When Robin mechanically read out such simple and crude rules, Stelle was stunned: What kind of stunt is this now?
Although variety shows existed in the original plot, they were at most performances for laughs. A racing competition was truly unexpected.
And no limits on methods? Was the excitement not big enough?
"If there are no objections, please prepare briefly and board the racing vehicles prepared for you." Robin finished reading from the script in her hand and turned to leave.
"..."
The people present looked at each other, no one speaking.
The others here weren't familiar with one another.
No one could figure out what Sunday was really up to—was it just to freeload a variety show without appearance fees?
A few minutes later, spherical flying cars auto-piloted in front of everyone. This was the most common transport in Penacony during the previous Amber Era, when dream mounts weren't yet customizable, so everyone used this uniform tool.
"Stelle, just drive with confidence later. I'll protect you." Before boarding, March 7th waved at Stelle with a smile.
"Miss Sparkle, when you partner with Stelle, please protect her well~" Firefly smiled sweetly at Sparkle, flashing a warning glare from an angle only Sparkle could see.
The threat was unspoken.
Sparkle clicked her tongue and squeezed into the spherical flying car first.
The interior wasn't large; accommodating two people meant some physical contact was unavoidable.
On the backs of the only two seats were labels: "Driver Seat" and "Skill Seat."
—"[I am the voice assistant for this competition. I will now explain the detailed rules further.]"
A synthetic voice suddenly rang inside the car: "[The flying car has two seats. The Driver Seat controls direction and speed. The Skill Seat handles special items and skills that may appear during the race.]"
"[Additionally, if the Skill Seat operator has special Path powers, they may use them without limit. Defeat opponents and reach the finish line first.]"
"..."
After hearing the detailed rules, Stelle and Sparkle exchanged a glance. Stelle immediately said: "Then I'll take the Driver Seat."
Clearly, Driver Seat had a low floor, Skill Seat a high ceiling. Stelle knew her limits—her special abilities couldn't compare to Sparkle's illusions.
"No!"
Unexpectedly, Sparkle rejected outright. "You take Skill Seat. I'll drive!"
"Why?" Stelle asked, confused.
"Nonsense. Didn't you hear? Skill Seat makes enemies!" Sparkle said fiercely. "If I take Skill Seat, others won't go easy on me!"
"But you're different! No matter how much you harass others, they'll just smile indulgently and let it slide."
Stelle: "Director Sparkle, are you awake? This isn't just our Express crew. See the Annihilation Gang over there? The IPC? You think they'll go easy on me?"
Sparkle faltered, then stubbornly said: "My intuition says they will."
Intuition?
Hearing such an unreliable reason, Stelle flew into a rage. Using her size advantage, she pinned Sparkle into the Driver Seat. "They won't!"
"Little gray-hair, what are you doing? We're fellow countrymen!"
"Don't mention that—it makes me mad. Do you know how much you used to owe... that?"
"Little gray-hair! I'm getting angry, I—giggle giggle hahaha—stop tickling! It's so itchy!"
Stelle held Sparkle down and tickled her underarms. Sparkle instantly lost all resistance, her snow-white legs spasming, toes curling: "I give, I give! You drive—hahaha, stop..."
Seeing Sparkle beg for mercy beneath her, Stelle's mood instantly lifted. "Hmph, if you'd been this sensible earlier, you wouldn't have to suffer."
Hmph! She might not be able to handle March 7th and Firefly, but a nerfed Sparkle daring to act up in front of her?
She was the Galactic Baseballer!
While the two were horsing around, the flying car had already auto-piloted to the starting line. This was the Hot Sands Hour's signature: unlike the Golden Hour's cityscape, the Hot Sands Hour consisted of floating island-like zones connected by spherical flying car tracks.
A natural racing venue.
Inside the other flying cars—
Annihilation Gang car:
"Ifrit, just drive. Leave the rest to me."
Acheron crossed her arms, gripping a long sword, her tone brimming with unquestionable confidence and dominance.
"Oh, in Idrila's name, just watch."
Duke Inferno bowed respectfully: "I swear on [Destruction]'s fate—I will elegantly claim the crown and offer it to you."
"But one small request: the [Trailblaze] forces once aided me. Please show mercy later."
It had been rescued from the hotel by Mil. It remembered this favor but never had a chance to repay it.
Later learning Mil was part of the Express crew, it decided to return the kindness.
"Fine. I know that gray-haired girl—Stelle. Actually, I owe her a favor too." Acheron laughed heartily.
IPC car:
"Ah... Ratio, what am I supposed to do again?"
Aventurine yawned, asking seriously.
Ratio exhaled deeply: "I never want to team with you again... You're Driver Seat—just go forward. Got it?"
"Oh..."
Suddenly, Aventurine remembered something: "Right, Ratio, the Express's Miss Stelle still owes me money. Don't hurt her too bad later, or my money's gone and Jade will be disappointed."
"Tch... got it, got it."
...
Just as the five flying cars lined up, another car sped up from behind. Through the windshield, these two "people" were no strangers.
It was the Capitalist Bird and Clockie, previously beaten by Himeko.
After Mick lost his "Mi" citizenship, they lost their biggest backer. Just as they despaired, thinking they'd only eat golden cake once a day from now on, Sunday approached them, promising that following him would be no worse than with Mick.
Thus, under Sunday's arrangement, they arrived here.
Memory returning to the present, Capitalist Bird took a deep breath: "For the cake, we won't let Mr. Sunday down!"