All hell broke loose.

I kept my eye on Chloe, her jet racer accelerating quickly enough that rather than lying on her stomach, it must have felt to her like she was standing on the wall that separated the driver's compartment from the engine. Or more likely being crushed into it; the g-forces involved were way over what the planet naturally managed.

She'd claimed that wisdom would be a more useful buff to her than endurance, but personally I wasn't so sure. There was no way a regular human could withstand such forces without blacking out as the blood was pulled out of their brain. Whether the endurance stat prevented blood being pulled from the brain or helped the brain withstand the lack of oxygen, I had no idea. Something for someone else to research at some point; it wasn't really my area of expertise.

Her racer weaved around the competitors in front of her, who were a little slower to get going. Some that relied on wheels for drive but that hadn't taken proper precautions for the ash surface struggled to move at all, with the wheels spinning uselessly as the machines went nowhere. Grover—who'd mentioned the ash and thus presumably done what he could about it—pulled away at a decent speed, curving into the middle of the track as he sped past the competition. The catamaran pulled away at a decent speed, too, but it was struggling to weave around the slower competitors, not due to a lack of manoeuvrability, but simply because its width meant that it didn't fit between them.

And then one of the racers that was struggling to get traction suddenly bit into the ash surface, but only with one tire. That went about as well as might be expected, as it spun around on the spot and swiped its neighbour.

"Oof," exclaimed Dad, grinning madly as another pair of racers smashed into the first two. Luckily, the ones behind managed to swing around to avoid the crash.

... No, luckily, all the drivers involved were fine, I carefully corrected myself.

There was something to Charles's suggestion of reordering the competitors. The entrants could largely be divided into two groups: those who were here for the hell of it, and those who were actually trying to win. At the least, I felt they should put the serious competitors at the front, even if everyone within the two groups was still randomised.

Despite being scattered through the starting grid, those serious competitors were rapidly making their way to the front of the pack. Chloe quickly took first place by dint of being small and having ridiculous acceleration, but now that she'd put on some speed, her cornering was suffering badly. With the twists and turns of the course, she couldn't get close to full speed, even on the straights: she'd built a missile, and missiles were not known for their brakes. Whatever speed she put on, she needed to ensure she bled off prior to the next bend, but without wheels or a reverse jet as powerful as the forward one, there wasn't much she could do.

That meant that the catamaran was catching up quickly. So was something that looked like a tank, complete with treads, except that the thing was going way faster than any tank had a right to go.

Also, the 'gun turret' was facing backward, and, from the blast of fiery air that shot out of it, pushing the vehicle to even higher speeds, it was not a gun turret.

And then the tank was passed by Grover, who didn't have Chloe's acceleration, but what acceleration he did have was constant, with the thing putting on more and more speed. By the first long straight, it was the fastest moving thing on the field, and was still getting faster. It went sailing past the catamaran and started nipping at the heels of Chloe.

Then the track took a sharp turn to the right, and Grover did not.

While there was a barrier at the track edge, it wasn't built to withstand an impact at that sort of speed. Given that this was Grover—one of the world's foremost enchanters—he'd apparently slapped a durability enchantment on his racer's entire body. A rank five enchantment. His car wasn't even dented by the impact, and not only kept on going, but kept on accelerating. Thankfully, the organisers hadn't been so foolish as to position spectators directly in front of sharp corners, so Grover's rapid exit went uncontested by fleshy bodies.

"Did his accelerator get stuck?" asked Charles, squinting at the rapidly shrinking vehicle as it vanished into the distance.

"Eh. This is Grover we're talking about, so... I'd give it fifty-fifty odds of being deliberate. He did mention a mechanism that unlinked his steering from his wheels, so perhaps it triggered accidentally, but if so, I'm not sure why he didn't brake."

It occurred to me that amongst the things Chloe's jet racer was missing was any sort of rear-view mirror. She'd probably missed Grover gaining on her and then unceremoniously departing the track, the race, and, if he kept accelerating, the Scar itself.

In the meantime, the less serious group of racers had suffered a few more crashes and pile-ups, with the result that almost half of the competitors were already out. Alas, much to Darren's disappointment, none of them had exploded. A team of marshals were desperately trying to clear them out of the way before the leaders finished their first lap. Thankfully, they had magic on their side, as well as System-enhanced strength.

The gun barrel slash jet engine of the tank swung around in the opposite direction to a corner, blasting sideways and lifting the entire contraption onto a single track as it pirouetted then slammed back down with a thud, now facing in the correct direction.

"Anyone for another sandwich?" asked Mum, who was less interested in the race than the rest of us.

Catherine, who was snuggling into her and still looking sleepy, suddenly perked back up again. "Me!"

"How can you eat right now?" muttered Charles, watching the tank intently as it gained on Chloe.

"Oh? Careful; that almost sounded enthusiastic," I warned.

Charles frowned, then carefully schooled his expression back into something more blank.

Cluma giggled. "You aren't fooling anyone. Your ears are twitching and your tail is stiff."

