《My Formula 1 System》


 Chapter 1 First Son Responsibilities

    The crackling of thunder followed a swift bolt of lightning that tore through the city''s dark, night sky. The rain poured down hard at 11:00 pm, and the clustered streets were filled with vehicles and citizens of the rat race trying to head home after a long, strenuous workday.


    Two individuals, in particr, scrambled through the rain, their boots plunging into puddles as they headed toward their apartment building. These two were eighteen-year-old Luca and his sixteen-year-old sister, Sophia. Luca was merely dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, now soaked, while his sister wore a coat that he had given her as they navigated through the rain, hurrying into the building.


    Luca was freezing cold, shivering in pain as the chilly rainwater salted the wounds and bruises on his face and arms. But he endured it, guiding his sister up the stairs until they arrived at their family''s apartment door. The strong stench of old cigarettes, sweat, and rotting food from the overflowing trash bin nearby filled the hallway.


    "Are you alright?" he asked Sophia with a hoarse voice, surprised he could still speak after receiving a heavy blow to his throat.


    Sophia simply nodded, warm in the coat Luca had given her after he hade looking for herte at night. She nced at her brother as he searched himself for his keys before groaning in frustration.


    He must have lost his keys during the fight that had left him bruised. Luca had gone looking for his sister at 10 pm after she had failed to obey their home''s curfew for the fifth night in a row. He had juste back from working his grueling shift at the steel mill, where he spent hours lifting heavy machinery, only to earn $300 at the end of the month.


    The pay was barely enough to support his mother, who worked as a waitress at a small diner, and cover their basic needs. Acquiring a job at the steel factory was all he could get after dropping out of school to support his widowed mother.


    Yet, despite his exhaustion and weariness, Luca had barely set foot through the door when his mother pleaded with him to go find their notorious runaway once again. This time, she had stayed out even longer, and she was only sixteen for that matter.


    Luca was bone-tired, suggesting they could wait a little while¡ªSophia might turn up on her own¡ªbut his mother''s plea was something he couldn''t say no to. Sensing the impending storm, he grabbed a coat and darted out into the bustling streets, his eyes and muscles aching with fatigue, in search of his sister.


    He found her partyingte at night at a friend''s house with a group of older kids she definitely wasn''t supposed to be hanging around with. When Luca confronted her and insisted she leave, the drunken boys mistook him for an intruder and attacked him with heavy blows.


    Luca fought back, refusing to let them have the upper hand, and at that very moment, the skies tore open, drenching everything with rain. It took a while before one of Sophia''s friends stepped in, confirming that the tall boy in the coat was indeed her brother.


    Luca hadn''t spoken to his sister the entire walk back home until they had entered the building, both of them soaked and silent. After fumbling for his keys with no sess, Luca gave up and knocked on the door. Within seconds, it was opened by their mother.


    "Oh my God! Luca, what happened to you?!" she cried out, immediately reaching for her son. "You''re covered in blood and bruises!"


    "I''m fine, mom," Luca said wearily, urging his mother who wasing out back inside, and everyone else.


    "Fine?! How are you fine?!" she demanded, her voice rising with both anger and worry as her fingers prodded his face. "You look like you were run over by a stampede! You are not fine¡ªyou need medical attention, now."


    "Mother, I said I''m fine. Please, let''s settle in. It''s almost midnight," Luca grumbled, shutting the door behind them as the warmth of their home enveloped him. The faint smell of potatoes simmering in the kitchen hit his nose, and his stomach growled in response.


    "And you!" Mrs. Rennick thundered, pointing an usatory finger at her daughter. "Where have you been with those long legs of yours at this hour?! Haven''t I warned you that I will not tolerate such stupid behavior?!"


    Luca walked past his mother and sister, heading into the kitchen where he slumped into a chair at the counter table. Resting his forehead against the cool surface, he clenched his teeth as the bruises pulsed with pain, stinging his senses.


    Sophia was speaking back at mother when a nasty pnded on her cheek. Luca''s head shot up immediately, his gaze locking onto his sister, who stood there with her cheek reddening. Sensing the escting tension, Luca ordered, "Sophia, go to our room." Without a word, the girl stomped away in fury.


    Unapologetic for the disciplining measure, Mrs. Rennick turned her attention back to Luca. She quickly retrieved a medkit and began tending to his injuries, urging him to take off his soaked shirt.


    As she worked, her eyes drifted toward the scattered mail on the table, the letters she had been sorting before Luca returned from his strenuous work. "You got a letter today," she said, ncing up at him.


    "I did?" Luca winced slightly as the antiseptic stung his wounds. "What''s it about?"


    Mrs. Rennick''s gaze remained steady on Luca''s brown eyes. "You didn''t tell me you applied for the urgent track marshal position at the Stadhaven Circuit?" she asked with an unperceptive, soft smile.


    Luca''s eyes lit up with a hint of insecurity as he flickered his gaze between the letters on the table and his mother. "How did you know about that?" he asked, lowering his tone. "Did I get the job?"


    Mrs. Rennick smiled proudly as she finished bandaging his arm and gently stered his cheek. "Yes, they gave you the job," she beamed with concealed excitement. "How great is that?!"


    Luca frowned, lowering his gaze as he picked up the letter, reading it for himself. Indeed, he had been offered the position of a track marshal, a role they were desperate to fill before the big race tomorrow.


    His mother noticed his deadbeat expression and she frowned in return. "What''s wrong, son?" she asked softly.


    Luca couldn''t quite grasp why he had applied for the job in the first ce. He had seen the ad in a newspaper while at work at the factory. He disliked racing and everything about it. He even disliked the town his family had moved to, with its constant buzz around the race track each week. The teeth of poverty had gnawed at him the very moment he applied for this job.


    Now, seeing the result with a clearer head, and the smell of potatoes shimmering in the pot behind them, Luca''s original feelings toward racing returned. "Silly me, Mom. Just forget about it. I have no intention of working at some race circuit," Luca muttered, pushing the paper aside and focusing on his bruises.


    Luca''s mother''s frown deepened as she stared at him with a mix of disbelief and concern. "I don''t understand, Lukey? You just got a job paying $500 per week, and you are saying silly you? Silly you indeed!"


    "Mom, please, let''s just drop this¡ª"


    "Drop what? No!" She boomed, trying to keep her voice low as she checked his skull. "Did they hit you hard up here? My son would never turn down such an offer, and¡­" Mrs. Rennick''s words trailed off as her gaze grew distant. The realisation that this was more than just a rejection of the job hit her: it was grief about something that happened years ago, something that had changed their entire lives.


    She gulped, lowering her voice as she peered into his freckled face. "Honey, don''t tell me it''s because of your father?"


    Luca locked gazes with her, his eyes filled with tiredness and frustration as he gritted his teeth. "I prefer I don''t tell you anything else about this. Let''s eat and go to bed," he said.


    Mrs. Rennick shook her head, gently holding his arm down. "You can''t let what happened with your dad keep you from moving forward, Lukey. What happened doesn''t define your path; it''s how you respond that matters," she whispered.


    "There is progress, mom, there are lots of paths toe, but I won''t take any that deals with racing," he muttered his reply.


    "Are you afraid of your life? You won''t be racing, you will only be an official there, a marshal," she persuaded.


    "My life''s not in danger."


    "Then what is it? You can''t expect me to be at ease knowing you turned down a good-paying job that could help us," she said, tears forming in her eyes already. "Is it because you''ll be publicly visible? Because your friends might see you at the track? Tell me something, Luca, so I can understand."


    Luca shook his head slowly. Yes, it was about the fact that his father had been a professional Form One racer and had died in a tragic racing ident. Luca was still struggling to cope with the loss, especially given the close bond he had with his father.


    And yes, many of his mates he knew were nning to attend the race tomorrow, and seeing him working at the track would onlypound the humiliation he had felt all his life.


    But after looking at his mother''s face and their cramped two-bedroom apartment, Luca felt a pang of shame. Who am I kidding? He had a potential good-paying job, having no idea how long it mightst for him due to its urgency tag, and he was here letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He cursed himself silently.


    "Fine, mom, I''ll take the job," he muttered.


    Mrs. Rennick''s frown instantly turned into a smile as she gently sped his hands. "You''ll call the number on the letter and im your spot?"


    "I will, mom, do not worry," Luca replied, forcing a smile.


    "Thank you so much!" Mrs. Rennick cried out, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.


    Luca''s heart melted, though the embrace stung his bruises a bit.


    The rest of the night proceeded as usual, albeitter than usual. After having his dinner and a cold bath, Luca slipped into his only pair of pajamas and entered the room he shared with Sophia.


    He sank into his bed, staring at the ceiling with the job eptance letter and a telephone in his grasp. He could hear Sophia''s cries andints about their mother''s punishment, but he chose not to respond. Listening was good enough for her, and soon she drifted off to sleep.


    With the serenity and quietness he desired, Luca dialed the number on the letter. The call was answered immediately.


    To his surprise, the conversation went smoothly. They confirmed he had been selected to fill the vacant position for tomorrow''s game, with a payment of $500 to be made immediately after. They also mentioned that he had called just in time, as they had begun considering other alternatives.


    Maybe the universe wants me to do it.


    A thought crossed Luca''s mind. He rolled off his bed and reached for the shelf beneath an old TV stand. He drew open the shelf, a cloud of dust making him sneeze. It had been years since hest opened this shelf, not even after their move.


    He reached inside and pulled out an old gaming console, coated in dust as well. Blowing off the surface, Luca connected the game box to the TV and turned it on. The screen flickered with colorful bars before disying the gaming interface.


    Luca''s heart ached as he nced at the second console. He remembered ying on this set with his father, who always made time for him. He sighed deeply and selected the Racing Mode on the screen, deciding to y until sleep took over.

 Chapter 2 First & Last Day As A Track Marshal

    As soon as it was break of day, Luca leaped out of bed. He had left home before sunrise, something he often did, so today was no different. Leaving his family behind, he pocketed a few dor bills and hailed a cab to the Stadhaven Circuit on the edge of the city.


    The Circuit was vast, a newly constructed venue in the town that Luca had hoped would bring healing to his family, just for Form 1 to return to them once again.


    Luca faced difficulties with security, only being allowed through after he showed them the pass message from the eptance letter he had received. With that evidence, they reluctantly let him in, directing him to the Operations Manager''s office.


    "You say yourst name is Rennick?" the secretary asked, her eyes scanning Luca as he stood before her, his hands trembling slightly.


    "Yes," Luca replied firmly. "Is there another meaning to the name I should be aware of?"


    "No, it''s nothing," the secretary muttered, forcing a smile. "I just thought the name was familiar, that''s all. Follow me, I''ll take you to my boss; he''ll brief you."


    Luca followed the young woman, taking a good look around the empty track, neatly prepared for the afternoon''s event. The bleachers were vacant as well, the morning dew emphasizing and highlighting theirfort.


    "Is this thed?" Mr. Mallow, assistant to the Operations Manager, inquired as the secretary approached. He was dressed casually in a navy blue sweater and joggers. "This isn''t the ce to look like you just walked off the street. Racing circuits are a business, and we can''t afford to drag in the dirt. Don''t want to sound harsh, son, but believe me, boss is even tougher."


    Luca felt a flush of embarrassment but bit back his irritation. "Sorry, sir. It was a rushed morning."


    "I believe you, son," Mallow said. "d in a marshal uniform, you''ll look much better. Come, I''ll help you find the right size."


    "Let me see the boy first," a voice thundered from behind a ss door. The figure behind the door pushed it open, revealing his menacing presence. "Rennick, you say your name is? Whye by this time?! You arete!" The man boomed through the early morning air. He had a stubbly beard, sses, and a severe frown.


    "There''s still plenty of time before noon, Mr. Vance. The Federation might not even know we''ve made a change to our staff," Mallow interjected, defending Luca, who felt diminutive despite being as tall as the other men.


    Vance chuckled derisively, surveying Luca from head to toe. "Are you kidding me? Just one look at thisd, and it''s obvious he''s from the streets," he sneered. "Have him ready before 9. I''ll show him what''s what."


    Luca stared hard at the man as he disappeared into the room he had emerged from, leaving him and Mallow on the high rails. "Alright kid, you''ve been hired as a track marshal. That means you''ll be out on the circuit, keeping an eye on the track, gging down issues, and making sure no one''s cutting corners¡ªthat''s just the majors. It''s not morous, but it''s important.


    You understand?" Mallow asked, gging an arm around Luca''s neck.


    Luca forced the lump in his throat down, nodding softly. "I understand," he replied. Luca knew the role of a track marshal well. He was familiar with almost everything about racing and its lore, even though he wished he could forget it all one day.


    Mallow directed Luca through the pristine facility to a locker room where he changed into a crisp white tracksuit, the standard uniform for track race staff. The clean, sterile environment of the locker room made the transition from casual to professional stark.


    Minutester, he was led outside, where other track marshals were already repeating their drills, preparing the Circuit for the influx of spectators.


    Mr. Vance was relentless in his instruction, emphasizing the minutiae of a track marshal''s duties. Although Mr. Vance made it seem difficult, Luca could tell he had almost nothing to do but stay in the middle of two track ways, scanning for hazards, debris, or any irregrities, and attending to any racers who might crash.


    It seemed to Luca that the other marshals handled the more demanding tasks, making him feel as though he was merely a ceholder, here toplete their number.


    A sense of relief washed over him as he realized he wouldn''t have to meet anyone''s high expectations. Just live this through, he told himself.


    Two hours before the race, and the Stadhaven Circuit had be crowded with people, cheering and buzzing with excitement. The grandstands were packed to capacity, a sea of fans donning the colors of their favorite teams, waving gs, and holding up banners.


    Luca could hear the distant sound of thementator, announcing the VIPs present in the circuit, the morning sun beaming over thendscape of tarred road.


    As directed, the track marshals were to move out and take their respective positions. Luca felt his feet grow cold in his white sneakers as he walked across the firstne to take his wing. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his face cap, pulling it down to shield his face.


    With his cap on and his marshal uniform blending into the orange wave of other marshals, he believed no one would be able to recognize him. However, just as he was settling into position at the middle of bothnes, his eyes caught a familiar sight in the grandstands¡ªa group of teenagers, crowded together, snickering loudly.


    Instantly, Luca recognized them, and unfortunately, they recognized him as well. The group erupted inughter, their mocking voices cutting through the crowd noise like a sharp, unpleasant echo.


    "What''s freckle boy doing there?!"


    "Another life hustle, I see!"


    "Hey! Is that part of hismunity service?!"


    Luca''s stomach churned and his face burned with embarrassment, prompting him to pull his cap lower to shield his face. Determined to ignore them, he forced his gaze to the bustling Circuit, focusing on performing his job well and earning the promised $500. If I do well, they might even hire me permanently!


    Though he wasn''t interested, Luca knew a thing or two about the race to be held this afternoon. Seeing the number of men in suits positioned in the ss rooms above the pits, and the sleek, shy race cars lined up below, Luca could tell this was somewhat an important game. It was one held between some of the most prestigious teams in the main division.


    He had heard Haddock Racing, Bueseno Velocit¨¤, and Squadra Corse from thementator.


    The race began an hourter, and Luca spent most of his time retrieving any dangerous debris thrown onto the track by the crowd. Once the race was underway, a senior marshal advised him not to step onto the track again unless responding to a Code 2 emergency of helping a racer.


    Luca adhered to this advice, staying put and absorbing the roar of the crowd while his eyes were glued to the giant screen disying the race. He couldn''t believe that he was on a race track, getting a free A-ss view of the race. This would have been a dreame true for him when he was younger, but now, not so much.


    The whistling sound of speed danced in his ears, followed by the thunderous roar of machinery. Shifting his gaze from the giant screen to the horizon where the track met the edge, Luca saw the leading cars approaching the end of their firstp. They would soon zoom past him while doing so.


    A shiver raced down Luca''s spine as he bent his knee into the position typical of marshals. In seconds, two cars streaked by with such blistering speed that they seemed to slice through the air, the force of their passing sending a cold wind that pushed him back.


    Before he could regain hisposure, the next three cars hurtled past, intensifying his disorientation. "Fuck!" Luca cursed, his head down and his uniform billowing in the wind.


    He had no idea racing felt so perilous up close. How in the world did these racers handle it? The speed was surreal, the force overwhelming¡ªlike standing precariously close to the edge of a cliff, one misstep away from being swept into the abyss. How could anyone endure this day after day? And not just survive but master it?


    The fact that one wrong swerve might take someone''s life churned butterflies into Luca''s stomach. Remembering his father''s cause of death, Luca confirmed that one wrong swerve did take someone''s life.


    Taking a deep breath, Luca felt a momentary relief as the cars had passed. He braced himself for the next time they would zoom through the samene for anotherp. Suddenly, another marshal from the team rushed up to him, waving a yellow g. He handed it to Luca and started to walk away without exining.


    "Why this?" Luca shouted, his voice trembling slightly as he gripped the yellow g tightly. His words were swallowed by the roar of the spectators, and he struggled to hear the response.


    "Debris up ahead from a minor scrape!" the marshal yelled back quickly. He pointed toward a bend a few hundred meters away. "Signal caution for the next driversing through! Stay on the edge and don''t step too far in!"


    Luca nodded, watching the marshal sprint back to his post before the cars screamed past this section again. Seems I''ve got an upgrade, Luca told himself, examining the yellow g. He was already knowledged on its importance in signaling caution to the racers.


    ncing around and taking a quick peek at the giant screen, Luca positioned himself closer to the outer edge of the track, doing his best to ignore the taunts of his mocking peers in the stands. He started waving the g even before he could hear the approaching engines, believing it was better to be early thante.


    He made sure his foot was firmly in the caution zone, his arms and hands holding the g slightly out of the danger area, toward the edge of the wide racing track. As the sound of machinery filled his ears, Luca waved the g more vigorously, bracing himself for the speeding cars that were swiftly navigating the bends.


    The roar of the engines grew louder, and Luca struggled to keep a firm grip on the g with his sweaty hands. The cars emerged with a fury and determination toplete theirps. Luca watched, eyes wide, as two cars¡ªone red and one ck¡ªraced neck and neck, the ck car slightly behind, attempting an overtaking maneuver.


    The track narrowed at the bend just meters from where he stood, making the move seem both risky and reckless.


    Luca''s eyes widened, his senses sharpening as he noticed the approaching danger. Without warning, the overtaking driver made a sharp move, trying to squeeze through the bend and im first position before the end of thep. Luca''s heart leapt as the car veered dangerously close to the edge¡ªtoward him!


    "And we''ve got an aggressive move from number 17, trying to overtake on the inside¡ªoh, that''s too tight! He''s losing control! Watch out¡ª"


    Dropping the g, Luca tried to run as the crowd''s screams of fear filled the air. The car, now out of control, clipped the outer boundary and hurtled toward him with terrifying speed.


    Before Luca could react, he felt an excruciating pain in his spine as the vehicle crashed into him with relentless force, sending his body flying through the air like a ragdoll.


    The world around him instantly blurred and faded, his senses growing dull as he crashed hard onto the otherne. The distant wail of a siren and the pounding of hurried footsteps reached his ears, but they seemed muffled and distant.


    Amidst the encroaching darkness that blurred his view of the afternoon sky, a new sound began to emerge, cutting through the chaos.


    [Your fate and the fate of Form 1 are intertwined. You have been chosen. The Form 1 System is now bound to you]


    [SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]


    [SYSTEM MERGING COMPLETE!]


    [Congrattions, you have attained the Form 1 System]

 Chapter 3 My Newfound System

    Luca woke up in an unfamiliar room, his head pounding as he blinked against a harsh white light. Taking a look around, he realized he was in a clinic room¡ªthe Circuit''s medical bay, judging by the indistinct chatter of people. He groaned in pain, noting the bandages wrapped around several parts of his body. The dull ache made it hard to breathe, let alone move.


    Suddenly, the same synthetic voice that had spoken to him just after the ident echoed in his mind again, clear as day, despite the pounding in his head.


    [FORMULA 1 SYSTEM HAS FULLY ACTIVATED AND BONDED WITH HOST!]


    Luca wasn''t sure if his mind was ying tricks on him. His vision was still slightly blurry as he tried to take in the empty clinic room. He wiped his eyes clear and forced his aching body to shift into a sitting position on the soft bed. I had gotten into an ident. A car struck me. How am I alive?!


    [THE FORMULA 1 SYSTEM, A SYSTEM THAT WILL HELP HOST BECOME THE BEST RACER IN THE WORLD]


    Luca''s breath caught in his throat. What? Is this real? His heart raced as he scanned the empty room, searching for a sign that someone else had heard the voice. But no, it was inside his head. A hallucination, maybe?


    But it felt too clear. Too vivid.


    Before he could even begin to make sense of the confusion, the voice interrupted again, and this time it came with an interface before him.


    [System Unlocking Activity Panel...]


    [Activity Panel Unlocked]


    [System Commencement In Progress...]


    Luca''s mouth dropped agape as he stared at the blue, holographic screen before him, resembling a car''s windscreen. He looked around in confusion, his face etched with fear. A System? he thought with a shuddering breath. Luca had always believed these were fictional¡ªthings he only saw in manhwas¡ªbut here he was, bing the host of the Form 1 System.


    [System Activity Commenced!]


    [Do you ept Rookie Bundle?]


    [Y / N]


    Unable toprehend what was happening, Luca stared at the digital interface. After a few seconds of bewildered hesitation, he selected [YES]. He saw no reason to select [NO] and was curious to find out where this strange phenomenon would lead him.


    [Congrattions! Rookie Bundle would be embedded into your Activity!]


    Luca swallowed, surprisingly finding the strength to sit upright as the interface before him followed the movement of his head, maintaining a 10-inch distance. I have a System? Luca thought aloud, a tinge of excitement beginning to overwhelm him.


    He red at the interface, expecting it to do something more, but it remained dormant with thest words still disyed. Eventually, he noticed an icon in the upper right cornerbeled [STATUS]. It was blinking softly, suggesting he should probably select it.


    [Hosts status generating....


    [..... Generationpleted]


    [Personal Information:


    Name: Luca Rennick


    Age: 18


    Nationality: Italian ]


    Luca was shocked as he scrolled through the profile tab. This thing knows me. What in the world?!


    [Physical Information:


    Weight: 70kg / 154 lbs


    Height: 6''1"


    Body Fat Percentage: 12%


    Muscle Mass: 29%


    Strength: 2


    Stamina: 1


    Endurance: 5


    Agility: 2


    Intelligence: 5 ]


    Strength just 2? Luca asked himself. Of all the work I do everyday, how can my strength be just 2? He continued reading, his brows furrowed in concentration as he went over to his Stats.


    [Personal Stats:


    Nickname: None


    Status: Uncontracted


    Sry: $0


    Team: None


    Race Wins: 0


    Podium Finishes: 0


    Pole Positions: 0]


    "Damn," Luca said out loud, grimacing at the stats he had just read. They were horrible, but he couldn''t me himself, he was never a racer to begin with.


    [Skills & Techniques: (Current skills and techniques are given to you by default) Total Grading - F


    Reflexes: 10


    Overtaking Skill: 5


    Track Awareness: 10


    Others (Locked) ]


    Luca heaved a sigh when he reached the end of the [STATUS] bar, realising it wasn''t a dream. He had indeed been granted a System. But why? What for?


    Luca had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with racing after it imed his father''s life. Although he loved the sport dearly, he couldn''te to terms with being in the same simr surroundings where he witnessed his father''s race car tumble out of control before exploding into a torrent of me.


    "Why choose me?" Luca asked, wincing slightly at a sudden sharp pain that had erupted in his head without warning.


    [As I mentioned, your fate and the fate of Form 1 are intertwined. I am merely your assistant, here to help you achieve your goals]


    "So, you''re intent on making me the best Form 1 racer ever, even better than my father?" Luca asked.


    [The heights this System will take you bears no apex, it surpasses anyparison with your father''s achievements. Comparing your father''s peak would undermine the Form 1 System''s potential]


    "I see," Luca whispered. "But I have no experience in the cockpit of a real race car. And the stats you gave me don''t look like they are much of a help," he said and paused. "Would you have given me a different Bundle other than the Rookie''s if I had selected [NO]?"


    [No, host. I was simply seeking for your corporation to proceed. And as for your experience in the game, all the top racers were once normal civilians, weren''t they? With the perfect schedule and sequential training I will draft out for you, I will make this endeavor pleasurable and also memorable]


    Luca nodded softly, though he didn''t entirely like the sound of this. Was this another way the universe was bringing more pain to his family? By bing a Form 1 racer, he might meet the same fate as his father, leaving his mother and sister to face a harsh world alone, a world that had never acknowledged the family of the famous Rennick the Rocket after his death.


    But Luca just realised that he had indeed faced the same fate as his father, and this System prevented that from happening. He wasn''t sure if it was the pain in his head, but was Luca actually considering being a racer?¡ªa dream he once held close to his heart since he was little, and dropped it during his teenage years?


    Before Luca could think any further ormunicate with his newfound System, the door to his clinic flew open, and several figures trooped in.

 Chapter 4 Interpellation

    A group of men entered the clinic room where Luca stood. Two of them, he quickly recognized as Mr. Vance and his assistant, Mr. Mallow. A petite nurse maneuvered through the suits of imposing men, a smile on her face as she approached Luca.


    "How are you feeling now, dear?" she asked, inspecting his bandaged head. "These men are here to ask you a few questions, okay?" Peering into his eyes, she urged hisprehension, and Luca slowly nodded nervously.


    His eyes flicked to Mallow, who had his hands in his pockets, before shifting to Vance, whose arms were folded. Luca nearly shivered when he met Vance''s gaze, which seemed to hold a menacing intensity as if he wanted to devour and tear Luca apart.


    One of the other men in suits spoke up once the nurse left the room, leaving them with the boy on the bed. "We are here to question you on some specific things, and we would like you to answer in detail," the Asian man said with a stark face. "Do not look at your supposed employers. Look at us, the Federation Officials. We are the ones conducting this interrogation.


    Let''s say they are just here to make you feel less nervous."


    Less nervous?! His eyes are stabbing me to death!


    Luca cleared his throat before replying, ensuring his voice came out firm and unthreatened. "The Federation Officials?" he asked for rity, surprised that he was before some high-ranking men of power, or rather, men who were directly or indirectly under men who wielded power.


    "Yes... Luca," the Asian man replied with a pause, his arms crossed behind his back as he raised a brow. "That is your name, am I right?"


    "Yes, it is."


    "Good. I will start by saying we are sorry for the ident that nearly cost you your life. It was a terrible thing to happen to someone as young as you," he said with another sharp pause, ring at his colleagues. "But this wouldn''t have happened if you were an official member of the track marshals, would it?"


    Luca noticed that Vance grew uneasy after the Asian man''sst words. He was tapping his shoe on the floor, his tongue flicking across his lips, and his chin moving left and right.


    "I¡ªI don''t understand," Luca stammered.


    "Luca Rennick, did Mr. Vance here hire you to work as a track marshal for today''s race?"


    Luca''s heart began to pound in his ears, a trickle of sweat dribbling down his neck. His gaze flickered anxiously around the room as he tried to find the right words to reply, when "yes" was simply the answer.


    "Y¡ªyes," Luca answered, stealing a nce at Vance, who looked enraged by his affirmative response. Wait?! What''s going on here?! Is he trying to deny that?!


    Before Luca could piece things together, another question was thrown at him. "And did Mr. Vance train you on the responsibilities of a track marshal?"


    "Yes."


    "He did?" The Asian man asked, raising an eyebrow in feigned surprise, which Luca could easily tell. "If I may ask, how long was the duration of this training? A week? Five days? Two days?"


    Luca swallowed, deciding it would be best to answer correctly and bail himself out of what seemed to be going on between the men. "Two hours," he answered. "I was only trained for two hours."


    The Asian man smiled briefly, as if he was expecting the answer. Nodding his head, he continued, "And the hour after that, you marshaled for an official race, am I right?"


    "Yes, sir," Luca said, feeling Vance''s gaze piercing through him.


    "So, do you mean to say that the ident that urred today between 26-year-old Squadra Corse star Antonio Luigi and 18-year-old fraud Luca Rennick was caused by your ipetence, ignorance, and amateurism as a track marshal?" the Asian man asked, adjusting to a firm stance.


    What?!


    The room wasced with silence after the man''s question, all eyes on the boy on the bed.


    Is he trying to say the ident was my fault? It was not my fault at all! The racer was reckless; he was trying to overtake at a bend and crashed into me. That was what happened! I did my job as a track marshal well!


    "I''m sorry, sir, but I do not understand what you mean by that," Luca said, refusing to answer such a question. "The driver had left the track and hurtled toward me¡ª"


    "Left the track?" the man interrupted Luca. "It sure seemed to me that you were the one who edged closer to the track. Sure, he did veer offne, but kid, if you were a trained marshal, you would have known being in such a spot would put you in grave danger."


    Luca frowned, evident displeasure and anger etched on his face. He pushed himself upright, shaking his head. I know the rules of racing inside and out. I know where a marshal can stand. "You can''t tell me that, sir," he protested.


    "I believe I just did. The hical hiring of untrained personnel is what led to this casualty¡ª"


    "No, I was in the right track. The driver veered off insensitively," Luca defended himself, his voice rising despite the ache in his head. "I was on the right path," he repeated with determination.


    The Asian man stared at Luca intently, as if studying the internal injuries that had supposedly responded well to medication. The faint hum of the clinic''s generators filled the air, along with the sound of the blowing AC. Luca nced at the other men, who seemed to harbor varying sentiments about him.


    Quickly piecing the situation together, Luca concluded that these Federation Officials were investigating the incident, if he could call it an investigation at all. They were clearly one-sided and biased, arriving with the mindset that Luca was at fault before even asking questions. It seemed to Luca that Mr.


    Vance, the Operations Manager of the Circuit, might face repercussions for hiring an inexperienced marshal for an official race.


    Fuck, Luca cursed in his mind. If he had realized this earlier, he would have answered in favor of Vance.


    The Asian man opened his mouth to speak when the door to the clinic room swung wide. He nced in that direction, his expression displeased as the nurse revealed herself. "I thought you said you''d give us some time?" he asked, irritation clear in his voice.


    "I''m sorry, sir. But his mother insists she sees her son," the nurse replied, ncing behind her. "You cane in, ma."


    Luca''s heart raced as he heard the word "mother." His eyes lit up when Mrs. Rennick entered the room. "Mom," he called, trying to draw her attention as she briefly locked gazes with the menacing figures around her.


    "Luca, my son. Oh my goodness," she cried, tears brimming in her eyes as she rushed toward Luca. "Why does this keep happening to my family?"


    "Mom, it''s alright. I''m fine now," Luca reassured her, recalling his System.


    "Fine?! Who knows how many broken bones and torn muscles they inflicted on you?!" Mrs. Rennick eximed, inspecting her son''s bandaged body.


    "It''s alright, ma''am. He will be fine; the doctors have assured us he will be," Mallow interjected.


    Mrs. Rennick shot him a fierce look. "Don''t you dare tell me that. What if something had gone wrong, hmm? What kind of reckless racers do you have here?! Don''t they have eyes to see my son?!"


    "Mrs. Rennick, our investigation ims that Luca unintentionally edged into a motorable path on the track, leaving that racer momentarily disoriented," the Asian man stated, his face devoid of emotion.


    Luca couldn''t believe how he could lie so tantly, showing no signs of remorse.


    "Your investigation? Are you questioning my son?!"


    "We were¡ª"


    "Shut up, and leave. He will be speaking to none of you anymore," Mrs. Rennick hushed the man.


    The Federation Officials murmured among themselves; even Vance and Mallow spoke indistinctly. "But ma''am, we need to hear from your son toe to a conclusion on what transpired and how to prevent more events like this from urring," the Asian man persisted.


    "Oh, you will be hearing from hiswyer very soon," Mrs. Rennick hissed. Noting the confused expressions on their faces, she continued, "Yes, we are going to sue the Federation, the driver''s team, and you too, the Circuit''s management."


    "Mother?" Luca looked at his mother in disbelief, expecting it to be a joke, but she was goddamn serious.


    The Asian man didn''t seem in the least worried by Luca''s mother''s threat. He shrugged and nodded once. "Alright, ma''am, we''ll take our leave and await the charges," he said starkly before walking out of the room, his colleagues tagging along.


    Vance spat out malice, pointing at Luca. "I knew you''d be a trouble seeking bastard," he hissed before stomping out. Luca''s mother didn''t hold back, throwing insults at him as he passed.


    Left with Mallow, the middle-aged man walked to Luca''s bed and pulled out his wallet. Counting five $100 bills, he dropped them on the mattress. "I believe this is your payment," he said, pocketing his wallet as he tapped Luca''s hand. "Get well, kiddo."

 Chapter 5 My Newfound System. 2

    Luca was discharged the same day after being told he would be able to heal up by himself and that further staying in the clinic might result in being charged, considering the fact that his mother had proimed herwsuit against the management of the Circuit.


    After boarding a cab alone, Luca stood before his family''s apartment building, studying the old, unappealing piece of architecture. This would be their fifth year living in this ce. Luca had been trying his possible best in school, but when funds couldn''t support and invest in his education, he came to the conclusion that this might be their fate forever, unless a miracle happened.


    A miracle has happened. Still uncertain about the will the Form 1 System had set out for him, Luca was anxious about where this endeavor might lead him. But one thing he was certain of was that this System was the miracle that would be able to lift his family from poverty¡ªa very malicious path that had thrown his family into poverty in the first ce.


    Urngh! Luca groaned, feeling the internal pain at his side while he slowly walked up the stairs.


    Approaching their door, he pulled out his mother''s keys, which she had given him before going straight to the police station and the city''s district to file thewsuit. Luca knew his mother wasn''t just doing this to im justice for him.


    She was doing this to extort money from the Federation as damagespensation, believing this was the right case that would grant such if they came out victorious.


    Luca rattled the door lock before he finally found the hole. Shoving and twisting the key, he pushed open the door and entered their home. Seeing Sophia standing like a ghost before him startled Luca, and he almost yelped. "What the¡ª! What are you doing here? No school?" he asked her, shutting the door behind him.


    Sophia looked very unhappy, dressed in only a bogus t-shirt¡ªone Luca immediately recognized as his. "There is school," she replied. "Mom grounded me from school and locked me in the house."


    "She did that?" Luca asked, genuinely surprised, though his face didn''t show it. This was a first, but when it came to his mother and sister, he had learned to expect the impossible. He took off his footwear while Sophiained.


    "Yes, she did. And that¡ª?" She said with a quick pause, bending to inspect the crafted piece of metal in Luca''s grasp. "That''s my key!"


    "This?" Luca asked, holding up the key. At that moment, he recognized it was Sophia''s. How smart is Mom?


    "Yes. She took it; give it back."


    Rolling his eyes, he tossed the key to her and passed, walking into the small living room. "I hope you had something to eat all this while? You must have been bored," he said aloud, and she responded positively. "C''mon,e and help me out of my shirt."


    "Whaa? You can''t get out of a shirt? Are you a kid?"


    "Just get over here and help me; my body hurts and I can''t stretch that far," Luca said, tugging at the end of his shirt.


    Sophia dragged herself to the living room and helped Luca pull off his shirt, surprised at the groaning sounds he made. "What the fuck! What happened to you?!" she yelled, her eyes fixed on the bandaged abdomen, where his skin gleamed red.


    "I got into an ident. A vehicle hit me; I''ll be fine," Luca said, carefully sinking into the sofa behind him.


    Sophia stared at him, shaking her head with pity that Luca found amusing. "What about dear old Mom?" she asked, ring around in search of her presence. "She didn''te with you?"


    "No. She parted ways for something important."


    A wide smile spread across Sophia''s face, her fingers twinkling with joy. Like a fox, she dashed into their room.


    Luca sluggishly helped himself to a meal¡ªhe hadn''t eaten since today. Wondering if he might have been the cause of the ident, he had a few unreliable theories. Perhaps hisck of food energy made it hard to see the trackne''s edge clearly? Nah, I never eat every day to work, and I see everything fine.


    Minutester, Sophia emerged, dressed in party wear. "What¡ªwhere are you going?" Luca asked.


    "Tiffany''s house," she replied, swirling around to show Luca how she looked. However, he ignored her.


    "I believe Mom grounded you?" Luca recalled the obvious, raising an eyebrow.


    Ceasing her swirl of euphoria, Sophia paused. "She''s not here... won''t you let me go?"


    Luca pondered her words. He knew Sophia to be a very maliceful person, and she would never forget today if he refused her. He wondered why she was so eager to be outside with her peers and people older than her. When he was her age, he disliked such things.


    After a few seconds, he came to a conclusion. "You can go," Luca permitted. "But 6 p.m. is when you return," he added quickly.


    Sophia frowned at thatmand, but she was happy nheless. Giving her thanks, she skipped out of their apartment.


    Luca shifted his concentration to the air before him, staring hard for his System to appear. He had sent Sophia out so he couldmunicate freely with it.


    [You can just say System Disy, host]


    Luca totally forgot how frightening the System''s voice was. He swallowed and said, "System disy."


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    The digital interface appeared before him once again, and there was a brief loading bar.


    [ANALYSING DATA AND ATTRIBUTES...]


    [Wee.]


    "Thank you," Luca said instinctively, his body tingling with anxiety atmunicating with such an entity.


    [When westmunicated, I sensed the uncertainty in your voice about bing the host of the Form 1 System. Does that hesitation still linger within you?]


    Luca took a deep breath. This choice he was about to make would change his life for good or for worse¡ªa path he had long promised himself he would never take, and here it was, finding him instead.


    Is it the fear of dying in an ident just like Dad, or of not being as good as him? Luca asked himself.


    [You must remember you are your own driver, host. The Form 1 System is designed to bring out your unique potential, not to make you an echo of someone else.]


    Luca heaved a sigh and epted, urging the System to proceed. "So, how do we get started?"


    [First, we will begin with your foundational training to build essential skills and reflexes required for the track. You''ll receive daily mental and physical exercises focused on strength, stamina and other attributes. Your body will adapt to the intense demands of racing, improving your endurance and ability to handle high-speed situations.]


    [This foundational training maye as Daily Quests & Missions, which you will need toplete if you are to pave the way for this endeavor.]


    "Wow. Daily Quests and Missions?"


    [Yes. Be warned, host. A few of these quests might not be suitable for your lifestyle or align with your ethics. You are required toplete them before the time duration pses. If not, points will be deducted from the stats you already have.]


    Luca cleared his throat. That certainly sounded like what the System would do as a punishment. "But I''ll get point increases if Iplete the missions?"


    [Certainly, host]


    "What do you mean by some of these training and quests might not align with my lifestyle?" Luca asked skeptically, unsure where this System was taking him.


    [To excel as a racer, your physical condition is critical. You''ll need to build and maintain the attributes required to handle G-forces and long races. This means adopting a rigorous training regime and following a strict diet that most racers adhere to¡ªhigh in protein, bnced carbs, and healthy fats, which may not align with your current lifestyle.]


    [My statement was merely an understanding of the financial strain this might bring you.]


    Luca''s eyes widened. "I thought you would provide everything and I''d just do the work!" he bawled. "Don''t you have a Shop or something?"


    [I am sorry, host. But the Form 1 System has no shop tab where one can purchase from the System. This System is designed for raw sacrifices and determination, and I will only keep a stern record of that.]


    Luca lowered his head in disappointment, staring at the te of noodles he had devoured. Surely, a pro Form 1 racer would have nothing to do with such a meal.


    [I will give you the list of the cheapest food items to kick off your training.]


    [Food items:


    -Eggs


    -Oatmeal


    -Beans


    -Lean meats


    -Brown rice ]


    [However, this is only the starting point, a simple list, host. Your body will require much more than just cost-efficient food as you progress. In time, your diet will need to evolve into something more specific to your needs as a racer¡ªfocused on speed recovery, energy efficiency, and muscle endurance. You''ll need to invest not just in food, but in proper nutrition.]


    Luca stared at the food items on the digital interface, visualizing their prices. He could afford them now, but could he continue to do so?


    [Ding!]


    [Daily Quest has been issued!]


    [-¡¤-JOG AROUND FIVE CITY BLOCKS TWO TIMES-¡¤-]


    [DURATION: COMPLETE BEFORE 8 PM]


    [This will help enhance your cardiovascr endurance and improve your stamina.]


    "What? Jog around five city blocks?! I can''t even swing my arms!" Lucained, turning his back to the System as if it were a person before him.


    [Reward for Completing Thursday Daily Quest: (EXP)


    - Stamina +1


    - Endurance +1 ]


    [Consequence for Failing Thursday Daily Quest: (EXP)


    - Endurance -1


    Consequence for Failing Thursday Daily Quest: Punishment


    -Severe muscle spasms induced by low-level electrocution will ur.]


    Luca''s eyes widened in shock as the information hit him like a blow. Muscle spasms? Electrocution? He was just hit by a race car, and this System expected him to be up and running around the whole city?!


    Before he could speak, the screen flickered.


    [Reanalyzing Daily Routine.....]


    [DAILY ROUTINE WOULD COMMENCE OFFICIALLY FRIDAY MORNING¡ª5 AM]


    [Ding!]


    Luca''s heart skipped a beat as the heavy bell-like sound of the System resonated in his ears. Another Daily Quest? If so, no! He swore he would not be doing it.


    [Advanced Mission has been Issued!]


    [-¡¤-ATTAIN YOUR FIRST PROFESSIONAL CONTRACT-¡¤-]

 Chapter 6 Hustle And Headlights

    Luca waited impatiently for Sophia toe back home, just as he''d ordered her to. Much to his surprise, she actually turned up, and just in time too¡ªhis mother walked in only a few minutester.


    Mrs. Rennick wasn''t exactly thrilled with Luca''s idea of leaving the house to "return a parcel," as he had told her. However, she trusted her son deeply and let him go, but not before giving him a full update on the progress she had made with thewsuit in just one day. From the determined way she spoke, Luca began to worry. It seemed like his mother genuinely believed she could win the case.


