The principle behind laser weapons was terrifying in its simplicity—high-energy beams focusing immense power onto a single point, producing heat so intense that it could burn through nearly anything in an instant.
This wasn't just futuristic theory; it was already reality.
The most famous example was America's ABL (Airborne Laser) system, which had once intercepted ten Mach-6 ballistic missiles from 160 kilometers away. That was a laser firing at megawatt power output—enough energy to slice through hypersonic weapons traveling 7,200 km/h.
The strongest theoretical lasers in weapons research were said to reach terawatt levels, their destructive potential enough to incinerate targets across unimaginable ranges.
Compared to that, the laser cannon mounted on Eteon's helicopter was miniature. It wasn't the kind of beast that could rip open aircraft carriers or annihilate armored divisions, but it was still cutting-edge, lethal, and terrifying for a chase on a highway.
When the system on Diomas Nilo detected the build-up of energy overhead, its alarm blared:
"Warning: High-energy laser detected. Activating reflective armor mode."
Clack—clack—clack—
The outer skin of the supercar shifted, plates reshaping until the surface became as smooth and reflective as a mirror.
At the same time, vents hissed open.
"Deploying sulfur trioxide smoke… releasing oil mist."
Pffft— Dark plumes erupted behind the car, billowing thick clouds of black smoke that instantly blanketed the highway. It was like an octopus spraying ink. Within seconds, the haze stretched for nearly two kilometers.
Other drivers panicked.
"Cough—damn, whose exhaust is this?!"
"Holy hell, is that car poisoning the whole highway?"
"This is a biohazard! Someone report this!"
They had no idea the smoke wasn't just pollution—it was defense.
Laser beams weakened when passing through particles, dust, or fog in the atmosphere. Artificial smoke was one of the most effective counters to high-energy optics.
Still, Carvilll—Eteon's so-called "brains" of the mission—wasn't about to let Leon get away. He grabbed the pilot by the collar, yelling:
"Fire the damn cannon! NOW!"
The pilot hesitated, but under pressure, slammed the button.
A beam of concentrated red light lanced through the air like a lightning bolt—fast, precise, unstoppable.
It slammed directly into Diomas Nilo's roof.
For a heartbeat, Carvilll's grin split across his face. Victory at last.
But then—
The smile collapsed. His jaw dropped as his eyes widened in disbelief.
The laser's energy visibly dimmed, weakened by two-thirds as it passed through the smoke cloud. The faint remainder struck Diomas's mirrored plating—only to be deflected away.
Zzzt—! The refracted beam veered into a nearby civilian car, searing a deep glowing scar across its metal frame. The heat left molten edges hissing, like flesh torn open by fire.
The unlucky driver, horrified, slammed his brakes and stared at the three-finger-wide gouge running across his car from bumper to hood.
One more inch, and the beam would've cut him in half.
Everyone watching—even on Eteon's live command feed—gasped in disbelief.
Carvilll staggered back in his seat.
"What the hell… How?!"
This wasn't supposed to be possible.
Laser weapons had shredded tanks, aircraft, even hardened naval armor during trials. They were supposed to be the ultimate trump card. And yet, here was Leon—mocking physics itself—casually turning their most advanced weapon into a joke.
The pilot stammered:
"We… we can't fire again. The cannon drained all stored energy. One shot is all it was designed for."
Silence. Shock. Rage.
Even at Eteon headquarters, watching the feed from the helicopter, technicians and engineers were stunned into muteness. The "invincible" laser had been neutralized by one car.
Then someone on the floor gasped, pointing at the screen:
"Wait—look at his car. Something's deploying!"
From the rear of Diomas Nilo, a sleek silver weapon rose. It gleamed in the sun, steel head glinting cold and merciless.
Not a missile. Not a gun.
A harpoon launcher.
Carvilll's eyes bulged.
"He's not serious—he wouldn't—"
But Leon's cold grin from inside the cockpit proved otherwise.
"You tried to kill me with your toy cannon? Then allow me to return the favor. Courtesy demands reciprocity."
He thumbed the trigger.
BOOM! The harpoon shot forward at lightning speed, so fast the human eye could barely track it.
The pilot screamed, trying to bank the helicopter away. Too late.
CRUNCH!
The steel shaft punched straight through the chopper's belly and locked in with an industrial chain.
The entire helicopter lurched violently. The harpoon cable went taut.
Suddenly, the helicopter became a kite—and Diomas Nilo was the hand pulling the string.
Leon yanked the handbrake, the car drifting hard as its insane horsepower spun it sideways. The tension whipped the helicopter in the sky like a ragdoll, swinging it in wide, helpless arcs.
Onlookers couldn't believe what they were seeing.
A car.
Controlling a helicopter.
Like a toy.
Cooler than any stunt, crazier than any weapon—this was Diomas Nilo.