," Patron Uvo said, narrowing his eyes at Americ-Ana.

  He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black coat.

  "Play KING MatNat PRE-GAME. The winner earns the right to escort the scholarship girl every day, between the Cell and Crown Eden."

  "That’s not a prize. That’s just more responsibility," Seth replied.

  "I wasn’t finished," said Patron Uvo. "The winner earns the right to escort the scholarship girl every day, between the Cell and Crown Eden, on my motorcycle."

  "What motorcycle?" Seth asked, intrigued.

  "That motorcycle," Patron Uvo replied, pointing.

  He directed his finger toward a young man who was pushing a MTT Y2K Turbine Superbike in their direction.

  "You’ve got to be kidding! That machine runs on a helicopter turbine," said Seth, walking up to the motorcycle.

  Patron Uvo pulled Nome-Rocky by the arm to a corner and began whispering something in his ear. The two of them laughed and squinted toward Americ-Ana.

  Wwwyye and Astyam moved closer to her.

  "This doesn’t feel right. Looks like some kind of setup," said Wwwyye.

  "That’s what I thought. Why would he offer something that belongs to him to escort someone he clearly despises and doesn’t want anywhere near him?" Astyam pointed out.

  "Maybe to make some kind of accident happen and I end up..." Americ-Ana replied, unable to say the rest of the sentence aloud.

  "Mommy, you're going to die!" Poppandacorn began. "RED ALERT. DANGER. Motorcycles are dangerous, Mommy! The chances of you dying in an accident involving a motorcycle are 99% higher than any other type of unforeseen event."

  Astyam stepped forward and said:

  "Maybe he just wants to keep an eye on you too."

  Wwwyye adjusted the top hat on his head.

  "Yes! Exactly! Just like that phrase, 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer.'"

  "But I’m not an enemy! I’ve never done anything bad to him. I just... exist... I’m just here," said Americ-Ana, distressed. "Besides, what is KING MatNat PRE-GAME?"

  "It’s a version of KING MatNat played outside the Solomon Coliseum. The foundations remain, but the pace is lighter, almost like a rehearsal before the war," Wwwyye replied naturally.

  "War???" Americ-Ana asked, her voice trembling.

  Patron Uvo and Nome-Rocky stepped forward again.

  "This is my proposal. You two, Nome-Rocky and the half-blood, will play KING MatNat PRE-GAME. The game is this. Since we’re not in the Solomon Coliseum arena, the race track will begin here, at Crown Eden. The finish line will be the Cell where they’ll be staying. You’ll go through ROUTE MAGNOLIA and ROUTE CELL. The winner, meaning the one who reaches the Cell first, earns the right to escort the scholarship girl to and from school every day of the academic year on my motorcycle."

  Seth stepped forward and said:

  "How? There’s only one motorcycle."

  Suddenly, a deep and shadowy voice was heard.

  "Now there are two motorcycles."

  A tall, fair-skinned man approached, pushing a DODGE TOMAHAWK. At first glance, Americ-Ana thought the man looked like an older version of Seth. He wore an open leather trench coat with his torso completely exposed. His eyes were pitch black. Except for the color of his hair, which was black, everything else was identical to Seth.

  "Patron Darclyght! Perfect timing," said Seth, excited, walking toward the DODGE TOMAHAWK.

  "Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer. It's a pleasure to see you, Seth." Patron Darclyght shook Seth's hand, but while speaking, he kept his gaze fixed on Patron Uvo.

  Patron Uvo's expression grew even more severe.

  "Let's raise the stakes, Patron Uvo. If Seth wins, he earns the right to escort the scholarship girl to and from school every day of the academic year on your motorcycle. But if he loses, I will give you my DODGE TOMAHAWK."

  Patron Uvo allowed a small, cunning smile to form on his lips.

  "Material goods are wagers for people of the common world, Patron Darclyght. Let us elevate this to the level of THE-IMPERIUM. My proposal is simple. Nome-Rocky will ride the MTT Y2K Turbine Superbike. The half-blood will ride the DODGE TOMAHAWK. Whoever reaches the scholarship girl's Cell first, wins. The prize? If my pupil loses, then as his patron, I grant you the right to use the first demon he conquers during the entire academic year. But if the half-blood loses, you will give me the same right over your pupil’s first demon."

  Patron Darclyght looked away for a few seconds, seeming to weigh the new conditions of the bet. Then he said:

  "Considering that this will be a KING MatNat PRE-GAME, I see no issue with your revised terms. And given that the seal currently in my possession, the seal of FORNEUS, is scheduled to be returned tomorrow, it will be perfect to use it one last time before the handover."

  "Then everything is settled. Let us play KING MatNat PRE-GAME!" said Patron Uvo, stepping toward Patron Darclyght and shaking his hand.

  "HEY, EVERYONE! THEY’RE GONNA PLAY KING MatNat PRE-GAME!" someone shouted from the crowd.

  Within seconds, the number of people gathered around had tripled.

  Patron Uvo pulled Nome-Rocky aside once more and began whispering advice. Patron Darclyght did the same with Seth.

  Then Patron Uvo returned to the center, where the crowd had formed a circle around them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the KING MatNat sphere, fastened to a golden chain. He lifted it high and declared:

  "I summon the angel YERATEL. I summon the demon RONOVE."

  The small sphere, still attached to the golden chain, detached itself. It floated, suspended in the air, in front of Patron Uvo.

  Little by little, the small sphere began to grow until it reached the size of a human head. From the sphere, a humanoid body began to form, its shape unfolding downward as if the sphere itself were the head. The figure resembled the silhouette of a woman entirely covered in small white feathers.

  Patron Uvo approached the angel YERATEL. He stared into the translucent sphere, now the size of his own head. He saw his own reflection within it, and although no one else could hear a single sound, Patron Uvo began speaking and responding to the angel YERATEL, as if carrying on a conversation only he could hear.

  Then, gradually, the body of the angel YERATEL, once completely covered in small white feathers, began to transform. In place of the feminine form, a new humanoid figure emerged, now bearing masculine features. The white feathers were replaced by black scales that looked like snake skin.