    The fact that it was against the Stadhaven Circuit, a government-run establishment, and the Racing Federation gave Luca reason to fear she might be biting off more than she could chew. He couldn''t help but feel she was ying with fire.


    Closing the outer door behind him, Luca jogged softly down the stairs, careful to keep his midsection moving, not stiff. It hurt, but in a weirdly satisfying way, almost like it was good to feel such an injury.


    It was getting close to 7 PM, and the sky, which had been painted in dusk moments before, was now fading into night. Luca''s sneakers sshed into a puddle just outside the building, remnants of the heavy rain fromst night still lingering around. The scene and events reminded him how much could happen in just 24 hours.


    He inhaled deeply, taking in the damp air mixed with a faint trace of exhaust fumes in the distance.


    Dressed in his leather sports jacket and joggers, Luca pulled out his tiny, box-sized MP3 yer and clipped it onto his jacket''s zipper. Plugging in his earpiece, he slid the speakers into his ears and clicked y. A perfect fusion of retrowave and heavy metal buzzed into his ears as he took his first step, beginning his quest to jog around the nearest five city blocks two times.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    The familiar digital screen shed in front of Luca''s eyes once again, and this time he was certain¡ªno one else could see it but him. Everyone around him continued moving,pletely oblivious to what was now happening right in front of him.


    [Host is attempting Thursday''s Daily Quest]


    [ANALYSING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Speed: 4.5 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 107 bpm


    -Stamina: 80% (Poor)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 30m


    -Time: 27 sec ]


    [This is a satisfactory start, host. But I fear your stamina might not be sufficient enough.]


    "Of course it isn''t. I''m injured," Luca muttered under his breath, feeling the strain in his side as he jogged along the sidewalk, weaving past stalls and shops. The statistics on the digital interface in front of him shifted every few seconds, recording each of his steps in real-time.


    [You will have to increase your jogging speed to 6 km/h with time, host, if you want to meet the deadline.]


    [From my calctions, at this speed, you willplete the quest around 8 PM. However, with a pace of 5 km/h or 6 km/h, you could finish 25 minutes or 40 minutes earlier, respectively.]


    "Alright," Luca grunted, focusing on keeping his body steady and rhythmic. His sneakers thudded softly against the concrete, almost in sync with the beat of the music pumping into his ears.


    [Speed increased by 0.7 km/h. Breathing remains steady; heart rate has increased by one beat.]


    In his trance of the jogging quest, Luca had lost track of time, the music carrying him forward. He hadn''t noticed howpletely dark it had be, nor the creeping ache spreading through his body. "System, what''s the progress?" he asked, gasping for breath.


    [Two blocks have been covered twice, you are on the first phase of your third]


    "What?!" Luca eximed, ncing at the digital screen in disbelief. "That''s six more blocks to go?!"


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Speed: 5.1 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Stamina: 30% (Poor)


    -Breathing: Hiked


    -Distance covered: 422m


    -Time: 5 min ]


    "I don''t think I can jog any further, System," Luca gasped as his speed noticeably slowed, his body screaming for rest.


    [This is excellent training to increase your Endurance, host. Do not abandon this quest halfway, or you will face the consequences.]


    Luca yanked the earpiece plugs from his ears and bent forward, leaning on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "I can take a short break, can''t I?" he panted, sweat dripping down onto the damp sidewalk below him.


    [Only for a few seconds. Three minutes maximum.]


    [Refreshing is not allowed until I permit it.]


    Fuck! What the heck is this System? My training coach?! He tried to mutter the words aloud, but his voice strained, barely escaping his lips as his breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. The evening''s darkness wrapped around him like a heavy nket, his fatigue only deepening as his legs felt like lead.


    Maybe it was the cold breeze of the approaching night making his steps heavier, or maybe the genuine exhaustion had finally set in.


    If this is what it takes to get fit enough to be a racer, then what does it take to actually seed as one?


    Speaking of bing a sessful racer, the System had already thrown him his first major mission: secure his first professional contract. Luca hadn''t figured out how the hell he''d do that yet, but at least, thankfully, there was no punishment attached to this one. Still, he knew he couldn''t ignore it. Missions issued by the System were inevitable steps¡ªunavoidable, no matter how daunting.


    As Luca soaked in every second of the break, his weary eyes caught the faint glow of approaching headlights creeping up from the side. The light grew stronger, slicing through the dark. With a sharp inhale, Luca spun around, his muscles screaming in protest at the sudden movement.


    To his surprise, a sleek red convertible rolled up, its headlights slicing through the evening shadows like twin beacons. The car''s loud music echoed in the night, drawing unwanted attention as it came to a stop at the edge of the road, right beside Luca.


    Luca squinted into the open seats, and immediately recognized the smug, youthful faces crammed into the shy car. The driver, a college student Luca knew all too well, leaned back with a cocky grin, one handzily on the wheel.


    "Hey, look who it is! I could spot that sad jog from a mile away," the guy drawled, his voice soaked in arrogance. "Thought you got mowed down by a race car or somethin''. But nah, here you are, runnin'' like you''re some kinda machine. My man never rests, huh?"


    The others in the car¡ªtwo boys and two girls¡ªburst intoughter, their faces lit up with yful mockery.


    "Tell me Luca, how did you even manage to sneak in as a marshal? My God, they could have sensed your pitiful self just like we did instantly," one of the girls said.


    Luca didn''t move, his hands still resting on his knees as he stared at them. Tyrants, he thought bitterly. I once had a rich father.


    "Here dawg," one of the boys in the back with jet-ck hair muttered, digging into his pockets. He eventually pulled out a handful of crumpled twenty-dor bills, too many for Luca to count at once but clearly more than five. "Here you go for your sorry pasta ass!" he sneered, tossing the money toward Luca with a mocking grin.


    Luca red at them with a steely, apathetic gaze, struggling toprehend why they still clung to their high school antics. Each of them in the car had some connection to him, and the sight of the girl in the front, who had hissed moments ago, stirred memories he''d rather forget.


    [Don''t worry, Luca]


    [One day, they''ll be the ones paying for tickets to watch you race. They''ll sit in the stands, watching you im the number one spot on the podium.]


    [This is day one]


    As it seemed Luca might refuse the money, the boy with the ck hair sneered once more, throwing the bills at him with a hateful "Loser" spat from his lips. The green notes fluttered through the air, settling around Luca''s feet before the car sped off, leaving behind a trail ofughter and booming music into the night that seemed to mock him long after they were gone.


    Luca watched the red convertible vanish into the darkness, its taunting echoes lingering in his ears. He nced down at the scattered bills, his mind racing as he weighed his options. Left and right, he scanned the empty street, then bent down to gather the money. Seven twenty-dor billsy in his hands, and he''d be a fool to leave them behind, even if it meant enduring their mockery.


    [RESUME QUEST?]


    [Y / N]


    With a determined sigh, Luca pocketed the cash, feeling a strange mix of pride and frustration. He selected yes, resuming the jogging quest he was only halfway through.


    Straining his muscles and pushing himself with the relentless pounding of his feet, Luca was able toplete his first quest. But it came with extreme pain in his legs andbored breathing as he almost copsed to the ground when he was done.


    [Congrattions! Daily Quest Completed!]


    [You have been rewarded with (EXP)!


    -Stamina +1


    -Endurance +1 ]

 Chapter 7 Two Stops Before Home

    Luca barged into his favorite supermarket, quickly grabbing a bottle of water as his legs trembled nonstop beneath him. Slumping onto the counter, he drank like a camel, draining the chilled, colorless liquid as if it were soda, before requesting another.


    "Lukey, you never told me you now exercise at night," said Josh, the counter attendant and someone Luca knew very well. His tone was inquisitive as he studied the exhausted boy. "Actually, you don''t look like you exercised; you look like you were chased by a cult gang." He paused, narrowing his eyes as he peered into Luca''s face. "Did that happen?"


    Luca shook his head, barely able to stand as he took a blurry look around the buzzing little supermarket. It was illuminated by low ceiling lights, and the outside darkness provided a cozy, secluded atmosphere. That was the very reason he loved this supermarket¡ªit had a sense of belonging andfort that hovered around its bright white walls.


    Remembering the second reason why he''de in, Luca pulled out a list of his shopping needs as directed by the System. He had enough money to purchase this first batch, but he wasn''t sure where the funds for the next woulde from.


    After greeting Josh, Luca handed him the list, practically begging for his help to shop given his sore legs. As a good friend of Luca''s mother, Josh epted without hesitation, picking up a basket before walking down the rows of shelves with Luca''s list in hand.


    "Hey there," a sweet voice drifted through the air, warm, yful, and familiar, dragging Luca''s attention as he shifted his head toward the source, momentarily ignoring the heaviness in his legs.


    "Oh, hey, Lana," Luca replied, managing a brief smile and a nod as he took in the beauty of the girl. She stood at the counter, dressed in the supermarket''s staff uniform. While he didn''t know much about her, he was aware she was older than him, which always made him hesitate when it came to approaching her.


    "Josh was right. You do look like someone''s been after you," she said, her voiceced with humor. "This is a workday, and you''re quite early here. Did you skip work?"


    Luca shook his head, ruffling his hair absentmindedly. "No, I didn''t. Spent the whole day running away from my pursuer," he murmured, trying to keep it light.


    Lana burst intoughter, pping her hands as her youthful voice echoed off the tiles. "Then you came to the right hiding spot!" she eximed, her joy infectious.


    As sheughed, Luca''s eyes caught the television screen above her head, nestled in the corner of the wall. What drew his attention was the image of an F1 car zooming around a track. He half-expected it to be news about a marshal who had been hit by one of the single-seaters today, but it turned out to be something else entirely.


    "Lana? Could you please turn up the volume?" Luca requested, straining his ears to listen.


    "Oh, sure," she replied quickly, operating the remote with practiced ease.


    "And it''s breaking news that the FIA has officially announced what they''re calling a ''Radical Overhaul'' of the sport we all know and love. Now, folks, brace yourselves¡ªthis could mean significant changes both on and off the track.


    With the introduction of a ''New Format'' and an ''Expansion''¡ªtwo of the major projects they''re set to unveil soon¡ªwe could be standing on the brink of one of the biggest shifts in the history of Form 1. Stay tuned, because the way we experience the thrill of racing may never be the same again."


    "Woah," Luca muttered instinctively. New Format? What does that mean? Would it make some bad changes?


    "Ah, they''re always looking for a way to make business seem fresh and exciting," Lana said, lowering the volume again.


    "They sure are," Luca muttered, his gaze still glued to the screen, though his mind drifted miles away. He barely registered Josh''s towering figure moving into his peripheral vision. When Luca turned, he saw Josh holding the basket filled with food items. "Oh, thanks, man," he said, taking the basket from him.


    As Josh began tallying the total, Luca inspected the groceries. Is this good enough?


    [For now, host]


    [As you improve both physically and mentally, your diet will evolve ordingly]


    Luca groaned inwardly when the bill was presented to him. He paid quickly, eager to leave, but then his eyesnded on arge poster stered behind Lana. "Wait... You guys just opened a gym?" he asked, genuinely surprised.


    "Yeah! Really sleek setup, Lukey," Josh replied with a grin, handing him the stic bag filled with groceries. "You thinking about signing up?"


    "Yes, please."


    Josh raised an eyebrow, a yful smirk tugging at his lips. "Lukey, what''s going on? You nning some kind of glow-up or something? Spill the beans."


    "I wish," Luca muttered with a chuckle, his legs still feeling like lead as he dragged himself toward the exit. "Don''t forget, Josh," he called back, stepping out into the cool night air of the city.


    Walking down the street with weary legs, each step felt sluggish, harder to make than thest. His thoughts wandered to his workce. Maybe he should stop by¡ªout of respect. The System had given him a new direction, one that might soon free him from the exhausting grind he''d endured there.


    Yet, a part of him felt he owed it to the ce that had once been his daily routine, even if his future might look different now.


    "You wanna race?" a friend said to Luca, a 40-year-old man wearing a construction hat, his frown deepening. "I thought you hated the sport whenever it came on while we were on break."


    "Ahhh, you scruny fuck," another friend, a 52-year-old sporting a cowboy mustache, growled. "Stop being doluzional and freaking lift a sheet. Dreams remain dreams,d. In reality...?" He tapped a huge machine that loomed nearby. "This is where you belong."


    "Leave the boy to hop on those toy cars; it''s been a while since I attended a funeral. Whatchu folks say, huh?" Another coworker chimed in, grinning.


    Luca felt a pang of sadness as he listened to the men he worked with every day being so unsupportive. Ignoring their taunts, he focused on his first friend. "I''ve got no choice. It''s...plicated," he replied quickly, his eyes scanning the steel mill''s environment. "And I''m really sorry if my absence caused any problems today."


    "Oh, it caused plenty," the man snickered, shaking his head. "Boss ain''t gonna be too pleased once he gets a look at you. Lucky for you, he ain''t around today."


    Luca bit his lip, feeling a mix of relief and unease at their boss''s absence. "Alright," he said, giving the man a light tap on the shoulder. "Please pass on the info for me."


    "Will do," his friend replied with a nod.


    As he disappeared into the night once more, Luca headed home, his mind racing faster than his tired legs. He was not only contemting the path he was about to take but also how he would begin it. One thing was clear: he needed to be a contracted racer first.

 Chapter 8 Attributes Advancement

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [Daily Routine Has Officially Commenced Today]


    [5:30 HYDRATION & MEDITATION: Host will get out of bed and stretch to loosen his muscles. Taking a full ss of water will kickstart your metabolism. Afterwards, you will sit quietly for a few moments. By breathing deeply, you will help release all forms of stress.]


    [6:00 WORKOUT & GROOMING: Your daily workout routine includes Jumping Jacks, Cardio, Strength Training, and Gentle Stretches. Afterward, you''ll take a shower to refresh yourself.]


    [7:00 BREAKFAST & NUTRITION: A nutritious meal and more water to stay hydrated.]


    [You have five minutes to begin your Daily Routine.]


    [While defiance from you might not lead to immediate punishments, ignoring your daily routine will ultimately hinder your progress.]


    Luca grumbled as he pushed his tired arms up, his fists sinking into thefort of his bed. His legs throbbed with pain, as if the very muscles were on the verge of bursting, and here was the System, dragging him awake even earlier than his usual 6:15 on other days.


    ncing around the dim room, he noticed Sophia still sleeping soundly, undisturbed by his early rise. He reached for the bottle of water on his nightstand, pouring himself a cup and drinking greedily before exhaling deeply. Meditation, you say?


    [Yes, host. A brief time alone with your thoughts early in the morning helps to calm your nerves, as F1 drivers often feel tense while on the track. This may be your only quiet time before a busy day ahead.]


    Luca nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. After several inhtions and exhtions, he felt a surge of relief wash over his chest. This really is good. I should make this a habit.


    [I believe the next phase will involve the gym you applied tost night. Your home is quite small andcks the necessary equipment and facilities.]


    "In other words, it''s not a gym," Luca muttered, finding it hard to believe he would have to go to the supermarket once again with his tired legs.


    Turning in his bed, Luca ced his bare feet on the cold floor and attempted to rise. Just as he had expected, his legs buckled under his weight like a loose pir, sending him back down onto the bed. His legs felt like overcooked spaghetti¡ªnumb and nearly non-existent.


    How do you expect me to do Jumping Jacks in a gym, when I can''t even get there?!


    [This is a justifiable response from your legs. With your +1 Endurance, I believe you can push yourself to walk to the gym as nned.]


    Luca sighed in defeat, gathering his resolve, and pushed himself to his feet, nearly falling back down again as his wobbly legs protested. They felt like jelly,pletely unable to support him. He dragged them into the dressing room and managed to pull on a fresh pair of sportswear, sticking with the same sneakers he had worn yesterday.


    Stomping his foot on the floor several times, he hoped that he might ovee the pain with pain.


    Thankful that his mother was still sound asleep, Luca left the house and dashed into the streets once more, his muscles pulsing with difort. The morning air was fresh and crisp, a wee relief as people had already begun their day before 6 a.m.


    Navigating through the brisk dawn air, Luca made his way toward the supermarket. Upon entering, he was greeted by Josh, who couldn''t help butmend him again on this surprising new path he had chosen.


    "Still can''t believe you''re hitting the gym now, Lukey," Josh remarked with a yful grin, handing Luca his ticket and gesturing toward the new gym situated just behind the building. Luca forced a quick smile, trying to mask the growing nerves churning in his stomach.


    As he pushed through the doors into the gym, a gust of cool air greeted him like a refreshing wee. The ce was enormous¡ªlike a parking hall expertly repurposed into a bustling fitness arena. Rows of treadmills buzzed with the rhythm of runners, stationary bikes whirred in sync, and free weights nked under the strain of dedicated lifters.


    The bright lights illuminated the space, but the mirrored walls made it feel evenrger, reflecting countless bodies drenched in sweat and determination. Luca felt a sense of unease creeping in, but he decided to push through that feeling.


    Alright, he told himself, acknowledging the fact that this was his first time in a gym, and from this day forward, he would be spending more time here¡ªor in another gym, for sure.


    Josh led Luca to a spot where he could carry out his exercises with rtive ease. After giving his thanks, Luca jumped right into his workout, eager to keep pace with the time duration for each phase of his daily routine.


    Removing his outer jacket, Luca wasted no time andunched straight into Jumping Jacks. Despite the simplicity of the movement, everynding sent a jolt of strain through his leg muscles. He could feel the lingering contraction and pain from the lengths his System had pushed him the day before.


    Within a minute, hepleted the set and swiftly moved on to stretching. This was crucial for the flexibility he''d need inside the cramped cockpit of an F1 car. The tight space and sensitive controls demanded precision, and Luca knew that limber muscles would enable him to respond quickly behind the wheel.


    Stretching, at least, came naturally to him, and within two quick minutes, he was done and headed over to the pedaling bike.


    [This exercise will help with your endurance and stamina, host. These two attributes are essential when you''re behind the wheel for 52ps.]


    He took a deep breath, settling onto the bike, and forced his legs into motion. The pedals turned beneath his feet, and immediately, the burning sensation in his calves returned. The rhythm was painful, but steady, as he forced his weak feet to push down on the pedals, determined not to let his fatigue win.


    After five grueling minutes on the bike, Luca exhaled loudly, the sound cutting through the hum of the gym''s AC and momentarily attracting everyone''s attention. His legs felt like they were on fire as he caught the stares of some other gym-goers. Embarrassed, he slowly dropped his head to the bike''s controls, breathing through his mouth as pain pulsed relentlessly through his legs.


    [Rehydrate, host. Let''s move on to increase your core strength.]


    [Core Strength is essential while in the cockpit. It goes hand in hand with endurance, helping you control the car effectively through high G-forces and maintaining stability during tight corners and fast eleration.]


    [EXERCISE: SUSPENDED PLANK WITH WEIGHTED SWINGS]


    [EQUIPMENTS: TWO RESISTANCE BANDS & A KETTLEBELL]


    What? What do I need those for?


    [Be ready, host. You are going to push yourself now.]


    [With your feet suspended in the resistance bands, you will be positioned in a traditional nk, your lower body in the air and upper body holding you up.]


    [You will maintain the nk while swinging a kettlebell with one hand across your body to the opposite side, alternating hands with each swing.]


    [You will do this for 30 seconds, 5 repetitions with 1-minute rests in between.]


    What?! I am not aspiring to be a bodybuilder! Why would I have to do such strenuous exercise?! I thought Form 1 racers didn''t have to go through such. I never saw my father lifting kettlebells; he had a lean figure!


    [Though most Form 1 racers are graced with a lean body stature, there is a lot of work involved in attaining such a figure, host. That is the truth.]


    [Let us proceed with SUSPENDED PLANK WITH WEIGHTED SWINGS.]


    Luca shook his head, heaving a sigh as he dropped to the ground and lifted his wobbly legs into the air. He hung them into the resistance bands fixed from the ceiling above him. Steadying himself in a nk position, he could already feel the strain approaching, wondering just how long he would survive swinging that heavy piece of metal below him.


    Once he formed a perfect diagonal line, Luca inhaled deeply and reached for the kettlebell. Pushing his right hand against the gym floor, he lifted his upper body as his left hand grabbed the kettlebell''s handle.


    With a deliberate swing, he guided the kettlebell across his body, feeling his chest and abdomen tighten. He gritted his teeth, letting out a silent agonized growl as he repeated the action, his muscles screaming with every swing. His right hand pressed firmly into the gym floor for support while his left arm moved in controlled, rhythmic arcs.


    Though Luca wished he could stop, a part of him understood this wasn''t just a test to fortify his strength; it was a lesson in core bnce as well. All parts of his upper body, crucial for steering a vehicle, were engaged in this exercise.


    Why am I so pained?! I work tirelessly everyday, carrying hundreds of sheets of metal. This shouldn''t be too hard, but it is!


    [Host, just because you carry heavy loads at work doesn''t mean this will be easy. Your job strains your body, but it doesn''t target your muscles in a healthy or bnced way. It''s constant stress without proper conditioning, which can actually wear you down over time.]


    [The kind of exercise you''re doing now focuses on controlled strength, bnce, and endurance. That''s different from merely lifting sheets of metal¡ªthis is about building the right kind of strength gradually and efficiently for high-intensity situations, like the path which I am guiding you toward.]


    Luca huffed and puffed, swinging the kettlebell beneath him like a pendulum, barely managing to push through. Finally, he copsed to the floor when he was done, his body trembling and muscles aching after being stretched beyond their limits.


    [Good job, host. You can now head over to the next phase of your daily routine.]


    Luca rolled over, lying t on the gym floor and staring up at the ceiling. This should have earned me a few points, right?


    [Unfortunately, host, you haven''t gained any points from today''s exercise. If you had, I would have notified you instantly.]


    "Are you kidding me?" Luca eximed, a sad frown on his face as he struggled to speak between harsh breaths. "After all that effort?"


    [You made progress, host, and your strain has been acknowledged. However, the progress achieved wasn''t sufficient to gain a point toward your attributes. Perhaps your next Daily Routine or Quest might change that.]


    Luca sighed and sluggishly rose to his feet.

 Chapter 9 My Newfound System. 3

    With his morning workout session behind him, a tired Luca decided to splurge a little, purchasing a rich chocte bar before heading home.


    His mother was taken aback, never expecting her son to be the one who would visit a gym, a crowded ce like that. After exchanging greetings, Luca took a refreshing bath in their shower, the cold water feeling like a thousand dandelions shimmering over him, easing his tense muscles.


    Once he was dressed for the day, he waved goodbye to his mother as she headed out for her shift at the diner.


    Unpacking his new groceries, Luca got straight to work preparing the unusual breakfast his System had prescribed for him. It was a strange yet priceybination, something he never would have envisioned himself eating. On his te, he had fluffy scrambled eggs, a bowl of oatmeal mixed with beans, and slices of lean meat on the side.


    [Thisbination of lean proteins, slow-digesting carbs, and essential fats will allow your body to sustain itself under intense physical pressure behind the wheel, ensuring that your reactions and stamina stay sharp during races.]


    [This will significantly enhance your performance, host. The diet will help you maintain high energy levels and elerate muscle recovery. Just remember, consistency with this diet will lead to optimal results.]


    Luca sat down to eat, eagerly digging his spoon and fork into the te. He shoved the spoon into his mouth and began to chew, savoring the deliciously blended taste of the eggs and beans. The bnce of vors kept his jaw moving, making the meal surprisingly enjoyable, despite its unconventional appearance.


    Sophia, who was getting ready for school, strolled by, pausing mid-step when she spotted Luca''s te. Her eyes darted between the food and his face before she blurted out, "What the heck are you eating?!"


    "I''m on a diet," Luca replied, his mouth still full of food.


    Sophia eyed him skeptically as she slung her backpack over her shoulders. "You are gonna fart, like, a lot," she said. "Anyways, I''m off to school."


    "Did you eat something?" Luca asked, chewing slowly.


    "Yes."


    Luca nodded, ncing to his side where the big chocte bary. He picked it up and held it out to her. "Here, take this."


    Sophia''s face lit up, and she snatched the snack with a bright grin. "Thank you!" she squealed, twirling around like a ballerina before heading for the door.


    "And make sure you''re heading straight to school¡ªalone," Luca reminded her firmly.


    "Don''t worry, I am!" Sophia''s voice rang back cheerfully as she disappeared out of the kitchen.


    Luca listened closely as the door clicked shut and locked, then resumed eating his breakfast. "I''m surprised you didn''t suggest an orange drink. It would go great with this meal," Luca said to his System.


    [Certainly, host. But considering your current financial situation, I recall telling you that I would provide you with an affordable yet essential list.]


    Luca finished his meal and gulped down a ss of water,pleting his Daily Routine for the day. He felt a strange sense of maturity wash over him, realizing that he would have to go through this every single day.


    Luca felt a wave of relief wash over him, thinking that his System might not disturb him anymore until the abrupt notification of a Daily Quest that was yet toe today. With his ns set firmly in mind, Luca left home and hailed a cab to the Stadhaven Circuit. He had a clear goal and a n: to secure himself an official contract as a Form 1 racer.


    Upon arriving, he anticipated that the security would surely give him some problems, but Luca suggested they inform the Operations Manager or his secretary of who he was. As he expected, a security personnel returned and quickly asked him to enter instantly.


    Luca expressed his thanks before navigating his way through the neat, impressive structures of the Stadhaven Circuit. The Stadhaven Circuit was a small one, and not entirely advanced like the popr ones Luca knew and had always dreamt about zooming over their asphalt toward the waving checkered g.


    Climbing up the stairs, he made his way into a building, moving through the hallway before encountering the secretary once more.


    "Hey there, handsome," she greeted with a soft smile. "I can see you are doing very well¡ªno major injuries," she said quickly, hardly letting Luca speak. "Why are you here? It''s not even up to 24 hours; you should be resting."


    Luca cleared his throat before speaking. He was known for his hoarse, deep voice, which was too deep for his young age, and a lot of people said it didn''t match his face. "I came to speak to Mr. Vance. Can I have that honor? Is it possible?" he requested earnestly.


    The secretary''s face seemed distant as her brows furrowed slightly. She nodded slowly, licking her lips before standing up and saying, "Sure, follow me." Knowing the issue at hand regarding the Federation of the FIA, the management of the Stadhaven Circuit, and Luca''s family, she didn''t need to be told that he had to be brought in right away, regardless of the reason.


    Knocking on Mr. Vance''s imposing door, his harsh voice erupted from behind, permitting his secretary''s entrance.


    To Luca''s surprise, the secretary held his hand softly for no apparent reason as they entered the office, presenting him. "Sir, young Luca is here to see you," she announced.


    Instantly, Luca and Vance locked gazes, and the man was genuinely taken aback to see him. Seated at the side of the room was Mr. Mallow, his leg crossed over the other as he scrolled through his phone. He paused as well, looking up. "Lad? A huge surprise," Mr.


    Mallow spoke before Vance had a chance to respond.


    Mr. Vance stared intently at Luca, his pupils fixed on the boy''s youthful form, which forced Luca to tear away his gaze and re around the office instead.


    The office was less than an official one, but it still featured a desk with two boudoir chairs ced before it and a master chair behind. However, a few bleachers stripped away the officiality of the room. The bleachers were fixed to the cyan walls, where Mallow was seated on one.


    "You can leave, Sara," Mr. Vance said with a casual wave, a frown still evident on his face.


    Sara let go of Luca''s hand, shing a warm smile at him before leaving the room and gently closing the door behind her.


    "Well?" Mr. Vance asked, spreading his arms apart. "If you think you can still work as a marshal, then I advise you to go to therapy."


    Very funny. Clearing his throat again, Luca replied firmly, "I''m sorry, sir, but that''s not my intention for being here. I want to discuss, rather, a more important topic."


    Mallow lowered his feet, leaning in on his arms. "And that is? Go on, son. Take the seat," he encouraged.


    Mr. Vance shed Mallow a hard re, as if he was displeased by the offer of giving Luca a seat. However, he did not protest, and Luca took the opportunity to serve hisfort.


    Grinding his teeth, his jaw shifting slightly, Mr. Vance asked, "What topic can I possibly discuss with a child that would be of any significant help to me? Shouldn''t you be recovering from that hit, or maybe helping your mother with thewsuit?"


    "Thewsuit, sir," Luca said quickly. "That is exactly why I am here. And I believe my proposal could greatly benefit all parties involved."

 Chapter 10 A Successful Plan

    "Well, my boss here is a man of benefits, isn''t he?" Mallow chimed in with a cheerful tone. "What proposal do you n to offer?"


    Luca swallowed steadily, his feet slightly sweaty as he tried his utmost to remain cool and calm while he exined his reason for being here. Noting that the boudoir chair he was seated on had a delightfullyfy backrest, he gently rxed, cing his hands on hisps as he readied himself to speak.


    "As you know, my mother is quite serious about suing you and the driver who hit me, but under the Federation rules, the body would be held liable for idents like that," Luca said, adding, "although the driver wasn''t intending to hit me, the three of us in this room can tell that was a result of reckless racing, which serves as a good enough suing tter¡ª"


    Mr. Vance mmed a palm on the table, the paperwork lifting into the air for a brief moment before settling down with a soft flutter. Luca stopped talking instantly, his words caught in his throat like he had mmed on the brakes.


    Shaking his head, Mr. Vance snarled, "Are you stupid, boy? How dare youe here telling me what I know and what I don''t?! You were on the track, away from the safer zone out of your own naivety and recklessness. And now, Stadhaven is being fined for actually giving a lowlife like you a chance to make quick, effortless bucks!"


    Don''t retort, keep it cool. You need his approval. Luca lowered his head. "I''m sorry if my words offended you, sir; I was just stating the lead-in," he responded to the man''s outrage.


    "Boss? Can we just hear what thed has on his tongue? At the end, if it''s crap, he gets kicked out," Mallow said with a casual shrug, a palm resting under his chin.


    Without waiting for Mr. Vance to grant him permission to continue, Luca pressed on. "I''m here because I am against my mother''s n on filing thewsuit; in fact, I want to bring a swift end to this soft conflict."


    Mallow sat up, adjusting his track wear as his gaze flickered between Vance and Luca, uncertainty etched on his face regarding the boy''s words. "You do not want thewsuit to take ce?" Mr. Vance asked, his tone noticeably calmer now.


    "Yes," Luca replied, feeling the weight of his decision. "I have assessed the whole issue, and I can see that all three sides might end up heartbroken, publicly shamed, or losing a significant amount of money. So, I propose we bring an end to it since I am the one who got hit and could choose to terminate thewsuit right now."


    Mallow nodded thoughtfully, motioning for Luca to continue. "And what''s this proposal you think could numb the whole issue?" he asked, leaning forward.


    Luca straightened in his seat, realizing he had been gently sinking into the cushion for some time now. His neck itched, and he resisted the urge to scratch it. Am I crazy? Will this work?! he thought, reality crashing down on him at that very instant. Deciding to remain resolute and assertive, Luca continued.


    "I am aspiring to be a Form 1 racer, and I find myself at a pivotal point in life where such privileges and opportunities are not easily granted or attainable. So, in exchange for dropping the charges and acting as if nothing had happened, I propose you recruit me into any local go-kart racing team, where I can sign my first contract."


    The room fell silent; Mr. Vance''s fingers ceased their rhythmic drumming on the table, his face contorting slightly with a myriad of expressions.


    Luca could see Mallow''s mouth falling open in disbelief from his peripheral vision, as his words hung thickly in the air, suffocating him even. Fuck! It''s not working.


    Slowly, Mr. Vance''s expression transitioned into one of amusement as he began to chuckle, theughter intensifying into a thunderous, viinous roar. The walls of the room absorbed the eruption, and Luca was certain Sara could hear it from behind the door. Why''s heughing? I didn''t sound funny, did I?


    "You fucking brat," Vance eximed, tears ofughter welling in his eyes, a huge grin stered on his face. Luca could barely recognize him after such a sudden shift in demeanor. "Mall, look at this pipsqueak! What do you think this is? Pro wrestling?! A circus?!"


    Ahh, I''m fucked. "But I''m serious, sir. I do want to sign up," Luca managed to say, refusing to be discouraged. He stole a quick nce at Mallow, who had his head bent, giving Luca uncertain hints about his expression regarding the proposal.


    "Shut the hell up!" Mr. Vance snapped, his amused face vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "What do you mean by that? You expect me to suggest you to a scout and team of Form 1?!"


    "No, sir. I know I''m not good enough for the first division; the fourth or third will be good enough, sir. As long as I begin, that''s what matters," Luca replied.


    Mr. Vance stared at him as if he were carrying a deadly virus. "You have some guts entering this office to spew such bullshit," he hissed. "No matter if it''s Form 4 or Form 3, young man, I''d rather lick the hot asphalt than let you¡ª"


    "Then I''ll proceed with thewsuit," Luca interrupted firmly, locking gazes with the man. "Stadhaven might be fined again by the court this time¡ª"


    Mr. Vance growled, clearing his table with a single swing, paperwork scattering like leaves in a storm. He stood up, pointing an usatory finger at Luca. "I do not give a flying fuck about that, do you hear me?!" he thundered.


    You can rage all you want.


    "Okay, let''s all settle and calm ourselves, alright?" Mallow interjected, sensing the escting tension between Luca and Mr. Vance. He got to his feet as well, walking to the table that separated them. Perched at the edge, he faced Luca while backing the enraged Operations Manager. "You say you want to apply as a racer?" he asked Luca. "Why not go through the traditional means?


    Why this proposal?"


    Luca knew very well that entering a racing academy through an affiliated racing body would favor him far more than an individual application. Individual applications could drag on indefinitely, with no guarantee of eptance. In contrast, with this approach, they would have to either ept him or he would follow through with thewsuit. A win for me either way.


    Exining this to Mallow, the man nodded slowly, as if he had a trantor struggling to decode Luca''s words.


    "Mall, don''t tell me you''re actually considering this brat?!" Vance boomed from behind, his face a mask of fury.


    With his arms folded, Mallow turned to Vance and shrugged. "Why not? He''s 18, young, not overweight, and has the right racer physique. I don''t see why we shouldn''t consider it," he replied.


    "You''re outrageous," Vance snapped, jabbing a finger at Mallow. "And you? Get out of Stadhaven now," he growled, shifting his finger to point at Luca, who remained seated in the chair.


    "Boss? Can I speak to you outside for a minute?" Mallow suggested, rising fully from his seat. He walked to the door, holding it open, leaving Vance with no room for refusal.


    Vance scowled, shooting Luca a disdainful re before stepping out of the room.


    Once Luca heard the door shut, a wave of relief washed over him. He was finally alone, time to dry his sweaty palms on his pants. I hate my hands. How would I grip a wheel?


    "Mall, did you call me out here to talk about that?" Vance asked as soon as they were outside the office, just before Sara.


    "Listen, Boss," Mallow replied, his voice soothing, hands raised at chest level. "That kid in there is smart to think this through, and you know it. The gravity of this situation disfavors us, and we can lessen our demerits by epting his proposal."


    Mr. Vance shook his head, preparing to retort when Mallow interrupted him. "We can put in a word and enroll him in some local team. If he gets kicked out, fine; we did our part. If he turns out to be a good racer and transcends, even better. I see no ws in this¡ªit''s a win for everyone.


    Are you trying to say you have a personal grudge against thed?"


    Vance''s face drained of color, his fury reaching its peak. He ground his jaw, staring at Mallow sternly, fists clenched. "He''s all yours, then," he said, twisting his tongue in frustration. "Don''t involve me with the pipsqueak."


    Mallow nodded, believing that was substantial enough. He had the power to secure Luca spots in several academies or perhaps enroll him in Grey-Husson''s. "That''ll do," he said, watching Vance storm down the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing against the tiles.


    Mallow observed him disappear around a corner of the pristine facility before turning to Sara, who had been quietly listening. He nodded at her and re-entered the office.


    As he stood at the threshold, he took a moment to study Luca. Mallow could envision him as a Form 1 racer¡ªnot in Form 4, not 3, not even 2, but the highest division. He had the perfect physique, and in a racing suit, he might even pass for a seasoned F1 champion.


    With a determined sigh, he walked over to Luca and resumed his seat at the edge of the table, crossing his fingers.


    Luca looked up at him, expectation etched across his face. Say you ept, I beg of you.


    "So, you''ll have to know I''ll be your agent," Mallow said.


    An indiscernible smile cut across Luca''s lips. It worked...

 Chapter 11 Between Soup And Speed

    "Luca, I do not understand you. What are you saying?!" Luca''s mother demanded, her voice sharp with confusion as her hands, gloved in thick baking mittens, brought down a steaming pot of soup from the stove. Shifting her gaze from the bubbling pot, she looked over at her two children, seated quietly at the counter.


    Luca was helping his younger sister, Sophia, with her homework¡ªa usual urrence, considering how often she resisted studying, even at her age. Her books were spread haphazardly across the counter as they both focused intently, waiting for dinner to be ready.


    "Mom, this is the third time I''ve said it," Luca repeated, "We should drop the charges; there will be nowsuit." He didn''t look up as he spoke, his fingers steadily wrapped around a pencil as he worked through the problems with Sophia.


    It hadn''t been long since he graduated from high school, so much of the knowledge was still fresh in his mind, making it easier for him to guide his sister whenever she needed him to help.


    Mrs. Rennick ungloved her hands, letting them rest on her hips as she stared at Luca in disbelief. His statement was shocking¡ªespeciallying from him¡ªconsidering the family stood to gain a significant restitution if they pursued thewsuit. "That I have heard three times as well. What I want to know is why?


    Why would we drop any charges?" she snapped, punctuating her frustration by literally snapping her fingers.


    "I''m dropping the charges. I''m the one who got hit, and, Mom, I''m legally an adult," Luca muttered, still not breaking his focus as he directed Sophia to jot something down. Finally, after making sure Sophia understood, he looked up at his mother, meeting her wide-eyed expression..


    Mrs. Rennick''s mouth hung open in shock, her eyes widening at Luca''s bold promation. For a moment, she was at a loss for words, because, technically, he was right. He was an adult, and she had never imposed her decisions on him, trusting that Luca always thought things through on his own.


    Shaking her head, she muttered in frustration, snapping her fingers again before muttering a curse under her breath. "You''re doing that thing of yours again," she mumbled, turning back to the stove to dish out the soup into tes.


    Luca could feel the tension rising in the room, his mother''s anger radiating even from a distance. He understood well that his decisions usually held the most weight in their home, ever since he had crossed the threshold of puberty into adulthood. And when Mrs.


    Rennick or Sophia wanted their way, it often came through emotional appeals¡ªhis mother through stern reasoning, and Sophia through her usual tears. Luca was certain that after dinner, his mother would revisit the issue in a moreposed setting, probably when Sophia was asleep. She''d try to reason with him, maybe even plead with him to reconsider this sudden change of ns.


    "I haven''t told you why," Luca said, watching her erratic movements.


    "Well, I asked that a while ago, didn''t I? Did you answer?"


    Luca ignored her harsh tone, turning back to Sophia and guiding her through a series of questions from her homework before finally addressing the looming conversation. "I''ve been recruited to Grey-Husson''s Academy," he said calmly, his voice steady. "It''s an academy that trains future Form 1 racers. I''ve got an agent, and I''ll be flying out there this week."


    His mother froze mid-action, a spoonful of soup suspended in the air, her hand paused over the pot as she slowly turned to face him. Even Sophia''s head jerked up, her wide eyes staring at her brother in shock. "You''re being what?" the girl asked slowly, breaking the silence sooner than Luca anticipated.


    "I applied, I''m recruited, trained, no matter the word, I''ll be groomed as a racer onwards. That was the deal I made," Luca said with a shrug.


    "And... you epted?" Mrs. Rennick''s voice trembled, her words barely steady as she tried to process what she was hearing.


    "I didn''t just ept it, Mom," Luca replied evenly, meeting her gaze. "I brought the deal to them. They agreed." He then turned to Sophia, who had a wide, amused grin spreading across her face. "You finished?" he asked, trying to shift the focus back to her homework.


    "Are you serious? You''ll be racing¡ªlike mom said Dad did?"


    "Yeah, if you put it like that."


    nk!


    Mrs. Rennick''s soup spoon dropped back into the pot with a ng, followed by the soft thud of the te she had been holding as she hastily set it down. Her movements were quick and agitated as she wiped her hands and stomped out of the small kitchen, passing behind Luca and Sophia without a word, retreating to her room.


    Typical mom, Luca thought with a sigh as he stood up, making his way over to the pot of soup to finish what she had left behind.


    "So, you''re really going to be in an F1 car, zooming at a hundred miles per hour?" Sophia''s voice bubbled with excitement as she closed her homework, clearly finished with it. She barely waited for him to respond before her words tumbled out again. "Are you even old enough? I thought you had an abdominal injury? Where''s the Grey-Husson''s Academy? You said you''ll fly?


    You''ll be on a ne?!"


    Luca nced at her and smiled, the kind of soft, reassuring smile that answered all her questions without needing words. He scooped the steaming torti soup from the pot, continuing where their mother had left off.


    As he served Sophia her dinner, he watched her animated face as she slurped the soup, her voice still going a mile a minute, even as she drifted off to bed. She only stopped talking when her head finally hit the pillow, sleep taking her in mid-sentence.


    Luca turned his attention to his own dinner, keeping it simple. Hedled a small portion of the soup into his bowl before assembling the rest: a few boiled eggs, a portion of brown rice, and a can of tuna mixed with steamed broli from what they had in the kitchen.


    [Thisbination is essentially bnced and will provide exactly what''s necessary overtime.]


    Luca nodded as he devoured the food, draining the te of his mom''s soup clean as well, before he drank two cups of water. Is it me or has my appetite increased drastically?


    [Host, this is a natural response. The routine I''m guiding you through is designed to elevate your energy demands. As your training intensifies and your body adjusts, your metabolism speeds up, thus requiring more nutrients.]


    [This increased appetite is simply your body calling for more fuel to meet its heightened needs for recovery and growth.]


    Luca washed off his te before dishing out soup for his mother in a more regal bowl. He ced it carefully on a tray and made his way to her room. The door was open, and the room was dark, except for the faint glow of streetlights seeping through the window, casting dim shadows on the bed.


