The War of the Gods, the Hot-Tempered Driver

The sun hung high in the sky, and the air carried a mixture of cheap perfume, sweat, and secretly lit cigarettes. Of course, there were also the smacking sounds of couples kissing.

It was somewhat impolite.

Never underestimate American students.

Even though they were only teenage boys and girls, dating early had already become normal at this stage of their lives.

Around the corner, three boys in sagging pants had cornered a skinny, bespectacled boy against the wall. The leader had him by the collar, cursing nonstop.

"If you dare tattle to the teacher again, I'll shove your glasses up your ass!" The bully's threat carried real force, and the bespectacled boy shrank back, his lips trembling continuously.

Ian walked past them without so much as a glance.

"Yo, Ian!" The bully suddenly looked up and grinned. Releasing the bespectacled boy's collar, he swaggered over to Ian and pulled several crumpled bills from his pocket.

"Same arrangement as usual. Next month, make sure my dad feels like my grades are steadily improving bit by bit." The bully handed the money to Ian.

Ian stopped, accepted the cash, and deftly flicked through it with his fingertips.

"You're ten dollars short."

He spoke calmly.

"Fuck, you really are good at math." Speechless, the bully dug a few more bills out of his pocket and slapped them onto Ian's open palm before turning back toward the bespectacled boy being bullied.

Ian's departing figure looked utterly ordinary. The bespectacled boy stared blankly at the scene, his eyes wide behind his lenses. He was clearly heartbroken that, despite both being nerds, their treatment at school was so different.

Was it because that upperclassman was handsome enough? The bespectacled boy, who was two grades below Ian, did not know that Ian's ability to get along with everyone at school had been fought for.

Once upon a time.

Ian had also suffered from bullying at school. However, in only half an hour, he had gotten close to the bully's mother. Although nothing had happened between him and the older woman, he had still sent both of the bully's parents to prison as felons on charges of "molesting a minor" and "aiding in the molestation of a minor."

Someone bullied him.

Then he bullied the bully's parents.

What reputation?

That was unimportant.

Not even Clark had suspected him.

Because everything he said had been true, just not the whole truth.

His tearful testimony before the jury had made him famous in a single battle. After that, even the school's top dogs spoke to him politely and did not dare threaten him in the slightest.

Especially after Ian grew more handsome, no one dared gamble on the fidelity of their female relatives. That was why every classmate Ian encountered at school treated him kindly.

"I need to strengthen my body."

After leaving school.

Ian did not head home right away. Instead, he planned to work out at the gym Jonathan often mentioned. Since he only knew the gym's name, he gritted his teeth and hailed a taxi.

"Where to?"

The driver was a burly middle-aged man with an unshaven beard, a tall and sturdy build, rugged facial features, and a slightly hoarse voice that gave him the weathered air of someone who had been through much.

After putting down his backpack, Ian immediately replied, "Hello, I'd like to go to Big Muscle Club. If I remember correctly, it should be in a nearby neighborhood, not far from here."

He was clearly trying to keep the driver from taking a detour. How should one put it? When it came to this particular skill, Metropolis taxi drivers ranked second only to the taxi drivers in neighboring Gotham.

"Mm."

The driver was a man of few words. He asked nothing further, silently started the meter, and pulled away. The ride was smooth. Leaning against the window, Ian unconsciously rubbed the pendant on his chest with his fingers.

He was already beginning to feel a little tired. He just did not know when he would gain experience. Just as Ian wondered whether working out could earn him universal skills—

"Ring, ring, ring~"

A phone suddenly rang on the driver's person as he drove steadily. Keeping his eyes on the road, the driver took out his phone and answered it.

"Hello, I'm picking up a passenger."

"Right this instant?"

"What do you mean, if I don't come, you'll die?"

The driver's expression changed, and so did the whole mood. His previously steady driving style abruptly switched, and he nearly stomped the accelerator straight through the fuel tank.

"Vroom—"

Even the engine screamed.

The taxi shot forward like a cannonball.

At turns... it drifted outright. Ian felt as if his brain were rattling beneath his skull. He usually did not panic, but this situation was obviously far from usual.

"This isn't Los Santos! You can slow down!" Ian looked at the dashboard and swallowed. The needle had already broken past 180.

The driver turned a deaf ear to his warning. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand while frantically redialing with the other.

"Pick up! Are you still alive?!"

No one answered.

The driver simply opened voicemail.

"Hang on! I'm almost there!"

He shouted anxiously into the phone.

And at that moment.

"I know you have an emergency, but please don't panic."

Ian's voice sounded.

"Holy shit!"

The driver discovered a small head had somehow moved right beside him. Startled out of his wits, he nearly drove straight into a roadside fast-food restaurant.

Fortunately, his driving skills were good enough for him to regain control in time.

"What the hell is going on with you?!"

The driver could not take his eyes off the road, but he also wanted to turn around and see how Ian's head had gotten over there. Could he really have run into a ghost in broad daylight?

"Really, I can get out now. Just pull over—it definitely won't delay you for long." Ian gently spoke as he gripped the safety barrier that he had forcefully bent with both hands.

"Driver, hit the brakes up ahead. Seriously, just brake once. As long as the speed drops, I can jump out myself." How should one put it? Ian was genuinely making concessions.

He had no choice.

The speedometer was nearly breaking 220.

Though he did not have a driver's license, he knew that at such speeds, even with the strength of [Berserker], whether he turned into muons would depend solely on whether the other man crashed. And judging by the way the car kept accelerating, when it would crash was probably not a mathematical question. It was likely only a matter of time.

"Uh, is this the handbrake?"

Ian's question rang out again. It was not because he actually wanted to pull the handbrake, but because he hoped it would scare the driver into stopping voluntarily.

"Huh? What are you trying to do?"

The driver was indeed badly frightened. Unable to bear it any longer, he kept one eye on the road while desperately shielding the handbrake. At the same time, he kept glancing back repeatedly.

Ian was squeezing his entire body toward the front. The thick divider bar was deforming wildly. His arms were also twisted and bleeding, yet the boy seemed completely unconcerned.

His unblinking eyes seemed fixed on the car's handbrake.

"!!!???"

That utterly absurd sight.

Left the driver so shocked that his jaw dropped.

"Damn it! There's something unclean here!" The driver swallowed, feeling a chill run over his scalp. At this moment, he would rather believe he had encountered a ghost in broad daylight.

More terrifying than a ghost was a lunatic.

And more terrifying than a lunatic was clearly a heaven-defying lunatic who looked like a ghost.