  Patron Uvo stepped closer to the demon RONOVE and once again gazed into the translucent sphere that reflected his image like a mirror. Then he said:

  "Fulfill our sealed pact. I wish for the academic Nome-Rocky to win this race."

  Patron Uvo pointed toward Nome-Rocky. The demon RONOVE appeared to say something that only Patron Uvo could understand, for he began speaking once more to his own reflection in the sphere that formed the demon’s head.

  Patron Uvo pointed toward the MTT Y2K Turbine Superbike. The demon RONOVE nodded, then touched the motorcycle with the tip of his finger, which was covered in black scales. A few subtle modifications appeared on the motorcycle, details so discreet that only a true motorcycle enthusiast would be able to perceive them.

  Then Patron Darclyght stepped into the center of the circle. He pulled a platinum ring bearing the KING MatNat sphere from the pocket of his coat and raised it high, saying:

  "I summon the angel OMAEL. I summon the demon FORNEUS."

  The sphere attached to the platinum ring detached and began to grow until it reached the size of a human head. A humanoid body with feminine contours emerged from it, covered in small white feathers.

  Patron Darclyght approached the angel OMAEL and began speaking to the sphere that reflected his image.

  A few seconds later, the angel OMAEL had transformed, and in its place stood a humanoid figure with masculine features and black scales.

  Patron Darclyght moved closer to the demon FORNEUS and said:

  "Fulfill our sealed pact. Let the hybrid-hybrid Seth win this race."

  Patron Darclyght pointed his finger at Seth, who gave a little wave to the demon FORNEUS. Then he pointed to the DODGE TOMAHAWK, which was touched by FORNEUS and subtly altered, its structure shifting by mere millimeters.

  Then the two demons, RONOVE and FORNEUS, approached each other and stood face to face. One sphere reflected the image of the other. They seemed to be conversing, moving their heads slightly, though no sound could be heard.

  Suddenly, both demons turned their translucent sphere-heads toward Americ-Ana.

  Americ-Ana swallowed hard. Her body turned cold.

  RONOVE and FORNEUS began to move closer. Instinctively, Wwwyye and Astyam stepped back. Poppandacorn shifted a few centimeters away from Americ-Ana and bowed before the two advancing demons.

  Americ-Ana held her breath. She felt petrified. She couldn’t move a single muscle. She couldn’t even blink. She watched as the translucent spheres drew nearer and nearer, until she could see her reflection in both of them.

  Just as the demons came within reach of Americ-Ana, the black fox perked up its large ears, bared its small white fangs, and began to growl. Instantly, the two demons backed away.

  The demon RONOVE turned to Patron Uvo and pointed at Americ-Ana. Patron Uvo seemed to understand what the demon had said, for his expression changed in an instant.

  The demon FORNEUS looked at Patron Darclyght and pointed at Wwwyye. The girl blurted out:

  "We’re screwed!"

  Then Patron Uvo and Patron Darclyght stepped toward Americ-Ana and Wwwyye.

  "The demons want both of you to take part in the race," said Patron Darclyght.

  "The scholarship girl goes with Nome-Rocky. The anime wannabe goes with the half-blood," said Patron Uvo.

  "What? What do you mean? Go where?" Wwwyye began to ask.

  "I... I... don’t understand," Americ-Ana said, panicking.

  Seth walked over, took the top hat from Wwwyye’s head, and placed it on his own.

  "The kitty rides with me. Don’t worry. If you’re with me, you’re with God!" said Seth.

  Nome-Rocky approached Americ-Ana, flashed a crooked smile, and said:

  "Let the nerd keep the little fox. I promise this trip will be unforgettable."

  Americ-Ana stepped back, panicked.

  "No! No! No! I’ve never even sat on the back of a motorcycle. I don’t even know what a race is. Where’s Poppa? Poppandacorn! Help me! Activate RED ALERT. DANGER, now!"

  But to Americ-Ana’s dismay, Poppandacorn lowered his head, clasped his tiny hands behind his back, began shuffling his foot, and avoided eye contact as he said:

  "I’m sorry, Mommy. But I was manufactured with a filter that prevents me from going against a determination derived from a sealed pact. Pacts are sacred, sealed, and must follow all criteria contained in the Shem HaMephorash and the Ars Goetia."

  His LED-lit eyes displayed:

  ACCESS DENIED. SORRY, MOMMY! FACTORY PROTOCOLS PREVENT INTERVENTION!

  Astyam approached Americ-Ana and Wwwyye. He pulled them aside and said:

  "Don’t worry. I read everything about the Ars Goetia and the Shem HaMephorash as soon as I gained access to THE-IMPERIUM’s archives. A demon never chooses at random when fulfilling a wish derived from a sealed pact. You’re going to be fine."

  Patron Uvo called out from a distance:

  "Let’s move this along and stop stalling. We’ll need to return to the main hall soon."

  Seth walked over to Americ-Ana, Wwwyye, and Astyam and said:

  "Don’t worry. Your Bugatti, your helicopter, and your Ferrari are all programmed to head directly to the Cell where you’ll be staying."

  Astyam overheard and said:

  "Nice! So that means the helicopter’s flying with no passengers? Can I ride in your helicopter, Wwwyye? Please!"

  Wwwyye nodded, still stunned by everything that was happening.

  Poppandacorn, overhearing the entire conversation, exclaimed:

  "YAAAY!!! THAT MEANS THE FERRARI GOES ALONE. I’M TAKING THE FERRARI!!!"

  Astyam laughed, picked up the plush robot, and placed him in the driver’s seat. Instantly, the Ferrari started up.

  Poppandacorn honked the horn and placed his little paws on the steering wheel, pretending to drive.

  Suddenly, the black fox, hearing all the commotion from Poppandacorn, leapt from Americ-Ana’s arms, jumped into the Ferrari, and landed right on top of Poppandacorn, licking his display while wagging its tail.

