As the night deepened, the mountain air turned dense—thick with heat and tension, the kind that clung to your skin and made the asphalt shimmer like a living, breathing thing. The summer sky above stretched wide and indifferent, a galaxy of stars spilling across its canvas, their cold brilliance almost mocking compared to the fever pitch rising on the ground below.
At the summit starting line, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. Engines rumbled in idle, muffled basslines underscoring the murmurs of the gathered crowd. A faint haze of exhaust hung over the starting zone like incense before a ritual.
Keqing stepped away from her conversation with Diluc, her violet eyes sharp and focused as she turned toward Collei, cutting clean through the noise. Her voice was calm but commanding, slicing the air like a blade.
"Hey, Collei! You're up as the chaser for the first run!"
Collei threw up a quick thumbs-up in response, that easy, familiar grin flashing across her face like lightning. "Got it!"
Keqing gave her a curt nod, satisfied, before melting into the sea of onlookers.
Diluc remained near his pristine Nissan 240RS, his arms crossed over his chest, the rally-bred machine gleaming under the summit floodlights like a relic forged in iron and oil. He watched Keqing walk off before finally turning to regard Collei, stepping forward with a calm, deliberate gait. His posture was relaxed, but something in the way he moved suggested barely contained energy—coiled and precise.
"Nice to meet you, Miss," he said evenly, nodding with quiet politeness. "I'm Diluc Ragnvindr."
Collei tilted her head slightly, studying him with mild curiosity. Still, she returned the gesture, voice polite but casual. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Collei."
Diluc's crimson eyes lingered a moment, reading her—not sizing her up, just… curious. His next question came with a glint of amusement behind it, like he couldn't resist poking a little.
"May I ask you something, Miss Collei?"
Collei blinked, surprised by the formality. "Um… sure. Shoot."
He smirked faintly. "Why, at such a young age, did you decide to drive an AE86? Been reading too much Initial D manga, perhaps?"
Collei let out a laugh—short, genuine, a little self-deprecating. "Nope, just a happy coincidence. My dad used to own this car. Handed it down to me when he upgraded to something newer."
Diluc's gaze drifted to the AE86 a few meters away. It sat silent, its black-and-white panda livery dulled by age, but still radiating an unmistakable presence. The faded paint. The stock wheels. The no-frills aura of something earned, not bought.
"Your father's, huh?" he murmured.
"Yep," Collei said, a quiet note of pride slipping into her voice. "It's been in our family for as long as I can remember. Back then, we didn't have any other car, so it was the one I learned on. I got attached. Been driving this thing way before I had any business being behind a wheel."
Diluc chuckled—low and amused, not mocking. "I see. So he's the one who got you hooked on driving, then?"
"Something like that," she admitted, rubbing the back of her head with a sheepish grin. "Yeah. He's the reason I love this stuff."
He gave a slow nod, his expression softening. "Sounds like someone I'd get along with. I'd like to meet him someday."
Then, with an unspoken shift in tone, Diluc extended his hand toward her. His grip was solid, measured—no ego behind it, just quiet respect.
"Well, best of luck out there, kid."
Collei met the handshake without hesitation, her grip firm and sure. "Likewise, sir."
The moment passed cleanly between them, no more words needed. Both turned to their machines.
Collei slid into the bucket seat of the Eight-Six. The familiar creak of the door. The subtle groan of the seat frame. The scent of worn cloth upholstery mixed with faint notes of gasoline and sweat-soaked rubber—it all grounded her. This wasn't just a car. It was muscle memory wrapped in steel and fiberglass. Her battlefield.
She buckled in, hands instinctively adjusting the mirror angles, eyes scanning her gauges—oil pressure, coolant temp, tach resting low but ready. She exhaled once, slow and deliberate.
A faint click of heels approached.
Collei glanced sideways as Ningguang leaned down to the open window. Her expression was composed as always, but her golden eyes were direct—focused, unblinking.
"Collei," she began, her voice firm, edged with something like steel discipline. "Listen closely. This is important—and it applies to every run when you're the chaser."
Collei leaned in slightly, the weight of her attention locked on. The Eight-Six's engine ticked in the silence, its cooling metal echoing like a heartbeat between them.
"Tough it out," Ningguang said plainly. Her voice didn't rise. It didn't have to. The conviction was enough. "Hold her back."
Collei stared into her eyes for a heartbeat more, then gave a crisp nod. "Understood."
