The big day swooped in like a wrecking ball, inevitable and destructive. He couldn't sleep, eat, or sit still. Even when closing his eyes, the layout of the circuit played on a loop. When asked by the team, he pretended all was well. It wasn't a lie, not really. Strapped tight into the cockpit, hands on the steering wheel, he was flying.

He hit all the right spots at every turn, acceleration and breaking point. Holly Hobblers, all gears were clicking in the right sequence, creating a perfect symphony of power and performance. Finally, the long days and hundreds of practice laps were paying off.

They had to; he had to be flawless. This one lap was his one shot to show his worth. Any driver not within four clicks of the fastest time would be banned from the race in the afternoon, a safety precaution to ensure the stars of the show wouldn't be hindered by dangerously slow cars.

He had no doubt about qualifying but hungered for more. For fame, for glory, to beat the odds, and to gain a place in the history books. He didn't want to be among the best; he wanted to be the best.

Passing the finishing line, he lifted the throttle instantly. The only purpose for the out-lap was to head back to the pitlane, minimising the wear and tear of his machine.

Edge came over the voicebox, encouraging as always. "Provisional fourth place, Nio. That was excellent."

"Fourth place isn't excellent," Nio said, instantly disappointed in himself and the car.

"Beating your personal best time is."

Nio grunted. Despite doing the perfect lap, he was still slower than three other racers. Nina, Bani, Verlopen, Peterov and Vincuña still had to go.

Worst-case scenario, he would only be ninth, which was neither bad nor good. Mister Anonymous, whom nobody would see or remember.

And why would they?

The crowd in the grandstands were decked out in green and red, the colours of Malachite and Scuderia. Cardboard requests and love declarations were raised up, begging for anything from a win to Bani's hand in marriage. The white and black of his team popped up as frequently as the orange and blue of LST and Tauri Aldo. A lonely speckle here and there; they were there for Nina, not for him.

By the end of the afternoon, they needed to know his name. He had grown from a boy to a man in the streets of Oa City, for spirits' sake. He deserved to be put on a pedestal, just as Seraphina Bani.

Back in the garage, he crawled out of the car, handing Hewie his steering wheel and gloves. He kept his cap, headset, and goggles on, not wanting to talk or meet anyone's gaze.

One man did not receive this non-verbal message. A reporter, a moustached man wearing a stuffy tweed jacket and puffing a pipe approached Nio. He was carrying a voicebox recorder and spoke too passionately for his own good.

"We go straight to our rookie, dear listeners," he said, partly chewing on the pipe and partly shouting into his microphone. How he managed both was a skill Nio couldn't fathom. "Fourth...no, fifth fastest as Nina Nanda's time appears on the boards. Zero point three clicks between the two of you. Any thoughts to share before your debut?"

"I'm looking forward to my first sprint," he said monotonously, repeating the standard answer the team had drilled into his skull. Inwardly, he cursed Nina for beating him.

"The listeners and I are eager to get to know you. The team has been very secretive about you, Nio." He paused, cocking his head. "Or should I say, Antonio?"

"Just Nio," he assured the reporter. The team had prepared him for this; Antonio was a popular Kotayi name, and fans had a strange obsession over a sprinter's full name.

"So, it's not a nickname?"

"No."

"Alright, Nio, help us out here. There are many tall tales going around this track. Last week, you supposedly gave the coppers a run for their money, and had to be bailed out of Soulgrave by the big boss himself."

Nio faked a rehearsed laugh. "We got your attention, didn't we? Gunder and the team wanted to do something special, given the change of drivers so close to the start of the season. I grew up here, and the Speed Sprints are a big deal, so we decided to add some gas to the burning logs of racing passion. Big thanks to Queen's Egg for an unforgettable evening—I had a blast."

"So you never went to Soulgrave?"

"Mistrum Kamu serves excellent spice tea, but that's about all can say about the prison facility."

"So you deny having any ties to the clans?" the man persisted.

"Yes."

Nio looked around, eyeing Edge, their agreed-on sign. Quickly, she noticed his distress.

"I'm coming," she said into his earpieces.

"I have to ask," the reporter continued. "What is it like to be the first Kotayi since Luis Serrano to step into a Speed Sprint car? Do you feel the pressure of wanting to be as good as him?"

Nio dodged the question. "I want to have a good first race," he said. "That's all."