    He could see the outline of the sheets and knew his mother was lying there, likely deep in thought after what he had just revealed. Quietly, Luca walked over to the small table and ced the meal on it.


    As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.


    "Lukey, please tell me you''re bluffing," she said, her voice strained and weary, like always after a long day of waitressing. "You''ve always said you didn''t want anything to do with the track."


    Luca took a deep breath, turning to face the shadowy figure of his mother on the bed. "I know, Mom, but... with the changes in my life recently, it feels like this path is calling me. It feels like something I have to do."


    "You know you will leave us? Me and your sister?"


    "I know," Luca replied softly. "But, Mom, you know how lucrative F1 is. If I make it, we won''t have to live like this anymore. We won''t have to stay in this... shackle of a ce."


    There was a pause, the silence stretching between them as he waited for her response. Finally, her voice broke the stillness. "What if you crash? What if you... die, just like your father? What will happen to me and Sophia then?


    It will be me and her alone?"


    Luca heaved. He had no straight response to that. Her question struck a chord, a sharp reminder of the danger inherent in the sport. It was a truth he couldn''t deny. Death was always a possibility in F1¡ªmore than injuries, crashes often meant death. He stood there, speechless, unable to provide her with thefort she needed.


    Instead, he offered a quiet goodnight and gestured toward the meal he''d left for her before quietly closing the door behind him.


    He went through his nightly routine, checking that all the windows and doors were locked, securing the apartment as he did every day. As he moved from room to room, he wondered how his mother and sister would manage when he left¡ªbecause he would be leaving soon. The announcement of his impending departure for Grey-Husson''s Academy in Birmingham, despite how sudden it had been, was now his reality.


    They had to adapt, no matter how inconvenient it seemed.


    Entering his room, he noticed Sophia was sound asleep, her breathing steady and peaceful. Luca made his bed andy down, thinking over the events of the day. Another day, he thought as he turned off hismplight and rxed into his bed. He was just about to close his eyes when a sudden sound shattered the quietness, tearing away the sleep from his eyes.


    [Ding!]


    [Daily Quest has been issued!]


    [-¡¤-SEVENTY PUSH-UPS-¡¤-]


    [DURATION: COMPLETE BEFORE 11 PM]


    [This will help enhance your upper body strength, core stability, and endurance, which are essential for handling the G-forces, steering, and long-duration physical strain that F1 racing demands.]


    Luca''s eyes widened as he stared at the notification. Are you freaking kidding me?!

 Chapter 12 Momentum Begins

    5:30 AM


    [SYSTEM ONLINE]


    It had been five days since Luca became the host of the Form 1 System, and though the adjustment was tough, he was gradually getting used to it. The Daily Quests were strenuous and overwhelming, but he pushed himself to attempt andplete each one, never letting them interfere with his regr routine.


    Every morning, he kept his schedule like clockwork, not missing a step or falling short by even a minute.


    Now, Luca was jogging down the street toward the gym behind the supermarket, each stride strengthening his thighs further. Despite the pain he had endured, the most he had gained was a mere +1 to his Strength. His Strength stat now sat at 3, and the other stats, though close, still required a bit more of a boost to level up.


    [Today, host. We will be working on your Agility.]


    [Agility is crucial for you, as it directly impacts your reaction time and overall control when handling the high-speed demands of an F1 car.]


    [Enhanced Agility will help you maintain precise control, reduce errors when maneuvering through tight corners, and enable faster responses under pressure.]


    [Today''s session will focus onteraldder drills, cone drills, and box jumps.]


    [EXERCISE: LATERAL LADDER DRILLS]


    [EQUIPMENTS: AGILITY LADDER]


    [Host is required to moveterally through the rungs of thedder with precise footwork.]


    [This will be done for 5 minutes, movingterally from both sides.]


    Luca exhaled with determination as he carefullyid the agilitydder across the gym floor, standing over it while waiting for his System''smand.


    [Let us proceed with LATERAL LADDER DRILLS.]


    Without hesitation, Luca sprang into action, his feet dancing swiftly over the rungs of thedder. He moved to the left, his steps precise and rhythmic, like he was jogging in between the squares, but with calcted precision. Not bad, not that though, he thought, his feet tapping lightly one after the other as hepleted the first round and then reversed to the right.


    Before long, he felt a familiar burning sensation in his calves, but it was manageable. Luca pressed on, knowing the slight difort or any pain he''d experienced in the past few days would be nothingpared to the grueling challenges on the race track. He continued hopping from foot to foot until the exercise wasplete, hardly out of breath.


    "Now, that was easy," he said proudly to himself, realizing that on a normal day, he might not have been able to aplish this so effortlessly without the System''s support.


    [Good job, host. Moving on to the next.]


    [EXERCISE: CONE DRILLS]


    [EQUIPMENTS: CONES]


    [Host is required to sprint through a series of cones set at various distances, making sharp, quick turns to simte racing reflexes. You''ll focus on speed, direction change, and foot cement to boost agility.]


    [This will be done for 5 sets, eachsting 30 seconds with short rests in between to allow your body to recover while maintaining intensity.]


    "Okay, this one isn''t that difficult as well. We do a lot of cone drills in P.E ss," Luca said to himself as he set up the cones. He arranged them in a zigzag pattern along the floor with a three-foot gap between each.


    Taking a deep breath, Luca pounced like a tiger toward the first cone, weaving in and out in a tight zigzag path. His feet tapped lightly against the gym floor as he maneuvered swiftly, twisting his body sharply with each turn while his arms pumped in rhythm. The intensity of the drill heightened with each step, the burn in his calves creeping in as he pushed himself to maintain his speed.


    By the time hepleted the cone drills, that familiar burn had intensified to an almost intolerable degree.


    [Good job, host. Moving on to the next.]


    [EXERCISE: BOX JUMPS]


    [EQUIPMENTS: PLYOMETRIC BOX]


    [Host is required to jump onto the box with both feet from a standing position, then step or jump down before repeating the exercise.]


    [This will be done for 3 sets of 12 jumps, focusing on explosive power and leg strength.]


    Now, this is unfamiliar, a typical gym exercise, Luca thought as he ced the plyometric box before him. He bent his knees, lowering his body into a squat before leaping high into the air. His muscles tensed briefly mid-air, then rxed as hended firmly on the box, his knees bending slightly to absorb the impact. He felt a surge of muscle power surge through his legs, building up his strength.


    This is surreal, Luca mused, exhaling as he stood upright and stepped down to repeat the motion. It was strange to think that just months ago, he never imagined himself training intensely with a System, focusing on attributes that an F1 racer needed.


    Luca finished all three sets the Systemid out for him, each jump firing up his thighs and legs, and he was finally out of breath and exhausted, but was genuinely surprised and proud of himself forsting so long.


    [I am d you can see the oues of another point in your Endurance attribute, host.]


    "Indeed," Luca replied, sitting on the box as he wiped his sweaty face and neck with his towel. "I would have broken down midway through the cones. I feel quite stronger, honestly speaking."


    [You are stronger. I am d to announce you have gained +1 point to your Agility attribute.]


    [Ding!]


    [Agility +1]


    "Wow! That''s wonderful! I''ve been itching to hear that for so long now," Luca eximed with excitement, feeling a surge of aplishment as he navigated to his [STATUS] to check his total Ability score.


    [Physical Information:


    Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs


    Height: 6''1"


    Body Fat Percentage: 11%


    Muscle Mass: 30%


    Strength: 3


    Stamina: 2


    Endurance: 6


    Agility: 3


    Intelligence: 5 ]


    Hmmm, I wonder why my intelligence was one of the highest to begin with. Is it because I know a lot about the game already? Ah, that''s that, Ability is now 3! Whoop!


    [Good job, host. You can head over to the next phase of your Daily Routine. Your time in the gym today is over.]


    [You finished earlier than expected, in fact.]


    Luca smiled, feeling impressed with his progress and even more determined to continue improving. Packing up his gear, he headed out of the gym, walking through the door of the supermarket where he waved casually at Josh and Lana, who were just starting their shifts. They waved back with tired smiles, still adjusting to the early hours.


    As Luca stepped outside, the soft warmth of the morning sun greeted him, casting an orange glow across the quiet streets. He paused for a moment, taking in the fresh air before the midday rush polluted it. The sunlight felt calm and energizing against his skin, and Luca took a deep breath before beginning his jog home.


    Something inside him felt renewed, like the world was giving him a fresh start. He wasn''t sure if it was the presence of the System or the progress it had pushed him to achieve, but either way, Luca was fueled with determination. "I will pass Grey-Husson''s with flying colors," he promised himself, despite the fact that he had never even sat inside a single-seater.


    Mallow had mentioned that Grey-Husson''s Academy in Birmingham was one of the best in the world. It was a prime hunting ground for scouts every year, and this one was no different. The paperwork to get Luca''s name on the list had been extensive, but Mallow had assured him it was done. On his own, Luca knew he wouldn''t have had the status or connections to get into such a prestigious academy.


    Luca slowed his jogging as he was approaching their 7-floor apartment building. He was still a few houses away when he slowed down, his eyes narrowing to see better. There was a car parked before the house, next to the street. The car wasn''t too fancy, but it was unfamiliar, that''s why it caught Luca''s attention.


    He eventually approached the car, noticing there was a man knocking softly on the door. "Can I help you?" Luca asked unhesitatingly.


    The man in shades, turned around and Luca instantly recognized him. "Mr. Mallow?"


    "Luca!" Mallow eximed with a broad smile, stepping down from the short steps as he removed his shades. "How do you do?"

 Chapter 13 Momentum Begins 2 Arrival At Grey-Hussons

    Saying goodbye to his mother was one thing, but saying goodbye to Sophia was another. She had basically thrown a tantrum, unable to hold back her tears, even though Luca had made it clear three days ago that he was leaving for Grey-Husson''s. He''d packed his belongings well in advance and spent most of his time drilling her on what to do and what not to do, particrly her rebellious outings.


    He even made a list, a timetable, and more, quickly realizing that he did most of the work at home and that Sophia was rarely assigned any chores.


    Mrs. Rennick, however, still believed there was time to convince Luca not to leave them. Luca quieted her plea with a hug, reassuring her that nothing would happen to him. It was a difficult moment for what remained of the Rennick family, now that Luca was leaving, permanently stripping away the role he had taken on in his mother and sister''s lives.


    Mallow waited patiently, leaning against the hood of his car as Luca and his family shared their final moments together. Finally, Luca urged his sister to let go so he could walk down the stairs. He loaded his luggage into the trunk of Mallow''s Volkswagen and took his seat in the passenger side.


    "It seems they are not used to your absence?" Mallow broke the silence, his hands resting on the steering wheel of the idling car.


    Luca nodded, adding, "Not at all," as he strapped his seatbelt across his body. "I''m afraid of what might even happen." Luca tried his best to keep his gaze straight ahead and not to the side to face his mother and sister, a gesture to tell them¨Cthis is how it is now.


    Mallow inserted the key, twisting it to start the engine, and then clicked on his own seatbelt. "I wish I had someones who''d care that much if I left," Mallow remarked, briefly ncing at Luca. "You''re lucky."


    Raising a brow, Luca asked, "What do you mean? You''re not married? No kids?"


    "I was married. No kids," Mallow muttered, inhaling deeply as thete morning sun streamed through the windshield. "But don''t worry, the ce got cell service. You can call them anytime."


    Luca exhaled as well, sinking deeper into his seat as the engine purred beneath him. He finally nced over at his sister and mother, offering a brief smile and wave as Mallow pulled away from the curb. The car eased into the street, and Luca continued waving back to his family, watching as they waved more vigorously in return.


    Eventually, their figures faded from view as the car turned down the street. Luca realized he had been holding his breath and slowly exhaled, just as Mallow switched on the radio. The soft strains of "Someone Like You" filled the car, lulling Luca into a sleepy haze, though he fought to stay awake.


    "Who''s paying for the flight?" Luca suddenly asked as they merged onto the expressway.


    "You mean who paid for it?" Mallow corrected.


    "Yeah, that. Is it you?"


    "Who else, son? Vance?" Mallow asked with a shortugh. "Don''t think you have to pay me back in some way, just do your best as a Grey-Husson academic, you don''t know how much you''ll make me rich if you be tied with sess."


    Luca''s mind dissolved Mallow''s words. What if I don''t get tied to sess? Nah, I will, I will, I''m sure. "Thank you very much," Luca said with genuine appreciation, fully aware of how costly flights could be. Even a short one-hour flight to Birmingham seemed out of reach for his family, especially for his mother.


    Luca settled into the passenger seat and allowed himself to rx, watching as the world blurred past the window. It wasn''t long before they reached the airport, and both Luca and Mallow stepped out of the car. Waiting at the terminal was a staff member Luca recognized as one of the marshals of Stadhaven.


    The man epted Mallow''s car keys, nodding briefly before driving off after Mallow grabbed his bag from the backseat.


    The airport was bustling, typical of a regr morning. Mallow and Luca weaved through the crowds, eager to get through the formalities and board the ne as quickly as possible. Luckily, everything went smoothly, and before long, Luca was stepping into the second flight of his life. He rarely ever traveled even when his father raced around the world.


    Once onboard, they found their seats. Mallow settled by the window while Luca took the aisle. Luca wasn''t particrly nervous, but a low hum of anxiety vibrated through him as he thought about what awaited him. The unknown always held its own sense of weight.


    [Host, your heart rate has suddenly increased. Is it because the ne is about to take off?]


    I guess so, Luca replied internally.


    [Host, you should be ustomed to flying. After all, how else will you travel around the world,peting in various circuits and environments?]


    You''re right, you''re right. What can I do to calm my heart rate? Meditation again? Deep breaths?


    [Certainly, host. Please proceed.]


    Luca inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Inhale¡­ Exhale¡­ Nah, it''s not working. Maybe I just need to talk  to someone. That''ll do.


    Luca turned to Mallow, who was absorbed in a candy game on his phone. "So, other academics, will they be arriving today with their agents too?" Luca asked, trying to ease his anxiety.


    "Nope, they''re already there. Grey-Husson''s preparatory scheme started a while ago," Mallow replied, not taking his eyes off the screen as his fingers tapped rapidly. "It''s a 14-day programme, and you''re two dayste."


    "What? Why''s that? Why am Ite?"


    Mallow finally lost the game and nced at Luca. "There are thirty boys, aged between 18 and 24, all set to participate. My boss, Mr. Vance¡ªthe Operations Manager at Stadhaven¡ªhad the privilege of selecting two participants for Grey-Husson. He chose one, Harry, who''s already there. Time passed, and they filled up thest slot with another participant, starting the programme on schedule.


    The same day you proposed, I called and demanded a spot meant for a Stadhaven selectee. So, here you are¡ªparticipant number 31, two days behind," Mallow exined in a low, calm tone as the ne''s hum filled the background.


    Why does it have to be me? Luca thought when he had no response to Mallow. Thirty participants is a lot ofpetition.


    Luca wanted to ask more, but when he saw Mallow focused back on his phone, he decided to let it go. He did his best to rx as the ne reached its cruising altitude. Pulling out his small mp3 yer and earpiece, he leaned back and drowned his nerves in heavy metal, letting the music carry him through the short flight to Birmingham.


    To Luca''s surprise, he hadn''t gotten far through his ylist when Mallow tapped him gently, signaling it was time to brace fornding, following the pilot''s instructions. This wasn''t the first time Mallow had interrupted him. Earlier, he''d tapped Luca when the air hostess brought snacks, when he needed to head to the bathroom, and once to excitedly point out a famous tower near a local circuit.


    Form 1 racing had be a universal sensation, and it seemed every region had something to showcase from the great sport.


    Luca took a deep breath, pulling out his earpiece and sitting up straighter in his seat. He adjusted his seatbelt, listening to the hum of the engines as the ne began its descent. His muscles tensed, instinctively bracing for thending. Outside, the vastndscape below rapidly shrunk¡ªfields, roads, and buildings bing a neat patchwork as they approached the runway.


    Softly, the wheels of the ne touched ground and all passengers felt a gentle jolt, reacting with a soft stagger on their seats. I''m in Birmingham? Wow.


    The aircraft slowed down gradually, allowing Luca a clearer view of the airfield from Mallow''s window. Just then, Mallow''s phone popped into his sight. "Fifteen minutes past twelve, not bad," Mallow said, showing Luca the time on his screen.


    Luca squinted to make out the numbers, the golden midday sunlight streaming in through the small window, partially blinding him. "Yeah, that''s great," he replied, letting out a long exhale as the ne came to aplete stop


    With a hum, the engines powered down.


    After collecting their small luggage, Mallow and Luca waited their turn before disembarking from the ne. As they stepped down onto the tarmac, Luca felt a cool breeze brush against his face, ruffling his hair. Despite it being noon, the air carried a lingering chill, hinting at the unpredictability of the weather here.


    After clearing all the airport formalities, Mallow hailed a cab for both of them, giving the driver direct instructions to head to Grey-Husson''s.


    Luca felt his blood boil with anticipation and anxiety. He couldn''t believe he had just skipped town, and was in a taxi to a ce he had never seen before.


    He gazed out the window, watching as the towering buildings of the city began to loom over them, casting long shadows on the bustling road leading away from the airport. To Luca''s surprise, Birmingham wasn''t all that different from London. The busy streets, tall buildings, and constant hum of activity felt familiar.


    He thought that if he were to wake up here one day without knowing where he was, it might take him a while to realize he wasn''t still in London.


    The 20-minute drive stretched out like an eternity for Luca. Mallow had mentioned earlier that the Grey-Husson''s facility was located on the outskirts of the city, much like Stadhaven''s cement in London. But now, after winding through various roads and stretches of lush greenery, they were nearing their destination.


    On the horizon, Luca''s eyes caught sight of something unmistakable¡ªthe massive "G" emblem soaring above thendscape. Against a backdrop of endless, meticulously trimmed green fields, the symbol stood proudly atop a sleek, sprawling building. Luca didn''t need any exnation to know that the iconic letter represented Grey¡ªthe legendary name behind Grey-Husson''s.


    Mallow had mentioned that the Grey-Husson''s facility and its once-prestigious racing circuit were the pride of Birmingham before its transition to just a top-tier training and scouting location.


    It''s prestigious indeed, Luca thought to himself, marvelling at the exterior as the cab approached the electric gate.The architecture was quite modern, with clean lines and bold steel-and-ss facades that reflected the sunlight. Even as a training facility, it was more magnificent than Stadhaven.


    An automatic security system activated as they approached the gate, and Mallow responded smoothly to the request for identification, allowing them to proceed.


    Wow, Luca thought as the cab drove into the facility, moving round a courthouse fountain, before diverting into a major tarred path that ran deeper into theplex. They passed a series of smaller buildings that likely housed offices, training equipment, and lounges for racers and scouts alike.


    Beyond those structures, Luca spotted several tracks, neat and exquisite as if the asphalt was just applied yesterday.


    His eyes widened in amazement when he caught sight of several F1 cars sitting idle in the distance, their sleek bodies gleaming under the midday sun. Engineers and mechanics were working on the cars, but they paused to nce and stare with curiosity at the yellow cab rolling into the facility.


    "We''re here,d," Mallow muttered, drumming his fingers on hisp. "Let''s just say this will be your home for the next two weeks. If you do well enough, you might not even head back. You could find yourself traveling from city to city."


    Luca gulped as Mallow''s words sank in. The idea of moving constantly, chasing races and opportunities, sounded both thrilling and overwhelming. Thoughts of his mother and sister filled his mind suddenly. Maybe I should call them... especially Mom, let her know I arrived safely, he considered.


    Mallow stepped out of the cab, beckoning for Luca to follow. After paying the driver generously, Mallow led the way.


    Luca''s nerves spiked the moment his feet hit the ground. He shut the car door behind him and stood still for a moment, taking it all in. The air here felt different¡ªcrisper, charged with energy. His palms were already sweaty, his heart racing though there was definitely no need to.


    Just then, Mallow''s hand came down firmly on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Come on, let''s get going," Mallow urged, guiding him toward a wide, grey building adorned with a few grand pirs. "H!" Mallow called out with enthusiasm, waving at the mechanics who had resumed their work on the F1 cars. They gave brief nods, waving back before diving back into their tasks.


    "Beautiful day," Mallow muttered to himself, then, turning to Luca with a grin, added, "Wee to Grey-Husson''s, Luca."

 Chapter 14 Momentum Begins 3 Settling Into Grey-Hussons

    Upon entering the building, an aged man greeted them as if he had been waiting for their arrival. Mallow immediately introduced Luca to him, saying he was the Chief Instructor of the Grey-Husson Academy program every year. "Mr. Schafer? This is Luca Rennick. Luca?


    Meet the Chief Instructor and Director, Mr. Schafer," Mallow said.


    Mr. Schafer, aged but tall, with white hair and a mustache beneath his round sses, inspected Luca before epting the handshake Luca offered him. "Oh, I do hope you turn out to be like a Rennick I can remember," he muttered, his voice strained, a testament to his age. "Wee, boy. And how old are you?"


    "I''m eighteen," Luca replied, adding, "turned that five months ago," before breaking the firm handshake, hoping the man didn''t feel the dampness of his palm.


    "Wee, wee," Schafer said, ncing at Mallow. "I don''t see him participating in anything today. He''ll have to pass medical tests, you know that. Tomorrow, he''ll begin and merge with the others right away."


    Luca listened closely while his gaze wandered around the magnificent facility. He envisioned a crowd of people in the empty stands far away, cheering for their team as the racers zoomed through the track like sparks of electricity.


    "...good thing we made it today. Elimination begins tomorrow, and he wouldn''t have been epted if that had begun, am I right?" Mallow''s question drew Luca''s attention back from his racing daydream.


    "Elimination?" Luca asked. "We get sent home at intervals? Some kind of tournament?"


    "Certainly, Luca," Mr. Schafer replied. "Starting from Day 4 tomorrow, we gradually shift out participants through increasingly intense challenges to mirror the real challenges one faces as an F1 racer. At the end of this course, we select the top seven."


    Wow. Luca had never been in apetitive atmosphere before, and he wondered just how intense and challenging this might be.


    "Please, might we get Mr. Mallow and his client here settled? Then, direct him to the clinic before the day''s over," Mr. Schafer called out to a staff member, motioning Luca forward after weing him once more.


    Mallow grinned at Luca, giving him a thumbs up. "You''ll see Harry. In fact, you''ll be sharing a room with him. Get along as quick as you can. I''ll see you soon¡ªgonna have a talk with the gaffer here," he said with a wave.


    Alright, Luca told himself as he followed the staff member, who wore a cotton T-shirt with the signature G emzoned on the back. He led Luca further into the building, the neat halls echoing slightly with each step as they passed by a few other staff members, simrly dressed in pink T-shirts.


    As they passed the training hub, Luca could hear the chatter of youthful voices, and he peered into the room. The other participants, I guess.


    Luca saw a group of boys, likely around his age or slightly older, sitting on benches with towels draped over their shoulders as they sipped water and chatted joyfully. They were in racing suits, making Luca believe they had just finished a training session.


    He felt a subtle sense of relief knowing the participants were boys around his age, which made him hope they''d get along, even aspetitors. Realizing the staff member was outpacing him, he quickened his steps to catch up as they began ascending a series of stairs.


    [Ding!]


    [Daily Quest has been issued!]


    [-¡¤-THIRTY PULL-UPS-¡¤-]


    [DURATION: COMPLETE BEFORE 9PM]


    [This will help improve your upper body strength, grip endurance, and back muscles¡ªall essential for handling the steering wheel effectively.]


    [Reward for Completing Monday Daily Quest: (EXP)


    - Strength +1


    - Endurance +1 ]


    [Consequence for Failing Monday Daily Quest: (EXP)


    - Endurance -1


    Consequence for Failing Monday Daily Quest: Punishment


    -Persistent and intense headaches that impair focus and productivity will ur.]


    Luca''s full attention was fixed on the digital interface before him, intently focused on thetest quest issued by his System. He absorbed each line of instruction, contemting how he''d tackle the challenge, when he suddenly collided with someone, jolting him out of his thoughts and making him step back in surprise.


    "Sorry," Luca muttered, his gaze snapping to the person he had bumped into. His eyes met the other''s, and he was hit with an unsettling wave of recognition. His expression darkened immediately, frowning as he realized who he was face-to-face with.


    "Luca?!" the boy eximed, practically booming in disbelief, drawing out Luca''s name as if it were a foreign word he could barelyprehend. He scanned Luca from head to toe with a scrutinizing gaze, as if questioning whether it was truly the same lowlife he knew. "What in the world are you doing here?!"


    Luca grimaced. He despised this guy¡ªMiles. The very same Miles he had crossed paths with just days ago in his shy convertible back in London. Their rivalry ran deep, rooted in high school days filled with tension and rivalry. Miles had been Luca''s number-one adversary back then, and by the look of things, absolutely nothing had changed.


    Miles embodied everything Luca detested in a person: arrogant, entitled, and perpetually on the lookout for opportunities to belittle others. During their high school years, Miles had made Luca''s life a living hell, constantly unting his wealth, privilege, and influence. Now, as they stood in this prestigious F1 training facility, Luca realized that the past was far from behind them.


    Luca''s gaze shifted to the person standing beside Miles¡ªa girl with a familiar face, her hand resting possessively on Miles'' arm, casually gripping his well-built muscles like he was some prize. The sight caught Luca off guard, momentarily freezing him as he registered her identity. Is my life seriouslying back to haunt me?


    he wondered, trying to push back the memories of high school that had resurfaced with rming rity.


    "I applied for the academy," Luca said firmly, meeting Miles'' condescending stare without flinching. He''d never been afraid of Miles¡ªin fact, Luca looked down on him, seeing his arrogance as something beneath contempt, the mark of a man who should strive to be better.


    "You? In Grey-Husson''s? Legally?" Miles sneered, letting out augh as he shot a quick nce at the girl beside him. "Look at this clown. You actually think you can be a racer?"


    "Is that news to you?" Luca shot back, his voice steady and unwavering. "I thought you already knew and made fun of it?"


    Miles shook his head, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Man, you''re pathetic. You''ve probably never even driven a basic sedan, and here you are, thinking you can handle a single-seater? Please," he sneered with open disdain. "You''ll just be another one of my NPCs, getting lost in the pack, only to find your way back to The Smoke."


    Luca''s hand twitched into a fist, but he forced his expression to remain neutral. Miles'' arrogance was nothing new to him. He''d faced this kind of mockery many times before, and he wasn''t about to let it drag him down. "And you? You''re aiming for this too?" Luca asked, making sure not to let his gaze linger on the girl beside Miles.


    "You''re damn right I am," Miles replied boastfully.


    "I thought you''re in college? Did you.... drop out?"


    Miles'' face flushed red, his teeth grinding as he visibly struggled to keep his irritation in check. "The course is just two weeks. It''s a small price to pay for a shot at Form 1 professionalism. Most of us know it''s worth the sacrifice¡ªfourteen days, no big deal. That''s smart, isn''t it?"


    Luca kept his expression calm, though inwardly he savored the moment. "It is smart," he replied coolly, his gaze steady as he pushed past Miles to catch up with the staff member, who hadn''t bothered to wait for him. "That''s if you make it through the first elimination, you''ve wasted schooldays then."


    "You little¡ª!"


    Before Miles could finish his insult, Luca quickened his pace, jogging up the stairs and rounding a corner. His heart raced, but not from fear or intimidation¡ªhe felt a pulse of satisfaction. For the first time in a long while, he had a real chance to prove himself, and he intended to beat Miles at something that actually mattered.


    By the time Luca caught up to the staff member, they were standing in front of the clinic''s doors. "Thanks," Luca said with genuine appreciation, catching his breath.


    Inside the clinic, he underwent a series of tests¡ªnutrition and hydration levels, both of which were fine, blood and bodyposition analysis, and a few cognitive assessments. When it was all over, he felt relieved as the doctor deemed him "fit as a fiddle," although he advised Luca to take it easy on his injured side, which hadn''t fully healed yet.


    Surprisingly, the staff member waited for him outside the clinic and led him to his quarters, stopping at a doorbeled "Stadhaven." Luca knocked, and momentster, the door opened to reveal a youthful face with dark hair and brown skin.


    "Good afternoon," the guy greeted, his eyesnding on Luca. "Is this him?" he asked the staff member, who nodded before excusing himself. "Wee, bro," he said, stepping aside to let Luca in.


    "Thanks," Luca replied, stepping into the room and taking in the space. There were two frameless beds for the both of them, two wide windows side by side, and gray walls that caused their voices to resonate whenever they spoke. "I''m Luca. What about you?"


    "Harry, Harry Potter," the boy replied, with a hint of a grin as he slumped back onto his bed, crossing his arms behind his head.


    Luca threw his bag to the floor, the thud echoing as he turned to face Harry. "Are you... like serious?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Of course! Why would I lie to my new roommate? The name''s Harry Potter, the magic man," Harry proimed with a chuckle. "Nah, just kidding. I''m ain''t that white¡ªthest name''s Patel. But people always mess it up and call me Potter."


    Luca burst outughing. "Oh, I get it. I probably would too," he replied. "Might be a good nickname, don''t you think?"


    "Heaven knows it is!" Harry boomed, spreading his arms in the air. "And there we have the magic man, Harry Potter, speeding down the track! With the crowd roaring, he takes the final corner with precision, leaving everyone in the dust. It''s like he''s flying on a broomstick out there! No one can catch him¡ªPotter weaves through thepetition like magic itself!


    And boom, across the finish line, the unbeatable Harry Potter takes the victory!"


    Luca''sughter spilled over, his stomach clenching as he wiped a tear from his eye.


    "So, what''s gonna be your nickname, Lu¨Cca?" Harry asked, copsing back onto his bed, still grinning.


    Luca shrugged as he sat down on his bed to remove his boots, his bottom sinking into the soft mattress. "I''m sure the fans will make out one for me when the timees. That''s the tradition," he said with a sigh of relief, freeing his feet from the confines of his boots.


    "Yeah, true," Harry replied. "Anyway, wee, man. I was thinking I wouldn''t get a mate from Stadhaven, London. Why''d they bring you in sote?"


    Luca shrugged, having no definite answer to that. He began unpacking, arranging his belongings on the small stool beside his bed, trying to settle in.


    "You''ve officially missed three days now, and tomorrow, we''ll be handling the cars without precautions. Sure you can handle a single-seater?" Harry asked, eyeing him skeptically.


    Luca shook his head, a bit sheepishly. "Honestly? No. I haven''t even driven a car in my life," he admitted.


    "You''re telling me you''ve never been behind a wheel your whole life?!" Harry looked utterly astonished.


    Luca bit his lip, knowing how absurd it sounded, especially for someone aspiring to be an F1 racer. "Maybe go-karts when I was a kid, and, you know, video games..."


    "That doesn''t count!" Harry groaned, cing his hands on his head in disbelief. "Bro, you''re gonna be wiped clean tomorrow."


    Not if my System has anything to say about that, Luca thought with a quiet, determined sneer. He knew the task ahead was daunting, but his System was there to guide him. The idea of facing realpetition and driving for the first time in a single-seater made him uneasy, though he did his best to keep a straight face.


    Remembering he had a Daily Quest to attempt andplete, Luca grabbed the timetable Harry had provided. He scanned it, matching it against the routine his System had suggested. The Grey-Husson schedule was streamlined and clear, with just a minor sh with his System''s prescribed routine.


    He nced at the wall clock. It was 4:00 p.m., and the day was winding down. Standing by the window, he took in the view of the sprawling track and the silent grandstands. Below, engineers and mechanics moved about, still at work on the cars, likely the same ones the participants had used earlier. The sight stirred something in him¡ªa sense of anticipation mixed with nerves.


    Searching for a bar for his pull-ups, Luca found one beneath a corner, potentially for hanging clothes.


    [Host is attempting Monday''s Daily Quest]


    [ANALYSING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    - Speed: 0 km/h (static exercise)


    - Heart Rate: 125 bpm


    - Stamina: 90% (High)


    - Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    - Repetitions: 12 reps


    - Time: 27 sec ]


    The process felt effortless whenpared to hisst Daily Quests, as he breezed through each repetition with ease, Harry watching him closely.


    Thirty pull-ups were done in under a minute for Luca as his feetnded on the floor when he was over. He flexed his palms that had been gnawed due to the friction on the bars. What about my Rewards?


    [Certainly, host.]


    [Congrattions! Daily Quest Completed!]


    [You have been rewarded with (EXP)!


    -Strength +1


    -Endurance +1 ]

 Chapter 15 My First Single-seater

    DAY 4-6


    [SYSTEM ONLINE]


    Luca was relieved to find that the meal provided at Grey-Husson''s was closely aligned with his dietary needs, even surpassing them in some ways. It fit well within the System''s rmendations. Following Harry''s lead, Luca integrated his Daily Routine with the mandatory morning activities required of all participants.


    After a refreshing bath, he made his way to the locker room, where his racing suit awaited.


    As he stepped into the training hub''s locker room, Luca noticed several other participants¡ªall young men like him¡ªpreparing for the day. Their well-defined physiques took him by surprise; they looked like seasoned athletes. I can''t believe how capable these guys look. Mallow said the age span here is 18-24. Damn, I might be the youngest one.


    He found his locker, marked "31," and tried to ignore the curious nces from the others. Quietly, he asked Harry, who was struggling to pull his racing suit over his head, "How old are you?"


    Harry''s voice came out muffled as he wrestled with the suit, "Twenty, why?"


    "Just curious," Luca replied softly, pulling out his own racing suit. It was a sleek, form-fitting ensemble, primarily ck with bold ents of deep blue and silver. It was in though, devoid of any sponsors and alliances, only designed with the letter G. "I''m eighteen, by the way¡ªjust turned five months ago," he added, as he started to don the suit.


    Harry finally managed to pull his head free from the suit and bit his lip, nodding toward Luca. "No wonder you haven''t touched a wheel yet," he muttered, signaling Luca to follow him as the others began to move out. The other participants didn''t seem too interested in engaging with each other, sticking to their small groups.


    Luca realized that the 31 participants¡ªoriginally thought to be 30¡ªcame from different regional circuits and a few, like Miles, through private applications. Since both he and Harry were hailed from Stadhaven, their pairing made sense amid this diversity.


    He swiftly donned his suit, zipping it up smoothly andpleting his look with matching sneakers.


    As the sunrise illuminated Grey-Husson''s Academy, the 31 participants, all dressed and ready, stepped out of the facility. An air of slightpetition already crackled among them as they approached a track, where the Chief Instructor and other Training Managers awaited.


    From the corner of his eye, Luca saw Miles striding with confidence, casting a pointed nce his way. In fact, the entire group seemed to be eyeing each other, each participant mentally sizing up potentialpetitors.


    As they approached the track, Luca''s gaze wandered over the vast expanse, taking in the surrounding beauty. He noticed a significant number of spectators gathered in one of the grandstands. Squinting, he recognized Mr. Mallow among them, alongside what appeared to be the spouses and friends of somepetitors.


    One of the Training Managers stood beside Mr. Schafer and began speaking, his tone authoritative. "As you know, boys, this is Day 4," he announced. Luca guessed he held a high position within the facility, given his proximity to Schafer. "Today through to Day 6, we''ll have our first elimination phase, where we filter out the worst from the bad.


    As far as I''m concerned, none of you are good enough, but you''re still eptable. This is the timedps and technique test. Each of you will engage in timedps to gauge your raw driving skills across different sectors of the circuit. We''ll be focusing on technical aspects: cornering, braking, and eleration."


    The atmosphere dropped quiet for a moment before Mr. Schafer continued from where he stopped. "We will not be judging you on speed, but on precision, and the penalties will be issued for hitting cones, overshooting corners, or excessive braking. The two participants with the most penalties will make use of the gate instantly. I hope you understand?"


    With no one responding, Mr. Schafer nodded, the weight of his years apparent in the slow, deliberate movement. He gestured to the stands, indicating the area reserved for participants, as three racers would take on the course at a time. Luca''s attention was drawn to the far end of the track, where thirty-one single-seaters stood in a pristine row, their sleek frames gleaming under the morning sun.


    They''re even more stunning up close, he thought, savoring the sight.


    He joined the others heading toward the stands, pushing himself to get closer to the single-seaters. His gaze locked onto his own car, instantly recognizable by the bold number 31 emzoned on its sleek chassis. The car was a striking ck and red, with a touch of white along the edges¡ªLuca''s favorite colors for an F1 car.


    He wondered if it was coincidence or fate that it matched his taste so perfectly.


    They all climbed up to the stands and settled into their seats. Luca found himself next to Harry, having been forced to abandon the spot he had originally imed after being chased off by a group of boys. He considered arguing back but decided against it; engaging with them seemed futile.


    After all, he reasoned, they were just academics¡ªnot racers yet¡ªwith nothing to show for themselves. Raising his voice over a mere seat felt beneath him, an unnecessary distraction and attraction of attention from the staff, who might cklist him.


    As he watched Numbers 1, 2, and 3 receive their helmets and gear, Luca felt a rush of excitement. The sight of the cars being brought closer by a towing vehicle made his heart race. The participants climbed into their cockpits with a boldness that Luca both admired and envied, as he imagined himself in their ce.


    When they were ready to begin, Mr. Schafer signaled for a horn to be blown. The sound cut through the air, and the three F1 cars surged forward, gradually picking up speed as they raced down the track.


    The sound of machinery made Luca''s body twitch with excitement, eager to hop into his own single-seater. Unfortunately, he would be thest to race due to his number. But this had its advantages; he could learn from the mistakes of others before his turn.


    The sparse cheers from the far end of the stands caught his attention. He realized it was the families and friends of the three boys now racing, there to cheer them on. The cars sped through the track at a steady pace, weaving through cones with precision. After navigating a series of curves, they disappeared from view.


    Luca nced up at the TV mounted by thementary box, wondering if this circuit was still used for seasonal events. The cameras captured the cars from multiple angles, allowing him to study their movements and visualize his own strategy for theps toe.


    From their movements, Luca could easily distinguish the participants from professional racers, even those in the Form 3 division. Nheless, their control and ability to navigate the sharp bends were surprising, even though they hit a fair number of cones.


    The timing was set at 2 minutes for twops in this precision test, and eventually, the three racerspleted their run and returned to the base.


    With results to be announced after the sixth day, Mr. Schafer congratted the boys as they emerged from their single-seaters, looking slightly disoriented. A tow truck took away their cars and brought forth those belonging to Numbers 4, 5, and 6.


    Miles was Number 4. He shed Luca a boastful grin before epting his helmet and climbing into his sleek purple single-seater, alongside the other twopetitors. The staff helped strapped them in effectively.


    The same horn sounded, and the three cars zoomed off at a steady pace. Luca was genuinely surprised by Miles''s driving skills. It seemed as though he had been training for racing his entire life. Luca kept track of the cones hit, noting that Miles tallied up to eleven, while the previous group had hit over twenty cones.


    The Training Manager, who had addressed them earlier, gave Miles an approving pat on the back when he and the other two returned to base, with his girlfriend cheering loudly for him.


    This process continued for the remaining participants until it was time for Luca''s set. He had enjoyed watching Harry, Number 22, behind the wheel, who seemed quite good despite hitting 14 cones.


    Finally, the moment Luca had been waiting for arrived as his single-seater was towed to the back of Number 30''s. The three participants were called out, and he quickly sprang to his feet, sizing up the other two.


    Although this particr task wasn''t directlypetitive, it certainly felt that way, as everyone was eager to hit fewer cones than their counterparts, especially those they were paired with.


    "Fucking extra," Number 30 spat at Luca before adjusting his helmet over his head.


    Luca epted his helmet from a staff member, pointedly ignoring the insult as he secured the red and ck helmet onto his head. He couldn''t believe how much it felt like he was bing a real, sleek F1 racer.


    As he approached his single-seater, he paused¡ªnot out of nerves, but because the Form 1 System rang loudly in his mind, projecting a digital screen before him in the darkness of his helmet.


    [VEHICLE BEFORE HOST HAS BEEN DETECTED...]


    [ANALYZING VEHICLE''S DATA]


    [Vehicle''s status generating...]


    [... Generationplete]


    [Vehicle Specifications:


    Brand: Renault


    Model: R.S.11


    Engine Type: RZ-12 Hybrid Power Unit


    Weight: 640 kg ]


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 300 km/h (0 km/h)


    eleration: 3.5 sec


    Max Power: 700 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 1.5 ]


    [Operational Status:


    Fuel Level: 80%


    Tire Condition: Used (Moderate)


    Telemetry Status: Active


    DRS Avability: Not Engaged ]


    Wow, Luca thought out loud. "I had no idea you could do this! This is awesome!"


    [Indeed, host. I can provide urate data for F1 cars in close proximity. This System indirectly connects you to the vehicle. Please enter your first single-seater, and let''s begin.]


    Taking a deep breath, Luca carefully opened the narrow cockpit by lifting the top canopy with smooth precision, revealing the red seat gleaming under the bright,te morning sun. Looks veryfortable, Luca thought with a grin as he ced his right foot on the lower edge of the side pod.


    He then slid into the seat, tucking his knees close to his chest as he focused his gaze on the steering wheel before him.


    The Grey-Husson''s staff helped strap him tight to the seat.


    The steering wheel resembled a game pad, exactly how Luca had imagined it would look and feel. It had an oval shape and was integrated with numerous buttons and switches that he caressed with his gloved thumb. Their uses and functions were familiar to him, even though he had never been inside a single-seater before.


    He felt the paddle shifters behind the wheel with his index fingers, designed to allow the driver seamless eleration and deceleration without needing to remove their hands from the wheel.


    [In order not to fully obstruct your view of the track, host, I can also make the System essible on the digital disy of the wheel as well.]


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synced with Renault (R.S.11)]


    Sweet. Luca started the car by pressing the buttonbeled ENGAGE on the wheel, and the engine calmly roared to life. Vibrations surged through the chassis and up his spine in a rxing manner. Taking a deep breath, he awaited the sound of the horn, focusing on the back of Number 30''s green car.


