Fated to Die to the Player, I’ll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!

Lucian's Knights of Camelot came to a full stop mid-race—even daring enough to sleep in their pitstop.

Of course, such an act earned them the ire of every other racer on the field.

But more than their anger at being blatantly looked down upon, what they truly felt was joy at the golden opportunity now handed to them.

Second place—the crowd's favorite, Grand Hellsing—was trailing by 23 laps. It was such a staggering number that, had they not witnessed it themselves, they would've called it an exaggeration. But now, the dominating ship suddenly ground to a halt.

No one missed their chance. Every team surged forward, pushing harder, fighting to reclaim the time they had lost to penalties.

"Shit…! Hey, can't you navigate us faster, you damn birdbrain?!"

Inside Eden Company's ship, Golden Meteor, the pilot barked in fury. He was of a cyborg-like race, with two sparking electrodes protruding from the back of his skull. The violent discharge mirrored the storm in his mind—unstable, explosive, and ready to combust.

Thankfully, his crew—also members of the same volatile race—were not affected by the crackling bursts. But that didn't mean the atmosphere was any less charged.

"I… I'm doing the best I can!" the navigator snapped, hands dancing over his console. "It's not my fault we're this far behind. It's yours!" he hissed—words that no one with sense should have uttered.

"Bastard…! Are you blaming me for being 24 laps behind because I'm slow?!" the pilot snarled.

The sparks on his electrodes flared into a bright crimson hue—more unstable, more violent, and definitely more dangerous.

Tension gripped the air. The crew, known for their short tempers, looked moments away from erupting into an all-out brawl.

But before things could spiral further, a third voice intervened.

"Cut it out, boys! We're still in the middle of the race!" barked the only female aboard—their mechanic, and the level head of the team. "If you've got complaints, save them until after we hit 50 laps!"

She had a point. A solid one.

In fact, during their argument, the ship had entered the dreaded zigzag sector—the second-to-last major obstacle before completing a lap. Had they kept bickering, they might've blown the turns or skimmed the edge of the track, racking up costly penalties.

"…Humph!"

The pilot growled, snapping his focus back to the controls. The navigator kept working as if nothing had happened. Watching the two pretend like they weren't just seconds from trading blows gave the mechanic a pounding headache.

'If it weren't for Father's insistence, I'd never have joined this disaster of a team…' she thought bitterly.

Unlike the rest—handpicked employees under Eden Corporation's banner—she had been brought in as a "pinch hitter." Her skills as a mechanic were renowned far and wide. But more than her technical genius, she was also known to one particular individual: Arthur Grail.

He had no idea she was participating in this race, though.

If he had seen her face—

Her sharp, violet eyes brimming with cold, precise intellect. Her form—a graceful yet commanding presence that made heads turn thrice over. And her two pairs of electrodes, an unmistakable sign of her lineage. A trait possessed only by the highest echelon of her kind—the noble caste of the Voltherian race, the Myr'Volthera.

—Then Lucian would've recognized her on sight.

The princess of the Voltherians. A living nightmare from TSO's Chapter 17 main questline. And one of the biggest obstacles to clearing the game—

Nyssra Vel'Varn!

---

"ACHOO!"

Ugh... My nose feels itchy. Is someone talking behind my back? Badmouthing me, perhaps?

Anyway, thanks to the one-hour nap Cassandra managed to squeeze in, she was finally back on her feet. Though she hadn't fully recovered her peak condition, after a quick teatime and a proper meal, she was more or less ready to go again.

What? Oh, that meal wasn't part of any taunt or strategy. She just got hungry after all that exertion, so naturally, we let her eat a little.

"The second placer, Grand Hellsing, just reached the 31st lap. They're running faster than usual… But still within the margin of error."

Inside the Hunter's cockpit, Eva spoke aloud as she scrolled through the standings with furrowed brows.

I, too, had been keeping a close eye on the rankings—no surprise there, since my 1 quadrillion Credits hinged on those lap times. Fortunately, with a few subtle tweaks here and there, I could still lock their final time neatly within our desired range.

Although it wouldn't be me handling the "adjustments" anymore. That job now fell to Cassandra, our active pilot.

I let out a quiet sigh before calling over to her. "So, how are you holding up?"

"Y-Yes," Cassandra responded, a faint tremor in her tone betraying her lingering fatigue. "I'm still feeling sluggish, but it shouldn't affect the race much."

A soft smile crept onto my lips. "That's good. Just keep a steady pace. We've still got plenty of time to play with."

"I understand!"