Ningguang's gaze lingered just long enough before she straightened, giving the roof a gentle pat with the palm of her hand.
"Good luck, Collei."
Then she turned and disappeared into the shadows beyond the lights, her silhouette fading like a ghost into the crowd.
Collei rolled up the window with a soft clack, her jaw tightening as she took a breath through her nose. Fingers flexed briefly on the wheel. She didn't need to hype herself up. The adrenaline was already there, bubbling beneath the surface.
She caught Keqing's gaze across the pit line and raised a confident thumbs-up. No words needed.
The AE86's engine rumbled beneath her, a low, eager growl ready to explode into something wild. The Nissan 240RS idled ahead, its aggressive exhaust note snarling in anticipation like a caged wolf.
The crowd hushed as the signal marshal raised the flag. Tension coiled like a spring.
It was time.
Keqing raised her hand high, her voice slicing through the dense summer night like a whipcrack.
"Let's begin!"
The crowd tensed as one, the silence before the drop deafening.
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
"GO!"
Her arm cut down like a guillotine.
The mountain exploded in fury.
Tires shrieked in protest against the sunbaked asphalt, rubber clawing for purchase as both cars launched from the line. A cloud of vaporized dust and ozone backwashed through the crowd as the AE86 and the 240RS dove into the first fast-paced right-hander in perfect harmony—no hesitation, no corrections. Just pure, surgical precision.
Collei's hands stayed locked in a firm 9-and-3 grip, her heel-and-toe work clean as a scalpel. She felt the bite of her freshly bled brakes catch just before turn-in and held her line tight on the inside, brushing within inches of the apex.
A medium left came next. She feathered the throttle, downshifted with a blip, and transitioned with a flick of the wrists, maintaining a near-perfect neutral balance. The 240RS kept pace, its exhaust note a raw snarl behind her—angular, aggressive, just behind her left shoulder.
Inside the AE86's dim, red-lit cockpit, Collei's eyes flicked to the tachometer. She'd rigged the limiter to clip at 9,000 RPM—still within the Silvertop's capabilities, but short of the true redline. The real limit was closer to 11,000. She was running this race with a leash on her car, and it pissed her off.
"It's like when I raced Thoma," she muttered, her voice low, steady, mostly to herself. "Keep the limiter on, and they'll never see the full potential."
The needle screamed from 7,500 to 9,000, holding for half a beat. Collei popped the clutch, the shifter clicking back into third with a clean mechanical thunk. Engine RPM dropped—then surged again with brutal urgency.
Further down the mountain, Thoma and Heizou stood perched on a wide shoulder, their eyes trained on the approaching sound of engines echoing off the walls of the pass.
"The Chief told me something interesting about Diluc," Heizou said, his arms crossed, voice low. "Apparently, he races with one hand on the wheel, the other always on the gear knob."
Thoma blinked, incredulous. "You serious?"
Heizou nodded, lips curling into a smirk. "Totally. Says it helps him react faster in corners where he needs to shift mid-turn."
Thoma held out both hands, miming a steering wheel. He twisted his right, simulating a full lock. "That wouldn't work on tight corners. He'd have to drift to make that viable."
"Exactly," Heizou replied, eyes glinting. "Diluc's style isn't pure grip or pure slide. It's somewhere in between. He loads the chassis, rotates the car just enough, then controls the angle with throttle modulation. Kind of like the old WRC Lancias."
Thoma's expression shifted, understanding dawning. "Right. Like a mid-slide grip balance—quick on turn-in, stable through exit."
"Bingo," Heizou said, watching the road like a hawk.
On the course, Collei's hands tensed around the wheel as her AE86 approached a tight left hairpin.
"Damn, he's fast," she growled, sweat trickling down her brow, clinging to her temple. "But I've got to keep this limiter on…"
She hit the brakes hard, the nose of the car dipping. Her left foot danced across the clutch as she downshifted into second, then flicked the car into a high-speed four-wheel drift. Her tires sang, all four at the limit of adhesion, but her control was absolute—no countersteer, no overcorrection. Just pure, raw technique.
Behind her, the 240RS approached the same corner. Diluc didn't slide—he rotated. The car pivoted as if on rails, nose darting into the apex as the rear gently loaded up. His right hand never left the shifter; his left hand worked the wheel like a pianist.
