Bryokun tilted his head, smirking wider. "Heh. You gotta be joking. You do know where you are, right? I run these streets. You've never raced here... you wouldn't last a damn lap."

But Morrin didn't flinch. "Then let's find out."

Bryokun chuckled, stepping closer. "Perfect. A chance to show everyone that you're just the strongest on paper." He turned to the crowd. "Five hundred contract points to the winner."

"Deal," Morrin shot back before Renny could even react.

Renny's eyes widened. Five hundred? How much did Morrin even have? Was he really that reckless or just running on pure adrenaline?

Bryokun smirked wider. "I don't see your ride, champ. Or are we racing imagination today?"

Morrin spat again, his eyes twitching with irritation. "I...it's coming. I just wanted to secure the bet first. You... you got cars on the track anyway. We'll wait."

Bryokun folded his arms. "Fine. Bring your toy back here. We'll lock in the slot and see if your mouth runs faster than your wheels."

They turned away. Renny kept pace beside Morrin, whispering, "Are you sure about this?"

Morrin didn't slow down. "You told me to get what I want, right? This is Hell. I want Eryoma... and I'm done being pushed around. I'm Morrin Omekro, the strongest Grade Two demon. I'll prove it today."

Renny couldn't help a half-smile. "That's the spirit," he said, though worry knotted his chest. But damn… five hundred contract points?

They headed to the car rental district... a warehouse lined with vehicles, some old, some built for chaos. Morrin's eyes roamed the collection until they landed on a battered Toyota Corolla E100 Sedan. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't fast. But it was all Morrin was willing to spend.

When they returned, Bryokun burst out laughing at the sight. "That's your car? Oh, you're dead."

Eryoma tried to intervene, her tone cautious. "Morrin, maybe..." But the look on his face silenced her. His fists clenched, his jaw set.

"Let's see who's laughing after the race."

They placed their bet and secured their slot—four more races before their turn. The night was creeping in fast, the last glow of Oroshika's crimson skyline fading.

Renny glanced at the darkening sky. If it gets any darker, this race is going to turn into a death wish.

***

By the time Morrin and Bryokun's slot finally came up, night had fully swallowed the Third World. Just as Renny had predicted. But the district had its own way of mocking darkness... The streetlights flared to life, humming and sparking as if they were charged with demon blood. The whole strip glowed a blinding orange-white, so bright it almost felt like daytime, even though the air still stank of exhaust and decay.

Renny scoffed under his breath. Of course. They couldn't bother fixing the road... cracked asphalt, open potholes, oil-slick puddles everywhere, but they made sure the lights worked. Forget safety, just make sure no one has an excuse to back out.

Morrin and Bryokun each stepped forward, the crowd closing in around them, chanting and shouting over the roaring engines. They pulled out their phones and scanned the collector's QR code. Within seconds, the transfer was complete — five hundred contract points sent from each of their accounts, the confirmation beeping softly in the noise of the crowd.

Renny's stomach tightened watching Morrin's balance drain. Five hundred… that was his contract budget for six months.

Bryokun just grinned, adjusting his gloves. "Hope you're ready to donate, paper champion."

Morrin smirked back, his words slurring slightly. "W-we'll see who's donating tonight."

The crowd howled in laughter, engines revved, and the floodlights dimmed for the countdown.

***

The race began. Renny watched from the side, standing on the roof of a nearby building as Morrin and Bryokun got into their cars. The flag dropped, tires screeched, and both vehicles shot forward into the chaos of Road 3.

Driving on a normal road was already something Renny had never attempted before; he could only imagine how brutal it must be to drive on a road like this, filled with potholes, debris, and unpredictable dips. Still, at least they were demons; whatever happened to them physically wouldn't be permanent. But for Morrin, the damage of losing right in front of Eryoma would cut deeper than any crash could.

That thought alone seemed to fuel him. From the very start, Morrin tore down the road with reckless speed, surging ahead of Bryokun before the other demon even realized it. The first stretch was surprisingly smooth — few potholes, fewer obstacles, and Morrin took full advantage of it. Bryokun, on the other hand, seemed relaxed, almost casual behind the wheel, as if he knew something Morrin didn't… as if he already knew how this would end.

Renny couldn't help but believe Bryokun had this in the bag. The moment the road began revealing clusters of deep potholes, Morrin started to struggle. At first, he managed to maneuver through them, swerving left and right, keeping his lead, but the more he did, the closer Bryokun crept up behind him. Bryokun, on the other hand, handled the terrain like he'd memorized every inch of it. He weaved through the obstacles effortlessly, a grin plastered across his face, and when he finally caught up, he threw Morrin a mocking laugh that said the battle was already over.

And maybe it was, because within minutes, Bryokun was far ahead, his taillights shrinking in the distance. There was no way Morrin could recover from that kind of gap, Renny thought.

But then, as if determined to prove him and everyone else wrong, Morrin began to focus harder. The crowd that had been chanting Bryokun's name slowly quieted as Morrin started to close the distance. His biggest weakness had been the turns, the sharp edges that threw off his rhythm, but once he got the hang of cutting them tighter, his driving changed completely. The potholes no longer fazed him; the road's chaos had become second nature.

Now, both cars tore down a narrow alley lined with rusted drums and flickering lights, engines screaming through the confined space.

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