As the sun slanted toward the horizon, the Tour de Inferno officially came to an end. The afterglow cast its final warmth across the sea of sand.
Throughout the Outer Ring, residents craned their necks in anticipation. On this most important day, many hadn't even had time to take a single bite of food before rushing over—just to see who the new champion would be.
"Hey, hey, who do you think took it in the end?"
"Is there even any suspense? Boss Pompey hasn't lost in how many years now?"
"Not necessarily. Boss Pompey's getting old… Besides, if there were really zero suspense, why'd you come running over? Wouldn't it be enough to just listen to the victor's reappointment speech tomorrow?"
"I—I came specially to celebrate, okay!"
"Oh, give it a rest. Your legs are shaking. You're not confident at all, are you? Hey—wait, what are you wearing underneath… Holy crap, traitor!"
"I… I… At this point, I'm done pretending today."
Along the edge of the track, amid the roaring crowd, a red gorilla thiren was exposed on the spot. His face flushed bright crimson.
Nearby, a lanky man was shouting "traitor" at the top of his lungs. The piercing noise drew attention from those around them, and many turned to look in confusion at the gorilla thiren, who was dressed far too thickly for the heat and clutching his jacket tightly, as if hiding something.
What was he hiding?
The crowd grew even more curious. Could it be a bomb?
But judging by how tightly he was clutching it, the thick jacket had collapsed inward. There wasn't nearly enough space inside to hide anything substantial.
So what exactly was he hiding?
The more curious the onlookers became, the more desperately the gorilla thiren tried to cover himself up. Their curiosity intensified, burning gazes focusing squarely on him. Quite a few people, just looking for entertainment, shifted their attention over.
For a moment, even the speculation about the victorious convoy grew quieter.
Finally, the gorilla thiren couldn't hold it anymore. Compared to his own embarrassment, the stares of the crowd were driving him insane.
In the next instant, accompanied by a roar of "I'm done pretending today," he ripped open his jacket, revealing the Lighter merch underneath. He domineeringly planted one foot on the guardrail by the track, face red as he shouted:
"I support Lighter as Overlord! That arrogant bastard—the most handsome guy in the entire Outer Ring, famous and handsome, the undefeated champion!"
The moment those words came out, an uproar erupted.
"Holy crap, wasn't he just backing Boss Pompey? How'd he suddenly switch to the Sons of Calydon?"
"What do you mean supporting the Sons of Calydon? Their boss is Caesar! This guy's supporting Lighter!"
"Uh… wait, is 'arrogant' supposed to be a compliment? He sure uses it smoothly. And didn't he say 'handsome' twice?"
"Whatever, I don't care about any of that. I support Burnice! Sunlight spilling everywhere—that's what the people really want!"
"Caesar! Caesar!"
"Damn it, you Vanquisher punks, don't let the Sons of Calydon outshine us! Everyone shout—Boss Pompey! Boss Pompey!"
"Boss Pompey! Boss Pompey!"
"Wait, didn't two of our Vanquisher crew also make it in? Second-in-command Lucius and his subordinate Mors?"
"Shut up and shout with me—Boss Pompey! Boss Pompey!"
"…"
The sun dipped lower, sinking toward the western horizon.
Though waves of chill drifted in from the far end of the sand sea, cooling the ground beneath their feet, the people's hearts remained warm. Filled with hope, they cheered loudly, waiting for the Overlord's vehicle to burst from the Hollow—crashing over the same gravel once trodden by past champions, charging forward to be crowned amid the crowd.
At last, it came.
The slanted sunlight stretched its shadow long. Everyone rose onto their tiptoes, straining to see more clearly, desperate to identify the victor even a second sooner.
The host, Jolly Jenne, was bursting with enthusiasm. Standing high atop the podium, her fair face flushed hotter and hotter with her racing heartbeat. Her trembling body could barely contain the excitement as she peered through her binoculars, eyes locked in place.
[It's here! The victor has arrived!]
[All you fuel-guzzling punks, rejoice! The Overlord's vehicle is racing toward us! Is this the continuation of the old king, or the coronation of a new one? Let us wait and—]
Before the word "wait" could leave her mouth, Jenne froze. Her expression changed drastically, eyes widening in shock.
