My Formula 1 System

"...Jon, from past witnesses, I think we can say whenever teammates start clashing on track, the competition that season must be definitely off the charts."

"...well, it's a good thing it didn't lead to any real danger for both drivers; if not, I think this Spanish Grand Prix would be the race that changed the team standings, and Velocità would go right to the top."

"...with a good finish, they might still, Jon. Max Addams dominates the lead, but Dani Walding still finds it hard to cover ground in P7; he's a sector behind Rennick."

[35th Lap]

"...it's still a bright, sunny day in Barcelona, and the Spanish Grand Prix is only just halfway. Still a lot of time to change the leaderboard, and if you haven't heard, Luca Rennick and Ansel Hahn rubbed paint in the 25th Lap!"

Your next journey awaits at empire

[Tires are in bad condition, host. Fuel level at 45%. DRS is unavailable. Engine temperature slightly stable. Brake wear at 40%.]

[Telemetry reports fair handling. Aerodynamic efficiency optimal. Recommend maintaining current pace. However, a pit stop is strongly recommended immediately to refresh your tires and maintain performance for the remainder of the race.]

Luca knew it was time to pit and haul his car back to good performance ten laps after his contact with Ansel. He ordered the System to give him accurate info on his distance from Dani Walding. Now at P6, moving further down the leaderboard was something Luca couldn't afford. He hardly believed that he was the one who even started at pole.

Now, there he was, at P6, halfway through Mandalora's 72 laps, driving a 45% operating Dallara.

[Analyzing 7th Position's distance from host and Dallara (F2 04)...]

[7th Position is 6 sec away, host.]

[System's prediction: that value might remain constant.]

**The team is ready** Mr. Moritz said into the radio comm as the Trampos pit crew scrambled to their respective positions after resting in the paddock. Five laps ago, Ansel had visited the pit for the same reason Luca was about to.

Luca's car eased into the pitlane, and he arrived as quickly as he could without putting much strain on his tires again.

"There's still thirty more laps, Luca. Alright? You can still push up. It's alright!" McCauley, who was standing beside his car, yelled loud enough for Luca to hear while he sat in the pit box for four solid seconds.

[Pitstop Prodigy failed due to immensely damaged car which current Pitstop Prodigy points can't upend.]

[System has optimized host and Dallara (F2 04) to take full pit time.]

Five and a half seconds. Not too bad, Luca mused as his car landed from the wrench.

He gave McCauley a curt nod before slamming the accelerator. He had a second to leave the pit as Dani Walding was approaching the intersection.

The Trampos crowd behind the team garage cheered as Luca resumed his race just in time, preventing Dani Walding from overtaking. The chassis responded well to his actions, but the tires still needed some time to reach optimal performance.

The 42nd Lap approached, marking one hour of the Spanish Grand Prix. Just as Luca had predicted, the fan overrun at the beginning of the race was not the last. Mr. Moritz reported attempts to storm the track near Turns 4 and 5, but the individuals were intercepted before they could disrupt the race—or harm themselves—as Max Addams zoomed past that lane moments later.

Luca focused intently on his driving through the laps, doing his best to maintain stability and consistency. He adhered to the System's occasional calculations and notifications, knowing every decision counted in his battle to climb back up the leaderboard.

[Endurance +1]

[Agility +1]

[DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:

-Car Speed: 290 km/h

-Heart Rate: 107 bpm

-Operational Status: 85% (Good)

-Breathing: Calm & Steady

-Distance covered: 270000m

-Time: 1hr 7 min.]

[Analyzing 7th Position's distance from host and Dallara (F2 04)...]

[7th Position is 3 sec away, host.]

[System's prediction: that value might remain constant.]

[Analyzing Dallara (F2 04) and host's distance from 5th Position]

[You are 3 seconds away, host.]

