Audi suggests in its marketing material that the RS 3 is a ‘giant killer’. I’d agree, but that isn’t to suggest it’s a giant. It’s a compact, city-friendly sedan (or hatch, but we’re not testing that one) that happens to be capable of a sub-eight-minute Nürburgring lap. The RS 3 is unique because of its compromised character: softer than its competitors, easier to drive quickly, and actually liveable. I’m sure, if there was a way to travel back in time to drive a brand-new RS2 Avant, before travelling back to the present day to drive this RS 3, there’d be similarities. At the very least, they’d both sound fantastic.

That’s because the RS 3 has a 2.5-litre five-cylinder engine producing 294kW/500Nm, which is a modern iteration of the five-pot found in the first Quattro and subsequent RS models. It has a distinct sound that is the result of a firing order that Audi has held onto since its first five-cylinder engine. The 1-2-4-5-3 sequence, along with an uncharacteristic 114-degree crankshaft rotation interval, generates the bassy, rhythmic idle and, as the revs rise, a guttural wail that consumes the cabin.

I’ve heard people suggest it sounds like half a V10, and the comparison is difficult to deny. It does sound eerily similar – both at idle and on song – to an R8 or Huracan of yesteryear. It doesn’t howl quite the same way, but it’s easily half as good. And, I’d argue it still sounds twice as good as any of the four- or six-cylinder engines found under the bonnets of its competition. Short of a handful of supercars, I can’t think of another car that sounds this good in a post-emissions world.

The five-cylinder is dramatic in more ways than one. The urgent rush this engine delivers as you lean on it, and the way it intensifies, strips away any self-restraint you might have. I have very little of it to begin with, which is why I deliberately own slow cars. Small doses only, for me. On a three-hour rural run with a photographer, chasing light and far from the confines of the city, I hurtled the RS 3 along a number of country roads where at times I may as well have been in that original Group B Quattro S1. The grip is phenomenal, so there are few scenarios that require you to lift the throttle. It’s all go, like a rally machine with all of the road-legal bits thrown on. I don’t think I’d have carried that pace, along those roads, in a supercar.

Behind the magnificent engine is Audi’s seven-speed S Tronic transmission. It’s as intuitive as you would expect of a modern dual-clutch automatic, but it hangs onto gears for too long, then slams up or down, which can be jarring. I do think these ‘boxes ‘learn’ a particular driver’s ways, and press cars are pedalled by a different operator each week. The solution? If you’re using a sportier drive mode, which obviously intensifies the shift logic, flick it into manual and use the paddles. At least until the gearbox learns how to get along with you. But, despite criticising the DCT’s hard shifting, it does, when you’re after that, add to the drama.

Still, the powertrain works and was thoroughly enjoyed. The RS 3 is capable of reaching 100km/h in 3.8 seconds, but many consider this to be a conservative figure. It feels faster, every single time. The insane reality of this is that it doesn’t get off the line like an electric car, or a supercar with fancy launch control, instead rolling away under full throttle – presumably to preserve the driveline – before entering what can only be described as hyperdrive. Suddenly it squats, scrambles and rockets forward, completely distracting you for the few seconds it takes to reach the legal limit. It can indeed propel itself far, far beyond the bounds of the law, capable of a top speed of 290km/h (if unlocked for track work). Nearly 300km/h in a comfortable, luxurious compact car is madness, really.

As has always been the case in RS models, much of the magic is found underneath the car. The Quattro system in the latest RS 3 is a fairly new design, doing away with a rear differential altogether. In its place sits Audi’s torque splitter system, which uses a multi-plate clutch on each half-shaft to apportion torque between the rear wheels in milliseconds. And the system can now send 100 per cent of the available torque to an individual rear wheel during hard cornering, reducing the understeer previous models were criticised for. In the RS Torque Rear mode, which is ‘not for road use’ according to Audi, the RS 3 can actually drift like a rear-driven car. Even in more pedestrian drive modes – like ‘Normal’ – you can feel the torque splitter working. The RS 3 is more neutral through corners, particularly under power on exit, than any all-wheel drive car I’ve ever driven. It will also, if encouraged, power oversteer before the front axle pulls it back into line.

Then there’s the RS Sport suspension, which uses adaptive dampers that are far more adept across the board than the previous generation’s magnetic ride system. The setup provides taut body control in sportier modes, while offering German luxury car comfort when dialled back. Amazingly, it doesn’t feel particularly compromised at either end of the spectrum, which is very likely due to its kerb weight. At a smidge over 1500kg, it’s dainty by modern car standards. In fact, it’s only around 100kg heavier than the original RS 2 Avant.

It all comes together gloriously on the right road. I don’t recall feeling so inclined to push the RS 3 when I think back to my time in earlier variants. The latest model is sharper, more communicative, and offers most of the benefits of a strictly rear-driven car with the safety net of an active front axle. It has the same power as the previous model, but the sum of its improvements makes it far more engaging.