  "HELP!!! THE ANTICHRIST IS GOING TO KILL ME!!! SOMEBODY SAVE ME!!! HELP!!!"

  The Ferrari began to move, with Poppandacorn screaming and the black fox on top of him. Guided by its autonomous system, they sped off down the road, heading toward the Cell.

  Astyam boarded Wwwyye’s pink helicopter and took off as well, vanishing into the night sky.

  Seth gave a courteous bow to Americ-Ana and Wwwyye, signaling that the two of them should step into the center of the circle, where the crowd had gathered.

  On one side stood the demons RONOVE and FORNEUS. On the other, Patron Uvo, Nome-Rocky, and Patron Darclyght.

  "This is your first time. It’ll be safe, I promise," said Nome-Rocky, flashing a sly smile.

  Patron Uvo and Patron Darclyght gave commands to their respective demons.

  The two demons moved toward the girls.

  Americ-Ana felt her stomach freeze as she watched the humanoid figure covered in scales come closer and closer.

  RONOVE stopped in front of Americ-Ana. She felt as though she were being watched, even though there was nothing but a large translucent sphere in place of a face.

  Americ-Ana stared at her reflection in RONOVE’s face. She looked into the depths of her own eyes mirrored in the sphere. Suddenly, she felt as if her skin were being sliced into thousands of tiny pieces. There was no pain. But she could feel her skin being peeled away from her body.

  Then, in place of her skin, Americ-Ana felt thousands of tiny fragments of a thick, scaly structure spread across her entire body.

  Within seconds, she found herself covered in the same skin as the demon RONOVE. The Dior "Vénus" dress had vanished, and in its place, a kind of form-fitting suit had taken shape, fusing to her body like a second skin. It covered her completely, including her head, leaving only her face exposed.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Americ-Ana touched her own head. A helmet-like structure, made from the same black, scaly material as RONOVE's skin, had fused to her skull.

  The demon FORNEUS did the same as he approached Wwwyye.

  Then the two demons moved toward Nome-Rocky and Seth. In a matter of seconds, all of them were covered in a thick, scaly second skin, identical to the demons'.

  RONOVE walked over to the MTT Y2K Turbine Superbike, placed his scaled hand on the exhaust, and merged with the machine.

  FORNEUS approached the DODGE TOMAHAWK, touched the exhaust, and fused into it as well.

  Patron Darclyght, holding a can of orange spray paint, drew a straight line in front of the machines.

  Nome-Rocky walked up to Americ-Ana and extended his hand. Hesitantly, the girl touched his palm with trembling fingers. Without a word, the two climbed onto the motorcycle.

  Seth repeated the gesture before Wwwyye.

  Everyone was ready.

  Then, the key of the MTT Y2K Turbine Superbike turned with a dry click, even though no one had touched it, as if invisible forces were manipulating the laws of physics. The ignition button was pressed. A sharp, continuous whistle sliced through the air, like the whisper of a missile still inside the womb. It was the turbine awakening. At the very instant the engine came alive, no rumble was heard. What echoed was a scream. A muffled, rising scream, like the howl of hell itself being sucked into a vortex. The sound morphed into a violent roar, a continuous thunderclap, as if the sky were collapsing onto the asphalt.

  Americ-Ana felt as though her heart had been shoved by an unseen force, as if her very heartbeat needed to sync with the beast.

  VRRRRROOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRR!!!

  The ground trembled.

  The air around them grew dense.

  The roar sounded as if it had come from the depths of a mechanical dragon, like an aeronautic god torn from Olympus and imprisoned inside the chassis of a superbike.

  Instinctively, as if obeying a primal reflex, Americ-Ana clung to the silhouette of Nome-Rocky. Her arms wrapped around his torso, her fingers locked tightly across the abdomen covered in RONOVE’s scaly skin.

  Americ-Ana’s legs contracted, her knees pressed against the sides of the bike, and her thighs molded to Nome-Rocky’s body, as if that gesture alone could shield her from the world roaring around her. Instinct whispered, "This way you’ll be safe. Nothing will hurt you." But lucidity, the kind that lives in the waking mind and pulses from a shadowed corner, murmured coldly, "He will hurt you. You know that. Everything here is being manipulated. Everyone will laugh when you fall."

  On the other side…

  Seth felt the cold air brushing his face, as if heading out for a casual ride, not a war ritual. The hybrid-hybrid with lime-green hair lifted his eyes to the synthetic sky of the Prince Equal One Zero Pyramid and clicked his tongue with a half-smile.

  "Okay, okay... let's go. It's just another game," Seth thought, trying to convince himself that it didn’t mean much. But he knew it did. Because on the other side of the track stood Nome-Rocky. And in his arms... the scholarship girl.

  Before he could follow the thought any deeper, he felt a firm touch at his waist. Wwwyye was already on the bike. No hesitation. No asking permission. Just action. Her arms wrapped around him as if they already knew the way. Her hands pressed against his abdomen, covered in the living scales of FORNEUS. Her thighs aligned precisely with his back. Her breathing was steady. Warm. Unshaken.

  Seth gripped the handlebars of the DODGE TOMAHAWK. He could feel the dormant vibration of the machine like a beast about to awaken. He turned his head for a moment. And he saw.

  He saw Americ-Ana wrapped around Nome-Rocky. The way her body curved into his, as if she were under protection. As if she trusted him.

  Seth turned his eyes away too quickly. "Whatever," he thought. But the thought echoed falsely, the way things echo when they are not truly believed.

  Then, the DODGE TOMAHAWK came to life.

  It didn’t scream like the MTT Y2K. It growled. The deep rumble tore through the air, as if the four wheels had swallowed thunder and were now spitting it back in a demonic rhythm.

  WHUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!

  The metal vibrated entirely, like a beast made of scales and fire, ready to break free.

  The sound didn’t touch the body. It invaded the bones.

  The helmet, fused to the skull, pulsed with the rhythm of FORNEUS. It was as if the machine breathed with him.