    The world outside faded into a blur, everything narrowing down to the vision inside his helmet and the floating digital data of his system.


    The horn cut through the air, prompting Luca to steady himself as he let Number 30 move first. He engaged the clutch with his left foot and selected first gear using the paddle shifter on the right. The rear tires squealed lightly as he released the clutch, gently pressing the elerator.


    The car promptly lunged forward at a steady pace, the asphalt rushing beneath him. Even with such slow, low eleration, Luca felt a slight G-force push him back, but he managed to maintain as he slowly tilted his wheel to make the early bend, Number 29 and Number 30 bending before him already.


    [Host is attempting a Racing Task]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 15 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 50m


    -Time: 15 sec ]


    [This Racing Task will be a good method to help increase your pure racing skills, host. Attributes like Intelligence and Stamina are likely to be buffed every time you step into a single-seater.]


    That''s reasonable, Luca replied, making another careful bend and easily getting in touch with the vehicle. The steering wheel responded intuitively in his hands, the car''s sleek frame moving in harmony with the dance of his body in the cockpit. It felt easy and physically demanding at the same time.


    Moving at a steady pace, he had made three bends before spotting the conesid out for the task. As he approached the first cone, he eased off the throttle and gently turned the wheel, feeling the car respond with precision and grip on the track. The R.S.11 glided through the first gap, its tires whispering against the asphalt.


    Luca focused intently, his heart racing as he aligned the car for the next cone.


    [First cone sessfully navigated. Good control maintained, host.]


    [Heart rate has increased by two beats.]


    [You are moving at 12 km/h]


    [Approaching second cone, host.]


    Luca flexed his thumb and pressed down on the throttle, determined to reach the second cone swiftly. He spotted Number 30 ahead, having toppled a cone, and a grin tugged at his lips.


    As he closed in, he eased off the throttle once again, deftly maneuvering the steering wheel to guide his tires through the tight turn. The roar of the car''s engine filled his ears, but his focus remained locked on the rhythm as he felt the aerodynamic forces struggle against him.


    Luca tightened his grip to gain full control as he approached the sharp bend where the cone was positioned. Why would they keep a cone here?! he cursed, tilting the wheel vigorously to escape the shaft of the cone. Just when he thought he had evaded the obstacle, he felt a jolt shoot through the car.


    The sound of the impact echoed in his ears as the rear tire caught the edge of the cone, sending it skittering across the pavement.


    "Great," Luca muttered, taking one nce behind him as he felt the impact reverberate through the chassis of his car. He returned his gaze straight ahead where his System didn''t fail to show him that he had hit a cone. Focusing on the track, he pushed aside the frustration and felt a sense of relief seeing Number 30 topple four more cones.


    Withpetition stirring within him, Luca decided to overtake Number 30, who had called him an Extra. The other racer was now disoriented after knocking down multiple cones. Without warning, Luca hit the elerator, bypassing him in a blur of speed while making a sharp turn toward his seventeenth cone.


    [Overtaking Skill used!]


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]


    Number 30 cursed under his breath as Luca''s red and ck single-seater advanced, tagging behind Number 29. The firstp of the task wasing to an end, and they swiftly passed the stands from which they had started, the cheers of Luca''s opponent''s family ringing in his ear, making him feel as if they were cheering for him.


    So far, he had only toppled one cone and believed he would end with just that. "System? What''s Sync Bar?" Luca asked as he carefully navigated through another cone, his hands getting ustomed to the gentle tilting of the wheel and the blurring of the world in his peripheral vision. His heart rate was stabilizing now.


    [Sync Bar is a profound connection between you and your vehicle.]


    [With every skill you execute perfectly, the Sync Bar increases until it maxes out at 100%. This 100% acts as energy that you can buff into the Performance Metrics of your car or the values of your Attributes.]


    Fuck! Luca cursed as the front hood of his car hit another cone. The moment of slight befuddlement caused him to jam into his third cone throughout this task. But it didn''t matter, because the two-minute timing was closing in, and the three of them managed toplete the secondp and return to base, unharmed.


    [Congrattions, host. You havepleted a Racing Task issued to you.]


    [You had an 85% Performance. Great job!]


    Luca exhaled, finally removing his hands from the wheel as his engine hummed to silence. He opened the cockpit, revealing himself to expect apuse, but everyone was stark quiet. Even the staff members who helped him out didn''t offer congrattions.


    How could they? He had the least number of cones hit, showcasing his pinpoint precision and uracy throughout the task. Luca had even executed an overtaking maneuver when this wasn''t even apetitive race. The silence from the stands was deafening, as if they had deliberately overlooked his impressive performance entirely.


    ¡¤¡¤


    A/N: Hey, I feed on Powerstones for a living. Could you kindly give em? (+_+)

 Chapter 16 My First Single-seater 2 Racing Task

    Day 7-9


    [SYSTEM ONLINE]


    It was afternoon on the seventh day of the fourteen-day course. The timedps and technique tests were officiallypleted on the sixth day, and the two participants who would be leaving were set to be announced today before the next activity kicked off that afternoon.


    For Luca, the past three days had been not only smooth but incredibly rewarding. He had proven himself to be the best in the timedps and technique tests, especially on the fifth day where he only hit a single cone. Mr. Schafer, seeing Luca''s precision, immediately ordered the cones to be ced in more challenging positions, hoping to raise the stakes.


    On the sixth day, Luca''s tally rose to four hits, yet his results still stood out against the rest of the participants.


    His System, recognizing his effort and focus, rewarded him with +1 EXP in Track Awareness for his sharp vignce in avoiding the cones. He also earned +1 Intelligence, marking his very first level-up in that specific Attribute¡ªa significant achievement that reflected his mental and strategic growth on the track.


    Yet, amidst his achievements, Luca hadn''t found the time to contact his mother or sister as he''d hoped. Most of his hours were consumed in the simtor room, where he tirelessly worked to not only familiarize himself with the track but also to synchronize with its every turn, dip, and nuance.


    Pushing himself to the limit, Luca tweaked the simtor settings to face harder difficulties and extreme atmospheric conditions, often racing against fearsome and unpredictable Form 1 Division opponents. In these brutal sessions, Luca crashed over and over again, but was grateful that in the end, it was only a simtion.


    It allowed him to push beyond his limits without suffering real-world consequences.


    Earlier that morning, Lucamitted himself topleting both his personal Daily Routine as well as the academy''s. As part of this, he and Harry jogged the length of the circuit, using the run to survey the circuit and understand its scale, the physical challenges it presented when experienced on foot.


    As noon approached, they were required to head back to the main building to change into their suits in preparation for the second activity of the course.


    Luca couldn''t help but feel the weight of the attention¡ªboth good and bad¡ªhe''d begun to attract. He disliked how he was starting to pull in haters, like a piece of bread attracting ravens. All he wanted was to do his best, and yet, no matter how hard he pushed himself, it felt like it wasn''t enough. Even the Training Manager, Sir Grimwald, seemed to favor Miles, despite Luca''s consistent efforts.


    Now, standing before the staff and management, Luca and the remaining participants awaited the announcement of who would be sent home.


    "Numbers 14 and 12, please make use of the gate. Form 1 is extremely far from you," Sir Grimwald dered, his voice cold and unsympathetic. There wasn''t a trace of mercy in his tone as the two unlucky drivers shuffled out of the group, heading down the track toward the gate in defeat.


    "As you all know, boys, this is Day 7. A new activity awaits," Grimwald continued, his voice still carrying that edge. "Today, tomorrow, and the next, we''ll be focusing on the Mid-Speed Chase Activity. The remaining twenty-nine of you will be paired up. The objective is simple: each pair from the chasing team must overtake a leading driver within a limited number ofps¡ªspecifically, three."


    Just like before, Mr. Schafer continued from where he stopped, breaking the eerie silence that had followed. "Indeed. This Task is to push your limits on speed and maneuverability, paying attention to each turn and straightaway¡ªknowing when to elerate and when to hold back will be crucial so as to prevent or bypass whoever you are chasing.


    At the end of this activity, the five participants with the least overtaking frequency, and overall poor performance will have to be eliminated. Let''s begin."


    Luca took a deep breath as the group made their way across the track once more, heading toward the stands where their single-seaters sat gleaming in the afternoon sun. The crowd was noticeably smaller now, with only the agents and scouts of the participants watching closely from the stands.


    Unluckily for Luca, he ended up being selected into the pursued group. But on the bright side, Harry was in the pursued group as well. His face darkened when he discovered Miles was selected into the pursuers, along with a whole lot of hefty boys.


    The participants of the pursued group had their single-seaters towed 70 metres away from the pursuing group. This was done to allow them to have a head start and gain a reasonable, leveled advantage.


    "We''ll stick together," Harry said to Luca as he hopped swiftly into his own cockpit.


    Luca studied Harry''s car, and his System dubiously disyed its specifics due to the close proximity.


    [VEHICLE BEFORE HOST HAS BEEN DETECTED...]


    [ANALYZING VEHICLE''S DATA]


    [Vehicle''s status generating...]


    [... Generationplete]


    [Vehicle Specifications:


    Brand: BMW


    Model: BMW T4 BC3


    Engine Type: 2.5-liter inline-6


    Weight: 520 kg ]


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 150 km/h (0 km/h)


    eleration: 6 sec


    Max Power: 460 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 0.35 ]


    [Operational Status:


    Fuel Level: 80%


    Tire Condition: Used (Moderate)


    Telemetry Status: Active


    DRS Avability: Not Engaged ]


    Why is Harry''s car mediocre? It''s way lower than mine. So, everyone''s car isn''t on the same level? Luca thought as he looked to the side, his gaze drifting to the far end of the racing track where the pursuing group was boarding their single-seaters. Damn, the System can''t analyze from this distance.


    [I can host, just not with your Rookie Bundle.]


    Luca wanted to get a better sense of how quick and efficient Miles'' car was. From what he could tell, it looked like a Mercedes product, and Mercedes cars were known for their efficiency. He frowned, tightening his helmet as he slid into his cockpit.


    Through the side of his cockpit opening, he caught a glimpse of Harry giving him a reassuring thumbs-up, the engines of their cars and those of their teammates roaring with anticipation, ready for the start.


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synced with Renault (R.S.11)]


    The re of the horn shattered the air, prompting Luca''s fingers to spring into action on the wheel. The drifting tires of Numbers 8, 12, 15, 26, and 27 momentarily obscured his view of the track as they all sped off quickly. Luca mmed his foot on the throttle, elerating as soon as he had enough space to do so, Harry''s car moving beside him.


    [Host is attempting a Racing Task]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 15 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 50m


    -Time: 15 sec ]


    The team approached the early bend of the circuit, their seven cars tilting in perfect harmony as their tires grazed the yellow line marking the edge of the track. As they rounded the turn, Luca seized the opportunity to increase his speed, casting a quick nce into his side mirror to gauge the progress of their pursuers.


    Damn it! Luca cursed under his breath, rmed to see that thepetition had already formed a tight formation, surging forward as if they had beenunched the moment the horn red. He snapped his focus back to the track ahead, his R.S.11 slicing through the smoke as he readied himself for the next bend. No cones this time¡ªlet''s see what I can do.


    [This Racing Task will be a good method to increase your handling of speed and braking while working on strategy and maneuverability.]


    "Harry?" Luca called out to his friend over themunicable radio. "Do you know that your vehicle''s model is slower? Hit that throttle and get as far as possible."


    **Really? Got it!** Harry replied, his salute visible through the blur as Luca sped ahead. He watched Harry''s ck-and-blue car roar to life, rocketing past Number 12 with an ear-splitting growl, almost as if the other driver were a mere obstacle in his way.


    Alright, time to focus on my ride. Luca adjusted his posture for optimal handling, feeling the vibrations of the vehicle humming beneath him. He gripped the steering wheel with determination, his eyes fixed on his teammates as they navigated the uing turn. His fingers danced over the control switches and buttons, a blend of precision and instinct guiding him.


    Pressing down on the brake pedal, he carefully modted the pressure to maintain control while tilting the wheel, his tires responding deftly as they hugged the curve.


    Luca was acutely aware of the pursuer closing in behind him. With his substantial knowledge of racing, he understood that pursuers often held the upper hand; instead of trying to escape them, the strategy was to embrace their presence and create disorientation.


    As he maneuvered through the bend, Luca adjusted his line, keeping a close watch on his side mirror, inviting the pursuer in.


    [Number 11 closing in]


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent]


    "Don''t worry, System. I know how to do this in some traditional way," Luca replied, mming down on the throttle as he tightened his turn just as Number 11''s front tires edged into his peripheral vision. The sudden shift forced the other driver to react quickly, decelerating rapidly and losing his rhythm.


    A wild grin spread across Luca''s face as he maintained full control of his R.S.11, adjusting his throttle to zip through the open space ahead. He had bought himself some breathing room before the next pursuer could make their move.


    **Oh, punk! I thought he''d pass you!** Number 15 sneered as he called out to Luca as he fell into sync with the rhythmic formation of his teammates, navigating the track as theypleted the firstp.


    "You should be more concerned about yourself," Luca shot back, ncing at him before pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. "That''s Milesing at you!"


    Without warning, Luca cut in front of Number 15, disrupting their formation and throwing off his speed. This allowed Number 4, Miles, to catch up instantly and overtake him. Now, Number 15 had to scramble to avoid being passed by the other pursuers while Miles charged ahead toward the fleers.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 150 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 3600 m


    -Time: 2 min. 5 sec ]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]


    [Intelligence +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][]25%]


    With a keen eye on the dashboard, Luca monitored his tire temperatures by himself without the help of the System, ensuring he wasn''t pushing them too hard¡ªespecially since this wasn''t an officialpetitive race. The indicators were green, confirming there were no issues, but he knew these tires weren''t fresh. Still, he hoped they would hold out.


    Just as he suspected, the pursuers didn''t waste time overtaking most of their team, pushing him closer to the front with Harry and Number 8. Three pursuers had already knocked out half their group and were heading straight for them. Luca''s heart pounded¡ªhe prayed he''d finish theps before they caught up, but it was looking grim.


    "Let''s trap him, shall we?" Luca suggested to Harry and Number 8. "I''ll move ahead, and you guys stay on his sides, sound good?"


    **You fucking sharper, you think I''m that dumb?!** Number 8 bellowed, clearly skilled enough to stick around this long. **How about I take the lead, and you do the nking?**


    "Some of us don''t have cars good enough to stay ahead, and yours is one of them," Luca shot back, his voice sounding more robotic than he intended. "Just give him a good nk¡ªwe''ll force him to skid away, right, Harry?"


    **I''m not so sure, we might risk ourselves¡­** Harry replied, sounding doubtful as they approached the bend that marked the end of the secondp, passing by the stands where the scouts watched closely.


    Luca cursed loud enough for them to hear. He had no time to forge a teaming alliance, he had the perfect teammate with him¡ªthe Form 1 System. Hitting his throttle, he zoomed past Number 8 and Number 22, Harry, taking his R.S.11 far away as possible.


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][]37.5%]


    "I''m still yet to use this Sync Bar, System."


    [Whenpleted to 100%, its utilization will be clear to you, favoring you and your vehicle on the track.]


    Luca heard Harry''s warning crackling through the radio. A quick nce back revealed the pursuing single-seaters revving toward him. They hadpletely overtaken Harry and Number 8 and were hurtling straight for him now.


    Fuck! Luca cursed under his breath, snapping his focus back to the track ahead, desperate toplete thep as quickly as possible. Just imagine how many points he could score by finishing this task without any overtakes.


    It felt like a pack of hungry wolves closing in on a lone deer, tailing his every turn on the track. With no obstacles or teammates in sight, Luca decided to push his R.S.11 to its limits, maximizing its horsepower.


    To his surprise, a single-seater gradually came into view on his side. A familiar figure in the cockpit waved at him. How is this possible?! I''m at top speed! Luca eximed as Miles caught up alongside him. They maneuvered side by side, dangerously close as they approached a bend.


    Luca made sure to elerate, taking advantage of his position on the inside of the turn. Failing to do so might have allowed Miles to slip ahead.


    Luca couldn''t believe Miles was managing to keep pace with him despite the gap he had created. Realizing his vehicle was now close enough to analyze, he ordered his System to do so.


    [VEHICLE BEFORE HOST HAS BEEN DETECTED...]


    [ANALYZING VEHICLE''S DATA]


    [Vehicle''s status generating...]


    [... Generationplete]


    [Vehicle Specifications:


    Brand: Mercedes


    Model: AMG-F1


    Engine Type: Mercedes PU106C Hybrid V6


    Weight: 740 kg ]


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 350 km/h (200 km/h)


    eleration: 8 sec


    Max Power: 900 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 0.21 ]


    [Operational Status:


    Fuel Level: 64%


    Tire Condition: Used (Moderate)


    Telemetry Status: Active


    DRS Avability: Not Engaged ]


    Damn. I knew it was a Mercedes, but I didn''t know it was an amazing one. How can they give some racers better cars than the others?!


    Luca didn''t have time to dwell on it; Miles hit the turbo and cut in front of him, causing Luca to stagger from the sudden G-force. His body vibrated with energy, but he remained resolute. He shook his head in dismay, refusing to ept that Miles had overtaken him.


    Determined to reim his position before thep ended, Luca flicked up the gear and gripped the wheel tightly, his body arching as the car responded deftly. The whistling sound of speed filled his ears, and if it weren''t for his Track Awareness, he might have faced a serious ident.


    Quickly tilting his wheel the opposite way from where he had intended to, a wildcard pursuer zoomed past him with unreal speed, nearly making contact with Luca''s car''s frame.


    [You have suffered another overtake.]


    The sudden rush of speed disoriented Luca as the air whipped past his vehicle, igniting his instincts. He overcorrected, turning the wheel too sharply in a frantic attempt to regain his line and bnce.


    Unfortunately for Luca, his tires lost grip and skidded off the track, the car lurching sideways. Fuck! Luca cursed, finding himself veering off course, his wheel seeming to have no control of his tires as the track faded away, reced by the sound of grass crunching under his tires.


    [You have abandoned racing task, host.]


    [Punishment will be Issued.]


    What the¡ª? Punishment? I did not abandon the race¡ªBefore Luca could speak to his System further the back bumper that had been skidding, crashed softly into a tree, jolting him violently.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 0 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 117 bpm


    -Operational Status: 25% (Poor)


    -Breathing: Hiked


    -Distance covered: 4100 m


    -Time: 3 min. 8 sec ]


    Luca cursed relentlessly as he climbed out of the cockpit, standing on his seat to watch the other vehicles zoom away, racing toward the end of the third and finalp. Doubts gnawed at him. He wondered if this would affect his chances of winning in the Grey-Husson''s Academy. He wondered if he would be going home after this activity.


    Mallow, along with the engineers and mechanics, rushed over to assess the R.S.11, which had sustained some minor damage. Meanwhile, the Form 1 System was unforgiving, and did not take it easy on him.


    [Punishment:


    Track Awareness -3 ]

 Chapter 17 Met A Mechanic

    Luca strolled around the circuit afterpleting a strenuous Daily Quest that his System had issued to him, raising his Agility Attribute to 4. He took a deep breath of the evening air, feeling the cold breeze and slight drizzle brush across thendscape of asphalt, grass, and tracks. This is my life, Luca thought to himself.


    After roaming for a while, he decided to retire to the main building for a sumptuous dinner before heading to bed. Just as he was about to climb the short steps, a glimmer of golden light caught his attention in the encroaching dusk darkness. The golden light emanated from what appeared to be a workshop, apanied by the nking of metal and motor parts.


    Luca recalled that his R.S.11 was under service after he had uncontrobly veered off the path and crashed the underside into a tree. The memory of that incident gnawed at him, but he was grateful to the heavens for not being one of the five participants sent home earlier today.


    To emphasize his luck, Luca was thest survivor, his name being called just before the line where the five were selected for elimination. I don''t want to be on a ne to London anytime soon.


    Figuring the car being repaired in the workshop must be his R.S.11, Luca decided to stroll a bit closer for a look.


    He walked along a narrow tarred path where the management''s and scouts'' normal cars were parked, approaching the workshop''s garage door. The golden light reflected on the wet ground as the sound of nking and screwing grew louder with each step, revealing the interior of the workshop.


    Responsibly, Luca knocked on the aluminum door and called out, "Hello," leaning in slightly to catch a glimpse inside.


    Luca''s eyes lingered on the walls of the workshop, glistening under the bright, golden light from the ceiling. He couldn''t believe the area wasrger than it appeared; it felt like a whole new station within. The outer facade had created that deception.


    Tools were meticulously arranged on pegboards, while workstations overflowed with parts¡ªsuspensionponents, tires, and aerodynamic pieces¡ªall clearlybeled for easy ess.


    His gaze shifted to the ground, where the constant whirr and tter of metal filled the air. There, he spotted two legs protruding from beneath a standard Toyota, the rest of the vehicle hidden from view. It was clear that whoever was working there hadn''t heard his initial "hello."


    Luca contemted leaving the workshop after realizing it wasn''t the R.S.11 being repaired; in fact, it wasn''t even a single-seater. Yet, a sense of curiosity held him in ce, urging him to knock on the garage door again¡ªthis time, louder.


    The person under the ck Toyota quickly slid out with the help of a creeper. The figure stood up immediately, revealing her full appearance.


    Luca''s eyes widened as he found himself face-to-face with a girl on the other side of the workshop, the car acting as a barrier between them. Their gazes locked, and he noticed the irritation in her expression at his interruption. "Hello," Luca said again, a bit uncertain.


    Holding up a spanner, the girl replied, "And how can I help you?" She was dressed in a fitted navy blue jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing strong yet feminine arms. Her ponytail swayed slightly as two strands cascaded down her cheeks, her face smudged with dark oil.


    "No, no, no, I''m not in need of any help at all. I was just curious about the workshop, that''s all," Luca quickly rified, ncing around the garage. Remembering his original purpose, he decided it might be wise to reassure her that he wasn''t just being nosy. "It''s about my race car... has it been fixed?"


    The girl frowned, her brows furrowing as if the question displeased her. "Who are you?"


    Luca cleared his throat, realizing his voice might havee out dark and threatening. "I''m a participant here, number 31," he replied, trying to sound more approachable. "You should know me; I hit my car the other day."


    "Oh!" the girl eximed, dropping the spanner onto the hood of the car, her other hand resting on her hip. "You mean the Renault?"


    "Yes, the Renault. I don''t see it here."


    "Don''t worry; it''ll be up and running by tomorrow, right in thefort of your hands," she said, sizing up the Toyota like a chef inspecting a cut of meat. "My superiors finished it earlier today; it''s in the inner tforms, getting refurbished."


    Luca smiled, feeling a surge of relief. His car would look nicer now. "That''s cool," he uttered.


    The girl feigned a smile in return, nodding. "Yes, it is. Now, please, would you let me resume my work?" she pleaded ironically.


    "Sure," Luca replied, pulling his hands from his sweater pockets and raising them in mock surrender. He stared hard at her for a moment before turning to leave, then stopped halfway. "Can I know your name?" he asked suddenly.


    The girl, who was about to slide back underneath the car, looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "You don''t know who I am?" she replied incredulously.


    "I wouldn''t have asked that if I did. Are you someone special?"


    "I''m the Chief Manager''s daughter, you dimwit!" she snapped, defending her title. "Every participant knows this. Are you sure you belong here? You look like... you look like you don''t really fit in, no offense."


    There''s an offence. Though it stung, Luca shook it off. That was nothingpared to what he had received and endured throughout his life. "So, what''s your name?" he asked again. "My name''s Luca."


    "I am Isabe," she replied. "It''s nice to meet you Luca, in such an atmosphere."


    "It''s nice to meet you too," Luca replied with a chuckle. "You don''t look anything like your father. If you did, I might have guessed," he said, stepping further into the workshop, believing he had set up an informal tform between them. As he expected, she did notin.


    "The old man married a Mexican; you can''t me him," Isabe said, sliding underneath the vehicle as she resumed her work.


    "I see," Luca muttered, his fingers brushing lightly against the neatly arranged tools on the tables as he roamed. "I wonder what the Chief Manager''s daughter is doing working as a mechanic in his establishment..."


    "Don''t be too smart," Isabe shot back instantly, her voice emerging with a hint of syntheticity as she twisted a bolt. "I decided to pursue what I love, and I love repairing and fixing cars. I''ve loved machines ever since I can remember."


    "I like cars too," Luca lied, knowing that he didn''t really like cars¡ªhe liked Form 1 racing. Those were entirely two different things. "In fact, I''m kind of a car geek myself."


    "Oh, really?" Isabe stretched the words, sliding out from under the car and rising to her feet. She tapped and caressed the hood of the Toyota, shing a sly smile at Luca. "What is the model type of this sedan, huh?"


    Luca grinned wildly, convinced he was one step ahead and had anticipated this question before he lied. System? Please retrieve and analyze the data on this Toyota before me, Luca ordered.


    [I''m sorry, host, I can''t proceed with that request.]


    I¡ªI don''t understand.


    [This is the Form 1 System. I can only provide you with data of single-seater cars alone, not just any vehicle.]


    Ah, fuck me. n has backfired. Can you guess at least?


    [Not at all, host.]


    "Toyota 4AV?" Luca ventured, recalling something simr he had seen in the news one day.


    Isabe chuckled softly, shaking her head. "That''s even an incorrect mixture of the alphanumeric; you''re wrong. It''s the Toyota A-4LVV," she sneered.


    "I freaking knew I heard something like that," Luca muttered silently, watching her wipe her hands clean with a rag, though little came off.


    Realizing it would be best to leave before his presence became a burden, Luca pushed himself off the table he had been leaning on and walked toward the open garage door. "I''ll be going now. Can I have your number?"


    "Can you have my number?" Isabe repeated, eyebrows raised. "Why would you want that?"


    Why would I want that. Why would I want that? She''s right. Why the heck would I want her number?! I don''t even have a freaking phone. What am I gonna call her with, the facility''s telephone?!


    Luca shook away his thoughts, expertly experienced at keeping a fine line between his thoughts and words. "I want your number because I find you interesting. If you don''t want to share, I understand," he said.


    "No, it''s not that I don''t want to share," Isabe replied quickly with a shrug. "What''s next after we exchange digits? You almost got eliminated today. If we had this conversation yesterday, you''d be back in your city with the number of some girl from across the country."


    "On the bright side, I didn''t get eliminated," Luca sneered. "I''m still here, and I will win the ultimatum."


    "You? You think you''ll win? I know better participants," Isabe said.


    "Well, if I win, then can I have your number?" Luca proposed, his heart pounding.


    Shrugging and nodding thoughtfully, Isabe epted the bet. Though Luca wasn''t exceptionally handsome, his aura of maturity was certainly admirable. After exchanging night greetings, Luca left the workshop and headed back to the main building, walking beneath the now intensified drizzle.


    A tingling sense of joy swirled within him after the encounter. Though he had long unintentionally refrained from female interactions, his youthful charm should suffice from time to time. Luca believed he should at least give this one a chance.


    He slipped into bed after dinner and a shower, his eyes closing instantly as soon as his head hit the pillow. Though he had slept for seven hours, it felt like three, as his System red loudly in his ears at the break of day.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [Host should begin Daily Routine.]


    Luckily for Luca, today and tomorrow were free of activities, as the twelfth day would hold the final race that would determine the selectable seven for scouting and potential team signings into the real world of motorsport.

 Chapter 18 Ultimatum

    The two days of rest, as quick as a whisper of wind, vanished away, barely audible and indiscernible. The facility was awfully quiet during this time, with only the frustrated grunts of remaining participants in the simtors whenever they failed to emerge first. Apart from that, everyone had stayed in their respective hailing rooms, but Luca and Harry surprisingly found interest in ying cards.


    Even on the morning of the twelfth day, after all routines werepleted, they engaged in conversation about their fears while ying. Delving deeper, they spoke a little about their families, and this led Luca to spill out his encounter from the night before.


    Harry waspletely shellshocked, swearing by his finishing position that Luca was more than lucky to spend even five seconds with the Chief Manager''s daughter.


    Laughing it off, the two managed to finish onest game before it was time for the final chapter and the concluding activity of the course. The training hub''s locker room felt tense and charged, filled with an anxious energy that Luca believed was palpable, creeping over his body.


    No one uttered a word to each other; not even the boys who had previously been allies¡ªthey were all opponents now, after all. Each had been medically rechecked and deemed eligible to race.


    Walking out, d in their racing suits of different colors, the managerial team of Grey-Husson stood at the edge of the track. The post-rain atmosphere provided a slightly clouded view, and the sun wasn''t out; Luca guessed it might not appear until aroundte morning. He wondered if the atmosphere would affect the race.


    Taking his gaze to the stands, Luca noticed they were filled with more spectators than on the very first elimination day. Though it wasn''t a massive crowd, it was still a significant number, enough to create a buzz if they all screamed and drummed in unison. The crowd ranged from small-sized people to adults, filled with more unfamiliar faces. This will be interesting.


    A surge to push our determination, very encouraging.


    A whisper of movement brushed Luca''s neck, as if one of hispetitors was invading his personal space from behind. "Don''t be a tryhard; your puny skills won''t cut it in 34ps¡ªthis is all about endurance," Miles hissed before vanishing into the group just as quickly as he had appeared.


    Luca spotted him and fought the urge to raise his middle finger, fearing he might breach some rules if that gesture were seen, ceasing his stay here before he could even get to his single-seater. What Miles didn''t know was that Luca had increased his Endurance by 2 and Strength by 1 over the past two days.


    Speaking of single-seaters, Luca located his R.S.11 among the twenty-four cars aligned for the remaining participants.


    After crossing the first track, they approached the third, where the Chief Manager and his team stood, ready to begin at a moment''s notice. All units were on standby, especially the telemetry team, responsible for monitoring the condition of all cars and warning the rookie racers if they became too engrossed in the track to notice any issues themselves.


    "This will be a simple and traditional race with slight changes. You will each have one pit, but only one person can use it at a time. All existing rules still apply, and breaking them will result in severe penalties, regardless of who you are," Sir Grimwald stated, pping his hands and gesturing for Mr. Schafer to speak.


    However, the aged man had no words and sat down awkwardly, signaling for the race to begin.


    The participants all donned their helmets, adjusting them as they turned to face the tow truck arranging their single-seaters in a specific formation for the race start. Their cars were positioned in pairs, with no leading pole position car in sight.


    Luca''s System analyzed his R.S.11, confirming it was ready to go. It also scanned a few other vehicles, heightening Luca''s worry about the disparities among them. Some cars were well-equipped, while others fell short.


    Directed to enter their cockpits, the participants dubiouslyplied, hopping into their cars and effortlessly closing their roofs, marking the end of their seamless motion. Everything was in ce, and it was time to begin the 34p race that would determine the face of Grey-Husson''s this year and the selectable seven.


    Luca feltfortable as he settled into the embrace of his R.S.11, relishing and appreciating the interior, noting the slight amendments the mechanics had made to it. The luxurious scent of rich leather enveloped him, the wheel feeling lighter, agile and more suiting in his grip as he caressed the switches, flicks and buttons, mentally rehearsing their positions to avoid confusion.


    The dashboard gleamed with reflecting lines, while the ambient, soft lighting created a soothing atmosphere for what would be a tensed driving.


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synced with Renault (R.S.11)]


    However, with the synchronization, confusion was simply not an option. He was now one with the R.S.11, and the car would respond to his everymand, as if it were an extension of himself, only faltering when faced with physical damage or unexpected track challenges.


    Instantly, the meticulous details of his car appeared in the digital interface within his helmet, the surrounding darkness projecting it like a cinematic disy. His single-seater looked good and ready to go, and it even felt right in his grasp, instilling in Luca the belief that he had a strong chance of winning, or at least finishing in the top three.


    Remembering the bet he had made with the Chief Manager''s daughter, Luca shifted his mindset, swearing that second position was not an option. I need to win something in my life for once.


    knock knock


    A knock resonated against the frame of the R.S.11. Luca nced to the side, where Mallow was bent over his car with a radio to his lips, urging Luca to switch on his own radio.


    Luca switched it on immediately. "Uhmmm...Is...there a problem?"


    "No, not at all," Mallow replied with a synthetic voice, taking a moment to nce at the track before looking down at Luca. "Just came to talk to you after speaking to Harry. All agents have been allowed to do so. But bear in mind, this doesn''t happen during real races."


    "Yes, sir. I know that."


    "Howfy are you in there, son? Pretty nervous?" Mallow asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He stared intently at Luca''s helmet, wishing he could see through it to discern the boy''s true expression. He had learned that Luca was very good at hiding his feelings and expressions.


    "It''s my first real race, so I''m bound to be nervous, but I''m all good. Don''t bother," Luca replied with a shrug, his hands still gripping the wheel.


    "Of course I trust you. Although the second activity was a letdown, you were far the best in the first. Show that same spirit right here, before this little crowd," Mallow said, gesturing around them. "Then you''ll find yourself racing against Marco Rossi by the end of this year."


    Luca chuckled softly, taking one hand off the wheel for a quick salute. "Aye, sire." He had no idea who Marco Rossi was. This new generation of F1 racers were oblivious to Luca.


    Mallow nodded and switched off his radio before walking across the asphalt toward the stands to sit and watch. Luca switched off his as well, hitting the ENGAGE button as soon as it was time to do so.


    [As finishing at least top 7 in this race will grant you a chance ofpleting your Mission, I have no choice but to ce a Daily Quest concerning this race.]


    Luca''s shoulders dropped. "Please, don''t. You''ll just add pressure on me, c''mon."


    [Ding!]


    [Daily Quest has been Issued!]


    The familiar words texted out in Roboto font on the System''s digital interface.


    [-¡¤-EMERGE FIRST OUT OF THIS 34-LAP RACE-¡¤-]


    [DURATION: NIL]


    [This will help improve your overall Attributes and Skills, making you use and implement them.]


    [Reward for Completing Saturday''s Daily Quest: (EXP)


    -Strength +2


    -Stamina +2


    -Endurance +2


    -Agility +2


    -Intelligence +2


    -Reflexes +3


    -Overtaking Skill +3


    -Track Awareness +3 ]


    [As the race is a self-driven endeavor, consequences such as experience point reduction for quests as a stern punishment for deliberate abandonment or simple ipetence will not be issued.]


    [Consequence for Failing Saturday Daily Quest: Punishment


    -Severe purging caused by forced nausea and temporal dysentery will ur.]


    "Are you trying to kill me...? Dysentery? Really? I had sworn I would not have that in my life again," Lucained, shaking his head as he drummed his index fingers on the crafted frame of the wheel. I''ll have to win then; the rewards are sumptuous.


    The revving of the vehicles tore through the morning air, a symphony of machinery and engines, brimming with power as they all awaited the loud horn.


    Luca peered down the race track. They had been racing on this particr circuit for six days, and he had be quite familiar with it. He rxed in his seat, arms stretched out to the wheel as he took a deep breath, feeling the vibration of the engine beneath him.


    He adjusted his grip, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, syncing his heartbeat with the rhythm of the engines around him. With each passing moment waiting for the horn, he began to visualize the course in his mind¡ªturns, straightaways, and where to push harder.


    The horn red.


    Luca closed his eyes for a brief second after the sound, then surged forward, joining the early cluster of ck and multicolored machinery. It was challenging to navigate without bumping into each other, and even the first bend proved to be more stressful than anticipated.


    [Host is attempting a Race]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 75 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 135 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 150m


    -Time: 30 sec ]


    Luca guided his wheel out of the bend, mimicking the movements of the cars ahead of him. Soon enough, all the participants had made it through the bend and were speeding down a straightaway.


    [7th Position]


    Luca wondered where Harry was. He scanned the track, aware that this was still the firstp with thirty-three more to go. He spotted Harry in 9th position, doing fairly well just behind him. They were still clustered together, and Luca knew he had to implement some of his Skills to level up and gain an advantage.


    For the firstp, the racers danced through the circuit at a steady speed, none attempting radical overtakes or reckless maneuvers. However, at the start of the secondp, things began to change. Securing advantageous positions became crucial to maximizing their chances of finishing well.


    [6th Position]


    [Stamina +1]


    Luca gripped the wheel tighter as he hurtled down a straightaway that felt like a sloping hill. The roar of engines from other participants trying to overtake surrounded him. As hepleted the straightaway, he saw 5th position taking a turn, and he followed suit, aware of 7th position right on his tail.


    His tires gripped the asphalt as he leaned on the wheel, shifting his weight slightly in rhythm to how he tilted the wheel. The smooth action made him cut in through a tight corner, the same move the reckless driver was attempting when he struck Luca in Stadhaven.


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][]12.5%]


    [5th Position]


    Once the bend was over, Luca hit the elerator, surging forward with lightning speed as his body jerked back from the massive G-force hitting his chest. Fuck! That was lethal!


    [Strength +1]


    [Endurance +1]


    [You are gathering speed]


    Luca had to push himself. Positions 1, 2, 3, and 4 had already reached this straightaway, building up their speed as well. Letting them gain ap on him was not something Luca was willing to ept.


    Checking his Operational Status details, he reassured himself that his tires were fine after that exertion. No need for a stop, he thought, ncing at his cautious side mirror.


    He seemed alone on this section of the course, which made him understand the true meaning of the phrase "the calm before the storm." With the other racers momentarily behind, he seized the opportunity to focus on his technique while maintaining his speed to catch up with the leaders.


    He took a deep breath, relishing the silence that surrounded him, the only sounds being the hum of his engine and the rush of wind.

 Chapter 19 Ultimatum 2 Race To Make It

    Frustratingly for Luca, he remained in 5th position throughout the 3rd and 4thps, maintaining a steady speed that kept him just ahead of 6th, but stillgging behind 4th.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 180 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 140 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 14200m


    -Time: 4 min. 15 sec ]


    He adjusted the positioning of his tires, zooming through the course, his eyes fixed on the hovering holographic number 4 sign in the distance, beckoning him as he pushed his car''s power. By the 6thp, an opportunity presented itself, and Luca could feel his single-seater closing in on Number 4''s.


    Realizing it wasn''t the same car he''d been trailing earlier, a smile crept onto his face¡ªthis was turning into a truepetition.


    A subtle bend in the track approached, prompting Luca to tilt his wheel ever so slightly for a smooth glide through the nted asphalt. His tires, heated from the aggressive pace, gripped the road tightly and handled the curve with precision, allowing him to shrink the gap between him and the car ahead¡ªNumber 4, a Honda product running steadily.


    Luca locked his focus on the Honda''s rear, maintaining a constant speed to match it. Dammit. He knows I''m right behind him. Alright, there''s a bend, I can cut in there, he plotted, his hands instinctively guiding the wheel in seamless motions as he scanned for an opening. But Number 4 was skillful¡ªblocking every potential gap, expertly maneuvering to prevent Luca from making any decisive move.


    The bend loomed closer, and Luca made his decision. Now or never, he gritted his teeth and pressed down on the throttle. The engine roared in response, a deep growl filling the cockpit. With his heart pounding, he flicked the DRS (Drag Reduction System) switch, aiming to gain extra speed on the straight before the bend.


    His thumbs tightened on the wheel, and a surge of G-force mmed into him, pressing his body back into the seat like a sledgehammer as the car shot forward.


    [Strength +1]


    [You have elerated to 240 km/h]


    Luca''s R.S.11 lunged ahead, the aerodynamic force pulling at the frame of the car as it pierced through the air, edging to the left of Number 4. The Honda''s rear wing was just inches away from the nose of Luca''s car. As the curve intensified, Luca didn''t back down, pushing forward with a surge of speed, now matching Number 4.


    Luca swore he could hear Number 4 curse, but he had no time to nce in his direction. Number 4 was actually squeezing him down to the outer edge of the bend, where the track threatened to give way to the caution zone. Oh, you dare not, Luca growled inwardly, tightening his grip on the wheel as his tires screamed, terrified of the edge of the caution zone just centimeters away. System?


    Don''t I have any Skills to escape this situation? He''s matching my speed, and I can''t cut in.


    [Unfortunately, host. Your skills are still F-ranked, basic skills that every Form 1 racer tends to have. By delving into D-ranked and C-ranked Skills, you might have options to explore.]


    [However, you can only utilize those avable to you. I suggest using the Overtaking Skill, but the Honda''s speed seems to be daunting. Slowing is not an option, host.]


    "Well, alright," Luca replied, the grass to his left a blur as he zoomed past, the Honda still pushing him down without contact. Looking straight ahead, Luca found relief in knowing that what had seemed like an endless bend finally straightened up. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 were nowhere to be seen, with 3 zooming down lonely into the horizon.


    Unfortunately for Luca and the still-leading Honda in 4th position, they had been squeezing themselves to one side of the track, inadvertently granting a clear path of speed for thegging participants.


    Before they knew it, three single-seaters zipped past them, iming 4th, 5th, and 6th positions respectively, their speed not relenting as they chased after each other and position 3 on the asphalt.


    [8th position]


    Luca cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling as the digital interface before him disyed a number reflecting his drop to eighth. The driver in seventh had just be aware of their mistake and began to ease off the track''s edge, allowing Luca to reim his territory. Bastard, he thought bitterly, steering his car back onto the main line with purpose.


    With a surge of determination, Luca pressed down on the throttle, the engine roaring in response as he adjusted his controls. A fleeting nce at his car''s status confirmed everything was still green. With a deft flick of his wrist, he surged ahead, effortlessly overtaking the Honda and iming the seventh position.


    [7th Position]


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [Endurance +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][]37.5%]


    Luca focused intently as the next fewps unfolded in a blur. The 6th position he had been striving to achieve finally came easy to him when the car ahead of his R.S.11 became the first to make a pit stop. As the Honda veered off the track, he seized the opportunity, elerating past with a surge of adrenaline, reiming territory he had worked so hard to regain.


    The engine roared in response, and for a brief moment, he felt a sense of relief as he moved up the leaderboard.


    [6th Position]


    [10th Lap Completed host!]


