Minutes had passed since the last set of headlights vanished into the night. Clorinde and Stelle had returned to the Sky Lounge parking area to cool down, their engines still ticking with residual heat. The tension from their race hadn't left the air—it clung there like smoke after a fire, heavy and slow to dissipate.
Down at the starting line, Collei and Lumine's cars were already in position—Lumine's NSX low and poised, the paint gleaming under the overhead spotlights, and Collei's Eight Six idle but coiled, its engine thrumming like a caged animal.
Clorinde stepped out of her white Lancia 037 with that same soldier's grace she always carried—measured, precise, every motion purposeful. She gave a long, deliberate stretch, hands laced above her head as she stared up into the ink-black sky dotted with stars. Without a word, she made her way toward Collei's side at the starting line.
The crisp mountain air buzzed faintly with the hum of engines from far down the slope—echoes from earlier runs, or maybe ghosts of races past.
Behind them, the sharp clack of boots against asphalt broke the calm. Stelle had just climbed out of her matte-black GR Supra when Lumine stormed toward her, fury written in every line of her face.
"The fuck was that, Stelle!?" Lumine's voice cracked like a whip, high and sharp enough to silence nearby murmurs. "You seriously didn't take the outside line on that center island turn? Are you kidding me right now!?"
Stelle stood her ground, jaw set, but her posture betrayed the sting. She stepped forward, tone defensive but not confrontational. "I made the mistake thinking you'd swing wide. I thought—"
"Bullshit!" Lumine snapped, finger jabbing toward Stelle's chest, stopping just short of contact. "You lost focus staring at that damn rearview mirror! How many fucking times do I have to tell you? Stop looking at it! You forget everything in front of you the second you glance at that mirror!"
Stelle's eyes dropped to the cracked pavement. Her voice was low. "Look, Lumine, I'm sorry. I really am. It won't happen again."
Lumine let out a snarl of frustration, threw her arms in the air, then turned on her heel and marched off, boots hitting the asphalt with the weight of her rage.
Stelle exhaled sharply, breath visible in the cold air, her shoulders sagging.
From behind, Caelus walked up in silence, hands in his pockets. No lecture. No judgment. Just a hand on her shoulder and a quiet, warm smile.
"Take a breather, Stelle. Cool your head. This bad blood? It'll pass—it always does. Just give it time."
Stelle nodded wordlessly, her jaw tight.
Up front, Clorinde and Collei had witnessed the blowout. It wasn't hard to catch—it echoed off the trees like gunfire. The tension radiating from Lumine's team could be cut with a knife.
"Yikes," Collei muttered, her gloved fingers gripping the wheel tighter. Her knuckles whitened. "She's really not in a good mood, huh?"
"No kidding," Clorinde said, arms crossed, leaning against the AE86's carbon fiber fender. "Stelle took the outside line when she should've protected the inside. I went in clean and took the lead. Rookie mistake."
Collei gave a small shake of her head and smiled faintly. "Well, it happens. Even Stelle's allowed to mess up once in a while."
Clorinde straightened, gave her a solid pat on the shoulder. "Don't dwell on them. Focus on you. This run is yours. Good luck out there."
"I'll give it everything," Collei said quietly, nodding.
Clorinde turned and walked back toward the Lancia, her boots crunching against the gravel at the parking edge. She disappeared into the car's darkened cockpit, reclining the seat to catch some shut-eye—just another warrior waiting for the war to end.
As Clorinde vanished into the Lancia's interior, Keqing walked up to Collei. She moved with her usual precision—measured steps, composed, calm.
"She'll be leading," Keqing said, her voice clipped but not unkind. She meant Lumine, of course.
Collei nodded. "Alright."
Keqing pivoted and walked off toward Ningguang, who stood farther back with her arms folded, overseeing everything with an inscrutable expression.
Then, Lumine approached Collei.
She extended a hand.
Her expression was surprisingly composed.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Lumine."
Collei reached out, firm grip, steady eye contact. "Collei. Team Speed Stars. Likewise."
No pretense. No bluff. Just mutual recognition of the battlefield they were about to share.
Down at the Autake Pass's left-hand overlook, a sea of headlights stretched along the embankments—spectators jammed into coupes, sedans, hatchbacks. Some leaned against their hoods, others stood perched on guardrails with phones in hand.