  Seth smirked. A smile almost indecent, almost cruel. There was nothing left but the asphalt. No past. No future. Behind him, Wwwyye kept her body perfectly aligned. She didn’t react to the roar of the TOMAHAWK. She didn’t move. She either trusted, or faked it better than anyone.

  For a brief moment, Seth wished Wwwyye would hold him tighter. But she didn’t.

  "Yeah, Mister Green... Now it’s you and the demon."

  The vibration intensified. The wheels began to turn slowly. The scent of hot metal and ozone sliced through the air.

  The race was about to begin.

  Patron Uvo and Patron Darclyght positioned themselves in front of the two machines.

  Patron Darclyght raised the platinum ring and said:

  "The only rule is clear. In KING MatNat, whether in the arena or beyond it, there must always be a winner."

  Patron Uvo lifted the golden chain and said:

  "May hell feed your inner strength, and may the heavens sustain your ambition."

  In perfect unison, joined and harmonious, the two patrons cried out in a powerful voice, like a battle cry:

  "FAC FOEDUS!!!"

  They brought their hands down, Patron Darclyght with the platinum ring and Patron Uvo with the golden chain, slicing through the air.

  At that moment, the ground beneath everyone’s feet seemed to groan and weep, as the wheels of the machines tore into the earth like ravenous blades, drawing from the soil an ancestral scream.

  Smoke and dust had thickened the air, making it heavy for those left behind. The metallic scent of ignition still lingered, like an invisible echo.

  It was then that Parys Bloodpure emerged from the crowd.

  "Has anyone seen Nome-Rocky?" she asked, her voice devoid of concern.

  A brief silence followed.

  Some of the onlookers exchanged hesitant glances. No one answered right away. Not because they didn’t know... but because they knew exactly who Parys Bloodpure was. And they understood what that question carried.

  Patron Darclyght, however, lifted his chin slightly and replied with calculated ease:

  "He rode off with the scholarship girl. Took the bike, headed toward the cell where she’ll be living."

  Parys blinked once. Only once. Her pearlescent white skin shifted subtly in hue, like an inverted aurora, passing through pink and reaching red. She said nothing. But her eyes, now fixed on the horizon, said more than enough.

  At that moment, a voice broke through from within the crowd:

  "Hey, everyone! There’s a Jump Chronos Station here that goes straight to the scholarship girl’s cell! Let’s see who gets there first: Nome-Rocky or Seth!"

  Excitement swept through the group like a wave. The crowd began to scatter, laughing, betting, speculating.

  Meanwhile, on the road…

  The two motorcycles shot forward like arrows slicing through the landscape, as if the world around them were made only of wind and memory.

  The artificial sky within the pyramid bore clouds that seemed unsure whether to rain or not. The leaves in the tree canopies swayed. It wasn’t a strong wind, but neither was it gentle.

  The road twisted through long, undulating fields, bordered by an old wooden fence, still damp with dew that had yet to evaporate. Along the edges, tall oaks and a few pines stood in alternating rhythm, like sentinels of a forgotten sanctuary, casting patches of shadow that ran alongside the machines. Branches quivered, but none dared fall.

  Everything felt... suspended.

  Americ-Ana could feel the cold of the speed slicing through her skin, or rather, the skin that wasn’t hers. RONOVE’s skin clung to her body like a second flesh: a living serpent’s skin, scaly, sensitive, pulsing. It was as if every inch of that fabric were linked to the nerves of something watching her from within. With every curve in the road, the suit adjusted on its own, tightening, expanding, vibrating. It felt as though she was being worn by a being that also wore her from the inside.

  When she touched Nome-Rocky's back for the first time, it was like plunging her fingers into a forbidden boundary between the human and the unnamable. RONOVE’s skin, which also covered his body, was warm, moist, almost feverish. It was like touching something both sacred and heretical at once.

  Frightened. Terrified. Fascinated. Everything was fast. Far too fast. Americ-Ana’s breathing couldn’t keep up with the rhythm of the world. Her eyes were lost in the blurs of trees, sky, fences, and stones. Gravity felt altered. The speed was more than physical. It was metaphysical. It was as if time were folding over itself, and she were inside the fold, not knowing whether she would come out whole on the other side.

  There, clinging to Nome-Rocky’s waist, Americ-Ana felt something she had never felt before: a mixture of dread and ecstasy. Her fingers, gloved in scaly skin, laced tightly around the boy’s abdomen, squeezing with all her strength. It wasn’t just fear of falling. It was fear of ceasing to exist. Because there was something in that body, in that matter between his belly and her hands, that made her forget who she was.

  Americ-Ana could feel it. She could feel RONOVE’s skin... vibrating beneath Nome-Rocky’s. It was like touching the frequency of another world. As if a heart were beating from within the fabric itself, and that heart kept whispering, over and over: you belong to this now.

  The wooden fence vanished. The trees withdrew, as if following a silent command. And then, flowers appeared. On both sides of the road, a vast and colorful field opened up, as though someone had torn through the green fabric of the world and revealed an embroidery of petals beneath it. Tulips, carnations, dahlias, and flowers that didn’t even seem earthly stretched as far as the eye could see. But nothing was clear. The speed was so great that everything turned into a hypnotic blur of vibrant color, as if the road were slicing through a moving impressionist painting.

  Americ-Ana almost let herself be carried away by that beauty... until she heard the sound.

  VRRROOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM.

  A high-pitched, metallic, and guttural roar all at once. It was different from the scream of the MTT Y2K Turbine Superbike. This sound tore through the air with violence. It was like a thousand steel blades being sharpened at once inside a tunnel.

  Americ-Ana turned her head to the right.

  Seth and the DODGE TOMAHAWK.

  Focused. Tense posture. Body fused to the machine. His eyes were locked on the road as if nothing else in the world existed. And he was overtaking. Slowly. Inch by inch.

  Americ-Ana’s eyes widened. Behind Seth, or rather clinging to his waist, was Wwwyye. But there was no top hat. No pink hair. No trace of the electric, provocative girl. There was only a deformed figure, covered in the thick, scaly skin of FORNEUS. A living serpent made of muscle and wrath. Her arms seemed fused to the fabric. Her face, hidden beneath plates of scale.

