Chapter 38: Final Victory Taken!

"What about the ads for the modded version?" I asked Tiana through the phone.

"We’re cutting together a high-gloss industrial promo right now," Tiana replied. "CGI exploded views of the shoe, heavy bass, quick cuts of the lab—"

"Cancel that," I cut in. "No industrial ads. No corporate spin. Keep it organic."

Tiana paused on the screen. "Organic?"

"Yeah," I said. "I want a simple, raw video. Just you, sitting in the lab, talking straight to the camera like a real founder. Tell the world the absolute truth about why May fell. Explain that her stride generates so much raw, explosive force that it literally overloaded standard sports engineering."

May grinned beside me, loving the sound of that.

"Show them the x-rays of her toe push-off," I continued. "Then show them the custom spike you built overnight to handle her insane power. It builds massive trust, proves our gear is built for real performance, and hypes May up as a total beast who broke normal tech limits."

Tiana’s eyes lit up as she caught the vision. "That’s brilliant. Authentic founder storytelling beats a slick commercial every single time."

"One condition," I added firmly. "Do not drop that video yet. Keep it locked. The exact second May steps onto the track for the final tomorrow, hit publish."

"Got it," Tiana nodded. "When she walks onto the pitch, the internet gets the truth."

The next morning, the stadium was packed to maximum capacity, buzzing with a tense, chaotic energy. Down on the track, the finalists were doing their final warm-ups under the bright stadium lights. The crowd was chanting May’s name, but whenever her face flashed on the big screen, the crowd erupted into a mix of cheers for her and loud boos for Zenith.

Peter Pear was right—even after he backed off his bot campaign, the initial seed of doubt had already taken root. The public still blamed Zenith for her fall yesterday.

The glass door of the VIP suite clicked open, and Peter walked in unannounced. He pulled up a chair across from me, looking down at the stadium with a calm, triumphant smirk.

"I told you," Peter said softly, leaning back. "You can turn off the bots, but you can’t erase fear. Look at them down there. They love May, but they hate your brand right now. They think you risked her career for a quick cash grab."

I looked out over the railing, keeping my expression completely stone-cold.

"They hate us because they don’t know the truth yet," I replied without looking back at him. "They think our tech failed her. They don’t realize she was just too powerful for standard engineering."

Peter let out a quiet chuckle. "It doesn’t matter what the truth is. In five minutes, she runs. If she loses, or if she flinches because of that toe, Zenith dies today."

Down on the track, the official announcer came over the stadium PA:

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the finalists for the National 100m Championship!"

May stepped out of the tunnel, wearing her updated matte-black kit with the sharp metallic-blue accents. On her feet were the hand-crafted, custom-modded Zenith spikes. She looked calm, dangerous, and completely unfazed by the noise.

She walked up to Lane 4, looked straight up at the VIP box where Peter and I were sitting, and tapped her chest twice.

I pulled out my phone and sent a single text to Tiana: Drop the video now.

Down in the lab, Tiana hit publish. Within seconds, the raw founder video explaining May’s insane force output and the overnight spike redesign flooded every major feed nationally.

The sprinters began approaching their blocks.

Down on the track, the crowd was completely confused. Murmurs and loud groans rippled through the stands as people realized May was still wearing Zenith.

"Is she crazy?" a fan shouted near the lower railing.

"Her team is risking her whole career for a sponsor!" another yelled out.

The stadium announcer’s voice echoed over the PA system, dripping with clear skepticism: "And stepping into Lane 4, the national record holder, May... returning in that unreleased Zenith kit. Let’s hope those shoes hold up today, folks. She’s taking a massive gamble after yesterday’s nasty spill."

Peter Pear leaned back in his leather VIP seat, swirling his drink with a smug, satisfied grin.

"Look at her," Peter chuckled softly. "She’s bouncing around trying to test that toe. She’s nervous. The whole stadium expects her to trip again. You lost the crowd, my friend. You can’t sell a shoe that the public is terrified of."

I didn’t say a single word to him. I just kept my eyes locked on May down on Lane 4.

She wasn’t nervous at all. She was testing the new metallic-blue air-pod plates under her foot. Every time her forefoot hit the track, the custom reinforced base absorbed the impact flawlessly, giving her an explosive, spring-loaded recoil without an ounce of pain.

A sharp, dangerous smile spread across her face. The new spikes didn’t just support her toe—they felt like pure rocket fuel.