    [Stamina +1]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 200 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 120 bpm


    -Operational Status: 65% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 34 050m


    -Time: 15 min. ]


    Luca felt his engine purr harder beneath him, and he began to contemte pitting either on thisp or the next. "System? What do you say? Should I wait for the management to tell me?" Luca asked, focused on his race as he defended his position while still pushing forward.


    [Although waiting for the telemetry team to order you is standard, I rmend pitting now while the track is still in its prime heat window. This stage allows better tire management before degradation elerates in theterps.]


    Luca took in a deep breath, gently maneuvering through a bend as he approached the pit stop with straightaway speed. His grip tightened on the wheel as he flicked the pit limiter button, slowing down his car to meet the pitne speed regtions. The roar of the engine softened, reced by the controlled hum as he smoothly guided his car into the pitne within quick seconds.


    The team that was already lined up, chatting, instantly sprang into action. Luca swore that he saw the girl he spoke to the other day, Isabe, part of the crew. Though they were not as fast as a professional pit crew, their actions were carried out in a sh. Once he felt his car''s tires drop back with a thud, the signal of go, Luca rocketed out of the pitne, diverting onto the track.


    A short-lived joy enveloped his heart when he believed he hadn''t been overtaken during the pit stop, but the Honda and another car zoomed past him once he regained footing. Luca cursed, building up speed once more as he felt his new tires grip the asphalt confidently this time. He promised himself he wouldn''t take another pitstop, just as he finished his 13thp in 9th position.


    Lap afterp, Luca pressed harder. The familiar roar of the engine seemed almost a whisper against the chaos in his mind, racing as fast as the tires beneath him. The asphalt blurred as he cut through the turns, his body instinctively leaning into every motion of the car. 8th position, 7th position... yet, the distance between him and the leaders felt insurmountable.


    [Overtaking Skill +2]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 50%]


    [Stamina +2]


    [Regte your speed, host. You are still far from the finalps, this is the seventeenth.]


    Luca understood what his System meant, but he was determined not to take any chances. Havingpleted 17ps, there were still 17 more of Grey-Husson''s, but he wasn''t certain how many the leaders hadpleted on their own. "Please tell me I won''t fill up this Sync Bar for some mediocre act," Luca muttered under his breath, his body tilting as he felt a deadly strain coursing through him.


    The blinking Sync Bar in his System interface at the top right had two of its bars filled with green color, and Luca noticed that the more he used skills, the more the percentage increased, ultimately filling the bar at some point.


    [Host, let''s say it is one of the many features of the Form 1 System that grants you an upper hand.]


    [I am d to announce you are in 6th Position. Great job!]


    Great job? How about a fantastic job. Do you know how difficult it was to pass that guy? Luca tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trailing behind the driver in 5th position as the next bend approached. He believed it was the perfect moment to cut¡ªnot in, but out. Brakete, cut loose¡ªthat was the n.


    The moment came, and the 5th position driver cut in just as Luca expected, believing that must be the only way to cover ground.


    Luca had barely blinked,unching his car into the wide gap, tires screeching as the car held firm through the corner. He felt the jolt of eleration, the engine humming like a beast as the wind whipped violently around him. With his R.S.11 now disyed to the trailing car in 7th position, Luca''s mind had already moved forward¡ªtoward the next single-seater.


    [Position 5 loomed ahead by 2.2 seconds]


    Whoever the driver ahead was, he was skilled¡ªsharp, precise in his movements. But Luca had something else: a hunger, a hunger for lots of things, especially some agreements he had made recently. As he neared the apex of the track, Luca made his move, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he pushed the throttle down.


    His fingers twitched on the wheel, every muscle in his body taut, ready for the inevitable bend of the next corner.


    Ahh, I freaking knew it. It was the Honda again. Luca recognized the blue frame instantly, memories of theirst encounter flooding back. "He knows I''ming again," Luca muttered under his breath, focusing entirely on the car ahead. The gap between them shrank rapidly, and with the next sharp corner approaching, he knew he had to decide: cut in sharply or go wide, just as he had done before.


    Remembering their previous run-in, doubts crept into his mind about cutting in sharply. But this particr bend favored it, leaving him no choice but to drift¡ªhis first-ever drift.


    The bend approached with terrifying speed, and Luca could feel the raw power of the machine beneath him, its weight pressing down on the asphalt. He flicked his wrists and pulled the wheel sharply to the right, sending his car into a controlled drift.


    The tires screamed in protest as they hugged the far edge of the track, nearly kissing the barricade of the stands as he pushed the car beyond its limits.


    Seeing Luca''s attempt, the Honda driver grew frustrated and dove into Luca''s path, trying to block him. But the precarious nature of a drift granted Luca the ability to swerve unpredictably, creating openings that could confuse both the defending driver and those behind. The R.S.11''s rear fishtailed, sliding dangerously close to the red and white edge markers.


    Luca could almost hear the rubber biting into the road, fighting against the inertia.


    His heart raced, the smell of burning rubber filling his nostrils as the G-forces pressed against him. The speedometer in his System interface spiked rapidly, and he tilted the wheel, determined to hold the drift until he could fully embrace the curve. Now, the nose of his car had sessfully breached into the Honda driver''s personal space.


    Luca''s tires stopped screeching, the unpleasant sound fading as his drifting came to an end. Hitting the throttle was next, and he sped diagonally before the Honda, momentarily disorienting the driver with his sudden maneuver.


    He emerged from the corner and took in the straightaway, building up speed once more. Luca couldn''t believe it.


    [5th Position]


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 87.5%]


    [You are moving at 260 km/h]


    [Would you like to view Data, host? I advice you do so]


    Luca could feel his body strained, every muscle tensed and aching, as though he had been running nonstop for twelve days. It baffled him that something as seemingly simple as sitting in the driver''s seat could be so taxing on the body. Racing at these speeds, with high G-forces pressing him into the seat during turns, was like enduring a full-body workout while being strapped to a rocket.


    His heart pounded in his chest, and sweat trickled down his face as the physical toll of the race began to weigh on him.


    He quickly understood why his System suggested he take a look at his real-time data. Luca wasn''t sure how much longer he could keep up for the rest of the race, and with the finalps of the short race just approaching, he felt an urgency to evaluate his status.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 250 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 140 bpm


    -Operational Status: 70% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Hiked


    -Distance covered: 71100m


    -Time: 28 min. 10 sec ]

 Chapter 20 Ultimatum 3 Picking Up The Pace

    [27th Lap]


    [Stamina +1]


    [Endurance +2]


    The early morning sun began piercing through the veil of clouds, casting a golden hue over the Grey-Husson facility and its booming circuit. The atmosphere was alive with the sound of roaring machinery and engines weing the approaching afternoon as the racing participants rounded their 26thp.


    When Luca had thought the atmosphere wouldn''t be favorable, it turned out to be even more pleasurable.


    Luca was still in 5th position, a spot he had failed to advance from, and now he was barely holding on as the pressure mounted. The gap between him and the relentless pursuit of the 6th and 7th positions was razor-thin, and he could practically sense their presence looming in his rearview mirror.


    Tension filled the air, with everyone aware that the impending 34thp was drawing nearer; everyone wanted to im or maintain a spot in the top seven.


    The R.S.11''s engine growled softly beneath Luca as his gaze fixed ahead on the empty track. Numbers 4, 3, 2, and 1 seemed far out of reach and out of sight. Breathing hard, with his physical energy running low, Luca gripped the wheel tightly again as a gesture of concentration and determination, sitting up straighter.


    He braked slightly as he entered the sweeping bend, feeling the familiar G-force m his body against the seat. His hands trembled from the force, almost letting go of the wheel, but he gritted his teeth and held on.


    [Endurance +1]


    Luca could see the 6th position car dancing in his mirrors, looking for any crack in his defense to overtake, but he was determined not to let that happen. His brows twitched with surprise as he recognized the single-seater instantly. "Harry, the magic man indeed," he said with a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement as hepleted the sweeping bend.


    His car leveled out once again, and Luca was free to hit the throttle before Harry couldplete the bend behind him. His eyes widened in his helmet as he spotted the number 4 vehicle just ahead, its sleek rear tires running over the asphalt.


    Luca''s fingers danced on the wheel with a mix of tired excitement and tension, his thumbs grazing the buttons as his muscles tensed. Zooming through the 27thp, he promised himself he''d be in 4th by the 29th.


    He had been here before, chasing down a position just minutes ago, but this time it felt different¡ªhis body was worn, muscles screaming from the relentless strain, yet his focus remained unbroken. The next corner, the signature early bend of the Grey-Husson circuit, approached, and Luca quickly strategized.


    Luca downshifted as they approached the bend, his car screaming in protest, but he held firm. The 4th Position just as he expected, braked slightly earlier, positioning for the perfect bend. Luca, however, had other ns. He kept his foot hovering above the throttle, waiting, waiting¡ªnow.


    The moment the 4th position braked, Luca mmed his foot down on the throttle, feeling the car surge forward. His body jolted with the G-force, but he held steady, cutting in just as the number 4 car began to exit the corner. Tires screeched so loud as Luca''s car swung wide, dancing dangerously close to the edge of the track and his opponent''s vehicle, a Renault simr to his.


    [Took a risk, host.]


    [Intelligence +1]


    Luca''s car gently crept ahead of his opponent, who panicked wildly at the sight of his impending loss. They both unleashed a surge of power, and Luca guessed he flicked the overtake button just as he had. Now, with a straightaway ahead, it all depended on who was the better racer between the two of them.


    Enduring G-forces was something Luca was getting ustomed to, not to mention his Overtaking Skill, now sitting at 11. With another burst of power from his R.S.11, Luca surged ahead, leaving the fellow Renault behind, its sleek form filling his mirrors.


    [4th Position]


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 100%]


    [SYNC BAR COMPLETE]


    [Host, Sync Buff can now be used.]


    "Finally, about time," Luca muttered, ramping up his speed as hepleted the 28thp and entered the 29th in 4th position, just as he had promised himself. "So, how does it work?"


    [Atpletion, you are granted the temporal capability of five minutes to buff all Attributes to max of Rookie Bundle, alongside three Skills]


    "Wow."


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    Without hesitation, Luca selected yes, eager to see how this could enhance his performance in the race.


    [INFUSING....]


    [Strength: 6 ???? 30


    Stamina: 7 ???? 30


    Endurance: 14 ???? 30


    Agility: 4 ???? 30


    Intelligence: 7 ???? 30 ]


    [You have only 3 Skills avable, so they are all up for selection.]


    [Reflexes: 12 ???? 50


    Overtaking Skill: 12 ???? 50


    Track Awareness: 9 ???? 50 ]


    [INFUSION SUCCESSFUL!]


    [You have 4 min. 58 sec left for Sync Buff]


    "What the¡ª" Luca muttered. His grip on the wheel tightened, his eyes wide with astonishment as the numbers on his floating digital screen lit up, signaling the massive surge in his stats. The System interface took on a new look, with a sleek, glowing design in electric blue and vibrant green. Each attribute shed boldly, shimmering as they indicated his amplified capabilities.


    Every attribute had skyrocketed, aplete shift in his physical and mental capabilities. His body felt different¡ªlighter, stronger, sharper.


    "Whoa¡­ this is¡ªthis is insane!" he eximed, his voice barely audible beneath the roar of R.S.11''s engine. His muscles that had been screaming in protest of exhaustion for the pastps were nowpletely silent. The burns and aches all gone, his heart steady, the strain on his lungs evaporating as if he hadn''t rounded 28thps.


    Luca felt as if he could go on for hours, maybe even days, without breaking a sweat!


    "System, this is wonderful!"


    [I am d you like it, host. However, you have a limited time to make use of Sync Buff. With a new Bundle, that time will increase, so will the amount to fill up the bar ordingly.]


    [You have 4 min. 25 sec left for Sync Buff.]


    Luca nodded quickly, his lips folded as he took in a deep breath. Alright, alright, alright. There are fiveps left, and I think I can make use of this to win. I can win.


    He flexed his fingers on the wheel, still astonished at the ease of movement. Every muscle responded instantly, with precision and control that felt almost superhuman. His reflexes were razor-sharp; the world around him seemed to slow down, and every flicker of movement was now crystal clear.


    And the speeding aerodynamic vehicle, brandished with the holographic number 3 hovering above it, didn''t take long to catch his attention. A Renault as well.


    With the 29thping to an end, Luca instinctively pressed harder on the throttle, and the car responded, maxing out at its speed. It was as if his machine had be an extension of his own body, his mind and the vehicle perfectly in sync.


    [You are moving at 300 km/h]


    The Track Awareness buff kicked in, and suddenly, Luca could visualize the race like never before. He knew exactly how to handle the next sharp turn, when to brake, and where to position his car for the impending overtaking to im third position. The Overtaking Skill flooded his veins like an impulsive whisper, pushing him to execute it at any chance.


    The Renault before him sensed the approaching vehicle and did little to secure his spot. Luca''s approach caught him off guard, and causing an ident was something the driver wanted to avoid.


    It was a fair, respectful overtake; Luca''s R.S.11 swiftly navigated from the side, cutting into the view of what his System had analyzed for him as an R.S.12.


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [3rd Position]


    Luca could taste victory already as he zoomed past the line,pleting the 29thp, with the 30 mark disying on his screen. He wondered which two cars were ahead; he suspected one of them belonged to Miles. He was certain.


    "While using the Sync Buff, can a new bar load?" Luca asked, his voice steady but curious as he expertly handled the early sharp bend, feeling the incredible surge of power coursing through him.


    [No, host. A new Sync Buff can only be initiated after the current one is fully exhausted. It will begin to recharge immediately once thest has run its course.]


    Luca shrugged, his eyes set on the rear of number 2. I''m fine with that, then. As long as I get this buff regrly, that''s all that matters.


    He expertly shifted gears, timing each one to perfection as he elerated through the straight, the tires gripping the asphalt beneath him. His feet danced between the throttle and brake, easing off just enough to maintain control while conserving speed.


    The roar of his engine filled his ears, and the G-forces gently pulled at him as he leaned into another bend, closing the gap between him and the 2nd Position.


    Luca could envision himself in an official, booming race circuit¡ªMandalora, Peakburn, or even the Serpeggiare. He could hear a fakementary in his head, eximing and awing at his fluid movements.


    Though he had his Sync Buff, navigating past Position 2 proved to be quite difficult. It took Luca anotherp to actually make progress, frightening him that he might not make it to number 1 before time ran out.


    [Stamina +1]


    [30ps Completed]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 310 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 107 bpm


    -Operational Status: 50% (Concerned)


    -Breathing: Stable


    -Distance covered: 99700m


    -Time: 37 min. 5 sec ]


    With time, Luca''s R.S.11''s nose had reached the bumper of the car in 2nd Position. He took a deep breath and swerved, tilting his wheel in an aerodynamic position opposite to the track, cutting outward. The 2nd Position''s car was a Mercedes, a solid model, and the driver knew how to handle bends.


    With his Sync Buff in full effect, Luca''s senses sharpened, his body reacting faster than ever. His grip on the wheel tightened as he focused on the silver Mercedes ahead. Approaching another bend, Luca knew this was his moment to capitalize; if he hesitated, things might not turn out in his favor.


    He adjusted his stance in the cockpit, leaning instinctively as the car''s tires kissed the edge of the track, the stands blurring in his peripheral vision. With a quick flick of the wheel, he sent his car zigzagging outward, carving an aggressive line that surprised the driver in 2nd Position.


    The driver in 2nd Position held firm with determination as Luca raced almost neck and neck, just slightly behind. His eyes narrowed, sighting a curve as they raced with blinding speed. On that curve was the leading number 1, cruising effortlessly.


    Luca feathered the throttle before mming down hard, propelling himself forward just as the Mercedes began to ease into the curve. With the Sync Buff, Luca could easily maneuver through bends without reducing his speed much. In one fluid motion, he swung the car wide, brushing the outer edge of the track.


    The R.S.11 soared past the Mercedes, its engine screaming as Luca expertly drifted through the corner, the rear tires leaving a faint smoke trail behind. "Booyah!" he jubted, leveling his car once again.


    The now 3rd Position couldn''t do anything, but watch as Luca''s Renault sliced ahead, taking the inside line through the bend with unbelievable precision. The extra driver was now the exceptional.


    The wind roared around Luca as he fully overtook the Mercedes behind him,pleting the 31stp without breaking a sweat. He momentarily shifted his focus to the System screen before him, the position indicator shing.


    [2nd Position]


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [Agility +1]


    Luca took a deep breath. It was mind-blowing to know that he was one of the leaders in the race. He wished his mother were here to witness this, sitting in the stands and cheering for him.


    But Luca was not going to settle for 2nd Position, no, he would not. Not when there were many things attached to emerging first, and beating Miles was one of them. Biting his lips, he savored the sight of Miles''s Mercedes, sizing it like a prey.


    [You have 1 min. 59 sec left for Sync Buff]


    "Ahhh, fuck me. Please stay with me, stay with me," Luca muttered, making a careful turn to the edge before diverting to the inside line again. He steadied his fingers, feeling his hands damp in his gloves.


    The 31stp was approaching its end, and the tension was building. All the cars behind him danced in harmony on the track, searching for opportunities to overtake and im a spot in the top 7, top 3, or simply maintain their positions.


    On the start of the 32ndp, Luca''s System analyzed Miles''s Mercedes to be 1.4 sec away, and Luca was determined to use the early approaching bend to his advantage.


    [Intelligence +1]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    He hit throttle hard once again, pleading with his tires to withstand the strain he had exerted on them. Determined to overtake Miles without him knowing what hit him, Luca swerved early, his tires grazing the caution zone as he yielded to the bend early enough just as Miles, in his preferred turning zone, began to navigate the curve.


    Still elerating while turning, Luca closed the gap rapidly, surprising even himself.


    [You are moving at 350 km/h]


    [Operational Status is dropping.]


    "I know, let''s finish this quickly," Luca replied, the roar of the R.S.11''s engine startling Miles.


    Miles was now fully alert, realizing Luca''s Renault was somehow closing in behind him. He sat up in his cockpit, leaning on the wheel to speed and navigate. This was enough to keep Luca at bay for anotherp, but just as they reached the midway point of the 33rdp, it seemed inevitable to Miles: Luca would catch up soon.


    ¡¤¡¤


    A/N: Updates woulde everyday now. (+_+) Support with your Powerstones And Golden Tickets, I managed to contract this work. Let''s have a marathon reading, shall we?

 Chapter 21 Ultimatum 3

    Pushing his R.S.11 to its absolute limits, Luca''s car roared as it surged forward, bringing him neck and neck with Miles. Every muscle in Luca''s body tensed as the Sync Buff pulsed through him, sharpening his reflexes and focus. He knew he had to finish the race before his temporary power boost expired, or risk falling behind in the finalps.


    As Luca''s sleek ck-and-red Renault emerged beside Miles'' vibrant purple-and-green Mercedes, the disbelief in Miles'' bodynguage was unmistakable. How could this be happening? He had dominated the race up until now, and yet here was Luca, the extra participant, the failure he always knew, challenging him head-on for the lead.


    Miles nced over, his knuckles tightening on the wheel. How could someone who had barely made it into the academy, who had cunningly found his way in through a deal, catch up like this? He gritted his teeth, refusing to be overtaken. But Luca had other ns.


    Luca had the urge to nudge Miles, but he knew better than to risk such a move. Instead, he searched for a way to frustrate Miles further, realizing that only winning would truly sting.


    [You have 30 sec left for Sync Buff]


    "Oh, no no no," Luca groaned in dismay, turning with Miles as they raced side by side. He had close to two minutes left for the race to end, and the Sync Buff would definitely notst.


    ncing at his opponent, Luca caught Miles shaking his head¡ªa gesture to signal that his attempt wouldn''t seed. Luca instinctively waved him off and refocused on the track ahead. He could already feel the Sync Buff slipping away, just as the race reached its critical moment, leaving him at the moment of truth.


    [Stamina +1]


    [Sync Buff has psed!]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 0%]


    "Ah noo!" Luca bellowed as he and Miles entered the 33rdp. Miles was slightly ahead, with Luca''s Renault just inches behind. If things stayed this way, Luca feared he might end up being the bridesmaid of this race.


    The roar of the engines echoed across the track as they stormed into the finalp, the 34th and decisive one. With his Sync Buff nowpletely gone, Luca tightened his grip on the wheel. Every bend became a challenge, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath quickening.


    Pushing his R.S.11 to its absolute limits, Luca was determined to close the gap and surpass the superior stats of Miles'' Mercedes AMG-F1.


    Narrowing his eyes, Luca felt them grow watery for some reason, and his body was now being battered vigorously by the G-forces now the Sync Buff was gone. He forced himself to remain sharp, alert and more cautious as he guided his car to weave through the bends with Miles, stalking the Mercedes.


    Hitting the throttle when necessary, Luca was not just a threat in Miles''s mirrors¡ªhe was closing in fast, right on his rival''s tail as they approached thestp''s final stretch.


    The fact that he had made it into the selectable seven brought a momentary flicker of joy, but Luca''s focus remained on the real goal. Muttering under his breath, he recognized the final series of turns.


    [You are moving at 300 km/h]


    Luca''s mind raced, but not as fast as the world blurring around him. His thoughts were slipping into chaos. Just race, boy he told himself, flicking the wheel withser focus.


    His Renault''s nose cut in alongside Miles'' Mercedes as they shot into a bend, tires screaming loud enough to pierce through the roaring engines. Rounding the corner, Luca knew he''d leveled with Miles, their cars nearly scraping against each other. He caught the disbelief in Miles'' bodynguage¡ªthe older racer was desperately trying to close the curve''s gap. Luca smirked inwardly.


    It would be foolish not to capitalize on the moment. His Renault surged ahead as they both shot out of the bend, barreling into the final straight like bullets fired from the same barrel.


    [Final straightway, host]


    Luca mmed the throttle again, the G-forces mming him back into his seat so hard he almost choked on air. But Miles wasn''t backing down. His Mercedes leapt forward, keeping pace as the two rocketed toward the unseen finish. There might not be a checkered g at this facility, but everyone watching knew this was the climax.


    Luca leaned in closer, gripping the wheel with every bit of strength he had left, hoping the sheer pressure of his body might coax his R.S.11 into gaining that final edge. He wasn''t a mathematician, but anyone watching the race unfold would see the same¡ªthere was no clear winner yet. He and Miles were neck and neck, an equal sign drawn between them.


    [You might breakdown, host]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 310 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 130 bpm


    -Operational Status: 30% (Poor)


    -Breathing: Hiked


    -Distance covered: 130700m


    -Time: 44 min. 20 sec ]


    The horn red.


    Luca''s heart pounded as he decelerated, his body slumping with exhaustion. He let go of the wheel, his hands trembling from the effort. Both cars had crossed the finish line at nearly the exact same moment, and Luca couldn''t tell who had won. ncing over, he saw Miles pulling up in his Mercedes, equally worn out, his expression of the result uncertain as well.


    "Please, give me good news, System," Luca muttered, feeling suffocated in his helmet, his whole body aching.


    [Congrattions! You have won a race!]


    "I¡ªI won it?"


    [Yes, host.]


    [1st Position] shed jubntly on the System''s interface before him.


    I won?! Thank goodness! Thank goodness!


    [Congrattions! Daily Quest Completed!]


    [You have been rewarded with (EXP)!


    -Strength +2


    -Stamina +2


    -Endurance +2


    -Agility +2


    -Intelligence +2


    -Reflexes +3


    -Overtaking Skill +3


    -Track Awareness +3 ]


    Wow! Wonderful! I can''t believe it.


    Luca pushed open his canopy, the afternoon sun flooding into the cockpit of his R.S.11 as the familiar scent of burnt rubber filled the air. Exhausted but victorious, he hopped off his car with numb legs, the adrenaline wearing off. He nced around as the other racers finished, the engines zooming down the track in session.


    Luca hopped off his car with the little strength he could muster, his legs feeling numb from the strain of the race. The roar of engines still echoed across the wide track as the other racers finished in sequence, their machines tearing through the final stretch.


    Removing his helmet, Luca ran a hand through his damp hair and began walking toward the stands where the officials gathered, a confident smile stered on his face.


    It seemed they were all contemting who had won between Luca and Miles, and only a review of the footage would give the answer.


    Luca spotted Mallow, who had his fists clenched in anticipation, and his head nodding slowly. He smiled back at Luca with a brief thumbs up.


    Luca couldn''t wait for his name to be called as the winner. He couldn''t even believe he was able to pull this off. His legs weighing him down, Luca decided to rest on the frame of his car as they awaited the announcement from the ss room high up, next to the big TV.


    After some minutes, the tension being palpable, murmurs and chatter erupting here and there, the announcement was finally made, and Luca''s smile was reced with a frown immediately.


    "And 1st Position was attained by Miles Bellingham!" A staff announced.


    Luca''s heart sank deep as the words resonated in his ears. He delved into subconsciousness as Miles began his celebration, dancing with his girlfriend and friends.


    System, I¡ªI thought you said I won?


    [Indeed, host. You imed the 1st Position.]


    So, what is this?


    [I do not know, host. Your R.S.11 had crossed the line 0.001 seconds before the Mercedes AMG-F1.]


    [I don''t think there is a mode that ims 2nd Position as 1st.]


    ------------------------


    Mallow walked up the stairs to the ss room after everyone had retreated into the main building. The selectable seven had been called out, and the rest were told to leave through the gates. Luckily for Mallow, both his clients had made it into the top: Harry finishing 6th, and Luca finishing 1st.


    Yes, Mallow was certain Luca''s Renault had crossed the line first. He didn''t have any solid evidence, nor was he entirely sure, but his instincts screamed it was true, and he was determined to verify it himself.


    The telemetry room''s door was open, and Mallow stepped in. Inside stood Mr. Schafer, Sir Grimwald, and several other staff members. Mr. Payet, Miles Bellingham''s agent, was also present, dressed impably in a ck suit, standing off to the side.


    "Mr. Mallow? What brings you here?" Sir Grimwald asked, folding his arms, his tone t but inquisitive.


    "I mean no trouble," Mallow began firmly. "I just ask to see the photo finish for myself. Agents are granted that privilege, correct?"


    The room fell silent for a few moments, the air thick with tension. Mr. Schafer slowly sank into a chair, rubbing his temple as though warding off a headache. His expression, like the room''s atmosphere, was uneasy.


    Mallow could feel the weight of his words hang heavily. ncing around, he noticed a monitor beside Grimwald, who subtly shifted to block his view.


    "Let me save you the trouble, Mr. Mallow," Grimwald finally said, his tone measured. "Yes, your agent finished first. And his," he gestured toward Mr. Payet, "finished second."


    A pregnant pause filled the air before Grimwald added, "But that information stays in this room. As far as everyone knows, Miles Bellingham finished first in this year''s Grey-Husson Academy program."


    Mr. Mallow''s face shed with disbelief, his mouth hanging open as the weight of corruption hit him. He couldn''t believe such tant maniption was happening, even in something as supposedly straightforward as an academy race. Swallowing hard, he managed to ask, "Why? Is it about money? Were you paid?"


    "No, Mr. Mallow. It''s because it''s the right thing to do," Sir Grimwald replied, his expression smug. "Miles Bellingham finished almost at the same time¡ªmere milliseconds apart, in fact. Why get bogged down by such tiny details when we can just crown him?"


    "No, you can''t," Mallow shot back, his voice rising in defiance. "That''s not racing. Why not crown the actual winner?"


    Grimwald chuckled, his posture rxed as he unfolded his arms and nonchntly clicked the spacebar on the keyboard. "That boy? I''m sorry, Mr. Mallow, but your client doesn''t fit the image to be the face of Grey-Husson for a year. We need someone who''s outspoken, handsome, good with the media. And Miles ticks all those boxes.


    Your client...doesn''t."


    Mallow''s mouth formed an incredulous "O" as he fully grasped what was happening. His face darkened with frustration. "So, this is what it''se to? Just business? Mr. Schafer, you''re okay with this?


    As a former Team Principal yourself, you''re allowing this farce? This should be an atrocity in your ol'' eyes," Mallow thundered. He knew he could do nothing about this, it was their management.


    Schafer sat quietly, avoiding Mallow''s gaze. Sir Grimwald didn''t offer any further response, standing there as if the conversation had already ended.


    "If there''s nothing more you''d like to say, Mr. Mallow," Schafer finally spoke, his tone weary and detached, "please leave."


    Mallow spat on the floor in disgust, muttering curses under his breath as he stormed out of the room.

 Chapter 22 One Big Step Closer

    It was 8 p.m. in the Grey-Husson facility, and everyone was ready to retire for the night after a long, exhausting day. Luca had eaten arge meal that still adhered to his strict diet and then indulged in a long, hot shower, reflecting on the day''s events.


    After drying off, Luca entered the room he shared with Harry, who was waiting for his turn in the shower. Luca dressed in his nightwear and copsed onto his bed, crossing his legs as he stared at the ceiling.


    The sound of Harry''s shower, the steady rhythm of water hitting the tiles, yed in the background while Luca drifted deeper into his thoughts. "System disy," Luca suddenlymanded, his voice low and tired. "Show me my Status¡ªfocus on Physical Information and my skills," he added.


    [Hosts status generating....


    [..... Generationpleted]


    [Physical Information:


    Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs


    Height: 6''1"


    Body Fat Percentage: 11%


    Muscle Mass: 33%


    Strength: 8


    Stamina: 11


    Endurance: 16


    Agility: 7


    Intelligence: 10 ]


    Luca nodded his head, his lips folded as he took in the figures. He was d that he had made significant progress and was determined to make even more.


    [Skills & Techniques: (Current skills and techniques are given to you by default) Total Grade - D


    Reflexes: 16


    Overtaking Skill: 17


    Track Awareness: 13


    Others (Locked) ]


    "System, what do you say? How am I doing?"


    [You are doing wonderfully well, host. Your graph seems exceptionally promising]


    That''s nice to hear, Luca thought as he rolled over and picked up the telephone on his nightstand. It was finally time to call his mother, knowing it was assured now he wouldn''t see her until fate decided otherwise. Now that he had made it into the selectable seven, all he had to do was wait for offers from the scouts, and soon he''d find himself signing a contract.


    The phone call stretched on, just like Harry''s endless bath. Mrs. Rennick wasn''t eager to drop the receiver, and neither was Sophia, who insisted on speaking to Luca alone.


    But their voices, onceforting, now felt like they were draining him. He hurried the call along, cutting it shorter than his mother would have liked, and finally, the line went silent.


    Momentster, a knock echoed from the door, and Luca called the person in. Mallow stepped into the dim room, still in his navy blue tracksuit.


    His eyes briefly skimmed the room¡ªthe clutter on Harry''s side contrasting with the neatness of Luca''s¡ªbefore he crossed over toward Luca''s bed. "How''s the body holding up? Tough day, huh?"


    "I swear," Luca muttered with a soft chuckle, blinking away sleep as he yawned. "Thirty-fourps is no child''s y."


    "Sure isn''t," Mallow agreed, cing a foot on the stool next to Luca''s bed. He leaned on his knee, peering at the tired brown-haired boy. "And winning a thirty-fourp race isn''t a child''s y either."


    Luca rubbed his eyes and nced at Mallow''s shadowed face. "Wait, you think I got first ce?" he asked.


    "I know you got first ce, kiddo. They could rig it however they want, but the truth will alwayse out," Mallow said with a shrug. "Just don''t dwell on it. You''ll encounter simr challenges in the world of business and Form 1 racing. As we said, none of this is child''s y."


    Fucking tyrants, Luca cursed inwardly. I knew they were aware I finished first. Why would they do it, heh?!


    "Sure, sure," Luca muttered, feigning understanding. "I could have taken it if I''d noticed that not all the cars had the same potential. Did you know that?"


    Mallow was taken aback, his brows furrowing in confusion and surprise. He had assumed that all the single-seaters were selected based on an average performance level, preferably, the same model just like the F2 division. "I definitely did not. And even with this, you still emerged number one..."


    Luca chuckled softly, the drowsiness of sleep making him feel slightly drunk and delirious.


    Mallow leaned in closer, lowering his voice as he studied Luca''s brown hair again. "I see the way you race, son. You''re a natural, you''re magnificent, and you''re bursting with potential," he said quietly. "By any chance, is yourst name ''Rennick'' the same as the ''Rennick'' I know? Aldo Rennick?"


    Luca nodded casually. "Yes, my father was Aldo Rennick. You must know him; he was a very good F1 racer," he replied.


    Mallow shook his head in disbelief. There was no way Aldo Rennick''s son could be Luca, right? Aldo Rennick was incredibly good then and wealthy; how could his son be struggling to break into the business? "Shouldn''t you have had a million-dor inheritance? What about your mother? She should..." Mallow protested.


    "How can Aldo Rennick''s family be living in an apartment?!"


    Luca shrugged, brushing his feet as he sank deeper into bed. "I dunno, do you know? I guess no one really recognized his family after his death. Gradually, we became poor," he said.


    Mallow shook his head, still unable toprehend the situation. He pondered for a moment and concluded that no one could have simply overlooked them. "Your father''s agents did a terrible job, or they deliberately hoarded funds away from you and your family."


    Luca fell silent, Mallow''s words sinking in and weighing on his mind. Remembering what Mallow had said about the results today, he chuckled ironically. "If that was the case, I wouldn''t be surprised," he finally said after a pause.


    Mallow studied the boy for a moment before taking his foot off the stool. He promised himself he would look into this. "How long will Harry take in that bathroom?! Come out, Harry! I want to tell youds somethin''!"


    Luca''s gaze dropped to Mallow''s silhouette. "Tell us what, sir?"


    "Well, your hard work has paid off, Luca. We''ve received offers for both of you."


    Luca shot up from the bed immediately, his heart racing. "Are you serious, sir?" he asked, disbelief clear in his voice.


    "Yes, I am. We have four Form 2 teams ready to offer good and swift deals for you and Mr. Shower over there," Mallow said proudly. "Tomorrow, we''ll meet with them to discuss the next steps to take.


    Luca''s mind reeled with possibilities, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his excitement grew. "I¡ªI don''t even know what to say," he muttered, barely able to contain his joy.


    Mallow stood upright, sliding a piece of paper into the pocket of his tracksuit. "Just go to bed, kiddo. You''ve aplished something today that I could never imagine doing. Sleep and let your body rest. I''lle for you boys early in the morning."


    Luca nodded, his gaze drifting into nothingness as he settled back onto the pillow. He mumbled a goodnight to Mallow, who pounded on the shower door before leaving the room.


    I will be a racer?! Form 2 teams?! Coming for me?! Hehe!


    Despite the fatigue screaming through his muscles and the heaviness in his eyelids, Luca couldn''t sleep. He couldn''t shake the excitement coursing through him; he was another step closer to achieving his dream of bing a sessful motorsport racer.


    ¡¤¡¤


    A/N: Character art is now avable.

 Chapter 23 Signing On The Dotted Line

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [Host should begin his Daily Routine]


    Luca finished his Daily Routine in the facility''s gym as quick as ever, his body adapting to the strain he put it through every day, and he found pleasure going over the same set of exercises. His System told him that, however, once he levels up to the Intermediate Bundle, his Daily Routine would change.


    The silence was unbearable in the facility, even as Luca made his way to the simtion room to practice in a virtual cockpit, since there was no race to be held. He had already eaten breakfast, taken a shower, and now found himself walking toward the simtion room.


    Two of the selectable seven were there, fully engrossed in their simtions and unaware of his presence. A staff member nearby helped Luca set up a cockpit for his session.


    Luca simted for a while, determined to keep his senses sharp and maintain his awareness of the motor and track dynamics. After an hour of simtion, he emerged sixth twice and fourth in his third race. He figured that was enough mental training for the day and decided to head back to his quarters to wait for Mallow, his agent, to take him and Harry to meet with the scouts.


    As he left the simtion room, Luca rubbed his tired eyes while walking down the hallway. Distracted, he almost bumped into someone, cursing himself under his breath. Still rubbing his eyes, Luca nced and immediately recognized the person standing before him. He groaned internally, filled with disdain, but mumbled an apology and tried to walk away.


    "You really thought you''d win, Luca?" the girl sneered, brushing herself off as if he''d somehow contaminated her when he didn''t even make contact. "Why the sour face? You should be grateful you evenpleted the race."


    The girl was Hanna¡ªsomeone Luca knew all too well. In fact, she had been his first and only girlfriend during school. The rtionship had ended the moment he discovered her cheating on him with none other than the wealthy and "magnificent" Miles Bellingham. Luca still couldn''t understand why some girls felt the need to juggle two or more boys, exploiting them for different privileges.


    In Hanna''s case, she admittedly said it was simply about having fun, keeping her affair with Miles hidden from Luca for as long as she could.


    "Miles is gonna be the face of Grey-Husson''s, and he''ll get an endorsement instantly. As usual, his signing is guaranteed into a junior F1 team in F2," Hanna continued with a smirk. "Well, you... you made the seven at least."


    Luca shrugged, resisting the urge to rub his irritated eyes. His anger about the situation had long faded, reced with indifference. All he felt toward Hanna now was a void. "I didn''t just make the seven. If you say it right, I... actually made a podium," he muttered, turning and walking away before she could finish her gloating.


    He heard her muttering something under her breath as he twisted the doorknob to his room and entered. Inside, Mallow was casually chatting with Harry, and both of them looked up when Luca walked in. A broad smile stretched across Mallow''s face.


    "Alright, boys. Let''s get on with this, shall we?" Mallow said enthusiastically.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Mallow led Harry and Luca out of their room and down the hallway. They exited through the back door of the main building, entering a part of the facility Luca had never been to before.


    The trio walked along a concrete path bordered by ornamental nts that gleamed under the soft morning sun. They approached an open door to the side of another building, where Luca noticed a familiar figure standing on the steps. The man''s stubbled beard and fierce, cold gaze behind his sses were unmistakable.


    As they neared, Luca''s voice dropped with suspicion and irritation. "What is he doing here?"


    "Luca, don''t speak to Mr. Vance like that," Mallow cautioned, giving Vance a respectful nod. "He flew inst night after hearing you made the top three."


    Obviously. Luca''s eyes locked on Vance, a deep-seated hatred simmering within him. Now that you''ve seen my potential, youe to take credit? "I thought you said you alone were my agent?" Luca questioned Mallow, his gaze fixed on Vance''s sneer. "So why is this tyrant here? How''s your tongue?


    What happened to licking the hot asphalt than letting me¡ª"


    "Shut up, punk," Vance cut in with a disdainful look. "You talk too much, and if you keep it up, I''ll cancel every ounce of progress you''ve made. You''re here because I allowed it. Until you sign a contract with a team, you, Harry, and even Mallow are under my control," he growled, his eyes narrowing. "Now get in here, you little shit, and let me see how much I can make from you."


    Luca''s heart pounded with rage. His fists clenched tightly, and his instinct was tosh out, but he thought better of it. Mallow gave him a reassuring nudge, and with a deep breath, Luca shoved past Vance and entered inside.


    The interior of the room had a slightly formal air, with rows of desks symmetrically arranged, giving the space an orderly feel. Luca noticed a few men, whom he quickly identified as scouts, sitting at the far end, across from another desk that seemed to be reserved for them.


    Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the polished tiles beneath his feet, casting a soft, warm glow that provided a faint sense offort as he sat down at their desk.


    Luca had walked in expecting to sign contracts, but instead, the hours seemed filled with endless discussions between Mr. Vance and the scouts. Through snippets of conversation, Luca gathered that the teams interested in him and Harry were QR Racing, Ultra Pix, OLAC, and Trampos Racing.


    Though he had harbored a passion for motorsports for a good part of his life, these names didn''t stir any recognition in him, and it left him feeling somewhat unanchored. Heter found out they were F2 teams searching for good racers for betterpetition thising season.


    As the minutes dragged on, Luca grew frustrated for not participating in the discussions that would lead to his potentially first team. He leaned over to Mallow, lowering his voice, "Sir, shouldn''t I be the one choosing the team myself... right?"


    Mallow shook his head slowly. "Mr. Vance will select the team that benefits him first. You''ll only make the final choice when it''s in his interest for you to do so. That''s how it''s always been."


    Luca scoffed. Of course. And his final choice will be money, won''t it? What if the team with the bigger money don''t see my potential and just toss me to the side? Luca didn''t like the sound of a team being selected for him, but he had to ept for he was the aspirer here.


    After what felt like an eternity of negotiations, it seemed that Mr. Vance had finally reached a conclusion. His face brightened with a satisfied smile as he approached Luca and Harry, cing two hefty documents on the desk in front of them. "Read the details carefully," he instructed, tapping the papers lightly.


    TEAM: TRAMPOS RACING


    Duration of Contract: 2 years, with the option for a 1-year extension based on performance.


    Sry: €50,000 ($53,500) with Performance Bonuses


    Termination use: The contract will be terminated if your client fails to secure a top 5 finish within his first three races.


    Luca couldn''t believe his eyes. $53,500 sry?! That is huge... isn''t it? He questioned himself, ncing back at the figure on the contract. It is a lot, right?


    But then his eyes caught the termination use, and his excitement faltered. Top 5 within his first three races? That was a steep expectation, and Luca wasn''t sure he could meet it.


    He looked up at Mr. Vance, contemting asking for a different offer, maybe something less demanding. But it was clear from Vance''s expression that this was the deal on the table, no room for negotiation. Reluctantly, Luca realized he had no other option but to ept the offer to drive and race for Trampos Racing.


    With a resigned nod, he signaled his eptance to the Trampos Racing scout, acknowledging that this would be his team. He shot a nce at Harry, who was handed an OLAC proposal and had already epted it. Luca had hoped they''d end up on the same team, but fate had ced them on different paths.


    Mr. Vance and the scouts from OLAC and Trampos Racing shook hands, motioning for Harry and Luca to do the same. Luca stood up, gripping the outstretched hand firmly, trying to maintain a confident smile despite his lingering thoughts.


    "Wonderful boy you are," one of the scouts said with enthusiasm. "We''ll see you in Germany, then."


    Luca smiled instinctively and responded, "Of course, sir," as he released the handshake.


    Once they stepped outside, Mr. Vance led them to the door for the next group of agents and their clients to enter. As soon as they were out, he pped Luca hard on the back, startling him.