  Even so, Americ-Ana knew: it was her. And even motionless, Wwwyye seemed to carry within her chest a storm on the verge of exploding.

  Then came the answer.

  Nome-Rocky’s answer.

  The MTT Y2K roared. Not like an engine. But like a mythological beast being awakened from a millennial slumber.

  VRRRRRRRRRAAAAHHHHHH!

  Americ-Ana screamed. Not because she was afraid. But because she felt everything. Every scale of the suit vibrated in unison. It was as if RONOVE were whispering from within her skin, hold tight. She wasn’t on the bike. She was the bike. She was the road. She was the demon. Every patch of asphalt, every gust of wind, every vibration of the engine, all of it pulsed within her.

  For a few brief seconds, Americ-Ana was no longer Americ-Ana. She was RONOVE’s hatred. She was Nome-Rocky’s fury. She was the will to win, burning like fire inside the metal itself. And in that moment... she felt freedom. The wildest, most dangerous, most fleeting kind of freedom.

  But it lasted only an instant. Because everything dissolved again into speed. The flowers around them returned to blurs. Reality melted like a wet painting. And fear returned. Cold. Cutting. As if she had never stopped being just a girl, clinging to a stranger, racing with a demon beneath her skin.

  At the exact moment Seth managed to overtake Nome-Rocky, the inner world of the race twisted.

  Nome-Rocky slammed his hand onto the MTT Y2K’s gear lever, shifting with a dry, violent motion. A quickshifter, perhaps. He accelerated even before the engine had finished its cycle. As he moved from second to third, the engine groaned. The RPM dropped. With each shift, Americ-Ana felt the metallic entrails of the bike vibrating beneath her fingers and knees, a tremor echoing the pulse of the motor as it searched for breath again. To reach maximum acceleration, you had to shift just after the power peak, near the redline, and keep the rhythm steady into the next gear.

  Americ-Ana heard the transmission’s secret click, smooth and powerful like a heartbeat. And in the very next instant, everything exploded into acceleration. The bike responded like a released beast, tearing through the wind even faster. Insanity became real.

  Americ-Ana, pressed against Nome-Rocky’s back, felt his hatred like a burning void. The rage overflowed through the machine. She could feel it pulsing, as if the demon RONOVE himself were animating every gear. Her muscles tightened against the seat. The two of them had only fractions of a second to register, at high speed, the next curve ahead. Sharp. Treacherous. Nearly vertical against the landscape. It was the decisive chance. Either for Nome-Rocky to retake the lead, or for Seth to carve a killing advantage.

  Neither of them backed down. As they advanced, the return from the maneuver required counter-steering, a reverse pressure on the handlebars, forcing the bike to lean on its axis and shifting the center of gravity. All of it to enter the curve with maximum grip. Then came the trail braking, braking mid-entry into the curve, and a constant support in the hands. It was a risky ballet. Every movement was calculated, daring, almost suicidal.

  The bikes leaned at the same time, so close that Seth’s taillight could be seen reflecting off the MTT Y2K’s fairing. The two of them slid in almost imperceptible synchronicity, knees lowered, bodies thrown toward the center of the curve. The rubber of the tires sang against the asphalt. Oxygen and adrenaline mixed in the air.

  For a millisecond, it seemed the crash would be inevitable. The ground might split open beneath them, light shattering into colored fragments. But nothing fell. Because RONOVE and FORNEUS held the laws of physics under total control. They protected the machines, and those who rode them, from disaster. The only law in force was to win. Win at any cost.

  When they came out of the curve, Nome-Rocky was in the lead. Seth followed just centimeters behind. So close that, if either of them had lowered a knee, it would have touched Wwwyye on the other bike.

  The vivid colors of the flowers were gradually swallowed by earthy tones, ochres, and grays. The blooming field gave way to a kind of jungle, but not one made of trees. It was a jungle made of stone.

  On both sides of the road, statues rose. Thousands of them. In every size, shape, and material imaginable. Some carved from white marble, others from black basalt, red sandstone, frosted crystal, jade, corroded bronze. Some had human forms. Others resembled animals, mythological creatures, extinct machines, or beings that had never existed. There were statues curled in fetal position, kneeling, warring, embracing, chained, floating, weeping. All motionless. All of them... watching.

  The speed was so intense that Americ-Ana couldn’t focus on any of them individually. But their outlines, blurred and vibrating like mirages, formed a dense and hypnotic corridor. It looked as though they had been planted there like trees. A mineral forest. A cemetery of eternal gestures.

  And then, among the silhouettes, she saw one. A gigantic statue, perhaps thirty meters tall, depicting a man with colossal muscles, arms stretched upward, pushing a spherical stone larger than everything around it. Americ-Ana didn’t know the name of what she saw, but she felt it. It was the image of eternal effort. It was the statue of someone who would never rest.

  Americ-Ana held her breath.

  The bikes aligned. There was no more distance. It was sound against sound. Metal against metal. Rage against rage.

  Nome-Rocky’s MTT Y2K spat jets of compressed flame from its side exhaust, with a turbocharged growl that sounded like a hellish throat tearing through metallic screams. VWWRRRRAAAHHHHM.

  The body of the bike was elongated, covered in curved black plates that fit together like armor. The frame bore ridges and grooves resembling the ribs of a biomechanical beast, with RONOVE’s symbol engraved on the fuel tank, dark, yet vibrant.

  On the other side, Seth’s DODGE TOMAHAWK was pure menace. Four wheels connected by exposed suspension arms, like the bones of a mutant animal. The fairing reflected light with aggression, like a spinning blade. The exhaust blew through four independent outlets, letting out a guttural, broken roar, like a beast gasping for breath. GGRRHHHMMM-GGRHHHMMM.

  The metallic blue chassis looked alive, and it was, for within it pulsed the raw power of FORNEUS.

