The Rise of John Raymond

Chapter 23: It's Time to Rumble

The lights were wild—chaotic, colourful, and perfectly choreographed. Spotlights danced across the auditorium in rhythmic pulses, smoke hissed out from hidden vents at the edges of the stage, and the LED screens behind the judges' panel glowed with an explosive blend of purple, red, and electric blue. The backdrop read in bold chrome font: "LUXURY CAR SHOWCASE: IT'S TIME TO RUMBLE."

Excitement throbbed in the air like a heartbeat. The crowd stood shoulder-to-shoulder in tense anticipation, some holding their breath, others already cheering for names not yet called.

The compere strutted to the middle of the stage, microphone in hand, as a low rumble echoed in the distance. It was the sound of engines—massive, beautiful, terrifyingly expensive engines.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he declared, “welcome to the most exclusive, extravagant showdown this school has ever seen. It’s time… to RUMBLE!”

As if on cue, the engines revved louder. Each sound wave that blasted through the air sent tremors up the spines of everyone present. One by one, the contestants began driving their cars onto the stage through a glowing tunnel made of lasers and dry ice.

Rumm… rummmm… rummmmmm!

The crowd lost it. They screamed, clapped, jumped. Phones were raised to catch every second—every chrome detail, every purring engine, every dazzling light reflecting off polished exteriors.

"I don't think I've ever seen these kinds of cars on the internet," one student mumbled in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"This is what it means to be rich," another whispered, awe soaking his voice.

"And not just rich… these guys are the one percent of the one percent," a girl added, filming on her phone with trembling hands.

This was no longer just a school event. It was a life-changing, jaw-dropping exhibition of power, money, and prestige.

The first to make his entrance was none other than Noel.

His car growled as it approached the stage, ushered in by his favourite anthem blasting through the speakers. The crowd erupted with cheers, some even chanting his name in unison.

And then they saw it.

A Mercedes-Benz AMG One (2025). Worth a staggering $2.8 million.

Its sleek silhouette shone under the stage lights. With Formula 1 technology compressed into a street-legal hypercar, this hybrid beast had an aggressive edge that made it look like a futuristic weapon on wheels. The crowd didn’t just cheer—they roared.

Phones shook. Screams rang out.

The judges exchanged glances.

“Well, that sets the bar,” Mrs. Jones said flatly, tapping her pen on the scorecard.

But there was no time to recover—because the rumble came again.

Jerry was next.

His entrance was nothing short of cinematic. A troupe of vibrant cheerleaders raced onto the stage waving golden pom-poms, chanting his name like it was a national anthem.

“JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!”

As the smoke parted, in rolled the Rimac Nevera (2025)—a beautiful, all-electric hypercar worth $1.2 million.

But this wasn’t just any Nevera. It was a one-of-a-kind version personally customised by Mr. Carter—a legendary auto engineer known for building impossible machines. The fact that Carter even touched Jerry’s vehicle was enough to silence critics and start conspiracy threads on car enthusiast forums.

The crowd’s energy hit new highs. Girls waved their hands like they were at a pop concert. Boys pulled out notepads, trying to sketch the contours.

Jerry stepped out like a king. The spotlight kissed his gold chains. He blew a kiss to the audience, winked at the judges, and disappeared backstage, grinning.

Next up? Daniel.

Now, Daniel wasn’t technically a student. But thanks to a hush-hush meeting between Jerry, Noel, and the event manager, he'd been granted special entry into the competition. It helped that he was also a major sponsor of the event.

Some students didn’t know who he was. Others recognised him vaguely. But all of them remembered his now-viral post from a few days ago where he bragged about bringing the most expensive car to the showcase. His livestreams had shown glimpses—diamond stitching, crystal-covered gear sticks—but nothing had prepared them for this.

The lights dimmed suddenly. The music stopped.

And then—a grand piano dropped from the ceiling, slowly descending as a live pianist began to play a haunting melody. A curtain shimmered at the back of the stage, catching fragments of coloured light.

Then, it lifted.

Gasps filled the room.

There it was.

The Bugatti Divo.

Not just any Divo. Daniel’s Divo. Custom-built. Diamond and sapphire embellishments. Aerodynamically re-engineered for maximum flair. Worth $3.8 million.

Silence. Then screams.

The judges stood. It was involuntary.

“This isn’t a car,” Mark Fisher whispered. “It’s a monument.”

Mrs. Jones wiped her eyes. “I feel like I’ve seen a unicorn.”

The internet exploded. T*****r, TikTok, Instagram—everywhere you looked, the Divo was the topic. POV videos. Memes. Reaction threads. One YouTuber fainted on live.

Daniel, of course, soaked it all in. Surrounded by double security, he took a slow lap around the stage before blowing a dramatic kiss to the crowd.

Next in line was Anna.

The only female contestant—but she was not there to play catch-up. She was there to dominate.

The lights dimmed once more. Then came a cascade of fireworks—pink, gold, and midnight blue. A soft hum preceded the smooth purr of her car as it glided onto the stage.

A customised Ferrari Daytona SP3, worth $1 million. Designed specifically for her. The curves were sleeker, the paint shimmered with opalescent tones, and the logo was replaced with her initials—A.D.

The crowd screamed. Some students held up signs. Others jumped on chairs. Even the judges leaned forward to admire the perfection rolling in.

Anna stepped out in her sequined bodysuit and thigh-high boots, waving like a queen greeting her kingdom.

“She’s not just stunning—she’s smart,” Luminous Rush whispered to the others.

“She might be the only one who could take the crown from the boys,” Mrs. Jones replied.

As the cheers died down, the lights shifted again.

At the very back of the hall, watching everything unfold like a chess game, sat John.

Silent. Sharp. Studying.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t clap. He just watched.

His eyes didn’t miss a beat. He wasn’t a participant yet—not officially. But the rumble inside him had already started. The others were announcing their power. But he was calculating his move.

The last contestant was Collins.

And his entrance?

Flames.

Literally.

Fire dancers swirled across the stage, their bodies spinning in harmony with bursts of flame that erupted in sequence.

Then came the car.

A yellow Bugatti 222, worth $1.5 million. The colour wasn’t paint—it was a chemical mixture bonded with actual gold. The result was a rich, blinding yellow sheen that glittered under every stage light.

But Collins didn’t just drive in. He reversed, drifted, and then spun the car so sharply the crowd screamed in disbelief.

It was showmanship at its peak.

“Madness,” Fisher whispered. “Absolute madness.”

Collins stepped out like he’d just won a race. Red hair glowing under the lights, blue eyes piercing through the crowd—he was a living fantasy, and the crowd ate it up.

As the cheers raged, the compere walked back onto the stage, arms wide, grinning like he’d just witnessed a miracle.

“What a SHOW!” he yelled. “Let’s give another round of applause to all our contestants!”

The crowd obeyed. The building shook.

“And now… as promised…” the compere continued, turning to the massive LED screen behind him, “to take us into the final reveal… give it up for our headlining performers Stepper and Lil Press!”

The speakers boomed as ‘Tomorrow’ erupted across the venue, and the crowd went insane.

Spotlights shifted. Confetti shot through the air.  Stepper strutted out with Lil Press in tow, and the entire stage transformed into a glowing platform of stardust and heat.

And above it all… one name was missing.

John.

Still silent. Still waiting.

But not for long.