"And that's a wrap. Thank you, Willy and all listeners of Channel Sprint for your endless support—I need to borrow my driver," Edge said friendly and calm, like she had promised she would.

"Never leave me," Nio said to her as the reporter shuffled to the next team box.

"You've dropped to sixth."

Raising his head back, he groaned. "Unless you have bad news."

"Fine, then let me give you an instruction: eat."

"Or when you boss me around."

"I'm serious, Nio. It's important," she nagged.

"Fine. I'll eat."

He didn't even look at food. Edge didn't bring it back up until he was sitting in the car, full racing gear on, Hewie's sticky protective cream spread on his cheeks.

The eight drivers in front of him were leaning against the wall separating the track from the pitlane, slurping on syrups or munching on nuts, raisins, or berries. He argued it was too late now, and she didn't push, which he was grateful for. He wouldn't have been able to swallow as much as a sip of water.

The energy of the crowd was as electrifying and magical as a glow hobbler. Every eye was on him and the nineteen other drivers. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the chance of a lifetime, to be on the fastest, most dangerous stage in the world.

Click by click passed with the speed of a slimecrawl as the other Speed Sprinters took their position on the grid. His team of mechanics were making a few late adjustments to the car, which Edge assured was normal. Nio focused on himself, on his breathing, steading his nerves and mentally taking that first corner in a hundred different ways. The start of the race was always the most chaotic part. Twenty cars fighting for the lead; all he had to do was survive.

The large grandfather clock towering above the track chimed, the sign for the mechanics to depart. The five alchemy green starting lights lighted up simultaneously, a wonderful piece of craftsmanship. Once the lights were out, away they went.

Five... four...three...two...one...

Go!

With a sudden burst of roaring engines, the race was underway. Foot full on the throttle, Nio was but a passenger as his machine hurtled down the track, sprinting towards turn one.

A blink later, he was driving into a cloud of smoke and debris.

He slammed the brakes and swerved around a blue car, narrowly avoiding Nina, whose car was facing him. Tugging at the steering wheel, he veered towards the grass on the side of the track. He bounced and jolted over the rough terrain, every bump and dip a risk of damaging the floor, his tyres, or the front wing, but there was no alternative.

He re-entered the track as soon as he could, his foot down and pushing hard. He went wide around a ridiculously slow red car. A chunk of rubber flapped around the Scuderia's left rear tyre. In the corner of his eye, he spotted the white goggles and cap of Seraphina Bani.

Yellow flags were waved around the track, indicating to slow down.

Nio lifted his foot from the throttle, reducing his speed to one and a half hurricanes. Whatever had happened, he had come out unscathed and had likely gained positions. How many, he didn't know yet, but both Nina and Bani were behind, their machines damaged or out.

"That's position four," Edge said to him as he exited turn nine and approached the finish line. One lap down. Thirty-nine to go.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing that concerns you. Look after your tyres, then push after you see the green flags."

There was still a cloud of smoke hanging around turn one. Four cars were parked, among which Bani's Scuderia, and another was hanging upside down against the crash barrier. Marshalls in bright orange suits picking up pieces off the track ran to the side of the track as he neared.

A lap later, a white cloth covered the upside-down car; that was never a good sign, but Nio couldn't let it get to him; racing was risky business. People died or got hurt.

Edge sounded in his ears, her voice muffled. "That's debris up ahead."

"I'm trying to avoid the debris," Nio said.

"No, it's Le Brie up ahead, in the Vrysman."

"Copy." Nio snorted before Edge faded to static again.

He caught up to the purple car of Le Brie and the two Malechites; the front-runners had escaped the chaos of the first corner as well.

The green flags were waved in lap ten; they could start racing again as they crossed the finish line.

Within half a lap, he closed in on the Vrysman. Le Brie was struggling with his rear end, slightly understeering mid-corner. The team would tell him to play the long game, that it was more important to look after the tyres. But every click longer behind the slower driver meant the two Malechites would run away from him.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

The first chance he got, he took it. Revving the engine and pushing his SRT to its limit, he swooped past the Vrysman, and into third place.

"Bold but brilliant," Edge said to him. "Up ahead is Vincuña, two point three clicks. Focus on maintaining position."

'Don't be stupid' was what she was trying to say.

Which was hard to do when you were the definition of stupid.

In the next laps, Nio closed the gap to the Malechites to a comfortable one point one clicks, increasing the distance to Vincuña in the corners to avoid dirty air but using the magnificent power of the Queen's Egg engine to sneak closer on the straight lines.