"... I hate being catkin," he sighed. "Can't I keep any secrets? I wonder if I can replace my ears with human ones..."

"Wow. That's rather backward compared to normal," I muttered. Could a catkin get [Xenophilia] by saying that sort of thing? After all, to a beastkin, humanity was exotic.

"It wouldn't help, anyway," added Cluma. "On top of what your ears are up to, your heart rate has almost doubled."

And overpowered catkin hearing struck again. Although, to be fair, even without my cat-like ears I could just watch his heart beating directly with [Mana Perspicacity].

"Chloe was right about that catamaran's cornering. It's taking turns far faster than she can, and it has better deceleration, so it's picking up even more speed on the straights," observed Dad. "It doesn't have her acceleration, but that means nothing when she can't accelerate. It'll have caught up by the end of the lap."

"Yeah," I agreed. "That tank won't be far behind, either."

"Tank?" asked Charles, and I realised I'd used the English word. That hadn't happened in a while.

"An armoured horseless carriage?" asked Cluma, tilting her head cutely in a spot of confusion. She had [Language: English] at level ten, but some terms simply didn't translate well.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Then they're all tanks," pointed out Charles.

"No, it's... complicated to explain," I sighed. "It's an Earth thing. We don't really have an equivalent here."

Sure enough, the other pair of the three leaders continued to gain on Chloe, and at the last turn of track, the catamaran overtook.

She didn't seem to like that very much. The glow of her racer's exhaust changed from orange to white, and she once again accelerated.

"Huh? There's no way she can take the corners at that speed!" exclaimed Charles. "What's she doing? Coming third is better than crashing out!"

She went sailing back past the catamaran, but the next corner was approaching rapidly, and I agreed with Charles. I knew what her jet racer could do, and there was no way it could corner at that speed.

And then the thing turned sideways, the jet facing the outside of the curve. It spat angry flame as she accelerated perpendicular to the track.

"She's copying the tank!" I exclaimed. "How? She can't have seen it in action. The tank was behind her."

"No, but she saw it before the race," pointed out Charles.

"... Bloody hell, she's good," I admitted.

"Of course she is," nodded Cluma. "She's our kid. Did you think she'd be normal?"

"It's a serious risk, though, if she's never tried manoeuvring like that before," opined Dad. "She was obviously hoping to get away without it, given that she didn't try it until she was overtaken."

"She seemed to pull it off easily enough," said Cluma.

"This time, yes, but she needs to do fifty laps," I responded. "The concentration it must take to get the acceleration right... To ensure she's facing in exactly the right direction. And don't forget that with the design of her racer, while she's doing that, she can't see where she's going. Trying to keep it up for the entire race will be... challenging."

Okay, so maybe the wisdom boost she wanted would come in handy. Shame it was against the rules.

The tank seemed to be getting into its stride, too, gradually building up the speed at which it was taking corners until it, too, overtook the catamaran. It was even gaining on Chloe.

Darren started chuckling.

I couldn't see anything funny myself, but I knew full well what sort of things Darren found amusing, so I blasted my entire family with [Endurance]. After thinking for a second, I cast it on the rest of the stand, too. Alas, I lacked the mana to cast it on the entire audience despite my nearly five digit mana pool and [Master Mana Finesse].

The tank exploded.

It was quite a slow explosion. At first, there was nothing more than a subtle change in the tone of its engine, then the flame shooting from its elongated jet engine stuttered, cutting out for a fraction of a second before reigniting, coughing out a large ball of fire. A red glow leaked out from the gaps between a few panels, then it brightened and turned orange. A few more tongues of flame leaked out from places where fire had no business being.

I resorted to my usual extrasensory skill, using [Mana Perspicacity] to work out what was happening. While the machine used an air crystal to power its actual jet, there was a bunch of cooling infrastructure around the housing of the crystals that relied on external air. The intakes had clogged up with ash, causing the housing to heat up dangerously. The metal had warped, blocking off a part of the air crystal's flow, which had caused the problems to snowball.

The containment failed, allowing fire mana to leak out into the rest of the machine. Things warped more, and the air crystal found itself completely sealed off, yet the machine continued to pump mana into it. The air pressure built, made worse by the ever-increasing temperature, until the impromptu pressure cooker failed explosively.

I targeted the driver with [Eye of Judgement] as he flew through the air, confirming first that his name was indeed Daniel, and secondly that he had plenty of spare health and more than enough endurance to survive the landing.

"Yeah!" yelled Darren. Dad gave him a high five.

"I guess that explains why Chloe didn't think he had a chance of winning," I commented as the marshals descended to remove the debris. "Although, if she could see the problem so easily, why couldn't the team who built it?"

"This is the first race held on this track, so no-one has prior experience of driving on ash. If they only conducted light research beforehand, they may have thought the issues were limited to poor grip," explained Charles. "Chloe sent you here to bring her samples, did she not? I imagine she's put far more effort in than most."