    "I''m done with you, you little scwag," Vance hissed, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. However, Luca termed it serious. "Try not to crash on the track one day, heh? I''ll try my best to watch your feeder races."


    Luca wore a deep frown as he watched Mr. Vance walk away down the path. Once the man had disappeared from view, he turned to Mallow, recalling the scout''s earlierment. "Trampos Racing isn''t in the UK?" he asked.


    Mr. Mallow smiled amusingly as if he did not expect such a question. He tucked his hands into his pockets and began walking down the path. "Of course it isn''t. We''re headed to Germany, kiddo. That''ll be your home now¡ªand mine as well."

 Chapter 24 Signing On The Dotted Line 2 Trampos Racing

    Packing up was easy for Luca¡ªhe only had one bag. But his mind was anything but settled. Thoughts raced wildly, and Harry''s non-stop chatter faded into the background as Luca tried to process everything. He still couldn''t quite believe it¡ªhe wasn''t just leaving town; he was leaving the country. A month ago, he never would have imagined something like this.


    Now, he was on the verge of bing an official F2 racer, with the dream of F1 looming on the horizon.


    Fortunately, thanks to the influence of Grey-Husson and the F2 teams, they were able to secure a flight for the same day. An evening flight had been avable, which was perfect timing.


    After packing, Luca sat on the edge of his bed, lost in thought, only half-listening to Harry, who was buzzing with excitement. And why wouldn''t he be? His offer had listed a sry of $50,500¡ªclose to Luca''s. That was a crazy amount of money for someone their age to make per year.


    Luca wondered what his life would be like after this. Traveling from country to country, racing at different circuits¡ªit would be a whirlwind. And he had his System to guide him through it all. He chuckled to himself. God bless the car that hit me. It had been a strange stroke of fate that brought him here.


    In fact, I did well by stepping close to the track, he muttered in his mind.


    His gaze drifted toward the window, where SUVs were parked outside, and scouts and team officials were making their exit. The 14-day course had officiallye to an end. Most of the single-seaters would either be stored or refurbished, though a few were heading out for personal use.


    As promised, Miles Bellingham''s face was now prominently disyed on the fourth stand of the circuit¡ªhis smug smile beaming beneath a white racing suit.


    Even though Luca''s System assured him he had won, he still wished for a more public acknowledgment of his victory. Sure, the level-up was all that truly mattered for his progress, but it would have been cool to have his face brandished on the stands instead of Miles Bellingham''s. That nagging feeling of ipleteness lingered, especially when it came to Isabe.


    Luca felt embarrassed even thinking about asking her for her number, knowing the chances of seeing her again were slim. If he had truly "won," maybe Mr. Schafer would endorse him, and Isabe would be a regr fixture in his new racing life.


    He sighed, ncing at the telephone on the bedside table, debating whether to call his mom. She was probably at work, but he knew she''d scream with excitement when she heard about the figures he had been offered. But the thought quickly faded¡ªhe didn''t even have the money in his ount yet... if he had an ount.


    Luca groaned inwardly, realizing just how much he had to figure out about being an adult and a professional racer.


    By 4 p.m., evening approached quickly, and a knock at their door signaled that it was time to go.


    Outside, three cabs waited by the fountain, ready to take the seven select racers who hadpleted the course. Luca tried to act like he didn''t care, but he had heard that Miles had arranged for a more prestigious form of transport. These taxis, it seemed, were for the rest of them.


    With their bags loaded, Luca and Harry slumped into the backseat of one of the taxis, while Mallow took the passenger seat. The cab''s engine hummed to life, its tires kicking up a light spray of dust as they rounded the beautiful courthouse and headed toward the gate.


    Harry quickly pulled out his Game Boy, eyes glued to the screen. Luca, having none, simply stared out the window, watching the scenery blur by. It felt like hours before they finally arrived at the same airport he had flown into from London. Stepping out of the taxi, the weight of this new chapter in his life settled in, heavier than his luggage.


    Mallow had made it clear during the taxi ride that Luca and Harry would be flying solo. He had some arrangements to handle and wouldn''t be on their flight, but promised he''d arrive early the next morning for the contract signing. Luca felt his stomach twitch after that, the thought of flying alone bothered him.


    "I think this is it, right?" Harry said with his arms apart once they made it to the airport, the bustling activity behind them.


    Luca chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, next time I see you, it''ll be on the track¡ªon opposite sides," he said with a grin, exchanging a firm handshake and a shoulder nudge with Harry. Harry''s destination was Spain, a world away from Luca''s team in Germany.


    "I''ll see you brother."


    "Same."


    Luca watched as Harry walked off toward another terminal, one bag slung over his shoulder. Mallow had handed them both a detailed sheet of paper with step-by-step instructions on what to do once they arrived.


    "Don''t get lost, Luca. You''re eighteen," Mallow said with a thumbs up, as if he had done something like this before.


    Luca shivered a little as he boarded his flight. The sky had deepened to a midnight blue, the ne''s soft ambient lighting giving the cabin a calming glow. Once they were airborne, Luca couldn''t help but nod off to sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him.


    "Cab, Kreuzberg, Oranienstra?e, motel," Luca mumbled, staring at the paper Mallow gave him after he woke. He tucked the paper back into his pocket as the ne touched down smoothly.


    A cab was easy to find, and Luca was relieved that the driver understood English well. The ride to the district Mallow had directed him to seemed long, though he wasn''t sure if it was the constant drifting in and out of sleep that made it feel that way.


    His tired eyes couldn''t offer him a proper view of Germany, especially in the darkness. The warm glow of the streetlights flickered across his face as they approached Oranienstra?e. When they arrived, Luca handed the driver some of his own currency, unsure if it would be epted. To his surprise, the grubby man took it without hesitation, wishing him a goodnight in a thick German ent.


    Luca stood in the middle of the quiet street, eyes fixed on the only building nearby. He nced left and right instinctively, even though the road was empty, before crossing to the other side and heading toward the property.


    He felt a pang of uncertainty. Mallow hadn''t even given him a key, and Luca wasn''t sure if the motel was already paid for. For a few minutes, he stood there, feeling like a lost traveler. Just as he was contemting his next move, a door of the motel creaked open, and an elderly woman appeared.


    She moved slowly toward Luca, her posture hunched, and silently handed him a key, pointing at one of the doors without saying a word.


    Luca quickly put in a "thank you" as loud and as polite as he could. Clutching the key, he made his way to the door she had indicated and unlocked it.


    The door creaked open into a pitch-dark room. Luca fumbled for the light switch, shutting the door behind him to block out the faint hum of a generator outside.


    Flick


    The lighting was dim, but visibly enough for a small room. It had a single bed with rough looking but clean sheets, a wooden desk and a stool, finished by thin curtains. The only decor was a single framed picture of a German countryside. "Smells kinda like vinegar," he muttered, dropping onto the bed.


    To his surprise, the bed was soft, and the pillow even softer. He kept telling himself to undress and unpack better, but sleep overtook him almost immediately, pulling him into a deep slumber as his eyes shut.


    --------------------------------------------------------


    Bam Bam Bam


    The knock on Luca''s door reverberated through the small room, jolting him awake at 7 am. The Form 1 System had already suspended today''s Daily Routine, likely sensing the change of location and the absence of a nearby gym. Luca had been savoring every second of his sleep, but the relentless knocking snapped him back to reality.


    Groggily, he wiped the drool from his lips and shuffled to the door. When he opened it, Mallow stood before him, apanied by a blonde woman Luca recognized but couldn''t ce immediately.


    "Are you ready for today, Luca?" Mallow''s voice cut through the sleepy atmosphere as he marched inside, followed closely by the woman. She was Sara, Mr. Vance''s now former secretary.


    "Good morning," Luca greeted them both, rubbing his eyes as he shut the door behind them. "I''m ready¡ªwell, almost. Just need to actually get ready." He paused, eyeing Sara curiously, tall, fair and blonde, dressed in a sharp ck blouse. "What''s she doing so far here?"


    "Sara Tadheart will be your personal manager and assistant. I''m sure you understand what that means," Mallow said, introducing her formally.


    "I''m d to take this job, Luca. I''ll handle and satisfy all your personal needs exceptionally," Sara said with a firm nod and a confident smile.


    "Oh," Luca muttered, still processing. "That''s... nice. Thank you. I''ll try to keep you in the loop with my ns."


    Mallow pped his hands together, rubbing them briskly as he nced out the window toward the car he had arrived in. "Get dressed, kiddo," he said.


    ------------------------------------------


    Soft murmur of voices hummed in the background of the room, punctuated by the relentless clicking of cameras. Bright shes of light flickered against the high table where Luca''s contract rested, the emblem of the sponsors of Trampos Racing designed on white curtains behind the seats.


    Once Luca and Mallow entered the room, the murmur grew louder, buzzing with anticipation. All eyes turned to him, the atmosphere thickening. Luca approached the table, where the Trampos Racing President, Ralf Fisher, the team principal, Lucas Grant, and the head of engineering, Sandra Moritz were standing.


    He gave each of them firm handshakes, the constant popping of cameras slightly disorienting him.


    Mallow shook them as well with smiles as Luca sat down, the sleek chair squeaking slightly beneath him. The contract was spread across the polished surface of the table, with a pen next to it. Luca grasped the pen and studied the details of the contract, although it had already been stated before.


    He looked up at the key figures of the team he was about signing into. The team principal, Lucas Grant bothered him with his stern eyes as if sizing his potential in the team. Luca shifted his gaze to Mallow, who casually took a seat next to him. Mallow nodded assuringly and motioned he continue.


    Alright.


    Luca hovered the pen over the signature line, feeling the weight of the moment. In one fluid motion, he pressed the nib to the paper, signing his name in bold, ck ink. He had literally made up a signature there and then.


    Immediately, Mr. Fisher slid the contract toward himself and finalized the contract by sealing it with his own signature. He motioned for Luca''s hand, and Luca stood up instinctively, epting the handshake. "Wee to the team," he said approvingly with a gruff tone.


    "Thank you," Luca replied with a smile, turning his face to the cameras as the room erupted with bright shes.


    After a series of handshakes, Luca and Mallow stood with the Trampos Racing management for press pictures. Luca couldn''t believe this was happening to him right now. His eyes were almost blinded by the camera shes as he forced himself to maintain his smile.


    [Ding!]


    [Mission Completed!]


    [Host has attained his first professional contract.]


    [Ding!]


    [System Unlocking Activity Panel...]


    [Activity Panel Unlocked]


    [System Commencement In Progress...]


    [System Activity Commenced!]


    [Do you ept Intermediate Bundle?]


    [Y / N]

 Chapter 25 Signing On The Dotted Line 3 Official Driver

    Lucay t on his back on the motel room bed, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the notification on the System''s interface. He hadn''t yet responded [Y / N] since signing the contract and many more documents just an hour ago.


    "Intermediate, huh? So, that means I''m no longer a Rookie¡ªI''m Intermediate?" Luca asked, finally selecting [Yes].


    [Typically so, yes. You are now.]


    The System processed his answer, and a short loading bar zipped across the interface.


    [Congrattions! The Intermediate Bundle will now be embedded into your Activity!]


    Luca nodded, licking his lips instinctively. "So, what''s the difference between the Intermediate and Rookie Bundles?" he asked.


    [The Intermediate Bundle offers a slightly more challenging Daily Routine, harder Daily Tasks, and a stricter diet requirement.]


    "Oh, so that''s what you mean by it evolving. I see," Luca said. "Is that all?"


    [No, host. With the Intermediate Bundle, the System will undergo some adjustments on the track.]


    [Tracks can now be analyzed, dissected, calcted, and structured.]


    [The Sync Buff will take 3.5% longer to fill.]


    [Skills or Attributes will now need to be utilized twice before receiving an upgrade.]


    [Most importantly, the Intermediate Bundle unlocks a new Skill, host.]


    [Ding!]


    [You have unlocked a Skill:


    -Pitstop Prodigy: 2 ]


    "Pitstop Prodigy? What kind of useless heck is that...?" Luca muttered, arching a brow. "Who doesn''t know how to pitstop? I thought you''d give me something cooler."


    [You still have more Skills and Techniques to unlock with EXP by maxing out the ones you already possess. Advancing to Advanced, Professional, and eventually the Top Driver Bundles will grant you additional Skills: two, three, and four Skills respectively for each level achieved.]


    [And do not underestimate Pitstop Prodigy. It provides a 4%-25% reduction in pitstop time and a 2%-10% boost in post-pit tire performance. Every detail, no matter how small, is critical in racing, host.]


    "Alright, I ept it," Luca said.


    [Wonderful, host.]


    [Now, I will provide a list of food items suited to your new diet, aligned with the Intermediate Bundle.]


    [As always, I''ve adjusted this to fit within your current financial capabilities. Please grab a pen and paper.]


    Luca sighed, but did as instructed. He sat up, crossing his legs on the bed, and leaned forward with the pen ready in hand.


    [ANALYSING DATA AND ATTRIBUTES...]


    [Wee.]


    Luca froze for a moment, giving the System interface a perplexed look. "Uhhhhh... thank you?" he replied.


    [Food items:


    -Sweet potatoes


    -Grilled salmon


    -Greek yogurt


    -Avocados


    -Chicken breast


    -Whole grain pasta


    -Mixed nuts (almonds, walnuts, etc.)


    -Blueberries ]


    [This selection enhances your muscle recovery, energy and mental sharpness, host.]


    I hope I can afford this this time, Luca thought. I''ll give it to Sara when shees.


    [REANALYZING DAILY ROUTINE...]


    [DAILY ROUTINE WOULD COMMENCE OFFICIALLY TUESDAY MORNING¡ª5 AM]


    [Ding!]


    Luca knew exactly what that sound meant, and he braced himself. The System was relentless, always one step ahead, ready to throw new challenges his way. Having justpleted a mission, Luca hoped the next one wouldn''t stretch his abilities too far. His heart pounded as text scrolled across the glowing interface.


    [Advanced Mission has been Issued!]


    [-¡¤-WIN YOUR FIRST OFFICIAL RACE-¡¤-]


    The tight knot in Luca''s chest loosened, and he let out a breath he didn''t realize he''d been holding. "Not bad," he muttered, wiping away the sweat gathering on his temple. "Could''ve been worse."


    Just as he began to rx, a knock echoed from the door.


    Luca stood and opened it, revealing Sara on the other side. She stepped in, bncing a purse, a paper bag, and arger market bag. With a sigh of exhaustion, she set everything on the small motel table and ced her hands on her hips.


    "Mr. Mallow''s tied up with Harry''s signing," she said, brushing a few strands of blonde hair from her face. "You won''t see him for a bit, so it''s just us for now." She motioned toward the bags. "I grabbed your breakfast, aligned exactly with the diet you provided."


    "Thanks," Luca replied, offering a smile. Then, handing her the new list, he added, "But after this, I''m switching to a different diet."


    Sara epted the paper with a nod. "Got it. I''ll make sure the transition goes smoothly."


    She busied herself, arranging the meal neatly in front of Luca. His stomach growled audibly, reminding him that he hadn''t eaten since the previous night. With the clock already pushing past noon, hunger hit him hard. Without hesitation, he dove into the meal, savoring each bite.


    While Luca devoured the food, Sara rummaged through the other bag and pulled out a sleek white cuboid box, setting it carefully beside him.


    "Before he left, he bought this for you," Sara said, cing the box on the table. "It''s a smartphone."


    Luca froze mid-bite, his eyes widening in disbelief. His gaze darted between the white box and Sara. "A smartphone? For me?" He swallowed the food hastily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he reached for the box.


    With fingers trembling with excitement and anxiety, Luca carefully opened the lid, revealing a sleek, glossy ck phone nestled inside. For a moment, he just stared, his reflection glinting off the polished surface of the screen. He couldn''t believe it¡ªhis own phone. Having a smartphone was thest thing he ever believed would happen to him.


    He had no devices of his own except his mp3 yer and the dusty videogame set back at home.


    "He really didn''t have to..." Luca murmured, overwhelmed by the thought. He knew this wasn''t his money at work¡ªhis race winnings hadn''t even hit his ount yet. This was pure generosity from Mallow, and it caught him off guard.


    Sara chuckled. "He told me that you''d say something like that and I should quote his words for you: ''Don''t think it''s a gift, you bozo. I''m your agent, and you need a phone tomunicate with me.''"


    Luca burst outughing as he lifted the phone out of the box, studying the smooth edges. The screen flicked to life once he pressed the power button, disying the urate time. I can''t believe it. These things are new devices, the pinnacle of technology! And I have one!


    He quickly looked up at Sara. "You''ve set it up, already?"


    "Yes, I have," Sara said, smiling as she continued, "Everything''s in there¡ªour contacts, schedules, even some apps for tracking your fitness and diet. You''ll get updates for your team meetings and race events directly."


    Luca grinned, feeling the weight of responsibility and excitement settling in. "This is... unreal. Thanks, Sara." The team meetings and race events were good, but tracking his fitness and diet, his System was way ahead any app she could install.


    Luca ced the phone on the table, his mind racing as he resumed his meal.


    -----------------------------------------------------


    The ride to the Trampos Racing headquarters felt interminable, making Luca believe they had crossed half the country to get there. When the car finally rolled to a stop, he wasted no time stepping out, eager to take in his new surroundings.


    The headquarters was a sight to behold¡ªan enormousplex with sleek ss walls that mirrored the sky above, while the towering main building stood at the center, nked by smaller facilities. In the distance, rows of state-of-the-art garages housed pristine racing cars, and the entire area buzzed with activity.


    Luca could see engineers and staff moving purposefully, and everything emitted standard to him.


    Inside, Luca was introduced to key members of the Trampos Racing management. He met Mr. Fisher, the President, along with Mr. Grant, the stern Team Principal, and Emma Doyle, the Head of Strategy. They gave him a quick briefing on the team''s legacy and outlined their ambitious goal for the season: finishing in the top three.


    They also reminded Luca about the cancetion use embedded in his contract¡ªhe had five races to prove himself and meet their expectations by making a podium.


    Later, Mr. Fisher invited Luca to a private room for a more intimate discussion. The room was plush, with luxurious sofas and a soft rug that absorbed every step. Mr. Fisher himself was a charismatic man, his neatly trimmed beard framing a warm, expressive face. His sharp, well-tailored suit strained slightly against his round belly, but it didn''t detract from themanding air he projected.


    He spoke with an easy confidence, his voice smooth and engaging, radiating both charm and authority.


    Their conversation delved deeper into the goals for the uing season, which was just a week away. While Mr. Fisher did most of the talking, Luca remained attentive, drawn in by the man''s enthusiasm. Mr. Fisher discussed the potential endorsements and sponsorships that coulde Luca''s way if he performed well.


    Then, with a smile, the President made a surprising offer¡ªhe would personally endorse Luca, bing his first sponsor.


    However, when Mr. Grant, the Team Principal, entered the room, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The warmth in Mr. Fisher''s tone vanished, reced by a professional demeanor. Their conversation became strictly business, and all traces of informality were swept away as they focused on the critical expectations ahead.


    The discussion centered around whether Luca would be in the two main drivers or serve as a reserve. With four drivers now in the team,petition was fierce. From what Luca had gathered, Trampos Racing had never recruited from Grey-Husson''s before, and they expected him to meet some lofty standards.


    I''ll show you guys I''m good enough. Just put me in the team¨CI don''t wanna be a reserve driver.


    Mr. Fisher leaned back, crossing his legs, the motion emphasizing his round belly beneath the sharp suit. "We''ve made a decision, Rennick. We believe it''s a solution that favors both you and Haas, our first reserve driver. He''s been eager to break into the lineup ever since Denko was promoted," Mr. Fisher exined.


    "For the early races, we''ll rotate you two between Sprint and Featured. Whoever performs better will im the spot for the rest of the season. Your Team Principal here will oversee the switch."


    Mr. Grant, standing with arms crossed, gave a curt nod. His polished shoes tapped lightly on the plush rug, revealing his measured impatience.


    "Thank you," Luca said, ncing at Mr. Grant. He had the distinct impression that the Team Principal wouldn''t have given him this opportunity if not for Mr. Fisher''s intervention.


    Before the meeting ended, Luca was issued a quarter of his first payment on the spot as part of the financial structuring and an assurance of trust. The funds were meant to cover initial expenses and ensure his focus remained on racing. He was also scheduled forprehensive medical checkups, including cardiac, neurological, and physical endurance tests, ensuring he was fit to race.


    In addition, the team offered him on-site amodation at the headquarters, with most amenities and services provided for him.


    Luca shook hands with Mr. Fisher and Mr. Grant, looking them in the eyes as he promised, "I won''t let you down."


    He left the room and found Sara waiting outside, her face glowing with excitement. She held up her phone, waving it yfully. "Got the alert already!"


    Luca grinned, his relief turning quickly to resolve. "Once you''re done clearing up the necessary expenses, send 95% of what''s left to my mother," he instructed without hesitation.


    "Will do!"

 Chapter 26 Season Opener Pushing Limits

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [Daily Routine Has Officially Commenced Today.]


    [5:30 HYDRATION & MEDITATION: Host will get out of bed and stretch to loosen his muscles. Taking a full ss of water will kickstart your metabolism. Afterwards, you will sit quietly for a few moments. By breathing deeply, you will help release all forms of stress.]


    [6:00 WORKOUT & GROOMING: Your daily workout routine includes Burpees, High-Intensity Interval Training (HIIT), Core Strengthening Exercises (nks, Russian Twists), Push-ups, Lunges, and Flexibility Training (Yoga Poses and Deep Stretches). Afterward, you''ll take a shower to refresh yourself.]


    [7:00 BREAKFAST & NUTRITION: A nutritious meal and more water to stay hydrated.]


    [You have five minutes to begin your Daily Routine.]


    Luca got out of bed, his body refreshed and coursing with life as the bright morning sun filtered through the clear windows of the room provided for him. He picked up his phone, initially nning to plug in his earpiece, but thought against it. Let''s go old-school, Luca. It''s always been like that.


    He reached for his little MP3 yer, its blue-and-white casing faded with slight scratches across the surface. Plugging in the earpiece, he stuffed them into his ears as he got dressed in a tracksuit from the wardrobe¡ªits fabric marked with Trampos Racing''s emblem alongside those of their sponsors. Most of the sponsors weren''t household names, but Luca recognized a few.


    The tracksuit fit him perfectly, hugging his lean frame as he jogged out of his room, which looked more like a base camp straight out of a movie set. Music thumped gently in his ears, setting a steady rhythm as he made his way down the steel stairs to the gym.


    First time here, Luca said to himself, ncing around with curiosity.


    The gym was well-equipped, with every piece of equipment he could imagine. A corner stocked with free protein shakes promised some refreshment once he wrapped up. Not wasting any time, Luca got to work. He started with burpees, each jump sending energy coursing through his muscles. Then came nks, holding his core steady, followed by Russian twists that engaged his obliques.


    His body responded smoothly, falling into a rhythm like an engine warming up on a race day. After finishing the set, Luca ended with a child''s pose, breathing deeply as his muscles stretched and rxed under the rough yet soothing pull of his favorite kind of music.


    [Scanning host''s Attributes for area of concentration...]


    [Strength: 8


    Stamina: 11


    Endurance: 16


    Agility: 7


    Intelligence: 10 ]


    [Suggestions: Agility & Strength]


    [Hosts will be granted the privilege of choice.]


    [AGILITY / STRENGTH]


    Luca pondered for a moment. He recalled how he had earned some XP points in past races for Strength, but struggled to umte any for Agility. Deciding it was time to bnce his stats, he opted for Agility. Strength points could be earned randomly, after all.


    [You have selected AGILITY]


    [Agility is crucial for you, as it impacts reaction time and control, both essential for handling the high-speed demands of an F1 car.]


    [Enhanced Agility ensures precise handling, reduces errors when navigating tight corners, and improves your response under pressure.]


    [Today''s session will focus on Speed Hurdle Drills, T-Drills, and Shuttle Runs.]


    [EXERCISE: SPEED HURDLE DRILLS]


    [EQUIPMENT: LOW HURDLES]


    [Host is required to sprint over the hurdles with quick, controlled steps, focusing on maintaining speed and precision.]


    [This will be done for 5 minutes, alternating between single-leg and two-leg hops to enhance foot speed and agility.]


    "Alright," Luca muttered, pping his hands in excitement. He stood before the line of low hurdles, eyes locked on the small barriers. Determination welled inside him as he adjusted his earpiece, ready to synchronize every move to the music''s tempo.


    [Let us proceed with SPEED HURDLE DRILLS]


    Launching into motion, Luca''s body responded instinctively. His feet moved swiftly, barely grazing the ground as he hopped over the first hurdle while maintaining bnce. Alternating between single-leg and two-leg hops, he picked up a rhythm of footwork.


    Luca could feel the burn in his calves and tires, but it didn''t bother or hurt him, it was almost numb as he continued effortlessly like ying hopscotch. His breath was steady and his movements precise until the exercise was over.


    [Ding!]


    [Agility +1]


    Luca stopped, cing his hands on his hips as he nced at the digital interface. "Well, that was easy to get," he muttered under his breath.


    [Correction, host. Your agility stat was near its threshold. This exercise merely finalized the progression.]


    [Good job, host. Moving on to the next]


    [EXERCISE: T-DRILLS]


    [EQUIPMENT: CONES]


    [Host will sprint to the first cone, then moveterally in a ''T'' pattern, focusing on quick turns and direction changes to boost speed and agility.]


    [This will be done for 5 sets, eachsting 30 seconds with short rests in between to allow your body to recover while maintaining intensity.]


    Luca smirked. T-Drills. Just an upgrade from standard cone drills. Before even starting, he knew it would be a walk in the park. He set up the cones as instructed and began to move as quickly as possible. He weaved through the cones, elerating with each course as hepleted the sprint and returned to the starting point.


    [Good job, host. Moving on to the next.]


    [EXERCISE: SHUTTLE RUNS]


    [EQUIPMENT: MARKERS]


    [Host is required to sprint between two markers set at a specific distance, touching the ground at each marker before quickly turning and sprinting back.]


    [This will be done for 3 sets of 10 runs, focusing on speed, endurance, and quick direction changes.]


    Luca stood at the starting point, his eyes fixed on the marker ahead. He took a deep breath andunched forward, his feet pounding against the ground as they carried him to the first marker. Once he approached, he dropped low swiftly and tapped the ground with two fingers before pivoting swiftly, propelling himself back toward the starting point.


    He did the same once he reached where he had started from, sprinting between the markers again and again without huffing and puffing. But he did break a sweat. By the final sprint, a low grunt escaped as his index finger grazed the marker. With a small hop, he concluded the exercise.


    [Good job, host. All exercises assigned have beenpleted.]


    [You can head over to the next phase of your Daily Routine. Your time in the gym today is over.]


    Luca exhaled deeply, grabbing a bottle of water from his bag. He tilted his head back, drinking until only drops were left, then plopped onto a nearby bench. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his phone and powered it on for the first time that day.


    Several messages from Sara awaited him, each providing updates about his bank ount and referral details. Luca typed a quick response, thanking her, then swiped to a new text message from Mr. Fisher.


    Mr. Fisher: Season Calendar has been out for some time. Don''t tell me you haven''t viewed it.


    Luca raised an eyebrow, mildly caught off guard. He hadn''t checked. Without missing a beat, he sent a reply, blending a half-truth, half-lie into his response.


    Luca: It''s quite tight, sir. I''ll do my best to keep up.


    Once the message sent, Luca navigated to the calendar update and reviewed it himself. To his relief, the first half of the Grand Prix in March would take ce in Germany. That meant no immediate travel for the rest of the month.


    Luca sighed in quiet satisfaction, leaning forward slightly as he continued his survey to study the circuit details.


    German Grand Prix


    Location: Bad Rauenberg, Germany


    Date: Mar. 8


    Track: Bergwaldring Circuit


    Luca wondered if the rumored overhaul of the "New Format" and "Expansion" had been implemented yet or if it would roll out next season. He sincerely hoped it wouldn''t interfere with his career¡ªthis style of racing was all he knew.


    Leaning back against the neat wall, Luca rested his shoulders, lost in thought, until the sound of footsteps approaching caught his attention. Instinctively, he looked up.


    Standing before Luca were two young men, likely around 19 or 20. One was tall and lean, with slicked-back blonde hair and sharp features, while the other was stockier, with a solid build, dark hair, and a squared jaw. Both were dressed in gym wear, sweat glistening on their foreheads, clearly fresh from a workout.


    "Hello," Luca greeted with a short nod.


    "They say you''re from Grey-Husson''s, so you must be a good prospect, ja?" the stockier one said with a snort. "Don''t think this is a pet show, and you could just waltz in and take the track. I''ve been in the lines for a long time, and I deserve to be on the team."


    Oh, I see. He must be Erik Haas Mr. Fisher talked about. And who''s the other? Another reserve?


    "It''s nice to meet my teammates," Luca replied. "I''m only here to show what I''ve got and earn my way up to F1 as quickly as possible. I''ve got no intention of taking anyone''s spot."


    The taller one chuckled, tossing his sweat towel over his shoulder. "Oh, he thinks he''s heading to F1?" he sneered. "Dreams are dreams, but in reality, you don''t even belong here. I''m the next in line after him," he added, with an ent Luca immediately recognized.


    American? Wow, so much diversity.


    Where''s their main driver? Luca thought, scanning them. Doesn''t seem like the kind of guy to hang around with these two? Then again¡­ why would he? Bunch of losers.


    Luca stood up from his seat, surprised to find that the American was even taller than he''d expected. Without missing a beat, he gathered his belongings, packed them neatly into his bag, zipped it up, and slung the strap over his shoulder.


    "Well, if you belonged in F1, you''d be there already," Luca said coolly, locking eyes with the stockier one for a moment. "Good day."


    With that, he turned and walked out of the gym, leaving the two behind as he continued with the rest of his Daily Routine.


    The Form 1 motorsport season officially began the next day.

 Chapter 27 Season Opener 2 Kick-off

    Luca spent most of his week training¡ªkeeping up with his Daily Routine and Tasks, while spending some reasonable time at the simtors. He had driven physically and raced nearly thirty times around a modest training track at the Trampos Racing headquarters, pushing himself to refine every corner and apex.


    Eachp was a chance to shave off milliseconds, and the constant repetition made every gear shift feel like second nature.


    Just as his System had warned, attribute and skills progression now required 3.5% more effort due to the Intermediate Bundle, and Luca felt the burn. He noticed how little EXP his attributes gained, forcing him to put extra effort into his Strength and Agility to satisfy his OCD. He wanted all his Attributes to break into double figures, making sure no single stat wouldg behind.


    Now, his Attributes looked like this:


    [Strength: 10


    Stamina: 11


    Endurance: 16


    Agility: 10


    Intelligence: 10 ]


    His training scheme was tight, and so was Mr. Grant. The man was a no-nonsense Team Principal with a military-like approach to training. He demanded precision, discipline, and unwavering focus from all the racers under his guidance. Luca found his methods rigid, but helpful, believing more Team Principals in this racing endeavor might turn out worse.


    The season was already considered here by many, and Luca could feel the tension in the air. The tension was thick and sensitive, but it wasn''t what he had had in mind. Yes, all the staff, training managers and engineers have upped their work and efficiency, seriousness etched on everyone''s face.


    But Luca''s dreams had always been more tense, making him believe he''d have to face the press anytime he left his quarters, a barrage of questions being thrown at him.


    Instead, the atmosphere remained cool, with warm rays of the sun beaming down on the headquarters every day as the time to the first race approached.


    Maybe it''s because I''m in F2, Luca thought. In F1, I''m sure there''s more to this.


    Speaking of F1, Luca''s mind drifted toward the highest division of this motorsport. F2 was just a feeder series, and its season always ran in tandem with F1''s. This week, both championships were kicking off together, and although F2 usually raced before F1, the schedule this time was flipped. That gave Luca the rare chance to attend the opening F1 race at the renowned Bergwaldring Circuit.


    He didn''t even have to buy the ticket himself¡ªMr. Fisher had taken care of everything. "You all need to attend the first F1 race," Fisher had insisted, "it''s essential prep before ours kicks off the next day." With that, the Trampos Racing headquarters'' bus took Luca and the other three drivers to the circuit.


    Luca hadn''t yet spoken much to the team''s lead driver¡ªthe German number-one racer of Trampos Racing¡ªthough they had trained together for two days. Luca kept the rtionship strictly professional for now, preferring to observe from a distance.


    The German''s experience and skill were undeniable, and Luca couldn''t help but wonder if he would eventually be of value to his teammate¨Cor if this his teammate would keep carrying the team.


    The bus arrived at the Bergwaldring Circuit where a spectacle of fans surpassing the 100,000 mark were cheering already. As he had hoped, Luca and the team were seated in a more prestigious stand away from the normal people. He red around in search of maybe Harry''s team watching the game, unsure if Harry was even selected as a periodic driver.


    Remembering the race in Stadhaven that had nearly cost him his life, Luca wondered why F1 teams had raced there during preseason. Was it some form ofpetitive training, or a way to test out the newly revamped Stadhaven Circuit? He mulled over the thought as they settled into the stands, waiting for the race to begin.


    Luca paid close attention to the race as it began, studying the intricate choreography of the cars as they maneuvered around the track. The roar of the engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that set his heart racing.


    He observed the drivers'' tactics, their aggressive overtakes, and the subtle nuances of their racing lines, noting how eachpetitor pushed their vehicle to the limit. This was peak motorsport racing and Luca could tell. The mastery on disy was stunning, leaving him with a bittersweet wish that he''d recorded his own drives topare with this artistry he was witnessing.


    Luca almost cheered aloud when Nevada HanSama¡ªthe team his father was involved with¡ªexecuted a spectacr overtake. He bit back the urge, suddenly aware of his surroundings. It felt surreal to be sitting here, in the stands of an F1 race again.


    From their prestigious vantage point, it was like having front-row seats to a thunderous concert, the engines growling like heavy musical instruments, and tires screeching like cymbals. The vibrant colors of the cars blurring as they raced past was what instigated the excitement in people, and Luca found himself cheering within.


    As the race settled into a rhythm, Luca rxed into his seat, letting the sound of engines ebb into the background. He nced sideways and was surprised to find his teammate beside him¡ªthe one he hadn''t yet spoken to properly. Ansel Hahn, 22 years old, had a quiet demeanor that often made him seem distant or lost in thought, though his sharp eyes were always focused, taking in every detail.


    Luca had heard bits about him; despite his calm and almost aloof presence, Ansel was known for his precision on the track. Yet, off the track, he seemed almost like a ghost¡ªpresent but not entirely there.


    Believing it was the perfect time to break the silence, Luca cleared his throat and initiated the conversation. "My dream team is Nevada. What about you?" He half-expected to be met with silence.


    To his surprise, Ansel responded, turning to him with a calm, neutral expression. "That''s actually my second choice. My first is Squadra," he said in an even tone.


    Luca''s mind instantly shed back to the incident with a Squadra Corse driver, but he quickly dismissed it. There was no denying Squadra Corse''s reputation. They were an exceptional team, often locked in fiercepetition with Nevada HanSama and Jackson Racing. In fact, many considered Squadra Corse to be the superior team.


    Luca, though, was drawn to Nevada purely for the nostalgia¡ªhis father''s legacy fueling his loyalty. But in the eyes of most, Squadra Corse stood out as the stronger contender.


    "How long is the board giving you to stay in F2?" Luca asked. "I hear you''ve held this position for a while."


    Ansel bit his lip briefly, his gaze steady as he exhaled. "This season¡ªthis year. If I don''t perform exceptionally, the feeder is where my career ends," he replied bluntly. "You, on the other hand, still have some time. And you''ve already been granted the opportunity to be a periodic driver early on."


    "I''m d I got lucky joining a team that needed a good first driver," Luca said, then paused as doubt flickered in his mind. Was ''luck'' the right word? He recalled the endless grind after squeezing and wing his way into Grey-Husson''s Academy. He wouldn''t have made it here without sheer effort.


    Shaking off the thought, he shrugged and added, "I just hope I get good enough this season and make it to the next level."


    Ansel smiled, looking somewhat astonished by Luca''s bold words. It was rare for a driver to make it out of the feeder series in his first season, but not impossible. Deciding not to disregard Luca''s hopes, Ansel nodded. "I hear you''re only eighteen, so be careful. Form 1 racing isn''tpletely about fun or sportsmanship, either on or off the track," he said.


    "Let''s say it''s just like a simmering undercurrent, it''s kind of a silent bad energy between people. That''s to be expected when the stakes are so high. They pay a lot, and that demands even more sacrifice. You get what I mean?"


    "I think I do," Luca replied, though his mind was still reeling from Ansel''s words. Bad energy? he thought. "What would you do about the situation if you¡ªwhen, when you make it?" The unsettling glimpse into Form 1 caught Luca off-guard. It was hard to believe that the drivers on the track were entangled in a cold war behind the scenes.


    Ansel smirked mischievously, his eyes following the blur of single-seaters streaking by. "I''ll have no choice but to y the game," he said. "To survive and win, you adapt¡ªthere''s no other way. Look at the ss rooms over there." He gave a subtle nod toward the VIP suites overlooking the track. "The team principals, sponsors, agents... they''re all having their own race.


    Behind the cheers and podium celebrations, it''s a battle for influence. It''s about getting the best tech, producing the most powerful engines, the sharpest strategies, even the best treatment. If you''re not aligned with the right people, you might end up racing against more than just the clock."


    Luca blinked, stunned by the reality Ansel hadid out. What the heck? "So, it''s not just about skill, is it?"


    Ansel gave a calm nod. "Don''t get me wrong¡ªskill matters in F1. But it''s not everything." He studied Luca for a moment, raising a brow. "So, do you think you''re ready to be one of the youngest F1 racers? You seem a bit shaken by all this."


    Luca leaned back in his seat,cing his fingers over his stomach, sinking deeper into thought. Best treatment, he repeated silently. "I hope F2 isn''t like that. I''m ready to adapt... but not right away¡ªnot in my first race. I''ve never physically raced 50-plusps in one go."


    Ansel gave a slight chuckle. "Don''t worry. F2 is a bit more peaceful¡ªand safer. Thepetition grows tougher every year, but it''s still more bncedpared to F1. Here, the engines and tech are mostly the same, so skill makes a bigger difference. If there''s any ce where talent stillpletely holds sway, it''s here."


    Luca snickered, casting a sly nce at Ansel. "So, as my teammate, are you a racer of skill or a racer of good treatment?" he asked with a yful grin.


    Ansel smiled briefly. "Anyone can turn out to be both," he replied, his eyes drifting back to the track as the race progressed beyond its halfway point.


    On the leaderboard, Marko Ignatova of Squadra Corse held the lead, just a few seconds ahead of Jackson Racing''s Marcellus Rodnick. The third spot was upied by another Squadra Corse driver¡ªAntonio Luigi, the same racer who had run over Luca. Luca watched as Luigi''s face shed across the massive disy screen.


    Nevada HanSama, disappointingly, wasn''t represented in the top four. But Luca noticed a certain name creeping up: Hank Rice, running fifth and steadily gaining ground. The tension thickened as the 52ndp of the Bergwaldring Circuit neared its end.


    Luca leaned forward, eyes glued to the live feed on the giant screen as the battle on the track intensified. Ignatova, with hismanding lead, danced through the circuit''s intricate curves, his every move measured and precise. But Rodnick wasn''t backing down, pushing his Jackson Racing machine to its limits, inching closer with every turn.


    Fourth ce was upied by a Haddock Racing driver, but Luca could tell he was losing momentum. Nevada''s Hank Rice was right on his tail, pushing hard, now racing wheel to wheel in a thrilling battle.


    The roar of the engines echoed across the stands as other drivers behind them fought relentlessly, each maneuver executed with surgical precision, their eyes set on climbing higher before the nextp. Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the stands was electric, the crowd''s cheers swelling with every overtake and daring move on the track.


    The impulse to cheer as well was daunting, but Luca disciplined himself.


    As pitstops came into y and teams executed their strategies with military precision, the positions began to shift. Marcellus Rodnick took the lead, surging ahead of the pack, with Antonio Luigi moving up to second, just inches behind his teammate Ignatova, who had astonishingly fallen to third. The tension was almost unbearable now, everyp squeezing Luca''s nerves tighter.


    He watched in disbelief as the leaderboard flickered, the slightest mistake potentially spelling disaster.


    "That''s what I''m talking about," Luca whispered eagerly, watching Hank Rice secure fourth. Push yourself and get into third¡ªtwops left!


    His excitement crashed, however, as the leaderboard updated. His eyes darted to the front runners.


    "...and Rodnick has just lost the lead! Luigi ims it with twops to go! Rodnick in second, Ignatova charging from third..!"


    What in the¡ª! Luca swore under his breath, stunned by how rapidly everything shifted on the track. He could barely believe how quickly fortunes changed in a matter of seconds.


    He was able to catch thest glimpse of how Antonio Luigi had executed a perfect maneuver, slipping through the inside line on a sharp turn and catching Rodnickpletely off-guard. It was a bold and wless move, one that had now given Squadra Corse the race lead.


    Luca gently lowered himself back into his seat after realizing he had stood up halfway, his heart still racing. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head in frustration. There was no changing it now. The final leaderboard was set, and the Nevada HanSama racer, Hank Rice, hadn''t managed to climb to third in time.


    The checkered g waved with honor, signaling the end, as the single-seaters zoomed across the finish line one after another.


    "...and what a finish! Antonio Luigi for Squadra Corse crosses the line in first ce! Marcellus Rodnick, after leading most of the race, takes second for Jackson Racing, and Marko Ignatova secures third for Squadra Corse. A stunningstp overtake by Luigi¡ªwhat a...."


    Luca sighed in disappointment as thementary echoed through the grandstands. He checked his phone after receiving a notification. It was a live update of the Form 1 season, with the points for this race already tallied. Scrolling down, he noticed the F2 database was still empty¡ªtomorrow would be their day.