[45th Lap]

Mr. Colt focused on the readings displayed on the computer screens. Data streamed across the array of monitors, but his attention was glued to Luca's telemetry. The system provided him with a second-by-second account of Luca's performance, a detailed log of his actions on the track. Engineers surrounded him, analyzing various aspects of the race, but it was Mr. Colt who first noticed the deviation in Luca's usual pattern.

"What's he doing?" he muttered, leaning closer and adjusting his glasses. The split times and sector analyses seemed fine for any F2 driver, but Mr. Colt knew this wasn't how Luca normally operated. Despite working with him for only two months, he had memorized Luca's passive aggressive driving style. This wasn't the usual telemetry he displayed.

Luca was generally an active and dynamic driver—always chasing an opportunity for a daring overtake, a sharp corner cut, or an aggressive straight-line push. Mr. Colt had studied Luca's telemetry from Bergwaldring to Stadhaven. The conservativeness he now saw was entirely out of character.

In fact, the pace Luca had demonstrated in practice and the qualifying session suggested he could challenge for the lead. But here he was, trailing behind Ansel, his teammate, and showing no signs of mounting a serious challenge.

"Why's he holding back?" Mr. Colt asked rhetorically, though Moritz heard it and turned his head.

"Luca, you mean?" Moritz asked.

Mr. Colt nodded slowly, muttering something that the hum of activity in the telemetry room drowned out. He then pointed at the data that told the clear story. Luca wasn't pushing himself in the critical corners, nor was he taking advantage of the straights to close the gap. Opportunities to overtake had presented themselves on more than one occasion—corners where his sharper braking or a more aggressive entry line could have forced Ansel to defend or falter. Yet, Luca remained patient, too patient, as though content to stay in P6.

"His car's fine. His tires are fine. Nothing for him to protect," an engineer commented dismissively, exhaling sharply.

Moritz glanced sharply at his own station where the race monitors displayed the live feed of the race. Ansel's bright red-and-black Dallara dominated screen 5 as it rounded Turn 8 toward Miles, Luca's car following close behind but never threatening to strike.

Moritz's jaw tightened as he shook his head. He already knew what was holding Luca back, and he didn't like it. Mr. Colt glanced at him, reading his expression. Mr. Colt, who was just realizing, asked, "Must be because of Ansel, right?"Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Moritz nodded, motioning for a crew member to inform Mr. Grant and Ms. Vallotton of the situation. "Yeah," he muttered, reaching for the radio to speak to the drivers. "He doesn't want another incident."

Mr. Colt returned his gaze to the screens as the announcement rang out for the start of the 49th Lap.

Luca was startled when the radio crackled to life, Moritz's sharp, synthetic voice cutting through the ambient noise of the race. "Any problem?" Luca asked.

**Your positions are. You're aware you are at P6, Han's at P5. We don't want to finish there, DO WE?**

"Nope. Not at all."

**Then move your goddamn Dallara, Luca.**

[Analyzing Dallara (F2 04) and host's distance from 5th Position]

[You are 1 seconds away, host.]

Luca had no idea when he had closed the gap to Ansel—so close that he was within DRS range, though he hadn't activated it for the past two straights.

In the viewing post, Mr. Grant was livid upon receiving this information. He had been fuming over why none of his drivers were in the lead and stormed into the room, demanding the radio from Mr. Moritz.

Luca's stomach tightened when Mr. Grant's stern voice suddenly boomed over the transmitter. It was on the two-way channel, meaning both Ansel and Luca could hear him.

Ansel glanced at his side mirror, spotting Luca's car dangerously close as they approached the home straight, ready to begin the 50th lap while Addams and the rest had already started it.

**An estimated 20 laps left, and none of us are in the top 3. Enough of this. Ansel, if Luca doesn't threaten you in the next lap, you're letting him through. And Luca, if you don't move your car, you'll be punished after this race. No arguments. Align your chassis**

The line went dead.

Luca exhaled slowly, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. His pulse quickened as he saw Ansel shifting to a defensive line. What could he do now?

He shook his head and let out the breath, knowing there was only one answer. As soon as they emerged onto the straightaway, Luca obeyed his Team Principal.