"Sounds plausible," I admitted. Not everyone could teleport over here on a whim to conduct research.

The race continued. With the chaotic first few laps over, things quietened down. Chloe and the catamaran were the two clear leaders, far enough ahead of everyone else that they were soon lapping the stragglers, adding an extra element of uncertainty as they curved to overtake. The wide catamaran found overtaking harder than Chloe's sleek build, allowing her to extend her lead, but as the race wore on, Chloe started slowing. It wasn't anything mechanical, but I could see her sweating face through her windscreen. The limit was the biological component, and her concentration was slipping.

With the race halfway through, her competitor began catching up.

Our family was largely silent. Even Mum was watching with rapt attention as the gap between the two serious racers closed. Chloe must have known her lead was shrinking. Despite the lack of rear-view mirrors, the way she was spinning into the bends brought the other racer into her field of vision, yet she didn't speed back up.

Was she going to be content with second place, or did she have some sort of plan?

My attention was suddenly broken by Catherine giggling. "Statues!" she declared, and it took me a few seconds to work out what she was talking about.

Our whole family had frozen, watching with bated breath as we refrained from twitching a single muscle. Me, Cluma and Charles had our tails sticking rigidly straight out. Even our ears had stopped twitching.

"I need to recast [Endurance]," I realised, it having been almost twenty minutes since the start of the race. "Ow! My leg has cramped!"

Thankfully, I didn't need my legs to teleport.

In another couple of laps, the catamaran was biting at Chloe's heels, but it couldn't overtake. Chloe was taking the fastest line through the track, and her competitor wasn't fast enough to take a slower line and still get past.

"Is that her plan? To block them until the end of the race?" I asked.

"I hope not. It would be boring," said Darren.

"It would be the optimal strategy for the current situation," said Charles.

"Like I said. Boring."

Another ten laps went by with nothing changing. Chloe's lead grew briefly each time they lapped another racer, but the catamaran always caught back up. The driver didn't seem to have any more of a plan than Chloe, probably hoping that her concentration slipped badly enough to make a mistake, either giving them a chance to overtake, or else her crashing out of the race completely.

Ten more laps passed, with only three more to go. Only a third of the racers remained, and all others had now been lapped multiple times by the pair of leaders.

Chloe accelerated.

She picked back up all the speed she'd had when she first employed her new strategy, and then went further. She accelerated to a speed that even her perpendicular acceleration couldn't cope with, pulling away from the catamaran, but a corner was approaching rapidly.

My entire family once again did our best statue impressions.

Chloe turned a hundred and eighty degrees, facing backwards, and fired her jet at full blast. Another quick rotation, and she once more fired into the corner.

Aerodynamically, the manoeuvre was complete bullshit. There was no way it should have been possible, and only enchantments to remove drag gave it any hope of success. Nevertheless, succeed it did, and as her confidence grew, so too did her speed. Accelerating, then using her main engine as a brake to slow down enough for the corners.

She finished lap forty-eight, then forty-nine. In the pair of laps, I could have sworn I hadn't even seen her blink. Never mind sweating, I could see her shaking inside her cockpit, and I had no idea how she was even operating the controls. Her skin was pale, her eyes bloodshot.

Logic dictated that I should pull her out of there, but logic could go screw itself. Even Charles wouldn't consider it. Not at this point.

She pulled into the final straight and opened up her throttle to full. She went flying over the finish line, now with a sizeable gap between her and second place, and then kept on going. Like Grover, she ignored the next turn completely, smashing through a safety barrier and launching herself out of the course.

"Uh..." said Mum.

"I'll go fetch her," I sighed. "Silly girl."

"Well, she is our daughter," giggled Cluma.

"Yes, you keep saying that," I said, then teleported away, jogging alongside the speeding missile with [Timeless World] as I used [Mana Mastery] to forcibly shut down its engines. The silly child of ours had fallen asleep. Not only had she failed to brake, but she still had a strong grip on the acceleration lever. Thankfully, the Scar contained a whole lot of nothing for me to wait for the contraption to stop, then it was a simple task to pop open the hatch, shut it down properly and drag Chloe out.

"Why push yourself so hard?" I asked. "You were winning anyway."

She groggily slitted open an eye, trying unsuccessfully to focus on me. "If I... win... I need... to know... I deserve it..."

"Oh? By that logic, don't I need to hand you into an orphanage?"

"Whu?" she mumbled as the eye opened a fraction wider.

"Well, whatever did I do to deserve you?" I asked, grinning.

Thankfully, Chloe was too far gone to complain about the cheesiness. [Eye of Judgement] showed her stamina was bottomed out, which, given all her endurance boosts, was truly impressive. It also showed a veritable mountain of stat and skill gains from the day, not to mention that she'd maxed out her [Engineer] class.

Her eye closed again, and the poor girl started snoring in my arms. I wasn't quite sure how the event organisers planned to hold the prize ceremony with the winner unconscious, but thankfully, that wasn't my problem.