GLADIATOR | ELYSIUM RISING 1 ✔️

⍢ | 11

Sleek, metal plating hid the engine in the front, creating a shape that reminded Iggy of a shark's head. The back flared out into four fins before tapering into the curved seat. Iggy mounted the Skimmer and placed his hands where he knew the handles to be. Except, his fingers didn't coil around the grips. His palms met a flat surface. Furrowing his brow, he scanned over the skimmer's front console in search of a steering mechanism.

Iggy wasn't a racer. The only driving he'd ever done occurred behind the wheel of a portable drill back in the mines; the thing couldn't move faster than a few miles per hour. But he knew a lot about skimmers. In the event he acquired enough credits to purchase one, he collected magazines and manuals detailing their features and controls back in his apartment. He'd never touched one before, though.

Not until now.

The dashboard rendered to life, the holographic menu and console dousing his face in blue light. Everything read in Galactic Standard, much to his relief. Had the words been any other language—besides Arigorii—he would've been screwed. He quickly navigated through the menu, giving himself a quick rundown of the vehicle's basic operations.

Eventually, he found a setting that disengaged the handles for him. Two puffs of air exploded from the pair of holes on either side of the Skimmer's front head. The handles revealed themselves and Iggy blinked.

The older models definitely don't do that.

Around him, the other tributes topped their skimmers. They formed a perfect line across the platform beneath them. On the other side of the row, Vonn leaned forward, his black-painted helmet catching the light from the fireworks above. He grinned and pointed at the wide-eyed Arigorii.

"You're going to die!" Vonn bellowed over the noise.

Gritting his teeth, Iggy tightened his fingers around the handles and faced forward.

"Racers!" Moxi shouted from his skyward booth. "Get ready for the ride of your lives!"

None of the first-rounders seemed particularly jazzed. Most looked caught between screaming, vomiting, or passing out altogether. Iggy didn't blame them. None of them wanted to be here. None of them should've been there. Himself included.

But he had a mission. And it started with winning this race—or at least finishing in the top five.

Top five or nothing.

Tuning out the blaring noise in his ears, he focused on his breathing. It started out choppy, but gradually became focused. His heart rate slowed. His head quieted. A sense of peace washed over him like the morning sun.

If he survived, he had Tenn to thank for that technique.

The old man's previous bits of advice played in his head like an audiobook. Part of him wished the Andradan was there with him. Yet, he was grateful the old man hadn't been placed in this round. Tenn didn't seem like he knew the first thing about a Skimmer. Besides, this wasn't a team game. It was a race. Tenn couldn't drag him across the finish line.

Only he could.

"Neon City, are you ready?!" Moxi asked the crowd. They cheered wildly in reply. "Let the games begin!"

Iggy's eyes snapped open. His skimmer rumbled to life.

A holographic countdown sequence materialized in front of them. It counted down from ten, every pause feeling like an eternity. Iggy's body trembled as the numbers whittled down. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. His goggles fogged up a bit, and he quickly tried his best to clear his cloudy vision with the bottom of his shirt sleeve.