[DRS Engaged]

"...and finally, Luca Rennick attempts! Rear wing wide open, long straight down. Ansel Hahn shifts to the center to defend, but it's not easy!"

[50th Lap]

"...Este Gran Premio de España de Fórmula 2 está ahora en la vuelta 50!"

"WOOOOOHH!"

[Overtaking +1]

[SYNC BAR: [][][][] 75%]

"...Luca Rennick takes the position! Absolutely stunning racing from Rennick. That was precision, patience, and power all rolled into one. You can feel the tension in the air as Trampos Racing makes their move. Luca is now unleashed! They go into Turn 1!"

"...Luca Rennick ahora está en P5!"

"WOOOOOHH!"

Luca's heart raced but he managed to calm himself as he began Mandalora again for the 50th lap. Moritz congratulated him and reminded him this was Formula racing.

Ansel, now in P6, shook his head in frustration. He had been powerless against Luca's perfectly timed DRS attack. Behind him—Dani Walding and they were just beginning the 50th lap.

"...The question now—does he have the pace to close the gap to Squadra's Miles Bellingham ahead? This race is far from over!"

Luca ordered his system to calculate how far Miles was ahead, his mind also wandering to the likely insurmountable gap between him and the race leader, Max Addams.

[Analyzing Dallara (F2 04) and host's distance from 4th Position]

[You are 4 seconds away, host.]

If this was his delta to Miles Bellingham, then Max Addams must be at least three times farther. Luca found it hard to believe he had fallen this far down the leaderboard. This wasn't how he had envisioned his championship race unfolding. He sighed, keeping his focus steady as he entered the 55th lap, the crowd cheering softly as he held Ansel back in P6.

Suddenly, the soft cheer of the Mandalora crowd exploded into an ear-splitting roar. The wave of sound rippled across the grandstands, flags flailing frantically—mainly those of Squadra Corse Jnr and Trampos. The announcer shouted fervently in a language Luca couldn't understand, heightening the intensity.

Something monumental had just happened, but Luca couldn't tell what.

He spared a quick glance toward the stands. This is unreal, he thought.

Luca's heart skipped a beat when he heard the thunderous crunch of metal. He couldn't grasp why the crunch came repeatedly and rhythmic like whoever's car that had crashed kept colliding with the asphalt.

**Danger! Incoming debris, Luca! Addams' car is rolling down the racing line!**

"WOOOOOHH!"

The crowd's unified roar reached deafening levels.

Rolling down?

The screeching of Miles' tires brought Luca back to reality, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced up just in time to see Miles swerving desperately to avoid Max Addams' car, which was tumbling end over end down the track like a twisted wreck. The sound of crunching metal and the sight of sparks showering into the air made his stomach turn. Miles' swift maneuver had saved him from being caught up in the chaos, but it also made the danger starkly real—the wreckage was heading straight for Luca now.

"Oh my fucking—!"

**SWERVE LEFT!!**

Luca's hands trembled as he gripped the wheel tighter, relying on his limited 5-point Spatial Awareness to gauge the trajectory of the incoming wreckage. But it was too fast. He caught a horrifying glimpse of Max Addams in the shattered cockpit, crouched as though bracing for the inevitable.

"...Esto es malo!"

Before both machines could collide, Max Addams' blue-and-black wrecked Dallara, bounced once more on the asphalt and sailed over Luca in a blur of sparks and twisted metal, barely missing Luca's car overhead by mere inches.

Thud!

Max's car landed abruptly behind Luca, whose tires wobbled for control after that close contact. Some of the crowd gasped in horror, some cheered as debris scattered around the area, Max's pristine Dallara, now a crumpled heap of metal, with him still in it.

Ansel had to stop his car instantly, slowing down to a halt right before the wreckage as Max Addams struggled to exit the cockpit. No doubt, the safety car was announced immediately, and the red flags were instantly waved. This was the worst crash so far this season, and the victim—Max Addams?!