A Bayside Blue R34 Skyline purred into view and eased into a tight parking space. The doors popped open, and three figures stepped out into the cool night: Lyney, Lynette, and Arlecchino.
Lyney let out a long groan and stretched like a cat just waking up. "Ugh… I still can't believe I agreed to ride in your R34 instead of my Century, Arlecchino. I've got bruises from that suspension."
Arlecchino shot him a glance, deadpan. "Quit whining, Lyney. You're here, aren't you?"
Lynette snorted a laugh, arms folded, back against the Skyline's rear quarter panel. "Gotta admit though—we made an entrance. The crowd came in every kind of beater and tuner, but we showed up in style."
Lyney sighed, defeated. "Alright, alright. Fine. You've got a point."
Then he turned to Arlecchino, a sly grin on his face. "But seriously—what made you agree to come out tonight?"
Her expression shifted—softer, eyes distant. She looked out toward the moonlit mountainside, listening to the faint echo of exhausts winding through the forested course.
"This is Collei's final race with the Speed Stars," she said, voice low. "Her graduation."
"Graduation?" Lyney raised an eyebrow.
Arlecchino chuckled faintly. "Yeah. She's learned everything I could teach her. Hell, she might even know more than I do now."
Lyney tilted his head. "So you're finally admitting she's faster than you?"
Arlecchino exhaled through her nose, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "For once… yeah. She's evolved. That's why I call it a graduation. She doesn't need me anymore—not unless she wants to. I gave her the Eight Six because I knew she'd make it her own. She's not a kid anymore. She's… my successor."
Lynette stepped forward, embracing her without hesitation. Lyney joined a beat later.
"That's incredible," Lynette said softly. "All that in just a year?"
Arlecchino nodded, emotion flickering in her eyes. "She didn't even like driving at first. She only did it to help the shop. Racing? That was never the plan. But now… maybe she'll go pro."
Lyney's brow arched. "Pro? Like, what kind of racing?"
Arlecchino smirked. "Something with tight corners and no room for error. Rally, probably. She's a damn chameleon behind the wheel—she adapts faster than anyone I've ever seen. I haven't seen her on dirt yet, but if anyone can tame it, it's her."
Lynette grinned, her eyes glittering with excitement. "Then let's see how she handles tonight. Graduation or not, it sounds like she's just getting started."
Back at the summit, every head was turned toward the start line.
Collei sat behind the wheel of the Eight Six, clutch pressed, foot feathering the throttle. She could feel every heartbeat through the steering column, every vibration through the seat and pedals. Her engine snarled with quiet menace, ready to be unleashed.
Lumine was in front—her NSX low, wide, and feral. MR layout. Better launch traction. More power. On paper, she had the advantage. But this wasn't paper. This was touge.
Keqing raised her arm.
"Let the race begin!"
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
"GO!"
Her arm dropped like a guillotine.
The NSX exploded forward, rear tires clawing for grip as the MR drivetrain bit into the pavement with mechanical fury. Collei dumped the clutch at redline and rocketed after her, the AE86 surging forward with all its lightweight fury, engine screaming into the night.
They hit the first 90-degree right-hander in a blur.
Both drivers braked hard, tires howling, rotors glowing faintly red. Lumine pitched the NSX sideways into a crisp drift, apexing clean with surgical control. Collei matched her line, rear end stepping out just enough to keep the balance neutral, throttle dancing to maintain the slide.
They shot out of the turn almost neck and neck.
Another 90-degree left came up fast. Lumine flicked the NSX in hard—tight angle, perfect throttle modulation. The car held beautifully.
Collei followed a heartbeat behind, her heel-and-toe downshift clean as glass, tach needle bouncing with precision. The Eight Six pivoted through the corner like it was born for it, light chassis flexing under the Gs but never breaking form.
Ahead loomed a winding straight—a series of mild curves flanked by a lidless gutter. The kind that punished mistakes with steel and broken fiberglass.
Inside the NSX, Lumine stole a glance at her side mirror.
Collei's headlights were right there. Too close. They weren't chasing—they were hunting.
She swallowed. Her thoughts went into overdrive.
I learned so much chasing that car. How it moves, how it corners. But if she gets ahead—even for a second—she'll vanish again. Like last time.