  The two bikes fought for space on the track as if at war. Their wheels nearly touched. Winglets vibrated with the force of the air. Every micro-adjustment of direction made the opposing bike shudder dangerously.

  Americ-Ana could feel her blood racing.

  There was no more sound. No more world. The only thing that existed was this: A field of statues. Two living machines. And the certainty that if neither gave in, both would be reduced to dust.

  But no one gave in.

  And then... it happened.

  Like an involuntary reflex. Like a spasm. An impulse without command.

  Seth threw his bike against the side of the MTT Y2K.

  It wasn’t an elegant maneuver. It wasn’t a passing tactic. It was an attack.

  The DODGE TOMAHAWK bit into the space with violence, sliding slightly, as if trying to devour the other’s path.

  The side impact was subtle, but enough to destabilize Nome-Rocky’s bike.

  For a second, everything shook. The fairing of the Y2K vibrated in agony. The wheels wobbled against the asphalt. The machine danced, crooked, vulnerable, on the verge of collapse.

  But it didn’t fall.

  It adjusted. Straightened. As if it had reacted on instinct. As if RONOVE had growled from within the engine and set everything back into place.

  Americ-Ana, clinging to Nome-Rocky’s waist, had no doubt. That attack hadn’t come from Seth. It was the bike. It was FORNEUS.

  The machine was guiding the rider. The demonic fury was no longer in the controls alone. It was in the decisions. FORNEUS was the one playing, acting, attacking. The game was being played by him.

  But RONOVE...

  ...RONOVE did not like to be challenged. The response was immediate. Instinctive. Pure fury.

  The MTT Y2K roared again, but this time it wasn’t sound. It was a war cry. And then it leapt. The front wheel lifted into the air like a rearing horse, slashing through a sky of stone and sparks. The engine erupted with torque. The rear tire carved into the ground, leaving behind a trail of fire.

  Americ-Ana felt the world turn upside down. She screamed. But the scream didn’t come. Only her heart, which nearly leapt from her mouth. She clung even tighter to Nome-Rocky’s waist. Her arms sank into his skin. Her thighs pressed against his hips as if trying to fuse them together. And for a moment... they did. There were no longer two bodies. There was only one.

  Fury. Instinct. RONOVE.

  The bike lunged in a leap that seemed impossible. A spark of pure will. It overtook Seth. Flew ahead of the DODGE TOMAHAWK.

  The rear wheel of the MTT scraped against the front tire of Seth’s bike. The contact sparked flames, smoke, and the scent of burning rubber. The sound was a deep hiss of infernal friction.

  Americ-Ana looked back. Seth’s eyes were fixed on Nome-Rocky, sharp, narrowed, like blades about to burst from flesh. His mouth was moving. He was muttering something. She couldn’t hear it, but she could feel it. It wasn’t a prayer. It was a curse.

  And then she saw it. A shadow.

  Emerging from the rear of the DODGE TOMAHAWK, hovering close to Wwwyye’s waist, who remained motionless, fused to FORNEUS’s skin. The shape looked like a living shadow, distorted and shifting. And it wasn’t alone. Others began to appear, rising from the air, from the ground, from the trail left behind by speed.

  Before she could process it, the wheels of the motorcycles touched new ground.

  They were on a bridge. But a bridge covered by a thin layer of water. Not just wet, but submerged. As if the lake had overflowed onto the road. The water spread across the concrete, thick enough to reflect the sky. It was a black lake. A nocturnal mirror. A liquid altar.

  The artificial night sky of the Prince Equal One Zero Pyramid hung above them like a divine ceiling. The stars, fake, were there, twinkling. The artificial moon hovered motionless, ruler of all. And below, in the still waters, everything was reflected: the sky, the motorcycles, the shadows, the imminent war.

  For a moment, Americ-Ana saw herself in that mirror. It was her... and it wasn’t. It was her fused with the demon. It was her inside the machine. It was her... about to be pulled away. Because the shadow touched her shoulder. Icy and malevolent. It tried to pull her.

  Americ-Ana screamed, or tried to, but the sound died in her throat. Instinctively, she drove her arms even deeper around Nome-Rocky’s waist. Her fingers sank in.

  Her thighs squeezed tighter than ever before.

  Nome-Rocky felt it. Without turning his face, he simply said:

  "RONOVE. Detonate one legion for defense."

  Americ-Ana didn’t understand. But something understood for her.

  From the exhaust of the motorcycle, a new roar erupted. It wasn’t mechanical. It was ancestral. And from it, creatures emerged.

  Skeletal figures, wrapped in shattered armor, with long swords, broken shields, hollow eyes, and curved horns on their foreheads. They hovered in the air, keeping pace with the motorcycle, as if hell had opened its gates and sent its warriors into the artificial sky of the pyramid.

  Americ-Ana looked back. The shadows that had emerged from Seth’s motorcycle were now at war with RONOVE’s legion.

  Swords clashed in midair, unleashing sharp, metallic sounds. Each collision seemed to crack the very fabric of the sky.

  CLANG! CLANG! RRRRAAHHH!

  Two of them hovered beside Nome-Rocky’s motorcycle. Americ-Ana saw it all.

  One of RONOVE’s warriors drove his sword into the center of a shadow’s chest. There was no flesh, only bone and shadow, but even so, the impact was fatal. The shadow burst into black smoke, dissolving into the air.

  At that very moment, another one came emerging from the darkness, as if there were no end.

  The black mirror had ended. The lake was behind them. All that remained now was a thin stream of water, flowing like a creek, winding along the road with the trail of the war unfolding between worlds.

  Americ-Ana saw a great windmill. The structure rose on the horizon like a monument, spinning slowly under the pressure of a wind that seemed to come from deep within the earth. It was a solitary windmill, with long arms, turning as if measuring time. But before they could reach it, the shadows came.

  Once again, they appeared from behind, rising out of the darkness like invisible predators, now with a new objective: to reach the rear tire of the MTT Y2K.

  Americ-Ana saw it too late, as the first of them drove a kind of curved blade toward the tire.