As the Hunter rolled back onto the track, the commentators—who had, for once, been focusing on other racers—immediately returned to hurling jabs at us without missing a beat.

{Finally! After a full hour of dragging their feet, the Knights of Camelot are back in action! Will they reclaim their domination on the track?!}

{Damn it... Should've just stalled another hour! Blow an engine or two and sit your ass in the pitstop!}

"..."

One of them was trying to maintain a neutral tone, but her voice cracked with subtle disdain. The other didn't even bother hiding his contempt, outright cursing. Are these announcers even mentally stable?

Anyway, we reentered the course right as the lead racer crossed the line. Due to the coordinated pace control by the Undergods and the Eden Company, the entire pack of racers had bunched up into a single, extended line.

Getting in behind that mass would be a nightmare. So Cassandra pressed the throttle, maneuvering swiftly until we were right behind Grand Hellsing.

"Hmm?"

But just as we joined the flow, one ship made an aggressive move, attempting to ram into us from behind.

Naturally, Cassandra didn't lower her guard. She anticipated the dirty tactic and immediately ascended, braking upward to avoid any potential damage to our rear thrusters.

{What's this?! Mogul Dank is getting aggressive—actively targeting the Knights of Camelot!}

{They probably think it's justified! After all, they racked up over 5 minutes of penalties because of these guys!}

Mogul Dank, Lightspeed Tech's representative, had long earned a reputation as the "eternal second." They'd never managed to beat Grand Hellsing—not even once.

But now, their position was in complete jeopardy.

Due to their accumulated penalties, they weren't in second, nor third. In fact, they'd slipped all the way to fifth place!

Not because their skills had dropped, of course. It was simply that they had been a bit too eager in targeting us when I was in the pilot's seat. I wasn't the type to take hits lying down, so I retaliated—with interest—stacking penalties on them like a vengeful accountant.

All in all, I'd estimate about three minutes' worth of time docked from my antics alone. Only Eden Company suffered more—around seven full minutes of penalties, courtesy of my handiwork.

"Alright, as planned, we'll begin adjusting the leaderboard standings from here on out."

If we let the race continue as it is, unexpected variables could derail everything. To ensure a secure win, we had to "massage" the lap times a bit—mostly by making others earn themselves some well-deserved penalties.

"So we're ditching pure racing now and shifting to sabotage mode?" Eva asked, an odd glimmer dancing in her eyes.

"Well, not sabotage, technically... We'll be playing strictly within the rules, so..."

No matter how I word it, it still sounded like cheating. Then again, it wasn't breaking the rules—it was just using them with precision. No risk of disqualification, no lawsuits.

Sure, the crowd and the racers would probably hate us with burning passion, but the glow of a 1 quadrillion payout was more than enough to endure that hate.

Grand Hellsing was performing flawlessly, so we'd let them be for now. If they start pushing too fast, though, we'll clip their wings later.

As for the current third-place racer… Juggernaut? Never heard of them. They must've climbed up the ranks simply because the usual contenders had been heavily penalized. Time to fix that imbalance.

"Cassandra, your next target is Juggernaut. Push them down to sixth place."

"...Yes."

Though her voice carried a hint of reluctance, she obeyed the plan without protest.

We decelerated slightly, falling back until we were directly ahead of Juggernaut. Then Cassandra suddenly hit the brakes, activating the thrusters in front of the ship. No, it wasn't a suicide maneuver—just a scare tactic. Think brake-checking, but in zero gravity.

She floored the pedal a millisecond later, but the damage was already done. Juggernaut's pilot must've panicked, thinking they'd crash against us and get totaled; he veered off-course, overshooting the loop-de-loop and skidding past the boundary. They tried to return quickly but got stuck outside the track for nine whole seconds—equal to a crushing 45-second penalty.

Their rank plummeted, dropping them straight from third to fifth. A tragic fall, yes, but hey, this is war—and war has no room for pity.

From that point onward, we continued "correcting" everyone's pace, stacking penalties onto our competition with surgical precision.

By our 45th lap—and Grand Hellsing's 36th—the leaderboard had stabilized beautifully.

The gaps between second and fourth place aligned perfectly with our projections. No need to push or tweak further. It was balanced to maintain the illusion—tight enough to be believable, but secure enough to ensure our win.

Of course, that didn't mean the trouble was over.

As long as there were real cheaters on the field, the whole board could shift in an instant.

Huh? No, I'm not talking about myself.

I'm talking about Eden Company—still hanging on at fifth place.

Before we finish our 50th lap, we need to eliminate them from the race entirely!