"Wow," Marco breathed, the word lost in the violent scream of the NSR250's engine.
He had expected the difference. He knew, intellectually, that a modern 321cc four-stroke like Ryu's R3 had more torque than his twenty-year-old two-stroke. But feeling it? That was a different beast entirely.
As they exited the pit lane and merged onto the main straight, Ryu simply twisted his wrist. The R3, squatting on its expensive Ohlins rear shock, shot forward with a deceptive, electric smoothness.
Marco, meanwhile, was fighting a wrestling match.
BRAAAAP-brap-brap!
He slipped the clutch, keeping the revs in the sweet spot between 9,000 and 11,000 RPM. Below that, the NSR was a moped. Above that, it was a rocket. He hit the power band, and the front wheel went light, twitching in his hands.
[ SYNCHRONIZATION RATE: 42% ]
[ WARNING: ADRENALINE SPIKE DETECTED ]
[ PHYSICAL STRESS: ARMS AT 60% CAPACITY ]
"Shut up, calculator!" Marco yelled inside his helmet, tucking his chin onto the tank.
He watched the gold tail of Ryu's bike pull away. One bike length. Two bike lengths. By the time they hit the braking marker for Turn 1, Ryu was five lengths ahead.
"It's not fair!" Rin shouted from the pit wall, clutching the chain-link fence. "That guy has a cheat code engine!"
"It's not the engine," Jiro muttered, his eyes narrowed as he watched the smoke trail. "It's the torque. Ryu can be lazy. He can be in the wrong gear and the bike still pulls. Kai... Kai has to be perfect."
Marco dove into Turn 1.
This was where the "Invictus" sensation or what his System called "Soul Resonance" kicked in. The moment he tipped the bike over, the world slowed down. He felt the contact patch of the front tire. It was the size of a credit card, scrubbing against the cold asphalt. He felt the frame flex, a microscopic twist of aluminum that told him exactly how much grip he had left.
'I wonder what this body could do with real muscles?' Marco mused, gritting his teeth as Kai's weak triceps screamed in protest under the heavy braking forces.
He released the brake lever. The NSR snapped into the lean angle like a switchblade.
He gained two bike lengths on Ryu mid-corner.
But then came the exit.
Ryu stood the R3 up and whacked the throttle open. The traction control light on his dashboard probably blinked, saving him from a highside, and the bike rocketed away.
Marco had to be gentle. He rolled the throttle on, managing the slide, fighting for traction. By the time he was fully upright, Ryu was gone again.
For the next three laps, this pattern repeated. It was torture.
Marco would claw back distance in the dangerous, technical sections the S-curves, the hairpin risking life and limb to brake later and deeper. He would get close enough to read the sponsorship stickers on Ryu's swingarm.
Then, a straight would appear, and the R3 would simply walk away.
[ LAP 3 ANALYSIS ]
[ GAP TO TARGET: +1.2 SECONDS ]
[ RIVAL STATUS: COMFORTABLE ]
[ YOUR STATUS: FRUSTRATED ]
"I can't pass him on power," Marco realized, slamming his fist on the tank as he crossed the finish line again. "And he's blocking the inside line on every corner. He knows I'm here."
He needed a strategy. He needed a lesson.
As if responding to his desperation, the blue window flickered in his peripheral vision.
The world around him went gray. The roar of the engine was dampened, sounding like it was underwater. Time didn't stop, but it turned into molasses. Ryu's bike, frozen mid-lean in Turn 4, looked like a statue.
[ TACTICAL PAUSE INITIATED! ]
[ MENTOR MODE: ACTIVE ]
A holographic figure materialized on the track, standing right on the apex of the corner. t was Him. It was Marco Rossi, age 25, wearing his championship gold leathers. The Prime Ghost.
"You're riding with anger," the Ghost said. "Anger makes you heavy. Heavy makes you slow."
"He's faster on the straights!" Marco shouted back, though his lips didn't move in the slowed time. "I have to dive bomb him!"
"Driving blindly, even with your experience, won't work in this vessel," the Ghost stated calmly, walking over to Ryu's frozen R3. He pointed at the rear tire. "Look at his line. He is riding the 'Geometric Line'. Out wide, hit the apex, exit wide. It is the textbook line for a powerful bike."
The Ghost waved his hand, and a glowing red line appeared on the asphalt, tracing Ryu's path. It was a smooth, wide arc.