  "RONOVE. DETONATE THREE LEGIONS FOR DEFENSE AND FULL-FRONT ASSAULT!" shouted Nome-Rocky, like a commander leading an army on the battlefield.

  The motorcycle’s exhaust, which until then had only vibrated with the heat of the engine, transfigured. It became a living mouth, incandescent, like the crater of a volcano about to erupt.

  A burst of red smoke, dark flames, and molten embers erupted from the exhaust vent, as if hell had torn open a fissure through the gears.

  Americ-Ana felt the heat sweep over her head. She also felt a shadow, or several, darting across the sky like arrows. She looked up, instinctively, and what she saw left her frozen.

  Thousands of those beings were now locked in full combat, high above Americ-Ana’s head.

  They were armed skeletons, infernal beasts, soldiers clad in armor and shields.

  While some tried to draw near, others from RONOVE’s own legion intercepted the attacks midair. Swords clashed against swords, shields against shields, and with every impact, a scream echoed, a flash of light burst, a shadow dissolved.

  Americ-Ana saw one of them drive a blade into the heart of a creature approaching, or into where the heart should have been, and the figure immediately turned into black smoke, crumbling into the sky like ash scattered to the wind.

  The noise was insane. The chaos, absolute. Yet the road line stretched forward, as if nothing else existed.

  Before she could react, one of them latched onto Americ-Ana’s neck without warning. It was as if the air vanished. She felt herself choking, the muscles in her throat tightening as if a rope were strangling her. The world around her lost all sound. Only the beat of her own heart thundered inside her head. She tried to scream, but there was no air. Tried to break free, but there was no strength. She was dying. Dying of asphyxiation in the middle of the race.

  That was when she realized. One of the skeletal beings had clung to her back. A cold weight, made of bone and shadow, molded to her body like a parasite. But it didn’t want to kill her. That became clear a second later. The gaze of that eyeless skull was fixed ahead. The target was Nome-Rocky.

  The creature began to climb up her back. Step by step, as if scaling a mountain. It placed one bony foot on Americ-Ana’s head. Then another. And then, with that foot curled against her face, it kicked.

  The world flipped. Americ-Ana’s body was hurled backward, suspended in the air, held only by her arms wrapped around Nome-Rocky’s waist. She was left hanging. Upside down. The ground above, the sky below. And in that inverted state, she saw everything: Seth, his face tense, eyes locked on the road, and Wwwyye, engulfed in layers of those creatures, wrapped in smoke and limbs.

  Americ-Ana braced for death. She felt her body slipping from the motorcycle. That was the end. But then, as if something caught her, she felt the living skin of RONOVE contract around her waist, her thighs, her spine. Every scale responded. Every cell of the living suit seemed to decide she would not fall.

  Americ-Ana returned. She was pulled back to the original axis. Straightened with force. She was sitting upright again. Breathing. Too frightened to understand how.

  But when she looked ahead, she saw what she didn’t want to see.

  That same creature was now on top of Nome-Rocky. They were fighting. The movements were fast, sharp, inhuman. Blades clashed with metal, with flesh, with spirit.

  And then... it happened.

  The creature drove the sword to the hilt into Nome-Rocky's right eye.

  That was it. There was no turning back. It was impossible to survive such a thing.

  The blade had been thrust without hesitation, without mercy, without error.

  Nome-Rocky now had a sword buried to the hilt in his right eye. The steel must have pierced through the eyeball, shattered the orbital bones, and driven deep into the brain.

  No miracle could undo that.

  That was death. Simple, raw, absolute.

  They were moving at two hundred, three hundred, maybe four hundred kilometers per hour.

  The motorcycle was about to flip. About to explode.

  Nome-Rocky's body would surely collapse onto the asphalt. And Americ-Ana, clinging to him, would be dragged along.

  That was it.

  End of the line.

  It was all over.

  But then, before the thought could finish taking shape, something crossed Americ-Ana's field of vision.

  Another soldier of RONOVE.

  It came like an arrow from the darkness, driven by pure hatred. With fury, it kicked the figure still perched over Nome-Rocky, sending the creature’s body flying backward through the air. And before the shadow could fall... it drove a sword straight into its head. A dry sound, the crack of a fractured skull and a ruptured spirit, rang out among the echoes of war. The creature writhed in the air, then turned to smoke, vanishing as if it had never existed.

  Nome-Rocky still had the sword lodged in his eye. Lodged in his skull.

  The blade trembled with the motorcycle’s speed, vibrating as if it were about to shatter. The tip of the hilt quivered in the air, like the antenna of a dying insect.

  Americ-Ana couldn’t breathe.

  But then, going against every known law, the laws of physics, biology, medicine, logic, common sense, the world of the living and the dead, Nome-Rocky raised his hand.

  With a simple, direct gesture, without hesitation, he grabbed the hilt of the sword and pulled it out. As if removing a splinter from the skin. As if that were all. The sound was grotesque. Steel sliding out of bone. Matter being violated and released.

  Americ-Ana leaned in, without realizing it. She had to see. She had to understand.

  And she saw.

  She saw Nome-Rocky's eye regenerate. She saw the flesh stitch itself together. She saw the bone reform. She saw the cornea emerge. She saw the eyeball reassemble.

  Muscle. Blood. Tissue.

  Life where there should only have been death.

  There, before Americ-Ana, the impossible had bowed.

  Nome-Rocky blinked.

  And then... turned back to the road. As if nothing had happened.

  Seth had matched speeds again.

  They were side by side.

  So close that Americ-Ana could hear his voice, even with the wind tearing through everything around them.

  "FORNEUS. DETONATE ALL LEGIONS! TOTAL ATTACK!!! GO!!! GO!!! GO!!!"

  The voice came shredded, loaded with fury, as if Seth weren’t just shouting a command, but begging for total destruction.

  Nome-Rocky shook his head, still focused on the road.

  "That idiot doesn’t know how to play," he muttered through his teeth, more irritated than afraid.

  Americ-Ana turned.

