Elon Musk has never been wealthier. With his net worth reportedly surpassing US$700 billion, he stands at the pinnacle of global capitalism. Yet beneath that headline-grabbing figure, Tesla—the company that built his legend—is beginning to look far less invincible.
The warning signs are no longer subtle. In Europe, Tesla’s sales are sliding at a pace that would have been unthinkable just a few years ago. According to data from the European Automobile Manufacturers’ Association, the company sold only 12,130 vehicles across the EU in November, down from 18,430 a year earlier. Its market share shrank from 2.1 percent to 1.4 percent. For a brand once seen as the uncontested leader of the EV revolution, that decline speaks volumes.
But the deeper problem lies beyond monthly sales figures. Tesla’s much-celebrated 4680 battery—once touted as a technological masterstroke—now appears to be a strategic miscalculation. And the Cybertruck, the only vehicle built around those cells, is bearing the consequences.
The clearest signal comes from Tesla’s own supply chain. South Korean battery materials firm L&F Co. recently revealed that the value of its contract with Tesla has been reduced by roughly 99 percent. That is not a minor course correction; it is an outright collapse. Demand for 4680 cells has effectively evaporated.
This marks a stunning reversal from 2023, when L&F announced a US$2.9 billion agreement to supply high-nickel cathode materials to Tesla. At the time, the deal was framed as a cornerstone of Tesla’s next phase—proof that the 4680 battery would slash costs, improve efficiency, and unlock a new generation of affordable EVs. Musk himself sold the vision with characteristic confidence.
Reality, however, has been far less accommodating. Two years on, the Cybertruck remains the sole Tesla model using the 4680 cells, and its rollout has been anything but smooth. In a recent regulatory filing, L&F disclosed that the remaining value of its Tesla contract stands at a negligible US$7,386. The company vaguely cited changes in supply volumes, but the message was unmistakable: Tesla no longer needs the batteries it once promised to build its future on.
The reason is painfully obvious. The Cybertruck is not selling at anything close to the scale Tesla projected. While Tesla’s Giga Texas facility is reportedly capable of producing up to 250,000 units per year, actual annual sales are estimated at just 20,000 to 25,000. The company has even quietly pulled its lowest-priced Cybertruck variant, a tacit admission that demand is far weaker than expected.
This is the core of Tesla’s problem. The 4680 battery was designed to enable mass production and lower costs. Instead, it has become a bottleneck—tied to a niche vehicle that failed to resonate with the mainstream market. Without volume, the economics of the battery collapse. Without the battery, Tesla’s broader strategy stalls.
Musk’s personal wealth may continue to soar, but Tesla’s fundamentals tell a different story. The unraveling of the 4680 battery program is not just a technical setback; it is a reminder that bold promises and engineering ambition do not guarantee market success. For the first time in years, Tesla’s vision of the future looks less like inevitability—and more like a gamble that didn’t pay off.