She forced her focus back to the road, hands tightening on the wheel.
Not tonight. I drive as hard as I fucking can. I don't care what it costs.
Up ahead: the first hairpin.
Sharp right. Blind apex.
Lumine stabbed the brakes and flung the NSX into a four-wheel drift, tires screaming like banshees. The tail kicked wide but stayed in line—precisely where she wanted it.
Behind her, Collei mirrored the move with ghostly precision. The Eight Six arced into the hairpin like a razorblade cutting glass—close, clean, quiet.
They blasted out side by side into the next stretch. The next curve—a slight right—loomed ahead.
The real battle had only just begun.
Back at the summit, the atmosphere had settled into a quieter rhythm, tension draining like vapor under the night sky. The distant scream of engines still echoed faintly in the folds of the mountain air—far-off, muffled, like the rumbling heartbeat of some mechanical god—but up here, time moved slower.
Clorinde sat slouched deep in the Lancia 037's race bucket, shoulders sagging under the weight of exertion and adrenaline that had long since peaked and faded. Her breathing had evened out. Helmet off, hair matted to her brow with sweat, she let her eyes drift closed, the vibration of the Lancia's idle ticking in her bones. Exhaust heat swirled lazily from the rear, disappearing into the crisp Yougou summit air.
She was dozing—half-aware, half-detached—when a sharp knock rapped against the window.
Her body jerked involuntarily. She blinked, vision blurry, and turned her head sluggishly to the side.
Through the glass stood Ningguang, expression unreadable but unmistakably amused.
Clorinde blinked again, slow and groggy, then fumbled for the door latch with fingers that still twitched from battle. The heavy door creaked open.
"Y-Yeah?" she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her wrist, her voice raspy and worn.
Ningguang gave a light, almost conspiratorial chuckle. "Sorry for waking you from your beauty sleep," she said, voice smooth as silk. "But nicely done earlier."
Clorinde exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing a tired smile. "T-Thanks."
She swung her legs out of the car and sat on the sill, slumping slightly forward as she ran both hands over her face, shaking off the haze. Cold air nipped at the sweat on her skin.
"So… how's the race going so far?" she asked, voice still coated in fatigue.
Ningguang leaned casually against the battered fender of the Lancia, arms folded, her expression cool but alert. "Lumine's still in the lead. Barely. Collei's breathing down her neck. It's close. One mistake from either of them, and it's done."
Clorinde nodded slowly, eyelids still heavy. "Good to hear."
Silence hung between them for a moment, broken only by the chirp of cicadas and the distant snarl of engines echoing up the valley.
Then Ningguang tilted her head slightly, eyeing Clorinde with subtle curiosity. "What happened with Stelle during your run?"
Clorinde sighed, raking a hand through her tangled hair, the strands sticking to her glove. "You remember that downhill corner with the center island split?"
Ningguang nodded. "Of course."
"Well," Clorinde said, a dry chuckle escaping her lips, "Stelle went wide. Way too wide. Took the outside-most line. I cut in sharp on the inside, threading the island. Gained three car lengths right there. She never clawed it back."
Ningguang let out a breath and shook her head, sympathy tinged with the weight of hard-earned experience. "That kind of mistake… it'll sit with her."
Clorinde glanced toward the far side of the summit. Her eyes locked on the silhouette of a parked Supra, dimly illuminated under the Sky Lounge lights.
"Looks like their little raccoon wandered too far into the woods," she muttered with a tired smirk.
Across the lot, leaning against that very Supra, Stelle was unraveling.
Her back slumped against the driver's side door, fists clenched at her sides. The sting of failure radiated off her like heat shimmer off pavement. Her jaw tightened, then relaxed, only for her hand to shoot up and rake through her hair again in frustration.
"God damn it, Stelle," she hissed under her breath, each word ground out like gravel. "Good job cocking it all up."
She buried her face in her hands, breath coming shallow and sharp.
Then, the familiar scuff of shoes on asphalt approached from her right. She didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Aether leaned against the Supra beside her, posture loose, hands in his pockets. His presence wasn't invasive—he never was—but it still managed to fill the space with a gentle weight.
"Hey, Stelle," he said, voice soft but firm.
