Diomas Nilo wasn't just fast—it was built different.
Its soft-metal body could dynamically adjust hardness under electronic control: the harder the impact, the softer the metal. Instead of crumpling like an ordinary car, the body flexed and absorbed energy. That's why Leon had dared to gamble—betting that his monster of a machine could smash through a blockade without a scratch.
As the looming silhouette of the black roadblock vehicle filled their view, the two women in the passenger seats shrieked in terror. Their faces drained white, lips trembling, eyes squeezed shut as they curled up defensively, clutching whatever they could hold onto.
They were certain this was the end.
Then—BOOM!
The collision shook the night. Energy blasted forward, tossing the blockade vehicle aside like a ragdoll. But Diomas Nilo? It only jolted, rattling briefly before stabilizing under Leon's razor-sharp control. Not a single crack in the windshield, not even a dent to the body.
The girls slowly opened their tear-rimmed eyes. They were pale, trembling, mascara streaked—faces ruined by panic and tears.
"W-we… we're alive?" Elena stammered, her tongue tripping over itself as her hands continued to shake uncontrollably. Facing death that close was not something anyone could endure calmly.
Hattie's legs were jelly, her voice faint and hollow. "J-just now… w-what even happened?" Her vacant eyes told the story—her soul had almost flown away.
Riding with Leon wasn't a taxi fare—it was a gamble with your life. Did he always drive like this?!
Their expressions were chalk-white, their fear immense… but mixed in was awe. For all their terror, they couldn't deny it: this man's skill was beyond anything they had seen.
Meanwhile, Leon's chest heaved with exhilaration. His eyes burned with excitement. That rush—the raw chaos of smashing through obstacles, the violent thrill of unrestrained destruction—it lit a wildfire in his blood.
Inside him, the desire for speed, for chaos, for dominance, surged uncontrollably.
"I told you—so long as I'm here, no one can touch you!" Leon's confidence was unshakable. He wasn't boasting. He meant it. With his strength, even Captain America wouldn't stand a chance once he leveled up further.
The girls, infected by his bold certainty, slowly breathed easier.
But then—
"Warning. Emergency stop cable detected ahead. Prepare for evasive action."
The onboard system's alert snapped Leon back to focus.
These people just wouldn't quit!
"What's the clearance?" Leon muttered, brow furrowing.
"Fifty centimeters from the ground."
That wasn't high. Even a child could hop that. And for a car with hydraulic jump gear, it was trivial.
But ordinary cars? They'd be done for.
"Jump it?" Leon asked.
"Not recommended. Multiple cables set at fifty-meter intervals. Unable to clear all with jumping."
"And spike strips deployed in between. Attempting to jump may cause tire destruction, resulting in loss of control."
"Damn it!"
Of course. Eteon wasn't stupid. He had anticipated Leon's instinct to leap over the traps. That's why he didn't just plant one cable—he laid several, with spike strips hidden between predicted landing zones.
If Leon jumped, he'd land on shredders. Instant game over.
It was ruthless. A masterstroke. Eteon was giving Leon no way out.
"Can't I just gun it?!" Leon suddenly thought of the mounted weapons.
"Confirmed. Tires are non-pneumatic. Spike strip threat level minimal. Mounted guns may neutralize obstacles."
Leon grinned. The system hadn't considered it, but he had. That was the difference between a computer and the West Coast King.
"System will auto-lock on cables and spike traps. Firing controls automated. Driver should focus solely on driving."
Perfect. Leon had been worried about aiming, but the system had his back. To a computer, locking targets was child's play.
"Then let's roll!" he shouted, stomping the accelerator.
Diomas Nilo roared forward, its engine screaming like a beast unleashed. The thunderous growl shook the desert air, stirring blood and igniting adrenaline. Even the girls, clinging desperately to the handles, felt their hearts race with the sheer violence of speed.
The car blasted across the desert outskirts of Las Vegas, dust and sand whipping up behind it. Here, the loose soil made it difficult to anchor cables—except in canyon regions where stone allowed solid fastening. That's where Eteon's trap waited.
Leon's instincts sharpened.
"Activating machine gun."
A hatch slid open on the hood, a heavy-barrel gun rising smoothly from its compartment. Its base locked seamlessly into the car's structure, no gaps, no weakness.
"Target locked. Firing."
The muzzle erupted with flame, a meter-long tongue of fire belching destruction. Bullets tore into the asphalt, ripping holes in the highway like miniature craters. The deafening barrage was a storm of violence, tearing through everything in its path.
The first cable snapped instantly under the onslaught, flailing uselessly before breaking in two.
Diomas Nilo surged forward unhindered.
And there it was—the spike strip. Professional-grade law enforcement equipment, designed to end high-speed pursuits.
But this time, the system held fire.
Because if the bullets shredded the strip, fragments would remain on the road. At 900 km/h, those shards would embed themselves into the tires, spelling disaster.
The system made the call: don't shoot. Barrel through.
But could even Diomas Nilo handle it?
~~----------------------
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