The race began with the scent of burning rubber. Zephyr took off like a bullet, his bike weaving expertly through the first set of turns. Jaxon and the rest of Class S watched the live drone feed on the giant outdoor screen, their hearts in their throats.
"She's lagging," Chloe sneered, though her voice wavered. "She's just a poser."
But Jaxon was watching the telemetry. "She's not lagging," he muttered, leaning closer to the screen. "She's... calculating."
On the screen, Yuna was leaning so low into the turns that her knee pucks were sparking against the asphalt. She wasn't braking before the corners; she was accelerating.
"She's insane!" someone yelled. "That's the Devil's Curve! If she doesn't slow down, she'll go over the cliff!"
Yuna didn't slow down. At the apex of the most dangerous turn, she performed a "Drift-Slide"—a maneuver only top-tier professional racers could pull off. She bypassed Zephyr on the inside lane, her tires inches from the edge of the abyss.
She crossed the finish line in 2 minutes and 58 seconds.
When she pulled off her helmet, her hair fell perfectly around her face. She wasn't even sweating.
Zephyr arrived ten seconds later, nearly crashing his bike in shock. "Who... who are you?"
Yuna tossed the "Golden Key" to Jaxon, who caught it purely by reflex. She walked up to Zephyr and leaned in close. "Next time you come to my school, bring a faster bike. This was boring."