She didn't look at him. "What?"
Aether tilted his head, eyes scanning her face. "Don't beat yourself up too hard. Everyone slips. It's the nature of racing. Doesn't make you less of a driver."
Stelle let out a humorless laugh, low and bitter. Her head turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. "Tell that to your sister. She tore into me like a rabid dog. I fucked it up and she made sure I knew it."
Aether just grinned and waved it off, his tone light but grounded. "Lumine's always been like that. Intense. She expects a lot—especially from the people she believes in."
Stelle exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders like a valve being opened.
"Alright," she said, voice a little steadier. "I'll try to pull it together."
Aether reached out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. His grin didn't fade. "You're not out of the game yet. Don't let one slip define you."
For the first time that night, a small, cautious smile cracked through Stelle's scowl.
Farther down the mountain, the battle was reaching its boiling point.
Inside the Eight Six, Collei's hands were welded to the wheel, her grip firm but not white-knuckled—just tight enough to feel every subtle vibration of the tarmac through the chassis. Her eyes were laser-focused, scanning the tail of Lumine's NSX and the ever-tightening curves ahead.
The halfway point had just ticked past. Her pulse was thundering in her ears. Every breath came sharp and measured, timed to the rhythm of the engine. The AE86's Silvertop howled between gearshifts, raw and angry.
If she didn't make a move soon, it would go to a second run. She couldn't afford that—not with the stress on the engine, not with the pressure looming. This was her shot. It had to be now.
"I need more speed," she muttered under her breath, eyes flicking between Lumine's wide rear fenders and the apex up ahead. "She's killing me on the exits. I need to get her before she opens the throttle."
The course ahead kinked left, then opened briefly—just a short straight to gather momentum—before plunging into a vicious right-hand hairpin with zero runoff. Pure death if you got it wrong.
Collei slid her hand off the shifter and onto the headlight control, her fingers trembling from adrenaline. Her thumb hovered over the switch.
This is it. You've got one chance.
"Wait for it…" she whispered, green eyes narrowing into a predator's focus.
Up ahead, Lumine braked—hard. Her brake lights lit up like a warning flare in the dark.
"NOW!" Collei shouted.
Her fingers slammed the switch.
The AE86's headlights vanished, folding shut with a sharp mechanical snap. Darkness swallowed the car. In an instant, it disappeared—swallowed whole by the black of the mountain.
Inside the NSX, Lumine's rearview mirror suddenly reflected only empty road.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Wh—Where did she go!?"
She craned her head, eyes darting to both side mirrors in a panic. Nothing. No glare. No outline. No movement. Just shadows.
She was alone.
Farther down the slope, where the mountain road carved a sharp left near the rock wall, a small cluster of spectators had gathered behind the guardrail. Lyney stood up front, one foot on the lowest rail, peering into the darkness. Lynette leaned beside him, arms crossed, silent but alert. Arlecchino stood further back, calm and unmoving, like a war general observing from the hilltop.
Lyney squinted into the distance. The mountain trembled faintly.
"Here they come!" he shouted, the air vibrating with power.
Two flashes appeared—first the burning red taillights of Lumine's NSX, streaking into view like twin comets. And right behind it, the Eight Six—completely blacked out, headlights tucked away, moving like a phantom, visible only in glints and silhouettes as it sliced through the shadows.
The crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, gasps. The cars flew through the left-hand turn, tires screaming, suspension compressed to the edge of failure.
Then came the brutal right—both machines snapped through the apex with clinical precision, exit lines tight and merciless. The exhausts roared like monsters in heat.
Lyney was practically hanging over the rail. "Holy shit, Arlecchino! Did you see Collei!?"
Lynette's eyes were wide. "She's running with her lights off!"
Arlecchino smirked, arms folded, her coat catching the wind. "That's outstanding," she said coolly. "Textbook."
The twins turned to her, wide-eyed. "Huh?"
She didn't look at them—her eyes were locked on the road, on the blur that was her daughter.
"Collei's technique is genius. It's psychological warfare. She vanishes from the opponent's mirrors—that breaks their rhythm. Creates panic. Uncertainty."
She let that hang, then added with a glint in her eye, "And it's functional. No headlights means less aerodynamic drag. A small gain, sure, but enough to matter when you're chasing fractions."