Inside the 240RS, Diluc's eyes narrowed behind the wheel. "She's sharp. And that engine's revving like a fucking S2000…"
At the summit, Ningguang approached Keqing, her tone quiet but loaded.
"Keqing. You remember that girl named Silverwolf? The one from the duct-tape deathmatch on Yougou?"
Keqing didn't look away from the road. "Yeah. I've heard about her. She's the one who taped her arm to the steering wheel, right? Real psycho."
Ningguang nodded, arms crossed. "That technique—one hand locked in, minimal wheel input—only works with front-wheel drives. You rely on throttle to rotate. But Diluc… he's taken that concept and adapted it. His hand position, his control style—it all comes from that same school of thought. But refined. Tuned."
Keqing frowned, still watching the turns. "Why go to that extreme, though? Why keep one hand on the shifter at all times?"
"Because," Ningguang said coldly, "back in the WRC days, you had to. H-pattern boxes didn't forgive hesitation. You missed a shift, you wrecked. This isn't for show—it's for speed."
The race barreled into the halfway point. The pressure began to bleed into Collei's muscles—her calves tense, her shoulders tight. Sweat collected on the back of her neck, her gloves sticky against the wheel.
"I know this pressure," she muttered through gritted teeth. "It's like Arlecchino breathing down my neck in that damn R34… always right there, always waiting for the kill."
She hammered the brakes into another left-hand hairpin. Tires cried. The AE86 rotated beautifully, dancing through the corner with a no-countersteer slide, the inside tires grazing the white line. The 240RS followed with surgical grip, biting into the apex and pushing through with brute force.
The finish line emerged through the trees—close now, within reach.
Both cars exploded out of the final right-hander, suspension compressing hard on the exit.
They crossed the line side-by-side.
Dead fucking even.
The crowd—Clorinde, Ganyu, Navia—stared, mouths agape.
No change in position.
Inside the 240RS, Diluc shifted down and let the revs drop. He shot a glance across at Collei and smirked.
"Good run, kid. But now that I've got a better read on you…" He let the words hang, flicking his eyes to the dash. The smirk faltered.
The coolant temp needle was buried just shy of red.
"Temps are too high," he muttered, jaw tightening. "Shit. Hope it's not real…"
Ganyu turned to Clorinde, her expression tense.
"You think she can do it on the second run?"
Clorinde kept her arms folded, gaze locked on the AE86. "She's holding back. You saw it too, right?"
Ganyu blinked. "The revs?"
"She's locked out the top two thousand RPMs. She's not showing her cards yet."
Ganyu furrowed her brow. "You're sure?"
Clorinde gave her a sidelong look. "We've practiced together, remember?"
Realization hit.
"Oh. Right."
At the summit, the cars re-aligned, engines idling hot under the punishing summer night.
This time, Collei was the chaser.
Jean leaned into Diluc's window, her face unreadable. "How was it?"
Diluc rested his gloved hand on the wheel, still catching his breath. "Good. She's fast. Rev range is damn near a Honda S2000's."
Jean nodded once. "Then lose her this time. Make it clean."
He exhaled slowly, glancing again at the coolant needle. "Temps aren't happy. I'm riding the edge."
Jean leaned in closer, saw the gauge herself. "No shit. That's close to pegged."
She straightened, brushing dust off her arms. "If this ends in another dead heat, you're going to cook that engine."
Diluc gave her a grim smile. "I know."
Jean grinned faintly. "Then don't screw around. Finish it here."
He nodded. "Got it."
Across the line, Ningguang leaned into Collei's window.
"Solid work," she said, her tone even but clipped. "Smart call, keeping those 2,000 RPMs tucked away. Use them now."
She pointed down the mountain. "Watch for the gutters on the hairpins. You can use them. That's your edge."
Collei gave a nod. "Understood."
Ningguang straightened, shielding her eyes from the glare. "And with this heat? Keep your temps in check. That's your next enemy."
Collei gave her gauge a glance. "Still good."
Ningguang nodded, satisfied. "Then don't drag this out. End it now. One shot."
Collei rolled up her window, sealing the cockpit in silence. She flexed her fingers around the wheel. The familiar texture of it calmed her. No fear. No doubt. Just the road.
This time, she would unleash everything.
No more leash.
No more restraint.
It was kill time.
