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» [ Hold On Tight - aespa ] «
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───── ❝ R U B Y F R I D A Y ' S P O V ❞ ────
║ Gregorian Calendar ║ 02 - 28 - 2027 ║
║ Sunday║ Third Day of Olympia's Cup║
— Lap 1 —
The first obstacle looms ahead - Doom of Spikes. I grip the steering wheel tightly, narrowing my focus to the treacherous track unfurling before me. I swerve to avoid the first jagged metal spikes jutting from the dirt course, feeling the tires scrape perilously close.
I weave through the forest of twisting spikes, adrenaline pumping with each near miss. The other racers are struggling, tires bursting and cars crunching against the metal teeth. I push my vehicle faster, racing ahead of the pack. A huge pit of spikes suddenly rises in my path and I hold my breath, yanking the steering wheel hard to the left. My car spins out, tires squealing as I drift barely an inch from the deadly obstacle.
The course hammers my vehicle as I barrel through the lap, more spikes emerging from the dirt without warning. My concentration is razor-sharp, every sense on high alert as I dodge certain destruction at every turn. The finish line comes into view and I slam my foot down harder, rocketing toward victory. I cross the line first, tires smoking and bodywork battered, but intact. I won the first lap, racing through Doom of Spikes with thrills, spills and sheer grit.
— Lap 2 —
As I emerge from the obstacle course, I have barely a moment to catch my breath before the hail of arrows and spears rain down. I duck as low as I can in my seat while maneuvering the vehicle back and forth, dodging the projectiles piercing the air. My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I navigate this doom - The Gauntlet.
This second obstacle lap loomed before me, a sinister stretch of track lined with hidden death. I gunned the engine and roared into the first turn, tires squealing against the damp asphalt. So far so good, no arrows yet. I pushed the pedal to the floor, racing around the second bend and into a long straightaway.
My eyes scanned the walls, searching for any sign of the slots from which the arrows and spears would fly. The track designers had hidden them well, camouflaged to match the concrete and stone. A trap meant to ensnare the unwary and the slow. But I would not fall to their tricks today.
The engine howled as I accelerated, wind whipping through my hair. I welcomed the thrill coursing through my veins, the danger an old friend. Around the next turn I sped, gripping the steering wheel tight. There! I spotted the first slit just in time, veering right as a hail of spears flew from the wall. My tires skidded but held fast on the track, and I was through the barrage.

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