    Minutester, the celebration for the top three began, and the podium was prepared. Luca stood with the crowd, pping along as the top racers ascended the stage. His gaze locked onto Antonio Luigi, whose confident grin was unmistakable as he epted the trophy.


    Luca''s eyes narrowed as he observed every detail of the Squadra Corse driver¡ªthe same one who had struck him in Stadhaven. The recklessness of his driving then and the refusal to check up on the marshal he had hit, had already given Luca a profile of who he was.


    Luca watched as Luigi raised the trophy, basking in the cheers, utterly unfazed by the crowd''s adtion. Luca couldn''t wait to make it into F1.

 Chapter 28 Season Opener 3 Race Day Reckoning

    "...well, it''s race day in the feeder series, and you''re absolutely right, Jon. Thepetition is stacked, and it looks like several teams have made significant adjustmentsing into this season. We''ve got some fresh talent behind the wheel, and with that, we can expect new strategies and some unpredictable moves.


    This is shaping up to be one of the mostpetitive F2 seasons we''ve seen in a while. Thirty cars¡ªyes, thirty¡ªwill be taking on the Bergwaldring Circuit today, and honestly, Jon, this could easily captivate the fans even more than yesterday''s F1 race. The energy here is off the charts...!"


    Luca sat on a bench after sliding on his bva, the snug head sock wrapping around his neck and face. A pair of new headphones rested over his ears, pumping out a booming blend of sporadic music that echoed faintly in the cocoon of his muffled world.


    His phone satfortably in his hand, Bluetooth linked to the headphones, and a fresh message from Mallow popped up on the screen: I''ll be up in the high stands¡ªdriver agents'' section.


    Luca leaned back slightly, letting his mind buzz in sync with the music as he sat there in the lively pit garage, surrounded by the pulse of Trampos Racing. Mechanics zipped around him with sharp precision, tools ttering, wheels thudding into ce, and the aroma of burnt rubber and engine fuel thick in the air. Some of the crew gave him passing taps on the shoulder as a sign of encouragement.


    He cast a nce at the four single-seaters resting beneath the bright fluorescent lights. Two had already been out on the track, their glossy sheen dulled by streaks of tire wear, while the remaining two stood sleek and untouched, waiting their turn to roar to life.


    Luca''s gaze wandered toward the sunlight spilling through the open garage door. Beyond it, he caught a glimpse of the narrow racingne and part of the spectator stands, already brimming with cheering fans.


    Though the crowd''s roar was lost behind the music and noise-canceling padding, the electric charge in the air was unmistakable¡ªit thrummed all around him, wing at his nerves if he''d be honest.


    Luca used this quiet moment as a chance to mentally map out the Bergwaldring Circuit, envisioning every turn and straight, memorizing the strategies Mr. Grant had drilled into him. With only a few minutes remaining before the Featured Race kicked off, he ran through the tactics again¡ªanticipating how he''d react to overtakes, defend his position, and manage pit windows.


    Today, Luca was appointed to race alongside Ansel, who had already shown his capability in the morning''s Sprint Race.


    In that race, Ansel had teamed up with Haas for Trampos Racing, both securing solid finishes¡ªsecond and sixth respectively.


    "So much for ''I deserve to be on the team,''" Luca thought with a smirk, recalling Haas''s earlier arrogance. Sprint Races, in Luca''s eyes, were straightforward¡ªfewerps, no mandatory pit stops, and all about pure speed. He believed that if he''d been given the chance, the podium would''ve been his.


    But the Featured Race was a different beast: longer, requiring endurance, clever pit strategies, and tire management. It wasn''t just about speed but knowing when to push and when to hold back¡ªreading the flow of the race like a seasoned driver. Luca understood that mastering this bnce would separate a decent racer from a great one. And today, he intended to be great.


    He shut his eyes, lowering his phone beside him, and rubbed his palms together as he exhaled slowly. Just a month ago, he''d been running himself ragged, working endless hours to support his family at such a young age. Now, somehow, he stood here¡ªa professional motorsport racer. And not just any racer, but the son of Rennick, the forgotten legend.


    That name was a weight Luca carried with pride, determined to restore the honor it once held.


    A small grin crept onto his face as he nced down at the number on his suit¡ª21. A perfect inverse of his father''s number, 12. It felt symbolic, as if destiny had aligned itself in a subtle way. I''ll make this count.


    His thoughts were interrupted as he saw Ansel descending the stairs into the garage. Ansel bent low to avoid hitting his head on the frame, his full Trampos Racing suit clinging to his lean, athletic frame. The dark material, ented with sharp red and white lines, gave him a sleek and purposeful appearance.


    The team''s logo stood proudly on his chest and sleeves, making him look every bit the professional racer.


    Ansel stood at the foot of the stairs and met gazes with Luca beneath their head socks. Luca could still sense that calm, quiet intensity in Ansel''s eyes. Trampos''s star indeed, Luca thought, lowering his gaze to the logos for "Fijee" and "Catapult," two of the team''s prominent sponsors, adorning his suit and helmet.


    Ansel shifted his gaze around the garage, unintentionally blocking three staff behind from passing as he stood at the foot of the stairs. With a calm step, he moved toward Luca, his helmet swinging subtly at his side. The helmet''s red and white design mirrored his suit, with his number¡ª43¡ªetched boldly across the top.


    Luca, noticing Ansel''s approach, quickly removed his headphones and rose to his feet. They stood eye to eye for a brief moment, sizing each other up before breaking into a casual dab handshake.


    "Are you dialed in?" Ansel asked, his words slightly muffled because of the head sock.


    Luca nodded. "All set," he replied.


    Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz walked over, a few staff trailing behind them. Mr. Grant folded his arms and said, "Alright, gentlemen, stay sharp out there. Trust your instincts, and remember¡ªeveryp counts.


    Do you understand?!"


    "Yes, sir."


    Mr. Moritz chimed in, adjusting his sses, "Focus on your lines and tire management; it''s going to be a long race. Let''s bring home some points from the first race, alright?!"


    Luca and Ansel gave firm nods as the staff moved in to conduct final checks. Pit crew members inspected Luca''s helmet, gloves, and suit with precision, making sure everything met safety standards.


    Meanwhile, the sleek, ck single-seaters¡ªmirroring the racers'' suits¡ªunderwent ast-minute examination. Wrenches nked, gauges were verified, and every detail was double-checked


    Luca could tell his car was race-ready. His system had run through everyponent, and everything checked out perfectly. All that was left now was to hit the track and make it count.


    [Vehicle Specifications:


    Brand: Dara


    Model: F2 04


    Engine Type: Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit (A.K.A: SomberCore)


    Weight: 740 kg ]


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 300 km/h (0 km/h)


    eleration: 3.5 sec


    Max Power: 620 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 1.5 ]


    [Operational Status:


    Fuel Level: 80%


    Tire Condition: New


    Telemetry Status: Active


    DRS Avability: Not Engaged ]


    Luca appreciated that every F2 racerpeted with the same car model and engine, ensuring victory relied purely on skill. Ansel had the exact same setup.


    He adjusted his No. 21 helmet as they approached the cars. Both racers slipped smoothly into their cockpits, where the mechanics secured them¡ªattaching the HANS devices, tightening seatbelts, and adjusting the steering wheels to perfection.


    In the dim interior, Luca''s peripheral vision flickered as his System interface awakened, shimmering like frost before taking shape.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synced with Dara (F2 04)]


    Luca took a deep breath as he felt the car rise above the floor of the garage, gently rolled out into the sunlight. The roar of the crowd erupted wildly, an explosion of excitement that filled the air and sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.


    The stands were packed at the Bergwaldring, a vibrant sea of colors from gs and team merchandise waving in unison. Fans jumped to their feet, their cheers resonating through the circuit, echoing off the grandstands. Chants for their favorite drivers mixed with the palpable tension of race day, creating an electrifying atmosphere that surrounded the track.


    "...and Jon, what do you make of Trampos'' new star? Think he''s up to the task? From Grey-Husson''s top lot¡ªsounds promising, right? But how good can he really be on the track? A reliable teammate or... another rival for Hahn?


    Number 21, Rennick, makes his debut for Trampos Racing today..."


    "...promising, sure¡ªbut talent alone won''t cut it. We have a lot of it here. Let''s see if he can keep it clean or get in his own way, otherwise Trampos Racing could kiss most of their sponsors goodbye this season..."


    "...indeed, Jon. The teams are lining up on the grid, and, my, we''ve really got 30 engines about to roar to life here in Germany. Marvellous....!"


    At the grid, Luca found himself ced into his starting position¡ªP6, on the outside of row 3¡ªthanks to his teammate Haas securing sixth in the Sprint Race. Just ahead, Ansel sat confidently in P2, on the outside of row 1, his car gleaming under the track lights.


    Luca took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his helmet and the cramped cockpit. Unlike the single-seaters at Grey-Husson''s, these F2 carscked a full canopy, letting sunlight filter into the cockpit. But Luca liked it¡ªit gave the car character. With a press of the ENGAGE button, his machine rumbled to life beneath him.


    Twenty-nine other cars were locked into their positions, engines humming in anticipation. Luca scanned the grid, searching for the ck-and-golden livery of the Squadra Corse junior team¡ªthe future home of Miles Bellingham, the Grey-Husson''s golden boy.


    ck and golden, ck and golden, Luca muttered inwardly, ncing around. But the cars were too many behind him and there were no ck-and-goldens before him he could spot.


    He sighed, shifting his focus to the gantry. The red lights above the leading cars¡ªP1, Max Addams and Ansel¡ªstood ring and unblinking. Around him, engines rumbled like wild animals ready to pounce, hands gripped wheels tight, and feet hovered just above throttles, waiting for release.


    Luca still couldn''t believe it¡ªhis first official Grand Prix race, driving a Dara, in a foreign country. He couldn''t help but think about his mother back home, wondering how she must be fairing. Knowing her very well, she was probably glued to the Motorsport channel, her usual Sunday routine now amplified by the fact her son was on that very screen.


    The red lights blinked, one after the other, counting down to the start.


    I have to win a podium spot at least. Can''t have my contract cancelled, and I won''t leave this track a failure. Mother, you watch your son win today.


    Luca drummed his index fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, his gaze locked on the gantry ahead. Time seemed to stretch infinitely in those final seconds, the roaring crowd fading into distant noise, as if submerged beneath the surface of a deep ocean.


    **Are we ready?**


    **We are**


    "We are."


    The red lights overhead began their five-light countdown, flickering one by one. This immediately hushed the crowd in anticipation.


    No gunshot. No buzzer. Just the ritual of those red lights disappearing, until¡ª


    "...and it''s lights out here in Germany..."


    The sudden silence gave to the roar of engines, as Luca and all the racers exploded into life.


    [Host is participating in an Official Race]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 80 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 90m


    -Time: 5 sec ]

 Chapter 29 German Grand Prix

    Luca joined the cluster of cars early on in the race, his heart racing as the lights flicked off. The atmosphere was electric, and the roar of the engines filled the air as they surged forward. It was congested on the straight from the grid, with cars jostling for position.


    Luca focused on the track ahead, aiming to find a gap as he deftly maneuvered through the chaos, emerging in 10th ce as they approached the first turn.


    **Race has begun, remember what we have cultivated in the past days. Implement it**


    A voice crackled through his radio¡ªMr. Moritz. Luca responded well with a quick acknowledgment, his grip tightening on the wheel. He lightened the brakes, gently tilting the car to align with the curve. But just as he thought he could maintain his position, six cars behind surged forward and swept pass, cutting inside to overtake him through the turn. In an instant, Luca slid back to 16th ce.


    "...Addams expertly keeping his lead with Hahn just behind him. Trying to make an early cut through Hahn''s slipstream is Aaronson, but Derstappen has given something to focus on...!"


    Luca took a deep breath, steadying his grip as the screech of tires echoed in his ears, a blend of colors blurring past him. It''s just onep, boys; why the rush?


    He nced at his side mirror, spotting a sh of red from a rival team¡ªan aggressive driver closing in, clearly eager to capitalize on any sign of weakness from him. He knew he had to keep his cool. The track was still young, and so was the race; there were still 50ps ahead. Luca could spend 90 minutes in Bergwaldring.


    He shifted his focus back to the track as they entered the next straight. He found the chaos unfolding in front of him amusing¡ªcars weaving in and out, battling for every inch of asphalt. It was a mad scramble, and the leaderboard was clearly still too early to trust.


    Luca shifted his weight in his seat as the firstp came to an end, zooming past the roaring crowd that seemed incapable of running out of voices. He adjusted his line slightly, smoothly slipping past a racer without consciously intending to overtake. Now in 15th, Luca prepared for the uing curve as the pack of engines barreled forward.


    Just ahead, he caught sight of Ansel''s ck and red single-seater¡ªa clear sign Ansel had dropped from 2nd to somewhere further back.


    Luca cursed as he entered the next turn. His eyes gleamed as he noticed the driver ahead braking toote, causing their rear to slide wide. Luca seized the opportunity, tilting his wheel with precision. His tires responded with immediate effect and gripped the tarmac while he bent the chassis and his body instinctively, as if his body inside the cockpit could help guide the car''s movements.


    Number 78, an APX driver could do nothing as Luca emerged from his side, exploiting the turn to his advantage as they hit another straight, with all the cars elerating and their gaps widening.


    [14th Position]


    "C''mon, that was an overtake, System. Where''s my +1?" Luca grumbled, easing more pressure onto his throttle to close the gap with 13th.


    [It seems I must rmend a new diet, host. One that cures amnesia¡ªapparently you''ve clearly forgotten that you''re under the Intermediate Bundle.]


    Yeah, yeah. Luca sighed, rolling his eyes.


    He nudged just close enough to cause panic to 13th''s side mirror but not quite enough to overtake as the 2ndp concluded.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 200 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 10000 m


    -Time: 4 min ]


    **Maintainposure, boys.** Mr. Moritz''s voice boomed through the radio. **Keep to the rhythm of the track. Opportunities open around midway¡ªtake them with perfect precision. Do notg.**


    **Understood**


    [Stamina +1]


    [12th Lap]


    [14th Position]


    [Tires are in good condition, host. Fuel level at 65%. DRS is now avable. Engine temperature stable. Brake wear at 18%.]


    [Telemetry reports smooth handling. Aerodynamic efficiency optimal. Rmend maintaining current pace.]


    "Appreciate the update," Luca muttered, his eyes locked on the car ahead as they glided through a sweeping turn and lined up along a long stretch of track. His grip tightened on the wheel, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He wasn''t about to let the 12thp end with him still stuck in 14th ce.


    As soon as the straight opened, Luca saw his window. He flicked the DRS switch, feeling the rear wing adjust, minimizing drag. The response was instantaneous¡ªthe car roared to life, surging forward with exhrating speed.


    Luca tucked into the slipstream, the turbulence from the car ahead cutting through the air resistance. Then, with precision, he pulled to the side, sliding out of his opponent''s wake just before the next turn.


    14th ce was history for Luca as he slotted into 13th, tilting his wheel to make the next curve as the 13thp began.


    [Overtaking +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 25%]


    Luca felt a pang of guilt for the driver he had just overtaken. That maneuver had left the other racer exposed, and before he could stabilize, four rivals shot past him like arrows loosed from a bow. Now, the four cars were bunched together, fiercely battling for a position that seemed priceless to them¡ªall while still chasing after Luca.


    Refocusing on the track ahead, Luca''s System interface projected itself into his view, rapidly disying real-time data from the cars zooming in front of him, holographic numbers hovering above them to easily represent their positions.


    This real-time information from other cars would give Luca an edge¡ªidentifying who was slowing down and who had operational issues that could be exploited as long as they were significantly close to him and his Dara.


    [15th Lap]


    [Stamina +1]


    [Tires are in satisfactory condition, host. Fuel level at 65%. DRS is now avable. Engine temperature stable. Brake wear at 18%.]


    [Telemetry reports smooth handling. Aerodynamic efficiency optimal. However, considering you''re onp 15, a pit stop is rmended within the next fewps to refresh your tires and maintain performance for the remainder of the race.]


    Alright, that''s reasonable. I''ll see where we''d be at by the 20th.


    **Luca, tell me you are in 10th at the very least**


    A voice crackled through the radio as soon as he had his eyes set for the 12th Position. It was Ansel, and he was checking up on his teammate.


    Luca nced up and saw Ansel''s ck and red Dara holding steady in an impressive 4th Position, tightly woven into the leading pack.


    "I''m 13th," Luca replied silently, afraid that he might not really be of use to Ansel. "Don''t worry, I''ll make it up there."


    **Please do**


    Luca heaved as the next curve approached, the roar of the crowd shaking the foundations of the Bergwaldring Circuit. The afternoon atmosphere boomed with life, harsh engines slicing through the air. Luckily, today was bright with fair weather¡ªperfect conditions for motorsport racing.


    The mor of the crowd ignited a surge of adrenaline within Luca. It reminded him that the world''s eyes were locked on the first F2 race of the season. Being far from the top five gnawed at him, fueling his resolve to climb higher. He felt his fingers tremble slightly on the wheel as he angled into the next bend, trailing behind 12th, as if being dragged in its wake.


    As they exited the bend, the cars entered a long straight¡ªthe same stretch that marked the end of everyp and Luca knew this was his chance.


    He muttered rubbish under his breath, his foot teasing the throttle as their car bnced away from the bend back into the conventional aerodynamical position. Luca seeing openings from both sides of 12th, decided to take on its left, and drift his way before it by cutting his car''s nose in its view.


    Flipping the DRS switch, Luca felt the rear wing shift, releasing drag and giving him just the burst he needed. A surge of g-force hit him the moment the DRS engaged, and Luca was relieved he hadn''t attempted the overtake without flipping it first.


    [Strength +1]


    Luca followed the car like a fly, until the driver in the cockpit hesitated¨Cthe fraction of a second just enough for Luca to capitalize. He hit the throttle harder, rocketing to the left and matching side by side with his opponent.


    Through the visor, Luca caught a nce from the other racer¡ªan unmistakable sh of hostility and hate despite the helmet obscuring his face. Rather than concede, the rival swerved aggressively, trying to force Luca off the track with a sharp nudge.


    Bastard, Luca cursed. You''ll only give way for others behind.


    With his DRS still active, and an Overtaking Skill of 18, Luca found it easy toplete his nned overtake, considering they were on a straightway.


    12th Position was his as soon as the 15thp was over.


    "...though it''s a nail-biting battle up at the front. Jon, could we talk about what''s happening in the midfield? My, that overtake was world-ss! I fear Trampos Racing have really got their next man this time..."


    "....ahh, indeed Steve, this is shaping up to be one of the tightest races we''ve seen in a while. Look! We don''t even have a clear 13th to 25th yet; it''s like a swarm of bees back there....!"


    "....yup, but what we do know is that Bueseno Velocit¨¤ junior team racer, Max Addams, is leading the charge, and right behind him is none other than another Grey-Husson''s graduate, the pride of The Three Lions, Miles Bellingham. Dani Aaronson snagged third a little while ago, but my money''s on him losing it soon. What do you think, Jon...?"


    "...oh, I think you''re spot on, Steve. We''re a quarter into the race now, and that aggressive push into third has likely taken its toll on Aaronson''s car. His tire degradation is bound to be higher than the others, and a pit stop is inevitable soon. When that happens, his momentum will take a hit.


    He''s been running a low downforce setup, which is great for the straights, but it''s costing him grip in the tighter sectors. If his team doesn''t react quickly, he could lose significant time through the chicanes and hairpins, and we know how crucial those are on this and any circuit..."


    [Stamina +1]


    [Endurance +1]


    [18thp]


    "I''m sure it''s time to make that pit stop, heh?"


    [Certainly, host. I believe your team willmunicate with you any moment now.]


    **Oi, Luca, can''t you see the signs? Pit now**


    "Roger," Luca muttered as he tilted his wheel, his eyes flicking to the side mirror to assess how many opponents might overtake him after the pit stop.


    He mmed the throttle, hugging the edge of the track as he sped closer to the fans, heading toward the Trampos Racing garage. Braking with unreal precision, Luca executed his newfound skill¡ªPitstop Prodigy.


    nk, wrench, thud, pat¨Czoom!


    Without a moment''s hesitation, Luca rejoined the race, slipping back into the middlene as he still held 12th position.


    [Pitstop Prodigy +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 37.5%]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 170 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 90000 m


    -Time: 34 min ]

 Chapter 30 German Grand Prix 2 Midfield Climbing

    The race continued with an intensity that seemed to rise with every second. Racing was all about maintaining speed and performance consistently over long stretches, and Luca could feel it in everyp. The deafening roar of engines mixed with the continuous buzz of the crowd,p afterp, making the race feel almost like a loop to him.


    Every overtake brought an uproar from the crowd, and Luca realized it wasn''t just the other drivers reacting¡ªit was affecting him too. An odd urge tried to surface within him,pelling him to push not just for first ce but to also thrill the audience, to entertain them as much as win.


    He shook off the awkward feeling, refocusing on his car. The 20thp was rounding up, and the top three were still far ahead.


    [Stamina +1]


    Zooming over the grid, Luca gripped the wheel tighter, his mind whirling with possibilities as he plotted a way past the sleek ck-and-blue machine just ahead. 11th ce is mine! he thought fiercely. "I wish I had a skill to predict where my opponent would steer next," he muttered under his breath.


    [Host has not unlocked skills to assess rival''s movements]


    Wait, there''d be a skill like that?! Sweet.


    [13th Position closing in]


    [Host has not unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent]


    Luca''s eyes quickly darted to his side mirror, a bright ck-and-violet car wasing for him, and wasing fast with determination. The roar of the crowd erupted wildly as the engine''s eleration tore through the air.


    Luca cursed under his breath. There was no mistaking it¡ªthe other driver had activated DRS. The rear wing on the ck-and-violet car had flipped open, allowing it to gain critical speed on the straight. Luca knew the driver had one intention and it was to st past him before they hit the chicane.


    All Luca needed to do was hold him off until the sharp left-right curve came into y, where raw speed would mean nothing without finesse and precision.


    Luca instinctively moved toward the center of the track to defend his 12th position, leaving zero gaps for the hurtling car to slip through. The ck-and-violet car edged closer, its driver feinting a move to the left, but Luca shifted just enough to block the advance. The crowd cackled wildly as the two machines toyed with each other.


    The straightaway was disappearing, and the inevitable sharp curve came into view. Luca held off braking, waiting until the driver behind himmitted first. Once he sensed the tension ease, Luca gently eased off the throttle and tilted the wheel sharply, adapting to the lethal curve of the chicane.


    To his surprise, the roaring, elerating growl of the car behind remained loud¡ªtoo loud. His eyes instantly shot to the mirror. Whaa¨C the heck is this idiot doing?


    The ck-and-violet car had refused to decelerate properly for the sharp chicane, clearly banking on Luca''s brief slowdown to gain an edge. The crowd gasped at the audacious move as the car surged forward with reckless power. Luca couldn''t believe it.


    He was forced to react instantly, effortlessly angling his cruising car to cover the line, not too erratic, but calcted¡ªjust enough to force that opponent to rethink.


    The subtle move of Luca''s chassis blocked the opponent''s path perfectly, cutting off the most obvious angle. The ck-and-violet car''s driver mmed the brakes hard, the vehicle jerking violently as it tried to slip into another gap before the chicane closed entirely. But Luca had left nothing to chance.


    The space was too tight, and the only option left was a desperate squeeze through a sliver of track on the other side of the curve.


    "C''mon back off, man," Luca hissed, his grip firm on the wheel, wishing the other driver could hear him.


    They were now exiting the left-right curves, and Luca knew 12th position was slipping away. As soon as the straightaway emerged, the ck-and-violet Dara would no doubt unleash its speed with DRS. Just as the car behind him tried to power through, two more challengers¡ª14th and 15th positions¡ªclosed the gap at blistering speed, arriving at the scene like predators on a kill.


    The fresh contenders had perfectly capitalized on the previous chicane, hungry for position.


    Luca''s heart rate spiked instantly as he nced at his side mirror, now filled with three roaring machines. The deafening noise of the crowd only worsened the tension.


    "...oh, Jon, let''s shift our attention back to the upper midfield, shall we? It''s getting tight up there! Retona Racing''s driver is breathing down the neck of the Trampos rookie, and¡ªhold on¡ªare those two teammates closing in beside him?! Wow, Jon, Kristensen''s teammate, Volyinski, got himself in a tough spot there. He''s boxed in, and if he doesn''t act fast, I believe he''s in serious trouble...!"


    The two cars that had brutally arrived at the scene were indeed teammates, and they deliberately boxed in the Retona car¡ªone attacking from the left, the other from the right.


    "No way," Luca muttered, watching the chaos unfold in his mirror.


    It became an all-out battle behind him. The three cars screamed down the straight, their sleek Dara frames inches from each other, tires so close they could almost kiss. Sandwiched between the aggressive pursuers, the ck-and-violet car struggled to stay on the line. Volyinski fought desperately, jerking his wheel to regain control, but the pressure was too much.


    The car skidded violently, tires screeching as it spiraled out of control. The sleek frame twisted in a blur of purple, veering helplessly off the track. With a gut-wrenching thud, it mmed into the barrier to the left, sparks flying as shattered debris scattered across the circuit. The crowd erupted in shock, their gasps filling the air as the race imed its first casualty.


    "...ooh, a massive incident there, Jon! d Volyinskipletely lost it for his team¡ªspun out and mmed straight into the barrier! That''s a heavy, though non-lethal, hit. The crowd''s on their feet with... amusement¡ªwhat a shocking twist! Looks like the chase behind the Trampos''s rookie just went horribly wrong!


    This is exactly what we came for!"


    "...Stunning. And this is just the first Featured Race of the season. A crash tally has begun already¡ªlet''s see how high that count climbs by August, Steve..."


    The crowd roared with excitement, as if something bad hadn''t just urred.


    Track marshals rushed onto the track as soon as the 30th-position car zipped past, one waving a yellow g from thene. While the crash wasn''t catastrophic, it was enough to put the Retona driver out of the race, the cameras focusing on him as he shook his head in dismay. Behind him, the hood of his single-seater was emitting tendrils of smoke.


    The situation remained manageable, and a safety car was quickly dispatched. The damaged car was swiftly towed off the circuit before the next wave of racers coulde barreling by.


    Still, with some debris scattered across the track, a marshal stayed in ce, swinging the yellow g vigorously to caution the iing drivers as they rounded thep again. Once thatp waspleted, the remaining debris was promptly cleared, leaving the asphalt smooth and empty once more.


    The crowd, undeterred by the incident, pounded on the barricades, beating drums and chanting at the top of their lungs. The thrill of witnessing such a dramatic turn fueled their excitement, adrenaline flooding their veins as they reveled in the chaos.


    **At least he''s not your problem any more. Retona''s drivers can be good sometimes**


    [25th Lap]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 250 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 140 bpm


    -Operational Status: 80% (Good)


    -Breathing: Hiked


    -Distance covered: 125000 m


    -Time:  49 min ]


    [Stamina +1]


    [Endurance +1]


    [Agility +1]


    [Strength +1]


    [Intelligence +1]


    Luca''s mind was still reeling from what had just unfolded. It was mind-blowing¡ªalmost surreal¡ªknowing that the driver''s race hade to an abrupt end. And if there was anyone to me, it would be him, the driver, if that were the case.


    Those two teammates had executed a lethal yetpletely legal maneuver, boxing him in with surgical precision. The moment the pressure mounted, the driver''s inexperience or the sudden counter-momentum must have triggered panic, sending his car into chaos. Luca couldn''t help but wonder how different things might have been if the crash had turned out far worse.


    He gave a small shrug, forcing the thought from his mind. His focus locked onto the dissected and calcted road ahead as his body lurched against the seat, the g-forces pinning him back while he floored the throttle. He felt bad for the driver, sure¡ªbut there was no ce for sympathy here. There was still a chance to fight into the top 3. Enough time to make it happen.


    "...Well, the Trampos rookie better watch his wheels, Jon! The APX boys are closing in fast¡ªand look at that¡ªit''s a textbook boxing formation! They''re lining him up for the same squeeze, and I doubt they''ll let him off any easier...!"


    Luca''s eyes widened as his heart raced once he caught sight of the two APX green-and-ck cars in his side mirror, their gleaming bodies closing in with relentless hunger.

 Chapter 31 German Grand Prix 3 Pressure On The Asphalt

    [13th and 14th Positions closing in]


    [Host has not unlocked Skills to evade a box]


    Luca''s heart pounded, and a surge of panic wed at him. The screeching engines on either side of his car grew deafening, their noses creeping into his peripheral vision like predators closing in on prey.


    **Hey, Luca, as you can see, you''re in a tough spot there, heh? They''ve got you, and they''re gonna get you good if you don''t stay calm and focus on da wheel¡ªda wheel alone**


    Luca understood Moritz''s words. Mr. Grant had drilled this into him during training, embedding the same boxing maneuver into Luca and Ansel''s strategy for moments like this¡ªwhen they needed to trap a rival and throw them into disarray. But understanding was one thing; executing it was another.


    Right now, Luca''s mind was a battlefield¡ªthe thunderous roar of elerating machines threatened to drown his thoughts, and the crowd''s bloodthirsty cheers only added to the chaos.


    **Keep your line steady. Look for a good gap and pick up the pace. If it gets too tight, make it up with the brakes. Better 15th than here with me,d**


    Luca took a deep breath and managed to rasp, "Roger," his voice hoarse from tension. His gaze darted to both sides, locking briefly with the helmeted stares of the two APX racers nking him. Their cars, dressed in sleek green-and-ck liveries, inched closer with every second, determined to box him in. They knew he was the rookie for Trampos, and to them, he seemed like he might be an easy mark.


    The oppressive heat radiating from their engines pressed in on him, and the sheer pressure of the moment threw off the rhythm he''d carefully built throughout the race. The pulse of the crowd''s excitement was palpable, further fraying his focus. He began wavering his thoughts between slipping back to fifteenth and salvage what he could, or stay with them, and trust fate to decide what came next.


    Luca gripped the wheel harder and mmed the throttle, feeling the car respond with a surge of power. His speed skyrocketed, chewing up the straightway before the next turn. He was determined to punish the challengers, especially the one on his right, who''d be forced onto the outer nt of the bend.


    As the middle man, Luca would tilt sharply, leaving the APX driver with two brutal options: decelerate or skid and face the wrath of the grass.


    The cunning n lit a spark in Luca''s heart, the weight of panic reced by sheer determination. His mind cleared, and his fingers hovered eagerly over the steering wheel, itching to act. "Follow me, then," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as the bend loomed closer.


    His car wedged tightly between the two opponents, surging forward with precision, every motion drawing gasps from the Bergwaldring Circuit crowd with the cameras on them. The three cars shot down the track in perfect alignment, their tires howling as they scraped the asphalt, their noses locked parallel like jousting knights.


    The turn was fast approaching, and Luca focused solely on the curve, shutting out the deafening roar of engines beside him.


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 78%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 160 km/h]


    "Thank you," Luca whispered, adhering to the system''s precision, trusting the calcted path the track had unveiled before him.


    The origin of the bend approached. Luca gritted his teeth as he rounded the curve, his hands tightening on the wheel, determined to execute his n wlessly. The APX driver on his right was desperately holding his position, but Luca could feel the shift, the subtle tension in the car next to him.


    The track was narrowing as they approached the apex of the turn, and Luca knew this was his moment to strike.


    He edged his car closer away from the teammate on the left, closing the gap between him and the teammate on the right ever so slightly. His heart pounded, but his focus was razor-sharp. As the APX driver tried to hold his line, Luca tilted his wheel just enough to push him further toward the outer track.


    The rival''s tires were now dangerously edging into the safe zone, a thin strip of tarmac designed to keep cars from careening off the track entirely.


    [Agility +1]


    Luca''s car leaned harder into the curve, his movements precise and calcted. The APX driver had no choice but to move, Luca forcing him into a position where the only escape was off the main track.


    The crowd roared as they watched the new duel unfold¡ªtwo racers battling for dominance in a high-speed chess match. The APX car on his right wobbled, its tires momentarily losing grip as Luca continued to press him out. The exit of the curve was fast approaching, and Luca knew he had tomit now or risk losing his chance and position once a straightaway emerged.


    **I see what you are doing, Luca. Squeeze the bastard out before that bend ends**


    Luca listened to his engineer and leaned deeper into the bend, more aggressive now. His car clung tightly to the track, while the APX teammate on the right had no choice but to hold his line, unable to counter the developing squeeze.


    With a sudden, forceful turn of the wheel, Luca tilted his car sharply into the curve, leaving the APX driver no room to react. The rival''s car wobbled, its rear tires screeching as it skidded, struggling to maintain bnce. The crowd gasped as the APX vehicle veered toward the outer edge of the track, nearly out of control.


    "....oof! We can all say that we saw thating heh? Sven has just taken a big blow right there, and I don''t think his tires are friends with the track right now...!"


    Luca exhaled with relief as the APX car''s nose disappeared from his peripheral vision. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching the driver frantically trying to recover, possibly taking a line into the track once again, but it seemed toote¡ªthe disorientation had done its damage, and theck of swerve power in tires on the outer track contributed to his dismay.


    With its tires fully on the grass, the car spun wildly, spraying dirt and debris across the edge of the track as the driver struggled to regain control and correct his trajectory.


    The APX vehicle veered dangerously close to a metal pole near the barriers, narrowly missing it by inches. The back tires bounced violently, the suspension groaning under the strain, leaving the car teetering on the brink of a crash. The crowd erupted, gasps turning into cheers as the driver barely avoided disaster, managing to bring the skidding machine to a halt just shy of the pole.


    "...and that''s another driver down the leaderboard, Jon! At least Sven can recover¡ªbetter than Volyinski earlier, that''s for sure....Even yesterday''s race didn''t pack this much thrill..."


    "...certainly. These young drivers are hungry¡ªfor the track, the trophy, and that next level. Some may regard F1 as the pinnacle ofpetition, but I''d have to argue F2 is far more dangerous. You can see the risks they make just to be eyes-worthy..."


    "...bold words, Jon. And an even bolder move by the Trampos rookie, Luca Rennick, just 18 years old. We can officially call him a trickster today. An excellent performance..."


    **You did well, Rennick. Make sure not to push too tight next time, heh?**


    "Understood."


    Luca kept his gaze locked on the road ahead, still holding 12th ce as the 27thp came to a close. Progress had been stagnant, with his efforts focused on defending his current position. On his left, the APX driver remained relentless, zooming alongside him, clearly itching to avenge his teammate''s earlier misfortune.


    [Intelligence +2]


    [Endurance +1]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 50%]


    This can''t load any faster, huh?!


    Just then, the driver ahead in 11th made a pit stop, pushing both Luca and the APX racer forward. Luca moved into 11th, while the APX opponent found himself slipping to 13th, having tailed Luca the entire way.


    Navigating another tight curve, Luca managed to nose slightly ahead, the rhythm of their cars synchronized as they powered through the 28th and 29thps, battling wheel-to-wheel.


    **Tell me you''re in tenth**


    Luca shook his head reflexively, as if Ansel could see him. A pang of guilt gnawed at him¡ªhe knew he wasn''t yet where he should be. He felt like he was letting Ansel down by not dominating the field the way Trampos Racing expected when he was signed.


    "I''m in tenth," Luca lied, hoping the truth would follow within moments if he executed his next moves perfectly.


    **Good**


    Ansel was sittingfortably in 4th, a position to be proud of...at least. From the far horizon of the track, Luca could spot his teammate''s number hovering with a glowing green to signify a Trampos driver, distinct from the opponents'' blue numbers.


    On the 30thp, Luca finally found his opening to move into 10th. The rival driver had tried to squeeze him toward the grass, but Luca''s Overtaking Skill kicked in, guiding him through the bend with precision. As he hit the straightway, Luca mmed the throttle and activated DRS.


    The sudden force jerked his body, but this time, he didn''t flinch like he had during his early days in a single-seater. His grip stayed firm, and every muscle responded in sync with the car''s momentum.


    Luca couldn''t believe the Form 1 System was really making him stronger for F1 racing!


    [Strength +1]

 Chapter 32 German Grand Prix 4 Sync And Surge

    "...oh, Jon. I''m thrilled to see where this goes. The top three positions are constantly swapping, like it''s all for fun. Twenty-nine engines in y¡ªunbelievable! And a crash already? What a season this is shaping up to be...!"


    "...take it easy, Steve. This is just early-season hype. By midseason, some of these guys will have dropped off, and we might start seeing some fresh faces on the podium. By the time the season ends, the real drama will unfold..."


    "...I just hope the excitement stays, Jon. Look at that crowd!"


    "...we''ve got some key yers really igniting this race. Aaronson and Addams are putting on a show, keeping everyone on edge. It''s an unbelievable duel up front. Wasn''t it just a fewps ago we thought Aaronson would fade out?"


    "...well, that''s the beauty of motorsport. From the outside, we can predict all we want, but only the driver truly knows their limits and strategy..."


    "...very true. And just behind the lead pack, Luca Rennick is making overtaking look easy. Moving from sixteenth to eighth¡ªtop-notch performance. Even though Trampos isn''t the most popr team, their crowd is loud enough to be rooting for the young guy. What''s your take on Rennick''s chances...?"


    "...how many pit stops has he done? One? Maybe two? I wouldn''t get too excited just yet. I see him dropping back to around 15th before the race is done..."


    [35thp]


    [ANALYSING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 300 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 75% (Good)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 178000 m


    -Time:  1hr. 8 min ]


    Luca couldn''t believe that in Grey-Husson''s, he hadpleted the 34p race already. Now, here he was in F2, tackling a grueling 52p race, where even the smallest events spanned at least 45ps, with the longest reaching up to 60.


    He shrugged off the thought, keeping his cool as he pressed closer and bothered the driver in 7th. Three more positions to im before he''d be right behind Ansel. And then what? Would they have to go head-to-head? A flicker of uncertainty crossed his mind. It was one thing chasing otherpetitors¡ªit would be entirely different having to face his own teammate.


    Luca had this wing feeling that one day¨Cone race, that might happen.


    His eyes darted to the Sync Bar, now sitting at 62.5%. "I''ll really need you at thest minute," he muttered, gripping the wheel tighter. He began to wonder if the crowd, his team engineer, the agents, the Federation¡ªevery person watching, who had their eyes glued to the race would be able to notice the eerie precision that would flood his movements when the Sync Buff kicked in.


    Frightened by this, Luca questioned his System. Thest thing he wanted was scrutiny or an investigation.


    [Host, the Sync Buff has no evidential impact on your vehicle. It solely amplifies your personal skills and abilities, including synergy with your engine type once a specific Bundle is met. Any investigation will show no sign of illegal car modifications or doping vitions.]


    Sweet. Just what I wanted to hear.


    Luca sped through the 35thp, steadily closing the gap to the driver ahead. The race was a gradual process; it was a rhythm¡ªletting the track flow beneath you, yielding to the curves, and slicing through chicanes with precision. On every straight, Luca squeezed the throttle, mindful of the rivals breathing down his neck, all eager to break into the top 10.


    With time¨Cthanks to the bends¨CLuca inched closer to the violet Dara in 7th to start assessing a possible overtake.


    Luca''s hands gripped the wheel, his fingers naturally hovering over the array of buttons as the violet Dara loomed just ahead, tauntingly within reach. The overtake demanded precision, timing, and total control. With a practiced flick of his thumb, Luca activated the ERS, unleashing the energy recovery system to give his car a much-needed surge of power on the approaching straight.


    His car responded instantly, surging forward with a burst of power as he approached the next bend, tilting with the machine before him. As they entered the hairpin, Luca toggled the brake bias slightly, adjusting the bnce for a tighter cornering angle. His focus was absolute, the rhythmic hum of the engine syncing with the precise movements of his fingers on the wheel.


    With 7th hugging stubbornly to the inside, Luca saw his chance. He pressed the DRS button, opening the rear wing to reduce drag and increase speed as he shot down the brief straight. The gap between them closed rapidly, and Luca''s hands danced over the wheel again, fine-tuning the car''s settings with each shift in the track as he made the curve.


    This will be easy.


    Luca''s single-seater shot out of the bend, the timing wless. The brief straight ahead was his moment to strike. He dialed up the fuel mix, squeezing every ounce of power from the engine. The car roared as it surged forward, gliding past the violet Dara easily. The move could be described as clean and decisive.


    [7th Position]


    **That was magnificent, boy! That''s what I love to see! C''mon! Go for P6, son! Use that momentum!**


    [Overtaking +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [40th Lap]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 87.5%]


    Luca''s eyes lit up as soon as the car ahead came into view. The holographic number 6 floated just above its canopy, but what truly captured his attention was the car''s exquisite design. The sleek ck body shimmered under the sunlight, with intricate gold ents flowing along its edges like molten metal.


    The way the golden lines traced the vehicle''s silhouette gave it the aura of a masterpiece, more art than machine.


    He didn''t need to guess¡ªit was unmistakably a Squadra Corse junior team car. The bold emblem of the Italian team stood proudly on the rear wing, its fine detailing confirming it.


    Luca''s heart tingled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. There was a real chance that Miles Bellingham, his own personally appointed rival, was behind the wheel. If only he could confirm it on the spot.


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skill to analyze and retrieve rival''s profile]


    Luca eased off the throttle slightly, trailing just behind the elegant machine, his movements synchronized with it as if they were gliding in formation at a parade. He nced briefly into his mirrors, ensuring that his position at 7th remained secure for now.


    [42nd Lap]


    "System, I''m too busy to study all the details. Just give me the overall car condition. I might have to pit before the closingps," Luca ordered, his focus locked on the Squadra Corse junior team car that maintained a frustratingly narrow lead. His own car seemed incapable of closing the gap, except when the bends appeared.


    [Absolutely, host]


    [Tires are in satisfactory condition, host. Fuel level at 60%. DRS is now avable. Engine temperature stable. Brake wear at 20%.]


    [Telemetry reports smooth handling. Aerodynamic efficiency optimal. A pitstop is not entirely rmended, host. This condition might serve through the nextps.]


