MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Instantly, the rest of the racers burst out from the portal in a synchronized storm of roaring engines and blinding lights. But only six of them remained, survivors of the carnage. Together they charged toward the finish line, streaking across the asphalt like comets descending from the heavens. Tires screeched and burned as each of them drifted into formation, sliding to a graceful halt beside Anthony's car.

Anthony did not step out immediately. Instead, he sat motionless inside, his hands still resting lightly on the steering wheel as though he were savoring a glass of fine wine.

He let the moment wash over him, the rush of adrenaline still pounding through his veins, the dopamine flooding his mind, the memory of every sharp drift and impossible maneuver replaying in crystal detail. His chest rose and fell slowly as he reveled in it, the dangerous thrill becoming a temptation, an intoxicating addiction he could already feel tightening its grip on him.

Several long seconds passed before he finally exhaled, a calm smile brushing against his lips. With deliberate slowness, he unfastened his helmet and removed it, his white hair spilling free and catching the faint light. Then, with measured grace, he opened the door and stepped out of the car.

The others followed suit. Doors swung open, boots touched the tarmac, and laughter echoed. Despite none of them claiming first place, every racer wore the wide smile of satisfaction. For them, it wasn't just about victory, it was the addictive thrill of the ride itself, the test of courage and reflexes, the intoxicating experience that no sum of money could replace.

Anthony said nothing at first. He calmly stripped off his tracksuit jacket, loosening his shoulders as he mentally commanded his system. The restrictions he had placed upon himself before the race vanished in an instant, his suppressed mana flooding back into his body like a tide returning to shore. His energy surged, familiar and comforting.

"Damn, Lorain, where did you even learn to race like that? That was fucking sick!" Ernest called out, striding toward him with an expression equal parts awe and disbelief.

Anthony leaned back against his car with casual elegance, his calm smile sharp. "It's nothing special. You just have to be able to make decisions on the spot. That's all it takes to get ahead."

Ernest barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "You call leaving the narrow mountain path and literally climbing the vertical walls an on-the-spot decision? That's not racing, that's sorcery. I've always wondered why the racetrack gave us those spiked tires and an entire ten minutes of explosive mana tank fuel. I didn't even know it could be used like that."

Alicia crossed her arms, her crimson hair shimmering faintly under the stadium lights. "That's minor. What about the overhead water bridge? That bend was a death trap. You didn't even slow down, you just dove straight through with nothing but explosive mana thrust and raw finesse. And don't even get me started on the way you eliminated the oil slick off your tires mid-race. That's insane."

Dave whistled, shaking his head as the memory replayed before his eyes. "Insane doesn't even cover it. I still can't believe it. I was right behind you when it happened, and even then it felt like I was watching something out of a myth. You're not human, Lorain."

Clara chimed in, her eyes glimmering with excitement. "You've got to teach me that move, Lorain. No excuses."

The rest of the racers joined in, their voices overlapping in a chorus of demands, jokes, and half-serious pleas. Each of them wanted something, tricks, advice, secrets.

The conversation flowed naturally after that, shifting from racing to life beyond the tracks. They asked about Anthony's background, his family, his training. Of course, Anthony lied without hesitation. Even if he spoke the truth, none of them would have believed him.

"Urgh… Now I gotta pay a hundred million quarks after losing," Dave groaned, running a hand through his hair with dramatic frustration.

Ernest chuckled at his misery. "Don't back down. Just ask your family for more. Better yet, take over your family's company and you'll be fine."

As if to emphasize his point, Ernest slipped a hand into his pocket, casually pulling out his sleek phone. "Call out your account number. I'll make the transfer right now."

Anthony's calm smile never left his face, though inwardly, he almost laughed. He didn't even have a bank account. Since his reincarnation, he had never bothered opening one, there had never been a need. Wealth was something he already possessed in abundance, more than these racers could ever imagine. Their millions meant nothing to him.

"I only take cash," Anthony replied coolly. "Maybe next time we meet on the track, come with physical notes."

A ripple of surprise passed through the group. Several eyebrows rose simultaneously. Why would he want over a billion quarks in cash of all things? None dared ask, though; they simply exchanged confused glances and let the mystery hang unspoken.

"Then at least give us your phone number," Alicia pressed.

Anthony didn't hesitate. He recited it calmly, though he already knew he'd block them the moment he left. They didn't know him, and he didn't know them. This bond was temporary, forged only by the adrenaline of the race.

Numbers exchanged, the conversation eased into lighter topics, favorite tracks, rumors of upcoming challenges, playful jabs about reckless maneuvers. Plans were already forming for another race, another reckless attempt to recapture the thrill.

But Anthony's focus shifted. From the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. Vega was approaching, her figure cutting through the group with quiet elegance, her purple gaze sharp and deliberate.

Anthony excused himself smoothly, stepping away from the racers. As he approached Vega, she tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but laced with amusement.

"It seems you were having the time of your life."

Anthony smiled faintly, his tone equally calm. "Well… I always knew racing was fun. I just didn't realize it was this much fun."

Her gaze flickered toward the other racers, who were still buzzing with energy, their laughter filling the air. "It seems they really want you to teach them those godlike skills of yours."

Anthony shook his head slightly. "Too bad for them. I won't be around to teach anyone. After today, I'm gone."

Vega let out a quiet sigh, her eyes softening. "I feel sorry for them. You arrive, you dazzle them, you etch yourself into their memories with impossible feats… and then you vanish."

Anthony's smile deepened, though his tone was dismissive. "They've lived their entire lives without me. They'll manage. Besides, there will be recordings of the race. If they want to learn, they can study, test themselves, and fail until they improve. If not… well, that's their loss."

Together, they walked toward the sleek car they had arrived in earlier. The atmosphere shifted, becoming quieter, more intimate, as though the crowd of racers no longer existed.

"So, where to next?" Anthony asked as he opened the driver's door.

Vega slipped into the passenger seat, her expression calm. "Anywhere the day decides to lead us."

Anthony slid in, his hands steady as he revved the engine. The car purred, alive and ready.

Vega glanced out the window at the racers still gathered by the finish line. "Aren't you going to say goodbye? You can't just leave without a word."

Anthony's eyes gleamed faintly, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. "They're seeing an illusion right now."

Without another word, he shifted into drive. The tires spun against the tarmac with a low growl before gripping hard, launching them forward. In seconds, they were gone, slipping out of the racetrack compound, leaving behind confetti, echoes of laughter, and the ghosts of illusions.