The Rise of John Raymond

Chapter 21: The Entrance

Jerry’s grin stretched wide as he stepped into the heart of the auditorium. Everything was finally going as planned. For once, the universe wasn’t toying with him; it was bowing. After weeks of uncertainty, sabotage, and hushed meetings, the air around him tonight screamed one thing: Victory.

The speakers in the auditorium purred softly with a blend of pop music and atmospheric synth, setting the tone for a night that was meant to crown the most elite, stylish, and powerful among them.

The seats in the middle of the vast auditorium were packed with students, influencers, celebrities, and sponsors—all buzzing with anticipation. Spotlights glided across the black ceiling in rhythm with the music, bouncing off crystals stitched into designer outfits.

The contestants had their own regal section, cordoned off with velvet ropes. Each participant was a story in motion—dressed in their finest, hoping for their moment of glory. Though online registration had already been completed, the event mandated an on-site registration as a final filter—no slip, no entry.

Jerry had already strutted to the registration booth earlier, oozing confidence. He had arrived with Rita, Anabel, Daniel, and Noel—all cloaked in glamour and the aura of invincibility.

Noel, despite belonging to the same social class as Jerry, had always seen himself as the true alpha. But Jerry never let him breathe in that delusion for too long. This competition, this black carpet, this crowd—it was Jerry’s kingdom. Tonight, Noel was merely a subject.

Daniel, on the other hand, the CEO of Danco-Tech, had his own ambitions. He wasn’t interested in winning first place. His aim was prestige enough attention to put his company into the limelight, enough applause to earn a headline.

As Jerry stood at the booth with his entourage behind him, his security cleared a path. “Move out of the way, the Elite Quad is here!” one barked, his voice slicing through the crowd like a whip.

Contestants stepped aside, some annoyed, others intimidated. Anabel glanced around with poorly concealed contempt.

“What are these? Toy cars?” she scoffed as her eyes grazed over the models parked by the less-fortunate contestants. Her laughter turned into a mocking giggle when she spotted a contestant with a Sienna van. “This is a joke, right?”

She leaned lazily against Daniel, whose focus was more strategic than sarcastic. Daniel didn't mock people; he studied them. He wanted to know who could become a threat, and who was already finished.

As each member of the Elite Quad registered their vehicles, murmurs spread through the room. The specs were unreal. Modified engines, imported exteriors, platinum interior trims—these were not just cars; they were machines.

The tension escalated.

A few contestants, after overhearing the elite’s vehicle descriptions, simply tore their registration slips on the spot. Some sighed and walked away in silent defeat. They knew they didn’t stand a chance, and there was no point embarrassing themselves.

Jerry’s smirk grew deeper as the numbers dwindled. One by one, competitors disappeared, until only two remained besides the Elite Quad. It was more than Jerry had hoped for. The message was clear: He ruled this night.

While contestants were escorted to their designated seats, excitement still thick in the air, the Elite Quad returned to their spotlight zone. Champagne glasses in hand, cameras trailing their every move, it felt like they had already won.

But across town, far from the flashing lights and shallow praise, a different storm was brewing.

Back at the crash site, the chief butler was furious. He had received the report. His young master—John—had faced a trap meant to kill, and someone would pay dearly for that. Without wasting a breath, he dispatched Mr David and the new stylist to John’s location.

In less than twenty minutes, a luxury van skidded to a halt by John’s wrecked car. The team leapt out. Makeup brushes, suits, shoes, cologne, they had it all.

John, though bruised, was steady. His jaw was tight, his eyes stormy. Collins stood to the side, shaken but grateful, while Anna still hovered protectively around John.

Mr David wasted no time. He helped John change into a sleek, midnight-blue suit that shimmered subtly under light. Anna was retouched with a fresh glam look, and Collins—never one to pass up a makeover—also received a wardrobe upgrade.

As the final touches were applied, a simultaneous ping went off on their phones.

10 minutes left for on-site registration. All late participants will be disqualified.

Anna’s jaw dropped. “No, no, no after all this?!”

“Let’s move!” John ordered.

They sprinted to their cars. The engines roared to life. Within seconds, three of the most exotic cars ever seen on campus stormed toward the venue, cutting through the darkness like kings returning from war.

As they reached the black carpet, the crowd gasped.

The gold limousine the Elite Quad had arrived in suddenly looked... ordinary.

Three stunning machines—each custom-built—pulled in gracefully. John's Bugatti looked like it had been sent from the future. Collins’ electric Porsche turned heads with its asymmetrical doors, and Anna’s jet-black Bentley shimmered like obsidian dipped in moonlight.

The cameras went berserk.

Flashes danced like strobe lights. Influencers who had already logged off rushed back on. The carpet had never seen anything like it.

Then, the back doors opened.

The crowd expected bodyguards.

Instead, they got legends in the making.

John stepped out first, face calm, wounds hidden beneath flawless grooming. Collins followed, a charming smirk painted on his lips. Anna, radiant in her hand-stoned bodysuit, joined them like a queen entering her court.

“Wait,” Anna said, pausing midway. “We have to get photos.”

John and Collins chuckled but obliged. Cameras followed their every pose. John, unfamiliar with the spotlight, was still trying to process it all. He’d never attended a carpet event before, let alone a black carpet. He didn’t care about attention but tonight, he needed the world to see him.

They wrapped up the shoot and made their way to the registration booth.

Up front, Jerry felt his spine go cold.

He tapped Rita, panic seeping through his tone. “Is that... is he alive?”

“I—I don’t understand,” Rita stuttered. “He was supposed to be in the hospital. I have the crash video. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Lucky?” Jerry hissed. “We’ll see who’s lucky by the end of the night.”

John and the others arrived at the registration table with just 30 seconds to spare.

Anna and Collins handed over their slips and began the process immediately.

But when John approached, one of the staff raised a brow. “Are you sure you came in with that vehicle? The Bugatti?”

“Yes,” John answered, his tone humble. “It’s a custom-made model. Built by Mr Carter.”

The entire booth paused.

“Mr Carter?” one staff member echoed.

“You mean... the Mr Carter?”

“Technically, yes,” John replied. “Unless there’s another I haven’t met.”

They stared at him as if he’d just announced he had coffee with the president. Mr Carter wasn’t just a car engineer—he was a legend, a ghost, a myth. His waiting list alone was a year long, and his price tag could bankrupt nations.

And John spoke about him like he was just another friend from school.

Murmurs spread.

Who was this man?

Still stunned, the staff processed his registration. Anna and Collins were already done and being guided to the contestant section.

Each participant had their own platform, where their car would be driven in and displayed for judging.

Ironically, Mr Carter himself had been invited to judge the competition—but had declined. To him, such displays were childish. He preferred his lab, his machines, and the thrill of impossible engineering.

On stage, the host grabbed the mic. The lights dimmed.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to THE competition of the year!” he shouted.

The crowd roared.

He cracked a few jokes—light-hearted but sharp—and soon had the room laughing. The tension began to ease.

“And now,” the host continued, voice booming. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for—the car showcase!”

The lights changed to spotlight mode.

“I have here the names of ten competitors... and I can’t wait to see who’s going to blow our minds tonight!”

The crowd erupted in cheers.

In the shadows, John stood tall, his eyes steady, his hands behind his back.

He had already survived a trap.

Now, he was ready to dominate the stage.