  She looked at Seth’s motorcycle. Looked at Wwwyye’s back, unmoving. Looked at the exhaust of the DODGE Tomahawk.

  And saw.

  A flood of incandescent lava began pouring from the exhaust pipe, not like fire, but like the explosion of a hellish hydrant. The substance came down in liquid, heavy torrents, as if each drop carried the weight of a dead star. The jet propelled the motorcycle like a rocket. Seth surged forward with brutality, tearing through the air as if he had opened a new tunnel in time, overtaking Nome-Rocky in a burst of speed that seemed pushed by the very entrails of hell.

  Americ-Ana barely had time to react when she heard, now from the opposite side:

  "RONOVE. DETONATE ALL LEGIONS! TOTAL ATTACK! TOTAL ATTACK! TOTAL ATTACK!!!"

  Nome-Rocky’s voice wasn’t just a command. It was a sentence.

  Now, Americ-Ana felt the heat behind her. It was as if hell itself were brushing against her back.

  She turned her head and saw.

  From the exhaust of the MTT Y2K, a jet of living lava had been unleashed, burning like the blood of the earth’s core. And with it, as if they had come from the darkest depths of the underworld, thousands of armed and winged beings began to emerge in every direction, flying with the force of an entire nation’s army. They did not simply fly in a straight line, they ripped through the sky.

  Americ-Ana looked up. And for a moment... she thought the sky no longer existed. It was as if the veil between worlds had been torn away. The firmament had become an open war.

  There were no more stars. No more moon. Everything was black, covered in bodies, wings, spears, swords, claws, armor, screams. The vision of the end of the world. The apocalypse.

  The battle didn’t seem to have begun, nor did it show signs of ending. It simply existed, like an eternal force locked between heavens and hells.

  Swords collided. Warriors screamed as if they were being reborn and dying every second. Bolts of smoke streaked across the field. Screams spread like thunder.

  Many of those beings tried to descend, in the direction of Americ-Ana and Nome-Rocky, trying to reach them, touch them, destroy them. But with every approach, even more rose up to defend them.

  Swords intercepted spears. Shields tore through the air. Smoke-bodies dissolved at the speed of light. The sky shattered and rebuilt itself with every blow.

  On the other side, the same was happening with Seth and Wwwyye. While legions tried to reach the duo, others rose in waves to intercept, to block, to retaliate.

  The entire sky had become a battlefield. And it was completely covered.

  The finish line was getting closer and closer.

  Up ahead, already visible, stood Patron Uvo and Patron Darclyght.

  Between them stretched a single, narrow strip, drawn with a vivid orange line on the ground, the final boundary between the race and destiny. Above the line, everything vibrated, as if awaiting impact.

  There was also the crowd.

  Arriving in waves, transported through the Jump Chronos Station, the scholars, initiates, and spectators now lined the edges of the track like a living tide of bodies and voices.

  They were everywhere.

  They screamed. They jumped. They shouted with every bit of voice they had.

  Some chanted Nome-Rocky’s name with reverence.

  Others shouted for Seth.

  The frenzy was so intense that the finish line itself seemed to waver under the collective vibration of that mass of blended voices.

  There was no more neutrality. Everyone there was committed to the spectacle. And the finish line... the finish line was getting closer and closer.

  The two motorcycles came as if they were on fire.

  Sparks exploded beneath the tires, the fairings vibrated like metal plates on the verge of boiling.

  They were practically side by side, dangerously close to one another, as if they weren’t racing for victory, but for survival itself.

  Above them, the sky remained dark, filled with infernal beings killing each other, fighting, trying to intervene, to protect, to retaliate.

  It was like staring into hell torn open by a fissure in the heavens.

  It was the vision of the end of the world, and it was right there, inside the Prince Equal One Zero Pyramid.

  One of RONOVE’s legionnaires broke through the wall of FORNEUS’s defenders and reached Seth. Leaning on Wwwyye’s back, the being nearly knocked her off the motorcycle, but held steady just long enough to deliver a single, swift, precise blow that severed Seth’s arm at the shoulder.

  The scream was animal.

  Seth roared, caught between pain and rage, trying to keep control of the motorcycle with a single hand, but the handlebar trembled, slipped off axis, and he lost his balance.

  At the same time, another warrior, now from FORNEUS’s ranks, broke through RONOVE’s aerial defense and drove his sword with full force into the front wheel of the MTT Y2K.

  Nome-Rocky’s motorcycle locked.

  It skidded. Spun on itself.

  Americ-Ana was thrown, soaring through the air, crashing onto the asphalt and falling behind.

  Seth went down as well.

  The motorcycle slid for meters, still spewing sparks and lava from its sides, and Wwwyye, still strapped to it, was dragged along, swallowed by the machine.

  Nome-Rocky was launched.

  He rolled several times across the ground.

  It was impossible to stand.

  But he stood.

  With unsteady legs, limping, spitting blood, the newly regenerated eye still stitching itself into his shattered face, Nome-Rocky raised his head and saw the finish line, marked with bright orange spray paint. And he began to walk. Staggering. Dragging his body. Stepping on his own blood.

  On the other side, Seth was also trying to crawl. The severed arm left behind an intermittent stream of blood. With his one remaining arm, he dug his fingers into the asphalt and pulled himself forward.

  Behind the finish line stood Patron Uvo and Patron Darclyght, unmoving.

  Their faces were carved from stone. There was no astonishment. No emotion at all.

  Only judgment.

  And behind them, the crowd roared.

  Half of them screamed Nome-Rocky’s name.

  The other half cried out for Seth.

  They both crawled.

  Just ten more centimeters.

  And then, both fell flat on their faces.

  Time seemed to stop.

  They both lifted their heads.

  Seth looked at Nome-Rocky.

  Nome-Rocky looked at Seth.

  They both looked at the finish line.

  It was right there. A handspan away.

  Then, without a word, without a signal, without knowing what the other would do... Seth took his final breath and hurled his body forward.

  Nome-Rocky had done the same.