Moments later, the second run ignites like a powder keg. This time, Collei's in the chase position, and Diluc leads the descent. Her grip tightens on the worn leather wheel, knuckles white under the dash lights, eyes burning with laser-focused intent. The Eight-Six screams as it's pushed past its usual limits. The Group A 4A-GE 20V engine, uncorked and breathing freely, tears past 9,000 RPM without hesitation—10,000, then 11,000 RPM—climbing into forbidden territory, shrieking like a banshee let loose on the mountain.
Her left hand slams the shifter up into fourth with a deliberate snap, clutch foot dancing in harmony. The AE86 lunges forward, tires scrabbling violently at the pavement, the body squirming as it loads up under torque. She's closing in—fast.
Diluc's eyes flick to the mirror. His pupils dilate. No fucking way.
"She's on my bumper!? What the hell did I miss in the first run? That engine—there's no way this is stock anymore!"
The two machines scream into a tight hairpin, the road narrowing like a vise around them. Diluc's 240RS maintains a precise racing line, rear end planted, suspension loaded cleanly through the apex. A rally-bred rhythm. Conservative, but fast.
But Collei? She's not playing it safe.
She flicks the car sideways on entry, weight transfer immediate and sharp, rear tires slipping loose with a high-pitched cry. The AE86 slides in a perfect four-wheel drift, balanced like a figure skater on a razor-thin edge. Her eyes scan ahead—not at Diluc, but past him. Her focus is absolute.
Diluc feels it—her pressure, her nerve. His fingers twitch on the wheel.
"I need to end this. Now."
They hit another left-hand hairpin. And that's when he sees it—the gutter.
His instincts scream. "Now or never."
He yanks the wheel inward and dives in. The 240RS lurches, the right wheels slamming into the grassy gutter at the turn's inside edge. It bites down like a set of jaws—rough, risky, and unrefined. The chassis quivers from the jolt, but it sticks. It works. The car rockets through, gaining instant distance.
Collei's eyes widen. "What the fuck was that!?"
She muscles the AE86 through the same corner, but by the time she exits, the gap has opened. One full car length. Her jaw clenches, but her hands stay steady, throttle pinned to the firewall.
"Stay focused, Collei. This is still your race. Don't let him break you."
She punches it. The engine screams again, pulling like a wild animal let loose from a cage. The rear tires leave faint wisps of smoke as the Eight-Six claws forward into the next right-hand hairpin.
Collei's mind calculates in real-time, parsing every inch of road. Her breathing steadies.
"Alright... let's see if I can do what he just did."
As she lines up the corner, her right hand grips the wheel tight while her left flicks the shifter into third. Her foot mashes the throttle. The Eight-Six's suspension compresses as she throws it into the inside, and the right tires bounce over the curb—then drop into the gutter.
There's a harsh jolt through the chassis, a bone-rattling CRACK as the wheel loads up unevenly. But it holds. The timing's perfect. She guns it. The gap shrinks again.
As they exit, it's déjà vu—Collei's Eight-Six practically kissing the rear bumper of Diluc's 240RS. The hunt continues.
Diluc glances back again. This time, he smirks. Just a little.
"Not bad, kid. You're full of surprises."
Then his eyes flick to his gauges.
His smirk dies.
The temperature needle is nudging dangerously close to red. Too fast. Too soon.
"Tch... Not good. I have to end this. I have to lose her."
Back at the starting line, under the hum of the streetlights, Ningguang walks up beside Keqing. Her steps are measured, composed, hands tucked beneath her folded arms.
Keqing eyes her curiously. "Something the matter?"
Ningguang gives a slow shake of her head. "Maybe. But I believe in her."
Keqing frowns slightly. "Believe in who—Collei?"
Ningguang's gaze doesn't shift. It stays fixed on the darkness ahead where the mountain swallows sound and light.
"The 240RS. It's a monster, yes—but it's heavier than Jean's Quattro. Another Group B relic. It's brutal, but inefficient. Less power. The tires are suffering under the heat and weight. And most importantly..." Her voice dips. "Its redline is only 7500 RPM."
Keqing's expression tightens with thought.
"Less time in gear," she mutters.
"Exactly," Ningguang replies. "Diluc's engine needs more shifts, more momentum management. Meanwhile, Collei's AE86... it's revving to the fucking moon. That Group A motor gives her flexibility, and she knows it."
"So you didn't mention that to her?"
"I didn't have to." Ningguang smirks. "She's already figured it out."
The two cars scream into another left-hand switchback. Collei's breathing is controlled, but her mind is on fire. Sweat beads on her brow. Her hands hold fast.
