The God Of Speed Novels & Stories

Chapter Seventeen- Bad Girls Get Punished Part Three •|•|•| "Oh my god!" I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart racing like a wild horse as we cut through traffic. It is official. I am terrified of this man. Damien Blackwood drives like a maniac, like fast and furious kind of insane driving. I was only able to put my thoughts together once the car slowed down to sixty.

Aiden drove toward the garage hallway at an extremely slow speed, but his mouth kept going. “Tomorrow I’m showing it to Milo. Milo says his scooter is the fastest, but he’s lying. His scooter is blue and the wheels are small. My car is black. Black is faster.” “Color does not determine speed,” I said. “It determines aura.” I stopped halfway through taking off my cardigan. “Aiden,” I said slowly, “who taught you the word aura?” He didn’t answer. “Sebastian on YouTube,” Elma said. “His name is SpeedKingSeb,” Aiden corrected. “He reviews Lamborghinis.”

He raced across the waves, his feet pounding the water, leaving a frothy trail as straight as an arrow. Alexander! Inner power surged from within him, propelling him over the waves like a dart through the sky. Each of his strides covered an incredible two hundred meters, with at least five steps every second. That was the sheer terror of covering a kilometer in a blink! A kilometer in a second, nearly tripling the speed of sound! Alexander was pushing the boundaries of human speed, a velocity reserved for the most formidable Lords of War. More daunting still, he was not just racing in a straight line, he was weaving and dodging at breakneck speeds to evade a relentless barrage of artillery f

Snippets of Godmode’s behavior. Observer logs from Godmode’s “tests” on real‑world systems. His expression shifted from smug to intent. He read in silence for several minutes. We waited. Finally, he set the pages down, fingertips resting lightly on top. “So,” he said softly. “They really did it.” “Did what?” I asked. “Built the coordinating layer without a consent anchor,” he said. “I told them they couldn’t. Without a living mind to provide context, they’d end up with a hyper‑efficient sociopath. They chose speed over safety. Of course they did.”

Atarah tried to move but Amon stopped her by griping her hand. "What do you intend to do?" He asked her wondered if she was going to fight them. "Well, we have to do something." That was all she said and Amon sighed. "You should probably head back and contact some scouts or guardians, they will know what to do. I can stop them easily, they are humans after all." He sounded confident in abilities, he was lightning wolf which was by far the fastest wolves blessed by the goddess of the moon. Atarah glanced at both Amon and the black figure alternatively for a moment before nodding her head.

She only heard about tomahawk steak, wondering what the guy beside Jared said. Jared squinted his eyes and was too lazy to answer her question. He did not get proper sleep for the past few days and felt grumpy. Dodge Tomahawk was the most extreme motorcycle produced by the Truman family in Mecrounia. The vehicle could reach a maximum speed of over 600 km/h, which was considered the limit for all motorcycles and land-based vehicles.

Azazel just decided to give in because once his brother decided, he would never listen to anyone. “I am driving,” Tristan grabbed the keys from the entryway. “Have at it,” Azazel wasn’t in the mood to drive. Tristan blasted the music through the stereo, rancid metal playing through his Bugatti Type 57. “God Tris, you seem extra energetic today?” Azazel leaned back relaxedly. “Can’t a man be happy?” Tristan put the pedal to the metal. “Well, yes, I prefer life to happiness,” Azazel loved to speed too, but now he was going to have a family, so he had to be cautious, but his brother ignored him and sped up, and by the time they reached the spot, the city had vanished into sleep.