Page 39 of Hyperspeed
The air horn blew, and the race began.
At first, Korvi didn’t move. He remained in his spot like a statue.
Beside him, his competitors rushed forward, dropping their eggs one by one. Korvi’s brain seemed to reboot. He gripped the spoon, his little knuckles white with tension, and I worried the plastic might crack. But to his credit, it remained steady, even as he paced down the track. Even his tail was still, coiled tightly around his thigh.
And the egg?
It didn’t even tremble.
Korvi overtook one competitor after another, as more and more dropped their eggs, fumbling to return them to their spoons. I could hear Kai’s booming voice, encouraging words floating through the air towards Korvi. Even I was yelling.
Telling him how great he was.
To stay calm.
To keep it steady.
But he didn’t need our advice. He was leading the way.
Our team erupted when Korvi crossed the line first, louder than the entire crowd combined. He dropped the egg and spoon and fell into my arms, gripping me around my waist. The others joined us, surrounding the winner and patting him on the back.
Kai scooped Korvi up and put him on his shoulders. His black eyes widened, but he giggled, the sound free and exhilarated. A total one-eighty from the nervous loner we’d met just over an hour ago.
I looked up at Korvi’s smiling face.
Thiswas why I’d joined Zenith Nova. Why I’d wanted to join the ASL.
Because if one little Iskari boy felt seen—felt like he belonged—then maybe others would too. Maybe one day, we wouldn’t be an endangered species. A curiosity for others to gawk at.
We’d be remembered.
Recognised.
Respected.
There were perks to being a champion—the trophies, the fame, and the fortune.
But for me, racing professionally was more than glory. It was making a name for my people. Carving out the possibility of a better, more comfortable life.
For people like my family. Like Korvi.
And thanks to this moment, I was even more determined.
The kids enjoyed a quick water break while the volunteers totted up the scores.
And while they were resting, it was the professionals’ turn to race. But unlike the kids, all of us would go at the same time. All sixteen of us.
So while Kai and I were on the same team today, only one of us could finish first.
We lined up, receiving the same equipment as the kids—a plastic spoon and a foam egg. I stood between Jax and Kai. Zylo was on Kai’s right, and Dray was on Jax’s left.
Dray and Jax argued fiercely, exchanging wild gestures and hissed words. I couldn’t hear their words, though. The kids’ excited squeals drowned them out. I also didn’t particularly care.
I was too preoccupied with the annoying presence on my left—Kai, who stood in his lane, twirling his spoon like a bat and flicking the egg into the air with an infuriating little flourish.
The kids on our team let out a chorus of awed squeals while taking bets on which of us would come first.
“I think Kai’s gonna win,” Jeremy bellowed, overenthusiastic as ever.