"I have to disappear," she whispers. "I'm running out of options…"
They rocket out of the corner and onto a short straight. Diluc brakes earlier than usual—his timing conservative now, his machine crying out in protest.
Collei sees the opportunity like lightning striking.
"NOW!"
Her hand darts to the switch. Click.
The pop-up headlights retract.
The AE86 vanishes into the dark.
To an outside observer, it's like someone cut the tape—she's gone.
Diluc's eyes dart to the mirror. Nothing.
"What the—!? Where did she go!?"
The darkness plays tricks on his peripheral vision as he guides the 240RS cautiously into the next hairpin. His knuckles go white.
Then—
Snap.
The AE86's headlights blast back on like twin suns igniting behind him.
Diluc flinches. Reflexes override habit—his left hand flies back to the wheel from the gear lever, but he's a split second late. The 240RS understeers wide, tires squealing.
Collei doesn't hesitate. She commits.
Her right tires slam back into the gutter on the inside. Dirt sprays. The AE86 rockets forward. She passes him.
But fate bites back.
THUD-KLANG.
The right side hits a bump in the gutter. The AE86 jerks violently. The chassis lifts, right wheels airborne. For a breathless heartbeat, the car teeters on two wheels—then crashes back down, the rear end whipping hard.
Collei grits her teeth, muscles fighting the steering wheel. The car wants to buck, the suspension barely hanging on.
She's losing it.
"The suspension's not responding!" she screams, wrestling with the wheel.
The car fishtails—one, two, three corrections—and she just manages to avoid spinning out. But momentum is gone. Diluc surges past, now back in the lead.
Collei's breath shudders. Her eyes flick to her tachometer, then to the rearview.
"I... I lost."
But then—
HIS car sputters.
Steam erupts from the hood of the 240RS in a sudden hiss like a beast wounded mid-howl.
Diluc jerks the wheel, easing the car to the side. He leaps out, coughing, eyes wide in disbelief.
"The fuck!?"
Clorinde's already there, sprinting toward him.
"What the hell happened!?"
Diluc winces, peering under the half-raised hood. Steam smothers his face.
"Radiator blew. Cap's gone—pressure just blew the damn thing apart."
Behind them, Collei's Eight-Six limps down the slope. The suspension's crooked. It wobbles like a wounded animal. But she's still rolling.
She passes Diluc's dead 240RS, not saying a word. Her expression unreadable. She crosses the finish line—first.
Under the hazy streetlight glow, the teams gather. Shadows stretch. The tension thins into exhaustion.
Jean kneels beside the open hood of Diluc's 240RS. Her face says everything.
"How bad?"
Diluc leans against the guardrail, sweat-soaked and shell-shocked. "Needs a full rebuild. Probably warped the head, maybe worse."
Jean scowls. "You're lucky the damn block didn't crack. That radiator was antique."
Diluc huffs a hollow laugh. "Guess the desert heat didn't kill it. But this mountain sure did."
Meanwhile, across the lot, Albedo is half-under the AE86, flashlight in hand.
Ningguang stands beside him, arms crossed. "Well?"
He sighs, pushing his glasses up. "It's not totaled. But the front-right strut took serious damage. Possibly bent the control arm. Needs a tow."
Collei hangs her head. "Sorry. That was on me. I pushed too hard."
Ningguang doesn't hesitate. Her hand finds Collei's shoulder, firm and warm.
"Don't apologize. You crossed the finish line. You kept fighting. That's what matters. You're not just driving fast—you're learning. That makes all the difference."
Collei nods slowly. "Yeah... I'll go get some water."
She walks off toward the van, limping slightly. Her head's low—but her spirit? Still burning.
Ningguang watches her go, eyes tracing the outline of the night sky.
"I can't explain it. I've tried. But Collei's luck—or whatever it is—defies every equation. Against Kuki Shinobu. Against Diluc. It doesn't matter."
She smiles faintly as laughter rings out from the van—Clorinde, Ganyu, Keqing, Albedo. Collei among them.
"She's racking up wins like a miracle no one saw coming. She's a mystery… even to herself."
Ningguang tilts her head up, exhaling softly.
"Maybe she was born with something special. A talent. A gift. And maybe…" She pauses. "...just maybe, it's only beginning to awaken."
The night falls quiet. The mountain stills. And somewhere in the distance, the ghost of a scream from the AE86 still echoes.