Chapter 293: Allen Enters the Race as a War Chariot
Sakaar—the planet meticulously run by the Grandmaster.
It was covered in towering skyscrapers, resembling a modern human metropolis.
This planet, which served as a refuge for countless displaced alien races, was home to all sorts of exiles, all living under the laws laid down by the Grandmaster.
At the same time, Sakaar was a tourist planet, continuously hosting various competitions year-round that drew visitors from civilizations across the universe.
What's more, the prize money for these events was outrageously high, attracting participants from many star systems, while simultaneously stimulating the tourism economy.
As such, the Grandmaster had become an extremely wealthy businessman.
Naturally, he had the cosmic elders' gold-plated name backing him, which helped fend off any unwanted attention.
After paying the entry fee, Allen and the others moved into a studio designated for participating teams, which also spared them from paying for accommodation. The space offered sleeping quarters and basic tools for chariot maintenance.
A professional-looking attendant greeted them with a courteous smile. "Excuse me, was your team's war chariot brought in through the port?"
The attendant glanced toward the Guardians of the Galaxy and the rest, noticing there was no transport registration for a vehicle. With a kind tone, he decided to give them a friendly reminder.
"Some things," Allen said, placing one hand on his forehead and the other on his waist while crossing his legs in a dramatic pose, "can no longer be hidden."
Everyone in the studio turned to look at him, baffled. What nonsense was he spouting now?
They didn't even have a chariot, yet he insisted on entering the Supreme Racing Cup. Was he planning to run on two legs against opponents with four wheels?
"Sir, I don't understand what you mean?" the attendant asked awkwardly, internally groaning about how theatrical this guy was being.
"Isn't it obvious? I am the war chariot."
Allen flipped his hair and gave a devilish grin.
The attendant was speechless.
While the rules didn't explicitly define the form a war chariot must take… could this guy stop spouting blatant nonsense with a straight face?
"Are you saying I can't be a war chariot?" Allen asked casually.
"Of course you can, sir," the attendant replied with a polite smile. He wasn't about to argue with a lunatic. They'd paid the registration fee—if the guy wanted to chase other chariots on foot, that was his business.
As soon as the attendant left, Hela couldn't hold it in anymore. "You're wasting money. Our team's funds are already stretched thin."
Each person's teleportation cost 500 energy credits. Add the 10,000-credit entry fee, and they had only 10,000 credits left in reserve—not nearly enough to cover basic expenses.
"To be honest, I've been hiding my identity while living among you. But now, I'm coming clean."
Allen paused after saying this, clearly waiting for someone to ask the obvious question.
"Hiding your identity?"
Ayesha's face darkened. "Father… are you saying you're not really my father?"
"Of course not."
Allen puffed up proudly. "I'm Megatron, a Decepticon from Cybertron."
"…"
Everyone could see just fine. If you're going to make up a backstory, could it at least make some sense?
Forget it. You could say you're a plastic bag and no one would care at this point.
"Decepticon, transform!"
Under the stunned gazes of his teammates, Allen lay down on the floor. Light burst from his ringed hands, and in an instant, he materialized into a fierce-looking war chariot.
Oh…
So that's what this was about.
No wonder he insisted on signing up the moment he heard there were no restrictions on what form a chariot could take. Who would've guessed he could materialize into one himself? No normal person would even dream up something this absurdly flamboyant.
All the doors flew open, and Allen eagerly urged, "Come on, everyone—test drive time!"
"Mama, you take the wheel."
Hela slipped into the driver's seat, and the rest of the team crammed into the car.
Uxas, Thanos, Frank, Ayesha, Yondu, Illusion, and the Three Flowers all squeezed inside.
The plush interior tempted everyone to reach out and touch it.
Hsss... Don't touch that—I'll leak oil!
Allen's annoying voice echoed inside the car. Startled, Yondu jerked his hand back and wiped it on himself in disgust.
"Kelp Lady, grip the gear stick—it's the upright shaft to your right—whoa whoa whoa, not so hard, I'm gonna transform…"
As his words grew more indecent, Hela's face turned stormy. She raised Mjolnir and threatened, "Can you not talk like that?"
Allen's face appeared on the steering wheel, blushing. "I just wanted to add a bit of driver-vehicle flirtation—enhance the experience. It's all just energy constructs, not my real body."
"Don't bother. One more creepy sound and I will electrocute you," Hela warned, narrowing her eyes.
"Yes ma'am. I'm a good little boy," Allen replied obediently.
But his expression darkened immediately after, and then he shouted, "Auntie Ark, take one! Scene one! Mother and son inside the—"
BOOM!
Before he could finish, crackling lightning filled the entire car.
Mouthy as ever—Hela had zero patience for that nonsense.
…
"The 365th Supreme Racing Cup is officially underway!"
On the podium, the Grandmaster—eyeliner flawless and spirits high—enthusiastically kicked off the event.
This was Sakaar's signature race, and it was usually the Grandmaster himself who declared it open.
The spectators in the stands were fired up, wave after wave of cheers rising in anticipation of the intense and thrilling competition to come.
The Supreme Racing Cup—also known as the Death Race.
At its deadliest, the fatality rate had reached 90%.
But the higher the death toll, the more excited the audience became.
After all, people didn't just watch for fun—they bet on the outcome. A correct wager on the winner brought massive payouts.
"This event features several top contenders, including champions from the last five tournaments. And of course, more than twenty veteran racers who've repeatedly ranked second or third might just rise as dark horses this year…"
As the Grandmaster narrated, chariots began entering the track one by one.
The more famous the vehicle, the louder the cheers from fans—and the higher the betting stakes.
Newcomers were usually cannon fodder, often dying in their debut race.
One particular chariot, wrapped entirely in flowing rainbow light, drew a lot of attention.
While all the other vehicles were alloy-framed and bristling with weaponry, this rainbow-colored chariot looked flashy but lacked a single visible weapon.
"This is the rainbow chariot from the Guardians of the Galaxy—a completely new team. Feel free to place your bets, folks. Who knows, they might just pull off a miracle."
Even while introducing them, the Grandmaster didn't forget to coax the audience into betting.
Sadly, no one took the bait.
Cool looks meant nothing. That thing would probably be eliminated the moment it left the safe zone.
Though the track appeared short, racers needed to complete twenty laps, and the route constantly shifted to simulate harsh environments and increase difficulty.
Huge lap differences would give lagging racers shortcuts, forcing close-quarter encounters and deadly combat between participants.
Without death as a feature, the race would lose its appeal and become unprofitable.
Naturally, the Grandmaster had no intention of losing his golden goose.
"Kelp Lady, I'm a tiny bit nervous," Allen whispered, poking his head out and locking eyes with Hela.
Only one driver was allowed per chariot, so naturally, the seat went to the physically overwhelming Goddess of Death.
"You weren't scared of the Seven Lantern Corps. Why would you be afraid of these little ants?" Hela asked, confused.
Allen replied with a bashful expression, "I'm just afraid someone might hit my fuel pipe…"
"…"