With each turn around the track, he got closer and closer to the car ahead. Time was running out fast, and he still wanted to win. Peterov was another four clicks further. These guys had been racing all their lives; they were one with a car that was as fast as his. But he had to believe, had to be confident that he could do this.

"I'm going for Vincuña," he said to Edge.

It seemed to take half a century before she came over the voicebox. "Copy. You're good to go."

The battle was on. From now on, every lap was going to be as intense as during qualifying. He had to make them count. No mistakes allowed.

Within two laps, he was right on Vincuña's deep green tail. He needed a clear exit outside of turn nine, then go neck and neck on the main straight.

As he approached the tight corner, he focused on getting it more right than right. After a clear exit, he stomped on the throttle. They were side by side as they passed the pitlane entry, but now came the tricky part. He went for a late brake, turning slightly in, then opted for a sharp lunge to stop Vincuña from accelerating out of the corner.

"You can only do that once," Edge warned. "Stay on your line."

"Why?" Nio shouted.

"We're here to race, not to kill."

"I passed him, though!"

He spoke too soon. The conversation with Edge had forced him into a mistake; he went wide into turn two, hitting the grass instead of the apex.

Vincuña came up to him; they were side by side once more. If one were to put a finger between their cars, they would lose it. The Malachite blasted past him, but not for long; a braking error from Vincuña caused Nio to go wide and regain the position.

"Now that's racing!" Edge yelled, her voice drowned in white noise but not her enthusiasm, as he entered turn nine. "It's zero point three clicks to Vincuña and five and a half to Peterov."

The battle wasn't over yet. Nio didn't need to look in his mirrors to sense Vincuña. The car wobbled on the main straight; his tyres were almost dead, their grip decreasing rapidly. His contender wasn't giving up either. For a few laps, he kept close behind Nio, making him nervous, and forcing him into an error.

That wasn't going to happen.

By now, Nio knew every patch of asphalt. His limbs were close to giving up, but his sheer will was going to fight until the better end. He pushed himself and the car to its limits, focusing on taking each corner with the same precision as at the beginning of the sprint.

Vincuña lunged a few times as if reminding Nio of his constant presence.

As they approached turn one again, they were neck and neck for the third time. In second place, Nio had the advantage of position. He cut off Vincuña. A fraction of a click later, came the smack, rubber against rubber. Front tyre against back tyre.

How he managed to keep his car on track, he didn't know. One moment he was a passenger, the next he had full control over the steering wheel. Edge was yelling into his ears, he couldn't make out any of her words.

Vincuña fell behind straight away and didn't come back to try again.

Three laps later, the black and white chequered flag mercifully called the end of the race. The entire team climbed up the pitlane wall and cheered for him. Nina included.

"That was an excellent first race, Nio!" Edge screamed. "Go and enjoy the bubble wine. It's well deserved."

"Gunder here, you nearly broke the car. I hate you, but I love you," his boss said over the voicebox, pride apparent in his voice.

The red Scuderia fans stood up from their seats as he did his victory lap, chanting his name. While he hadn't won, it did feel like he had. With Bani out of the race, they had found another local hero to root for.

He parked his car in the winners' box, in the number two position. While Peterov was raising his fist, Vincuña got out of the car and came up to him.

Up close, Vincuña wasn't as tall as Nio imagined him to be. The tanned Porti Jañon man with the dazzling smile stretched out his hand, helping Nio out of the car. Now that the rush of adrenaline was fading quickly, the pain, exhaustion, and days of barely eating or drinking hit him hard.

"Unbelievable," Vincuña said in awe, scrutinising Nio from head to toe. Dimples appeared on his cheeks as he bit his lip. "Great battle. I enjoyed that."

"Me too. To many more." Nio breathed heavily, trying to control his shaking legs. Black spots appeared before his eyes. He leaned on the car.

"Next time, I won't back out. Despite the name, these races are marathons, not sprints. You got position now, but I'll take the title at the end of the season."

"Challenge accepted," Nio said, blinking rapidly. The world around him was spinning.

His body gave out. Luckily, his contender was there to catch him in his broad, wet, muscular embrace.

Nio let it all happen, the tumult of the crowd and panicked voices of the team in the background shouting for a medic; he was safe in the arms of Ruben Vincuña.

There were worse places to be in.