Meanwhile, up in the suite, Chloe’s laptop started pinging like crazy.

"It’s working," Chloe whispered, her eyes wide as she monitored the internet feed. "Tiana’s video just hit one million views in four minutes. The narrative is flipping hard."

Down on the track, fans in the front row were pulling out their phones, watching Tiana explain the x-rays and the insane force output May generated. People in the bleachers started whispering to each other, pointing at the screen, realizing they had it completely wrong.

May stepped into Lane 4, set her feet against the blocks, and took a deep breath.

The stadium announcer went quiet.

"On your marks..."

May lowered into her stance. The metallic-blue Zenith spikes dug deep into the track surface.

"Set..."

Peter Pear stopped laughing, his eyes narrowing as he finally sensed the shift in the room.

BANG!

The moment the gun went off, May didn’t just step out of the blocks—she literally exploded forward.

Her acceleration was downright violent. The red track dust kicked up behind her as those custom metallic-blue Zenith spikes bit into the surface, converting every single ounce of her explosive force into raw forward momentum. There was no hesitation, no flinching, and zero fear in her stride.

Across the stadium, sixty thousand spectators leaned forward, holding their breath. The crowd was riding a terrifying edge of pure hype and absolute terror, half-expecting her ankle to give out again at any second. I leaned against the VIP glass, my knuckles turning white. I wouldn’t even lie to myself—my heart was hammering against my ribs, riding that same cautious edge.

But May was pure speed itself.

By the fifty-meter mark, she had put three full body lengths between herself and the rest of the field. By eighty meters, she was running completely alone, a matte-black blur tearing through the air.

She surged across the finish line with an aggressive chest-thrust, completely destroying the competition.

The stadium clock stopped and flashed in blinding neon red: 9.72 seconds.

She hadn’t just broken her record—she had cut a full, impossible second off her time, shattering the world standard on live global television.

For two terrifying seconds, the entire stadium went dead silent. Nobody could process what they had just witnessed.

Then, absolute bedlam erupted.

The stands shook as thousands of fans stood up screaming, losing their minds. Down on the track, May didn’t stumble, she didn’t limp, and she didn’t fall. She hit the brakes, turned around, and planted both feet firmly on the track. She popped her collar, pointed both thumb-fingers down at her modified Zenith spikes, and looked straight into the main broadcast camera with a lethal smirk.

Beside me in the VIP box, Peter Pear’s glass slipped right out of his hand, shattering on the polished floor. His face was completely drained of color.

Chloe slammed her laptop open as Tiana’s voice blasted through my earpiece:

"THE LINK IS LIVE! THE WEBSITE IS ON FIRE!"

Peter sat frozen in his chair, staring out at the track like he’d just seen a ghost. His jaw was literally slack, his face pale as the broken glass at his feet.

I didn’t even bother saying a word to him. The look on his face was better than any insult I could have thrown. I just turned my back on him and walked out of the suite.

Down on the track, the broadcast cameras had already surrounded May. The trackside reporter was practically hyperventilating, holding the microphone out to her while millions watched live around the country.

"May! An unbelievable, record-shattering 9.72 seconds!" the reporter shouted over the roar of the crowd. "Yesterday, people thought your career was over in this gear. Tell us—what changed today? How do those custom spikes feel?"

May looked directly into the lens, wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, and let out a cool, effortless smile.

"Honestly?" she said, tapping the sole of her metallic-blue spike against the track. "It feels different."

The reporter blinked. "Different how?"

"Standard gear tries to hold you back so you don’t break," May said, her voice carrying over every speaker in the stadium. "Zenith tech is built to handle the force when you actually push past the limit. It just feels different."

Up in the media control room and across our servers, Tiana and Chloe caught the phrase instantly.

Within sixty seconds, Tiana clipped those three words from the live broadcast, slapped it across our national store landing page, and blasted it across every social channel with a single matte-black graphic:

"IT FEELS DIFFERENT."

It wasn’t just a line anymore—it became the official slogan of the entire launch.

The site went completely nuclear. Chloe pulled up the real-time sales tracker on her tablet as I reached the bottom of the tunnel. The green numbers were rolling so fast they were practically a blur.

"We just hit forty thousand units sold in under three minutes," Chloe yelled over the stadium noise, showing me the screen. "The servers are taking a beating, but Tiana’s load balancers are holding up! We are completely wiping out our initial national inventory!"

May saw me coming down the track, broke away from the reporters, and trotted over with the gold medal swinging around her neck.