"Now, look at your bike," the Ghost said, walking back to Marco's NSR. "You are trying to follow his line. But you don't have the torque to drive out of the wide arc. You are playing his game."
"So what do I do?" Marco demanded.
"The 250cc two-stroke is not a hammer. It is a momentum machine," the Ghost explained. A whiteboard shimmered into existence next to the track curbing.
"Let's go back to basics: Corner Speed vs. Exit Speed. The R3 relies on Exit Speed. It parks the bike in the middle of the corner, turns sharply, and blasts out. You... you need Corner Speed."
Drawings appeared on the board.
"You must ignore the apex," the Ghost said, tapping the board. "Or rather, you must find a new apex. A 2-stroke line."
"The Double Apex?" Marco asked, recognizing the diagram.
"Precisely. You enter wide, but faster. You dive past his rear wheel before the apex. You scrub speed mid-corner, forcing him to check up, then you use your superior agility to square the corner off and fire out."
The Ghost faded, replaced by the NSR250 he was riding. "I will demonstrate the line. Do not look at Ryu. Look at the Ghost."
Time snapped back to normal.
But now, there was something new. A glowing blue wireframe motorcycle appeared directly in front of Marco. It was translucent, flickering like a hologram.
The Ghost didn't brake where Ryu braked. It didn't turn where Ryu turned.
Ryu swung wide for Turn 5, the Dunlop Curve. It was a long, sweeping left-hander. Ryu was setting up for a classic late apex.
The Ghost ignored Ryu. The Ghost dove inside, onto the dirty part of the track.
"That's insane," Marco whispered. "There's no grip there!"
But the Ghost held the line.
[ SYSTEM QUEST: FOLLOW THE GHOST ]
[ OBJECTIVE: MATCH THE GHOST'S ENTRY SPEED ]
[ TIME LIMIT: THIS LAP ]
[ REWARD: THE OVERTAKE ]
[ PUNISHMENT: GRAVEL TRAP ]
Marco swallowed hard. "Okay. Trust the ghost. Trust the 90s."
He gritted his teeth, his forearms burning. He ignored the brake marker. He ignored the screaming of his survival instincts.
He threw the NSR into the corner, following the blue wireframe.
He was going too fast. He was definitely going too fast.
The bike skittered. The rear tire stepped out, dancing over the bumps.
"Whoa!" Ryu's head snapped to the left as Marco appeared in his peripheral vision, taking a line that shouldn't have been possible.
Marco was carrying so much corner speed that he was drifting, both tires sliding in perfect unison. It wasn't a crash; it was a controlled drift. A two-wheel drift.
He shot past Ryu's inside shoulder, the fairings inches apart.
Ryu panicked. He grabbed a handful of front brake, sitting the R3 up.
Marco shot past, taking the lead mid-corner.
But the move wasn't over. Now he was on the inside, on a tight line, carrying too much speed. He was going to run wide on the exit, and Ryu would just undertake him.
"Square it off!" Marco screamed at himself.
He stomped on the rear brake a technique lost to modern riders who relied on slipper clutches. The rear tire locked for a split second, sliding the back of the bike around. The nose pointed straight at the exit.
He released the brake and pinned the throttle.
The NSR leaped forward. Because he was already pointed straight, he didn't have to wait for traction. He was gone.
By the time Ryu got his R3 pointed in the right direction and back on the gas, Marco was three bike lengths ahead.
[ OVERTAKE SUCCESSFUL ]
[ STYLE POINTS: SSS ]
[ RYU MENTAL STATE: SHOCKED ]
"DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Jiro was screaming in the pit lane, shaking Rin by the shoulders. "He backed it in! He backed it in like a MotoGP rider! On cold tires!"
Rin was jumping up and down, cheering, though she didn't fully understand the physics of what she just saw. "Go grape! Go grape!"
On the track, Marco felt a rush of euphoria that eclipsed any drug. His hands were shaking, his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, but he was in front.
He looked in his mirror. Ryu was scrambling, trying to tuck in and use the slipstream, but the rhythm was broken.
Marco focused on the next corner. The Ghost was still there, the blue wireframe now taking the optimal leading line.
"Okay," Marco panted, sweat stinging his eyes. "Now we hold it."
[ LAPS REMAINING: 2 ]
Marco grinned, a feral expression hidden behind the visor.