She exhaled through her nose, voice turning low and proud.
"Go get them, Collei. Show them what you're made of."
Back in the race, Lumine's nerves were unraveling by the second as they barreled toward the final right-hand hairpin—the course's last brutal test before the finish. Her breath came in ragged bursts, sweat beading on her brow despite the cold night air bleeding through the NSX's climate controls. Both hands were welded to the steering wheel at ten and two, her knuckles stark white as she stared into the darkness.
"I still can't see her!" she hissed, her voice edged with rising panic.
The road in her headlights twisted sharply—too sharply.
Shit.
Her focus buckled under pressure. Instinct kicked in half a second too late. She stomped the brake pedal with all her weight, ABS chattering through the floorboard as the NSX's tires screamed against the asphalt. The rear end quivered, unstable, fighting to hold the line.
And that's when Collei struck.
She emerged from the darkness like a specter, sliding up alongside the NSX's right flank with headlights still off, her Eight Six surfing the outer edge of grip. In that split-second of proximity, Collei's hand shot to the switch—click.
The pop-up headlights snapped open with a mechanical thunk—and blazed to life.
Twin beams of light slashed through the gloom, flooding Lumine's peripheral vision. It was like staring into a flashbang. The NSX's cockpit exploded in brightness, her night-adjusted eyes overloaded, her concentration obliterated.
"What the hell!?" Lumine gasped, her heart slamming into her ribs. The ghost was real—and it was right beside her.
Her instincts betrayed her. Foot jammed down hard on the throttle in a desperate bid to recover—too hard.
The NSX's rear wheels broke traction instantly, torque overwhelming the grip of the tires. The tail kicked out violently. Lumine countersteered on reflex, but the snap came too fast, too sharp. The mid-engine layout punished the overcorrection.
The NSX spun—once, then again. A blur of red taillights, gold paint, and shrieking tires pirouetted in the darkness.
High above at the final spectator spot, the crowd gasped in unified shock as the blur of motion twisted across the tarmac.
March pointed, eyes wide. "She's spun out!"
Beidou leaned forward, fists slamming against the guardrail with a booming laugh. "Collei's done it! She fucking nailed it!"
Amber leapt straight up, her braid whipping behind her as she punched the sky. "You've got this in the bag, Collei!"
Pela stared wide-eyed, hand over her mouth, disbelief painted across her usually calm features. Seele said nothing, but her lips curled into a razor-sharp grin.
Inside the NSX, Lumine slumped back into her seat as momentum ebbed away and the car rolled to a dead halt sideways across the track. Her chest heaved with each breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
The silence hit like a gunshot.
"It's over…" she breathed, barely audible over the cooling ticks of her engine. Her vision blurred slightly. "I lost."
Up ahead, Collei didn't even glance back. Her mind was locked in—the Eight Six surged into the final turn with mechanical precision, her foot feathering the throttle, balancing just enough power to maintain grip. Left foot tapped the clutch, downshift executed with a heel-toe flourish. The car pivoted around the apex, tires snarling but never breaking loose.
She blasted out of the final hairpin, headlights slicing through the black. The roar of the 20-valve Silvertop screamed at redline. And then—victory.
She crossed the finish line.
The silence shattered as the Sky Lounge crowd erupted.
Ganyu threw her fist skyward, voice cracking. "Collei's won! It's done!"
Keqing smirked, her arms folded across her chest, eyes gleaming. "Nice. But it's not over yet."
Ningguang, perched by the railing with her usual composed grace, didn't celebrate. She gazed upward, watching the faint trails of stars streaking overhead. Her voice came soft, thoughtful.
"The official races are over… But there's one more to go."
That quiet line sent a ripple through the crowd. Heads turned. Eyes met. The murmurs grew louder—one name repeated over and over.
It wasn't just Collei's victory that echoed through Autake Pass.
It was the anticipation of what was coming next.
The Speed Stars had swept the prefecture—Autake and Tsurumi were theirs now. Every rival had fallen, one by one. But despite the celebration, the collective heart of the summit beat toward the final storm on the horizon.
One last race remained.
Collei and her Eight Six… versus Clorinde and the Lancia Rally 037.
Ace versus Ace.
The real battle had only just begun.