[Wait—an off-road vehicle? Were there even off-road vehicles among the racers… I remember now! At the very start of the race, an uninvited guest forced their way into the Hollow. Could it be them who won in the end? Or were they just passing through… Oh my god, sorry, my punks, I couldn't see clearly just now.]
Unwilling to believe it, Jenne rubbed her eyes and looked again through the binoculars, then cried out:
[No—no, that's not it! Through the windshield, we can't see who's in the back seat, but the driver is Piper, the passenger is Burnice… And Caesar's and Lighter's bikes are escorting the vehicle. Could the final victor be Caesar?]
[After all, Caesar is the leader of the Sons of Calydon… Oh! Look—Caesar is waving at us! Is she signaling to us like—]
Before everyone's eyes, Lucy suddenly kicked open the off-road vehicle's door. With Corin's help from the back seat, she leapt out and sprang onto Caesar's bike, stepping onto the seat and standing tall.
Using her slender frame to project the loudest shout of her life, she cried out:
"The final winner is me!"
"Listen up, all you fuel punks of the Outer Ring!"
"The new Overlord is me—the world's number one golden songbird, Lucy!"
"The Overlord's gentleness…"
Those words stuck in Jenne's throat. After a brief moment of stunned silence, her professional instincts kicked in, and she immediately adjusted, shouting instead:
[Let us cheer! Let us celebrate!]
[The final champion of this Tour de Inferno is—Lucy, from the Sons of Calydon!]
For a brief instant, the entire venue fell silent.
Then, an even greater roar of cheers exploded forth.
That the final result wasn't Pompey was already surprising enough—but Lucy taking the Overlord's seat sent blood racing through everyone's veins.
After all, Lucy wasn't the leader of the Sons of Calydon.
Compared to Caesar, she'd seemed even farther from the throne.
And yet precisely because of that, her ascension was all the more shocking—a true legend.
"Lucy!"
"Lucy!"
In the next moment, the entire crowd was shouting her name.
Lucy lifted her small face proudly, completely unaware that her smile was already about to split her face in two.
...
Elsewhere, among sand dunes a little farther from the track.
Phaga handed Pompey a bottle of mineral water, then took a sip from the half-empty bottle Ellen passed him.
"They're not cheering for you," he said softly. "How does it feel?"
Pompey was already much better than he'd been inside the Hollow. The effects of the drugs had worn off, and his ether resistance was gradually returning. With Phaga's help suppressing it, he had quickly recovered to his former condition.
Still, after all the chaos of the Tour de Inferno, he seemed to have aged noticeably. Watching Lucy's retreating figure in silence, he finally let out a sigh.
"I'm old. Sooner or later, someone had to take my place…"
Phaga glanced sideways as Pompey tilted his head back to look at the sky.
The Outer Ring wasn't as polluted as the city. By dusk, a few of the brightest stars were already visible.
Pompey stared quietly, as if trying to find which one might be his. He absentmindedly reached out, as though to grasp it.
Only after a long moment did he realize just how distant the stars truly were. Shaking his head, he sighed again.
"I just don't know… how far Lucy can really take the Outer Ring. I can't help but worry."
"Then go watch her."
The voice beside him made Pompey's heart jump. He turned sharply.
Phaga was already standing, smiling as he took Ellen's hand and walked off, waving lightly.
"If I remember correctly, the Motorcycle Alliance of the Outer Ring is always led by the Overlord—but the vice-leader position has been vacant, hasn't it?"
"If you're worried, go talk it over with the newly appointed Overlord. She knows how to see the bigger picture."
"Oh, and remember to have the Sons of Calydon return the off-road vehicle to me once they're done with it."
As Phaga spoke, he suddenly felt a tug at his hand.
Turning his head, he found Ellen had stopped.
"Hm?"
Phaga tilted his head, slightly puzzled.
The next moment, Ellen turned to Pompey and said:
"I just remembered something. Tell Burnice the wolf thiren I promised her is under the off-road vehicle. She can go find him herself"
Under the chassis was Mors.
They'd originally been dragging him along, but at Cinder Lake, Ellen had tied his corpse beneath the vehicle instead.
Poor guy—bounced around the whole way, even worse off than Lucius.
But Ellen didn't care.
What she cared about more was whether the hotel Phaga picked tonight had good soundproofing.
Because—
Ellen looked up. The colors of dusk were quietly fading, and the darkness of night was growing deeper.
Night was falling.
PS: Did anyone think it was Lycaon?