Hearing this, Mavuika looked up, her amber eyes meeting Tony's.
She didn't answer immediately, instead shifting her gaze to the red supercar behind Tony.
It was a Lamborghini Countach, one of the top supercars of the early nineties; its scissor doors made it look like a chariot from the future.
With a V12 engine, a maximum output of 455 horsepower, and a top speed exceeding 300 kilometers per hour, this was the pinnacle of speed among ground vehicles.
Looking at that car, a spark of eagerness flashed in Mavuika's eyes.
It had been far too long since she had experienced a race of speed. In Asgard, she and Hela often chased each other through the sky, using their divine power for various competitions.
But in Midgard, on Earth, she had always carefully controlled her power to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.
Now, there was a perfect motorcycle, an open road, and an "opponent" who had proactively offered his concern...
An idea rose in her mind and quickly took root.
The corners of Mavuika's mouth curled into a half-smile as she looked at Tony, her voice carrying a clear provocation: "Underestimating me?"
Tony raised an eyebrow and said nothing, but his expression clearly said, "Shouldn't I?"
Mavuika reached out and patted the motorcycle's fuel tank, the metal surface giving off a crisp ring.
She lifted her chin and gestured toward Tony's sports car: "How about we have a race?"
The suggestion stunned Tony. He blinked, wondering if he had heard correctly.
A race? A motorcycle against a supercar?
While this motorcycle had formidable performance, it was still a two-wheeler. In terms of acceleration, top speed, or stability, it theoretically couldn't beat his Countach.
But...
Tony followed Mavuika's gaze to the sports car he had driven—those sleek lines, the low-slung body, the massive rear wing... it was a machine built for speed.
Moreover, he was quite confident in his driving skills. As the heir to Stark Industries, he had been around all sorts of mechanical tools since childhood; while he wasn't at the level of a professional racer, he was far beyond a typical enthusiast.
More importantly, Tony Stark never turned down a challenge.
Especially one from a beautiful woman.
His interest was piqued, and his signature, somewhat cynical smile played on his lips: "Sure! But let's get this straight—don't go crying if you lose."
He spoke lightly, but Tony's mind was already racing through calculations.
He remembered the road from his drive here; it was mostly curves with few long straights.
The motorcycle's advantage lay in cornering agility and initial acceleration, while the supercar's advantage was in mid-to-high-end acceleration and top speed.
If he used the right strategy...
Hearing Tony's words, Mavuika let out a confident and hearty laugh.
"Haha!" She shook her head, her eyes flashing with a long-lost fighting spirit. "If you have the skill, I wouldn't mind having a taste of defeat."
She was serious when she said this. In her long life, victory had become a habit for her.
Whether it was sparring with Hela in the training grounds of Asgard or fighting various enemies on the battlefields of the Nine Realms, Mavuika hadn't felt the tension of "possible failure" in a very long time.
That uncertainty, that feeling of needing to give it her all... she actually missed it.
Tony was momentarily dazed by Mavuika's smile.
The smile was too radiant, too infectious, as if all the afternoon sunlight had condensed onto her face.
He cleared his throat and looked away, masking his momentary lapse in focus.
"Then it's a deal," Tony said, pulling open the car door and sliding into the driver's seat.
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