    "Understood," Luca replied as he closed the distance between himself and the car ahead. The driver, alerted by the roar of Luca''s engine and likely receiving warnings from his race engineer, instantly went on the defensive. He tightened his line through the corners, hugging the apex to deny any room for overtaking.


    Approaching the next turn, the driver adjusted his braking point¡ªjust early enough to maintain control, butte enough to force Luca to hold position behind him.


    "Well trained," Luca muttered, narrowing his eyes as he spotted an opening. Instead of sticking to the typical racing line, he made a daring choice. He stayed wide, carrying more speed into the turn as he set himself on the outer arc.


    With a deliberate flick of his thumb, he activated the ERS, unleashing a sudden burst of power. His hands gripped the wheel with precision, fingers delicately fine-tuning the brake bias to keep the car in check. The tires screeched against the asphalt, smoke curling into the air, provoking a roar from the crowd as they deliberately inhaled it.


    Luca''s car drifted alongside the ck-and-golden Dara, the screeching tires signaling his intent. He was now side by side, ready to strike at the next opportunity.


    [You had made a 3.2g drift]


    Exiting the curve, Luca nced over. The other driver finally acknowledged his presence with a quick, irritated look¡ªexactly the reaction Luca was hoping for.


    "Yup, it''s him," Luca muttered, confirming his suspicion. With a swift press of the DRS button, the rear wing snapped open, and Luca sensed Miles had done the same.


    The two cars barrelled down the track with unreal speed, engines screaming as they devoured the track, tearing through the air like bullets.


    [44thp]


    **We are almost at 50th Luca, I made it to third, yet to see our colors close to me***


    Luca shook his head and cursed.


    He had just been racing side by side with Miles. Though they couldn''t see their faces ormunicate, Luca could tell it was him, and not his teammate, Derstappen. And Miles had epted thepetition. No better car now heh? Same engine, same performance!


    Honestly, Luca couldn''t help the knot of envy and jealousy tightening in his chest. Miles''s career seemed to skyrocket effortlessly, and had an even more gracious path ahead. Making it into the Squadra Corse Junior Team was basically a golden ticket to F1. The main team was waiting for him, a mere formality. In contrast, Luca''s journey with Trampos Racing felt uphill.


    With no Senior Team to graduate into, he''d have to fight for recognition¡ªhope that a bigger team would notice his talent and take a gamble on him. If anyone was even looking.


    "Hmmm... What better way to stand out and catch their attention," Luca mused aloud, "than by overtaking their rising star?"


    Determined, Luca lifted off the throttle just enough to let Miles pull a one-second lead. But it wasn''t surrender¡ªit was strategy. He slipped in behind the ck-and-gold Dara, waiting to strike. Luca aimed to take the next bend early, using the angle to gain momentum, while Miles was forced to tilt and obey the conventional, curved line.


    Luca took advantage of the sharper angle, staying low and tight to the corner. He pressed the throttle gently but quickly, pushing himself through the bend with more speed than he even expected, the G-forces battering his body. As Miles stuck to the usual path, Luca surged ahead, slipping past his side at the exit with dangerous closeness.


    Within moments, Luca was clear of Miles''s car, and he jubted like he had won a trophy!


    "Come on!" he shouted, his voice breaking slightly. He darted a nce at his mirrors, grinning as he spotted Miles''s Dara chasing hard, desperate to reim the lost ground. "I did it!"


    [Indeed, host.]


    **Magnificent! Magnificent!**


    Luca could hear the pit crew''s ps through the radio.


    [6th Position]


    [45thp]


    [Intelligence +1]


    [Agility +1]


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 100%]


    [SYNC BAR COMPLETE]


    [Host, Sync Buff can now be used]


    Luca''s heart rate spiked on hearing that. His fingers and feet trembled, frightened that he might not get to use it well, considering this was an official race.


    "Okay, okay... I can do this," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rumbling engine and the deafening cheers of the crowd. His fingers hovered over the controls, his foot itching to push the throttle further. Sync Buff was now avable.


    "With Sync Buff... I hope my tires won''t tear?"


    [Analyzing....]


    [Current Operational Status: 80%


    Predicted Post-Sync Buff Operational Status: 50% ]


    That''s like average, Luca thought, tilting his wheel as he made a turn. He studied the text on the data disyed before him, weighing the risks. At 50% total car life, they wouldn''t be fresh for the finalps, but the Sync Buff could propel him far enough ahead to make it irrelevant. "What''s your advice, System?"


    [I would say: Go for it, host.]


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    Luca nodded once and selected yes.


    [INFUSING....]


    [Strength: 13 ???? 50


    Stamina: 15 ???? 50


    Endurance: 17 ???? 50


    Agility: 12 ???? 50


    Intelligence: 14 ???? 50 ]


    [Due to Intermediate Bundle, Sync Buff takes Attributes to 50 mark]


    "Nice."


    [You can only select three skills]


    [Reflexes/ Overtaking Skill/ Track Awareness/ Pitstop Prodigy]


    Luca found the choice easy and selected the first three skills¡ªReflexes, Overtaking Skill, and Track Awareness. Pitstop Prodigy was useless for him now; he had no intention of pitting again as advised, so there was no need to waste a buff on it.


    [Sessfully Selected!]


    [Reflexes: 17 ???? 50


    Overtaking Skill: 19 ???? 50


    Track Awareness: 13 ???? 50 ]


    [INFUSION SUCCESSFUL!]


    [You have 4 min. 58 sec left for Sync Buff]


    [Your heart rate has picked up by 4 beats!]


    Luca gripped the wheel tightly, his heart pounding in his chest louder than the roar of his engine. He quickly scanned the Sync Buff-influenced system interface before focusing on the track ahead, which unfolded like a vivid map only he could see. Every line, every ripple in the asphalt was as definite as an architect''s work.


    [46th Lap]


    "Ahhh, fuck," he cursed, realizing that 5th position was still quite far ahead. He pressed the throttle hard, making sharp decisions with precise swerves and wless DRS use. He could close the gap quickly, but would he do it in time?


    [47th Lap]


    "...and it looks like we''re approaching the final leaderboard, Jon. What an incredible race this has been, but¡ªwait! Hold on a second! Look at that! The Trampos rookie is absolutely flying down the track! He''s tearing it up like a beast!


    What on earth are we witnessing on the very first day of F2...?!"


    Luca tilted the wheel, effortlessly weaving through a chicane without needing to decelerate due to Sync Buff. Maintaining a strong speed, he sliced past the driver in 5th position, who had no choice but to slow down for the tight turn.


    **That''s P5! What did you eat for breakfast?! Keep it up! Keep it up! Don''t pit at all, finish for us!**


    [5th Position]


    [48th Lap]


    [Good job, host]


    "I''m at 5th, mate," Luca spoke into his radio, addressing Ansel. "Do you still im third?"


    **No. Took 2nd some seconds ago, but I''m not sure I can keep it**


    The single-seater in front of Luca gleamed in orange and ck. Eager to get a better look at the emblem on its side, he pushed his car closer, feeling the rush of Sync Buff flood through his veins.


    "Nevada Junior Team," he muttered, instantly recognizing the emblem. Another driver to overtake, another chance to prove to the people and Executives that real talenty here.


    [You have 3 min. left for Sync Buff]


    [49th Lap]


    Luca''s heart raced. He wanted toin to his System, believing that the Sync Buff time must have extended with the Intermediate Bundle. But instead of voicing his frustration, he concentrated on the task ahead.


    Before long, he spotted Ansel''s Dara in the samene, the two cars rhythmically zipping along with only a few car lengths between them.


    **Fourps, son. Get behind your teammate asap!**


    [You have 2 min. 25  sec left for Sync Buff]


    Luca gritted his jaw, his eyes scanning the structured track through his visors like a machine as he plotted his next move against the car ahead. As the saying goes, a corner is a racer''s best friend.


    Luca, very good at bends, was now one with perfection because of Sync Buff. He buzzed around the Nevada Junior racer like a persistent fly, positioning himself for an optimal exit. He felt his tires gripping the outer track, maintaining the necessary friction to keep him moving.


    Strength and Endurance came to y as Luca shot past, darting ahead of the driver just as the track straightened. The Nevada racer was forced to slow down and cut in to avoid a collision.


    Luca regained control of his wheel as his tires began to skid. He tilted sharply, the nose of his car brushing against the side of the 3rd position''s vehicle. He wondered if he could pull off a double overtake in just a few seconds.


    He aimed to ignore the defiance of his tires as he hit the DRS, surging forward into the gap ahead. But the driver in front sensed the threatening engine behind him and cut off his line, blocking his path.


    [50th Lap]


    [4th Position]


    "...and how about that! Rennick is showing the fans exactly why their tickets are worth every penny. I''m on my feet, and so are they! The leaderboard may be set, but is that really how it will end...?"


    [You have 1 min. 30 sec left for Sync Buff]


    Luca reassured himself that his Sync Buff wouldst until the end of the race. He and the driver in 3rd position were locked in a fierce battle for dominance, his eyes set on Ansel, who he had given some breathing space by making it difficult for his opponent behind to advance.


    The twopeting cars drifted wildly, smoke billowing into the afternoon air as the crowd roared in response. Luca''s car was almost matching his opponent, but his opponent still had the middlene leverage, while he risked the edge of the track.


    "...a rough day for Sean Aaronson, wouldn''t you agree, Jon?"


    "...absolutely. He had fought his way up to second ce, but now slipping back to third means he''s in a fierce battle for the podium against a rookie..."


    Luca''s car edged its way into the grid as they rounded thep, igniting a spark of hope within him. He found himself on the left, while his rival upied the right. Until now, the advantage had been with his opponent, but it was finally Luca''s turn to make a move. The track shifted from a right-hander to a left-right configuration, ultimately positioning Luca in the middlene.


    This forced his rival to the outer edge, effectively reversing their positions and giving Luca the chance to take the lead.


    Sync Buff was still in Manifestation as the finalp approached its end.


    "Push yourself, Rennick!"


    "...and it''s Addams who takes first ce¡­!"


    "WOOOHHHH!" The crowd erupted in excitement.


    "...Hahn crosses the grid for second¡­!"


    "WOOOHHHH!" The fans cheered once more.


    Luca''s foot didn''t leave the throttle, his eyes locked on the salivating checkered g waving for his car to cross the grid. He could hear the frustrated roar of the engine beside him, but it wasn''t just beside him anymore¡ªLuca had made excellent use of the favorablene.

 Chapter 33 German Grand Prix 5 Podium Dreams

    Luca pounded his palm against the steering wheel repeatedly as his car rolled to a stop, his heart racing in sync with the thunderous roar of the crowd that filled the air above Bad Rauenburg, Germany.


    "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" he shouted, his voice reverberating inside his helmet, adrenaline coursing through him as the reality of his finish sank in. The sound of his triumph echoed through the cockpit, a moment of pure, uncontainable joy.


    "... what ast-second surge for the third spot on the podium! The Trampos Racing rookie just squeezes in behind Hatcherk''s Aaronson and ims third, right after his teammate Hahn! Unbelievable...!"


    "...the artistry is something I have never seen, Steve. I must say, I am quite surprised...!"


    "...and Trampos Racing will celebrate, won''t they, Jon? What a wonderful start to the season with both drivers finishing in the top 3. 18 points for Ansel Hahn and 15 points for Luca Rennick. Don''t forget, folks, while the young Italiand was on a roll, he also gathered 2 extra points for the fastestp..."


    "...so, you''re telling me Trampos has 35 points now, Steve...?"


    ".... exactly! But let''s not overlook the reigning champions. Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Junior Team''s Max Addams has emerged with 25 points, while his teammate, Dani Walding, finished 7th, tallying their team''s score to 31. That is pretty close, though..."


    "...indeed. As the falling pack now makes its way over the grid, we can call it race over for today..."


    [Congrattions, host! You have made a podium!]


    Luca''s heart swelled with joy as he rested his helmeted head against the steering wheel, the ache in his knuckles a small price to pay for the overwhelming sense of aplishment. His eyes caught the faint glow of his System interface, and there it was, the confirmation he had longed for.


    [3RD POSITION]


    He exhaled shakily, a rush of emotion threatening to overtake him. His breath trembled with the sheer joy of his achievement. Clenching his fists, he screamed internally, "I fucking did it!!"


    **Good job, good job. You deserve a hotel room full of women. That was wonderful, you have indeed imed a spot in this team. I''ll make sure Mr. Grant sees to that**


    With a surge of energy, Luca pushed himself out of the cockpit. The crowd''s roar became an all-consuming wave of sound as he rose, unstrapping his helmet and stepping onto the asphalt. His gaze swept over the cool-downne, littered with the weary, parked single-seaters of the twenty-eight other drivers who had fought tooth and nail in the race.


    "WOOHH OOH! WOOH OHH! WOOOHHHH OOH!"


    The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with life as the theme song for that season¨C"Born to Be Wild" by Steppenwolf¨Cbegan ying in the background. The grandstands erupted with cheers, chants, and the waving of team gs as fans celebrated, their excitement reverberating through the crisp air.


    Luca could see his fellow drivers already out of their cars, removing their helmets and revealing their faces. Some bore expressions of tion or disappointment, while others showed relief that the grueling 1 hour, 20-minute race was finally over.


    In the midst of all the faces, Luca''s eyes caught Ansel''s. The German was waving back to the crowd, pumping his fist in celebration. He had a good reaction for someone who finished 2nd. Locking eyes with Luca in the crowd of single-seaters, the two Trampos Racing drivers walked toward each other with euphoric calm, smiles on their faces.


    Dabbing another handshake, they nudged their shoulders again, unable to hear each other''s words due to the ear-piercing noise from the grandstands. Luca could tell Ansel was just as happy to see him on the podium as he was to be there himself.


    Luca caught the gaze of Miles staring at him, his golden helmet still in his grasp. The disdainful frown on his face was unmistakable after finishing sixth.


    Serves you right, Luca sneered inwardly, but he chose not to lock gazes with him. He wanted to savor the moment of his top-three victory.


    Momentster, the pit crew from various teams buzzed onto the track, attending to their respective drivers.


    Luca spotted Mr. Grant in their team''s garage, his proud but stern face framed by a ck cap, arms folded as he stared across the asphalt where the racers stood. Mr. Moritz was already running toward them, his face beaming with excitement as his sses nearly slipped off his nose.


    Luca''s mind was reeling with joy. The exhration felt almost surreal, like a dream he was still waking from. Fans leaned over the barriers, shouting names, waving hats and scarves¡ªanything they could find to capture the moment. Luca noticed two kids beckoning him toe closer, but before he could respond, Moritz grabbed him, pulling him eagerly to the paddock for a congrattory review.


    -------------------


    Celebrations erupted immediately after the race. In motorsport, especially following a Featured Race, it was tradition to honor the top three finishers with a podium ceremony¡ªa quick event where the drivers who had pushed their limits would bask in the glory of the crowd and the shing lights of television cameras.


    The podium was mounted at the end of the track, a towering stage adorned with team logos and shimmering sponsor banners. The massive grandstands loomed behind it, filled with thousands of fans still riding the high of the race. Luca stood off to the side, feeling the weight of the moment sink in as he waited for his name to be called.


    "Third ce, representing Trampos Racing¡ªLUCA RENNICK!" the announcer''s voice boomed through the loudspeakers.


    The crowd responded with deafening cheers as Luca took a deep breath and climbed the steps to the podium. His heart was pounding with disbelief. This was his first podium finish, his first real moment in the spotlight. Though it was F2 and not F1, it didn''t matter.


    Ansel gave him a nod from the right, where he stood in second ce. Luca smiled and shifted his gaze to the center of the podium, where Addams stood proudly, raising his arms in victory and waving to the crowd.


    He had made it to his first podium, and the world was watching!


    Champagne bottles were handed out for the celebration. The crowd swelled their roar as Addams uncorked his, the golden liquid spraying out in a joyful eruption. Luca had no idea how to uncork a bottle himself and wondered how costly they might be. He nned on saving it, but Ansel refused to let him miss out, pleading with an official to help uncork Luca''s bottle.


    Pffffffttttttttt!!!!


    "...and there we have it. First, Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Junior Team''s Max Addams, with Trampos Racing''s boys, Ansel Hahn and Luca Rennick iming second and third, respectively. What a wonderful afternoon here at the Bergwaldring Circuit..."


    "...indeed. The celebrations shall continue in Bad Rauenburg, Germany. The next time we have the cars on track will be in Melbourne, Australia. This season''s championship is just getting started!"

 Chapter 34 C Is For Champion, Right?

    Four days after the German Grand Prix, Luca was approached with a personal sponsorship offer from Fijee, an energy drinkpany that generally sponsored Trampos Racing. Luca''s teammates, Ansel and Haas, were already affiliated with the beveragepany, so getting in touch with Luca was not difficult. He was about to secure his first official sponsorship, though Mr.


    Fisher kept his word and paid him a whopping sum of $5,000 just the day after the race.


    Even with all the euphoria, the short press interviews, and the shower of love from the entire Trampos Racing crew, Luca still made time to keep up with his System''s Routine and Quests, missing not a single step.


    He couldn''t believe he was slowly going from grass to grace and was now able to provide for himself and his family. Just the other day, he had spoken to his mother and sister¡ªon a video call, in fact. It had been a long, unending conversation, and Luca was d to hear the happiness in their voices, though he could tell the slight hint of concern.


    Luca''s first order to his mother was that they leave their apartment and move to a more suitable ce. He also made it clear that provisions for Sophia''s college should be made early enough. He was determined to ensure she would have all the educational opportunities he could never have again.


    Overall, he promised she and their mother would have a better life¡ªa life far better than what they once had.


    Luca adjusted the knot of his tie for the hundredth time while staring at himself in the exquisite mirror. He was dressed in an all-ck suit with a ck tie that made him look like a mob character. He was in a hotel room in Mitte, Berlin, waiting for his agent, Mr. Mallow, to return. Mallow was setting up the meeting ce with the representatives of Fijee in the hotel''s grand dining hall.


    Luca felt uneasy as he adjusted his tie again, his eyes flickering to the time on his phone. It read 7:15 pm, Thursday of the second week of March. The German Grand Prix was over, and Australia was next. By the following week, Luca would find himself on a ne, crossing the face of the globe once again.


    He shrugged at the thought, finally lowering his hands and staring at his reflection. What the heck? he thought, leaning closer to the mirror to inspect his face. Puberty had found Luca''s addresste, and he was more than surprised to see that his moustache was now evident. To be sure, he fumbled around the table for a hand-sized mirror and brought it to his face. Marvellous!


    Luca gave himself onest nce before calling out to Sara, who was seated on a chair next to the master bed, her legs crossed as she focused on her phone. "When is Mr. Mallowing?" Luca asked. "It''s been almost an hour."


    "Rx, Luca," Sara responded, looking up from her phone. "asions like this usually take time. I know you want to make it to the get-together party. Me, I just wanna sleep," she said with a yawn. "Assessing and drafting your new bank records is tiring, and my brain is stressed."


    "Oh, sorry," Luca muttered, turning back toward the mirror. Sara was right. He was looking forward to the F2 drivers'' get-together event tonight. It was a one-night asion organized by the Federation at the start of the season so the drivers could meet with their spouses, get to know each other, and build sportsmanship early on.


    Ansel said he''d be there, and Luca couldn''t wait to meet the other drivers from the F2 teams. OLAC''s team would attend as well, which meant Luca could finally see Harry again. He felt bad for Harry, knowing the team hadn''t assigned him as a periodic driver. Instead, Harry had been ced as one of the few reserves.


    "System disy," Luca said softly, staring at his reflection.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [ANALYSING DATA AND ATTRIBUTES...]


    [Wee.]


    "Thank you," he replied as the interface obscured his view of the mirror. He navigated to his [STATUS] and selected it. Luca wanted to review the progress he had made, especially with the weeking to an end.


    [Hosts status generating....


    [..... Generationpleted]


    [Personal Information:


    Name: Luca Rennick


    Age: 18


    Nationality: Italian ]


    --------------------------------------


    [Physical Information:


    Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs


    Height: 6''1"


    Body Fat Percentage: 10%


    Muscle Mass: 32%


    Strength: 14


    Stamina: 15


    Endurance: 17


    Agility: 13


    Intelligence: 14 ]


    --------------------------------------


    [Personal Stats:


    Nickname: None


    Status: 2 year contract


    Sry: $53,000


    Team: Trampos Racing


    Race Win: 0


    Podium Finishes: 1


    Pole Positions: 0]


    ------------------------------------------


    [Skills & Techniques: Total Grade - C


    Reflexes: 17


    Overtaking Skill: 19


    Track Awareness: 13


    Pitstop Prodigy: 3


    Others (Locked) ]


    Luca smirked, satisfied and d that his Grading had climbed to C. He had achieved his first Podium Finish, and his Personal Stats were beginning to take shape. Although his Race Wins still stood at zero, Luca felt like a winner after the recent race. However, the blinking Mission to win his first official race was a stern reminder that there was still more to achieve.


    The hotel room door swung open, and Mr. Mallow stepped inside, dressed in a ck tracksuit with matching ck trainers. It seemed as though their color theme was ck because Sara, seated next to the bed, looked like a mourning widow.


    ----------------------------------------


    Luca''s sponsorship offer was rtively identical to his Trampos Racing contract in terms of Annual Sry and duration. He was offered $53,000 for the first year, with the possibility of an increase if he performed exceptionally well throughout the season, just as he had in thest race. Bonuses were awarded for podium finishes and race wins¡ª$5,250 and $10,500 respectively.


    An additional $21,000 bonus awaited if he ced in the top five of the overall F2 championship standings.


    Fijee also agreed to cover 50% of his travel and amodation expenses. In addition, he would receive a generous supply of their energy drinks.


    In return, Luca and Trampos Racing were expected to brandish Fijee''s logo on more spots across Luca''s helmet, car, and race suit. He would also be required to participate in their campaigns and events during his free time.


    Luca could hardly believe it as he and Mallow shook hands with Fijee''s management.


    Back in their hotel room, they packed their small bags, ready to leave. Luca''s mind buzzed with excitement and joy that he struggled to contain. He nced at Sara with a mischievous grin.


    "Could you do me a favor?" he asked.


    "My jolly. You''re making me a rich woman, and I won''t ept?" Sara replied.


    Luca chuckled, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as they made their way down the stairs. "Could you be my spouse for tonight''s event?" he asked with a yful bow.

 Chapter 35 Championship Prelude

    The dinner event was to be held at iVax za in Mitte, a top-tier sponsor of both Form 1 and Form 2 racing. The same venue that hosted the F1 drivers'' get-together was now prepped for the feeder boys, offering them a simr glimpse of grandeur.


    Luca arrived with Sara in a sleek, ck taxi¡ªhis mboyant chariot for the night, since he still didn''t own a car. Convincing Sara to apany him had been a near-impossible task, given how much she had begged for sleep and rest. But Luca''s persistent pleas had worked. After all, how cool would it look to walk into the hall with a tall, older woman on his arm?


    He grinned wildly at the thought, the soft glow of a building''s lights reflecting off the window and illuminating his face.


    This felt like it was going to be something like his first real date, in some sense. Back then, things with Hanna had never materialized into anything substantial. Miles Bellingham, however, would surely bring her along tonight. That thought caused Luca to scoff as he shook his head in mild irritation.


    He turned his gaze to the British beauty seated next to him, the elegant profile of Sara illuminated by passing streetlights. Luca inhaled deeply, exhaled, and smiled as he leaned back, content to enjoy the ride. His phone buzzed in hisp, snapping him from his reverie.


    He checked the recent message he had, and it was Ansel, asking him to hurry up. Ansel had made it to the venue already and had taken a seat. Luca replied ordingly.


    Another notification caught his attention¡ªan email from Mr. Fisher. The subject line read: "Travel Itinerary - Melbourne GP". Luca skimmed through the details, finding the contents simr to any other flight trip¡ªjust more tedious and sophisticated. There were instructions about early flights, charter schedules, and protocols, all tailored to the demands of the uing race in Australia.


    As he closed the email, Luca instinctively switched to the season''s standings to see how things stood between the teams before Melbourne. His thumb scrolled slowly across the screen, the bright screen lighting up his face in the car''s darkness as the streetlights outside zipped by.


    PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    ---------------------------------------------------------------


    1.             | Trampos Racing           |   35


    2.            | Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr.  |   31


    3.            | Hatcherk Motorsport   |   14


    4.            | Nevada HanSama Jnr |   11


    5.            | Squadra Corse Jnr       |    9


    Luca nodded thoughtfully as he absorbed the details on his phone. These were the teams to watch, and he knew they''d be familiar opponents over the course of his F2 career. His gaze lingered on OLAC Racing¡ªHarry''s team¡ªsitting disappointingly in 14th ce with just a single point.


    That''s harsh, Luca thought with a sigh, slipping his phone back into his suit pocket. The taxi glided smoothly to a halt in front of the grand za, its headlights illuminating the polished marble steps. Well-dressed guests flowed in and out of the towering ss doors, their chatter lively yet refined.


    The atmosphere here was vibrant but far more rxed than what he had observed the previous night. Yes, Luca had intentionally taken a cab past the za back then, just to catch a glimpse of the sessful F1 racers arriving in their million-dor supercars.


    Luca opened his door and stepped out confidently. He shut the door behind him, then walked around the taxi to open the door for Sara.


    "May I take your hand, mdy?" Luca asked with a smirk, mimicking a British ent as he extended his hand toward her.


    "Don''t you make this a thing," Sara grumbled, epting his hand as he aided her out of the car.


    Luca waved to the cab driver, knowing he had paid pre-ride, and he managed to speak grateful, basic German words he had learnt to him, which the man replied heartfully.


    "May I have the honor? Please take my arm, Mrs. Rennick," Luca sneered, hoisting his arm for Sara to take.


    Sara scoffed but didn''t hesitate, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm. "You must add this to my paycheck," she muttered.


    The two walked up the stairs toward the security at the main ss doors. It was difficult to see anybody in the darkness of the evening, but their voices, the white dress shirt beneath their suits and cufflinks, served a good purpose.


    Luca was screened and confirmed as an F2 driver from Trampos Racing before being allowed inside. The empty lobby next gleamed under golden chandeliers, showcasing priceless essories on disy. A security guard motioned for Luca and Sara to take an esctor leading to the event space.


    At the top, Luca stepped into a darker, more intimate setting. Soft music hummed in the background, with red and purple ambient lighting casting subtle glows across the room. A disco ball spun slowly at the center, scattering fragmented light over the gathering.


    Luca scanned the area. It was like a blend of a convention and a bar party¡ªsoft chatter filled the air, and a small but wide stage stood at the far end of the space.


    He pulled out his phone and dialed Ansel, hoping to locate him among the crowd of young stars and their partners murmuring quietly to each other. Ansel picked up right away and guided Luca to where he and his fianc¨¦e were seated along the wall. Thoughtfully, Ansel had already reserved two extra seats for Luca and his spouse.


    "It''s nice to meet you," Luca greeted Ansel''s fianc¨¦e as they approached. She was unmistakably German too, her features sharp and striking, dressed elegantly in an indigo gown. Ansel, by contrast, wore a simple all-ck ensemble¡ªhandsome but unassuming, as always.


    What really caught Ansel off guard, though, was Sara. His surprise was in as he took in her appearance¡ªtall, mature, and striking enough that she could easily be mistaken for Luca''s aunt.


    "It''s a pleasure," Ansel said, offering a polite nod toward Sara as everyone took their seats on the plush chairs. "Luca is very lucky."


    "Thank you," Sara managed to mutter, side-eyeing Luca wickedly.


    They were served light refreshments, and Luca, as usual, made sure to get clearance from his System before ingesting anything. While chatting with Ansel, he cast nces around the room, observing the mix of youthful, athletic figures. His gazended on Max Addams at one end, basking in the attention as several people gathered around him.


    Luca noted that it wasn''t just the drivers in attendance¡ªimportant figures from the championship and others connected to F2 crowded the space, adding weight to the atmosphere.


    After a few minutes, the guests were asked to take their seats for a presentation on the stage. The presentation dragged on for what felt like thirty minutes to an hour, covering the history of Form 1 and its feeder series. Luca had no doubt the same presentation had been shown to the F1 drivers the previous night.


    Bored as he was, he understood the purpose¡ªthe Federation wanted racers to grasp the deeper essence of motorsport before the season advanced to its apex.


    His attention piqued when the presenter shifted to the fallen racers who had tragically lost their lives on the track. Luca''s ears perked up as he listened closely, hoping to hear a familiar name.


    "Aldo Rennick, The Rocket, Nevada HanSama."


    Relief washed over Luca at the mention of his father''s name. He nced around, expecting someone to react, maybe look at him. But it seemed the simrst name didn''t trigger recognition¡ªeither "Rennick" was just amon Italian surname, or no one had connected the dots. After all, namesakes weren''t unusual in the racing world.


    Then came the reading ofst season''s Hall of Fame, apanied by polite apuse that echoed through the room. This was where Luca''s mood shifted.


    His father''s name wasn''t among the honorees.


    Wasn''t Aldo Rennick good enough to be remembered as a great F1 driver?


    Confusion furrowed Luca''s brows as he stared at the presenter, now descending the stage and disappearing into the dimly lit room.


    Without a word, Luca humbly excused himself from the table and made his way to the bar. Sliding onto a barstool, he slumped forward, rubbing his temple. Even I''m starting to feel sleepy now, he thought, exhaling heavily.


    "At least can I take one ss of tequ? I''m old enough to drink when I want, and we don''t have a race in the championship until next week," Luca asked his System.


    [Very well, host.]


    [One ss is all you are allowed to ingest. Such a drink has too high alcohol levels, host.]


    Luca nodded and ordered it from the bartender. He stared at the liquor briefly, weighing it in his mind before tossing it back in one gulp. Blech! What in the world is this shite?


    Luca grimaced, displeasure evident as he shoved the ss back toward the bartender. He hadn''t expected it to taste this bad¡ªchampagne definitely seemed like the better option. Gagging slightly, he decided he''d rather stick with soda or fruit juices, even if some might find that childish.


    "One ss of malt drink, please," Luca said, raising his index finger.


    The bartender nodded and got to work, soon cing a ss of malt in front of Luca, who also requested a straw.


    Stirring the straw idly, Luca scanned the room with a sharp, conscious eye. The fake smiles and hollowughter were all too obvious. It felt like most people here were counting the minutes until they could leave. He began to wonder if the Federation had set this gathering up with an ulterior motive¡ªperhaps to give the drivers a chance to size up their rivals more intimately.


    Clusters of twos and threes dotted the room, but there wasn''t much real energy between anyone.


    Luca''s gaze continued sweeping the space, still searching for Harry or Miles, when itnded on a familiar figure. For a moment, he didn''t recognize her¡ªuntil her distinctive facial features clicked in his mind. It was Isabe, making her way toward him in a sleek, revealing ck dress that flowed to her shins. Her hair, no longer tied up, cascaded freely to her pale neck.


    What is she doing here?


    Isabe smiled warmly as she ced her purse on the table and slid into the barstool next to Luca. "Good evening, Mister," she said, her gaze drifting over his all-ck attire before flicking toward his drink. "I recognized your stance from across the room. But you know you shouldn''t drink that so close to an Executive. They''ll take little out of you."


    Luca chuckled, blinking to confirm it was really the same girl from Birmingham speaking to him. How fate works. "Isabe, this is a surprise," he said, still slightly disbelieving.


    "No, I''m the one who''s surprised to see you," Isabe responded, extending her hand gracefully. Her nails were painted a deep red, and a delicate bangle dangled loosely from her wrist. "In fact, I should congratte you."


    Luca reached out, praying his cursed hands weren''t mmy.


    "Congrattions on finishing first in Grey-Husson''s program¡ªand for making the podium in thest race. You were fantastic," Isabe continued with a sincere smile.


    Luca fought back a replying smile, biting his lower lip to avoid looking too pleased. Her hand felt softer than he''d expected, much more delicate than someone who likely spent hours working with machinery. He held the handshake a beat too long, staring at her slender frame, before releasing it.


    Then, a nagging thought crept into his mind. He frowned. "What are you doing here? Are you... dating one of the racers?"


    Isabe shook her head, politely declining a drink from the bartender. "I''m single, Luca," she replied.


    Good. Relief.


    "But it seems you''re taken." Isabe''s words cut through Luca''s thoughts of relief. He looked up at her to catch her gaze somewhere else, at his table with Ansel. "She''s old enough to be your eldest sister," Isabe observed with a raised brow. "You are really sharp."


    Ahhhhhhh, fuck. Luca wasn''t sure if he should tell Isabe that Sara wasn''t really his fianc¨¦e, just a part of tonight''s little charade. For all he knew, Isabe might actually be interested in him, and exposing the truth could either intrigue her¡ªor ruin whatever respect she held for him. After a brief internal struggle, he decided to let it slide. With a subtle nod, he responded to her remark.


    "My father''s Bellingham''s No. 1 endorser¡ªdid you forget?" Isabe arched a brow, clearly amused. Tilting her head slightly, she gestured toward a busy corner of the room. "He''s right there with him. So, whenever Dad has to attend events like these, I either tag along... or get dragged along."


    "Oh, I see," Luca muttered, squinting through the dim, shifting disco lights to spot Miles. The poor guy didn''t look pleased¡ªhow could he, after finishing sixth?


    Isabe let out a tired sigh and slipped gracefully off the barstool, standing at about 5''5". She adjusted her purse, tucking it between both palms. "Alright, Luca. I''ll see you whenever¡ªand wherever¡ªthe championship schedule takes us next," she said.


    "You are still working as a mechanic?"


    "Mhmm."


    "Alright, then... Can I have your number now?" Luca asked, his breath caught in his throat.


    A yful smile spread across Isabe''s lips. She leaned in softly and gave him a mischievous look, lips forming an exaggerated ''O.'' "Mister, don''t tell me you''re the cheating kind?!"


    Oh, c''mon that''s not real. "I can assure you I''m not," Luca replied smoothly, keeping his tone steady. "I genuinely want your contact."


    Isabe shrugged after staring intently at him, then called out her number, making sure he noted it down before saying goodbye again. She walked back toward the edge of the room from where she hade, leaving Luca momentarily spellbound as he stared throughout.


    Suddenly, a hard p on his back jolted him back to reality. He turned to see Harry''s snickering face behind him, his eyes sparkling with mischief.


    "My man!"


    -----------------------


    Luca introduced Harry to Ansel and vice versa. The three of them fell into an easy conversation, discussing their contracts, recent career developments, and the intricacies of the racing world with Luca and Harry dominating the conversation.


    As they spoke, softughter and chatter filled the room, interspersed with the asional clink of sses and upbeat music pulsing in the background. The energy was palpable through the event, though Luca noticed the exhaustion setting in for some. The night was lively, but there was an underlying sense of anticipation as many of the attendees seemed eager for it to wrap up.


    Eventually, as the clock inched closer to 11 PM, the get-together came to an end. By then, Sara had almost passed out on the table.

 Chapter 36 Helmets On, Jetlag Off

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    The day after the dinner party was scheduled for their flight to Australia, and Luca got to his feet as soon as his System rang for the day. He quickly began his Daily Routine and headed straight to the facility''s gym. When finished, he sneaked in a can of Fijee before even having breakfast. Luckily, his System tolerated the indulgence and spared him from any punishment.


    Greeting the staff of Trampos Racing, who were busy preparing for the afternoon flight, Luca could sense their collective satisfaction with him¡ªeveryone except for Haas and the American. Both seemed bitter, likely because he had snatched away yet another seasonal chance for them to secure a top division spot in motorsport. This animosity didn''t bother Luca.


    Though he had made some attempts to smooth things over, he figured as long as they weren''t his teammates while on the track, there wasn''t much point in forcing a good rtionship.


    After a refreshing cold morning bath, Luca treated himself to breakfast: mashed sweet potatoes topped with ked grilled salmon, drizzled with olive oil and a sprinkle of chili kes for that extra kick and vor.


    He sat on the edge of his bed, the soft German morning sunlight filtering through the clear windows and pooling across his bedspread. Checking his phone, Luca responded to messages and frowned at several missed calls from his mother and sister. With a sigh, he swiped away the notifications¡ªhe knew this would happen the moment his sister got her hands on a phone.


    Moving on, Luca reviewed more pressing messages. Mallow confirmed that he would be flying to Melbourne with Sara tagging along. As part of his team, it was their job to shadow him across the globe. The next message was from Harry, who seemed fond of sending random videos from these new tforms that spanned worldwide social interaction.


    As always, the clips were iprehensible to Luca, and he found none funny or even rtable. With an exasperated sigh, he skimmed through the rest of the messages about flight arrangements and seat assignments on Trampos Racing''s private jet. Satisfied with the orderliness, Luca powered off his phone and got dressed.


    He pulled on a sleek tracksuit in the colors of Trampos Racing, grabbed his little MP3 yer, and clipped thepact device to the zipper of his jacket. Opting for his usual vibe, he slipped in his earpieces, gathered his belongings, and dashed out into the bright morning sun.


    -----------------------------


    The ne took off around 11 a.m. once everyone was nestled inside. Ansel arrived in his car, driven by his fianc¨¦e, and gave her a wave goodbye before boarding. As they settled into their seats, Ansel leaned toward Luca and asked why he hadn''t bought a home yet and was still living at headquarters.


    Luca shrugged off the question, seeing no reason to tie himself down with a property that would endlessly drain his ount. Living at the headquarters, which came at no personal cost, made far more sense to him.


    The journey to Melbourne required three connecting flights. The first leg took them from Berlin to Frankfurt, followed by Frankfurt to Dubai, and finally, from Dubai to their destination in the wonderful country of Oz. The entire trip spanned 21 exhausting hours, with a few minor dys stretching the total travel time to 22 hours.


    By the time they reached Melbourne, Luca swore he could no longer feel his legs.


    They touched down in Melbourne just past mid-morning. The airport buzzed with life, full of travelersing and going, but fatigue was etched into the faces of Luca and the others. They moved quickly through customs, retrieving their luggage and weaving through the crowd toward the exit.


    Waiting outside was a reserved shuttle, ready to take them directly to their amodation. They piled in without hesitation, grateful for the smooth transition. As the shuttle rolled through the city, the streets blurred past in a kaleidoscope of bustling pedestrians, cars, and shops.


    The warm Australian sun cast long shadows across the urbanndscape, palm trees swaying gently beneath the open sky.


    Luca wished he had an ultra camera with him.


    As they left the busy core of the city behind, the scene grew quieter, giving way to the rxed rhythm of the suburbs. Within the hour, the shuttle pulled into a modern training facility set aside by the Federation for their use. From the outside, it bore a striking resemnce to Grey-Husson''s headquarters, though it was notably smaller and featured more muted, dimmed colors.


    The shuttle made a smooth circle around theplex, passing a few officials already moving about, their steps brisk and purposeful. Eventually, it came to a stop in front of a sleek white building that stood out as the centerpiece of the facility.


    And just like that, Luca thought.


    The team sighed collectively and disembarked.


    "We have four days till race day," Mr. Grant grunted in his usual gloomy tone. He addressed the four drivers¡ªLuca, Ansel, Haas, and the younger American, Victor¡ªwithout even ncing at them. As he exchanged handshakes with the officials at the training facility, he motioned for the boys to do the same. "Don''t think today''s off. We get in our cars by noon.


    Go freshen up."


    Luca groaned inwardly. He had spent almost a full day in the air and would''ve killed for a few more hours of sleep to make up for it. But instead of voicing his frustration, he quietly followed Mr. Moritz and the others into the quarters assigned to them.


    After dropping off his belongings, Luca took ate breakfast, feeling grateful that his System hadn''t punished him for missing the previous day''s Daily Quest or falling short on today''s Daily Routine. The long flight hadpletely thrown everything off track, and his System seemed to understand, sparing him any penalties.


    Australian Grand Prix


    Location: Melbourne, Australia


    Date: Mar. 22


    Track: George Park Circuit


    Luca scrolled through the race details disyed on his phone before sending a quick message to Mallow and Sara to let them know he had arrived safely in Australia. Afterward, he powered off his phone and got ready.


    In the locker room, Luca and Ansel suited up in their training racing gear¡ªa sleek ck-and-red ensemble, the alternating colors of their official race suits.


    Just a few minutes past noon, the two young men slipped on their helmets and gloves, fastening the straps securely. With the sun casting an orange glow across the distant horizon, they made their way out to the track.


    Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz stood waiting for them alongside the pit crew staff and engineers.


    Every point mattered this season, and Trampos Racing was determined to leavest year''s disappointments behind. With a veteran from F2 and a rising star who had already imed a podium finish in his debut, this was their moment to shine and win their very first championship.

 Chapter 37 Block, Surge And Conquer!

    Intense training was carried out for the next three days. Mr. Grant was keen on training his boys on battling the understeer of the George Park Circuit. He was well familiar with the circuit, considering he''s been the Team Principal for a few years, and have managed just a generation of Trampos Racing.


    Luca spent a lot of time in chicane and hairpin drills, deftly maneuvering the single-seater he was given through the small track of the training facility. His System kept every record of the task he carried out and informed him of his overall score when any waspleted.


    Today, Mr. Grant wanted his team to learn and master yet another strategy that was needful for a track like George Park to give them the upper hand at certain circumstances. Luca and Ansel listened closely as he spoke. Haas was with them as well after Mr. Grant said he would be needing more wheels for the training.


    The Robust Formation Strategy was what Mr. Grant called it, though Luca felt it likely had alternative names. The main objective of the strategy when put in simple words was for one driver to deliberately slow down and block a rival, allowing the second driver to gain significant time and overtake.


    Though it might seem easy to the ears, it needed seamlessmunication between the drivers and precise timing and prediction, because rivals'' movements could be unpredictable at times.


    Before the strategy could be executed, Luca and Ansel would quickly assign their roles depending on who is ahead and who is behind. The one ahead would be the Surge driver, meaning he will be the one to take advantage of any gaps created on the track when the strategy is executed.


    The one behind would likely be the Blocker Driver, focusing on disrupting and holding off key rivals to create space for his teammate.


    For the set-up, the Blocker Driver would likely be adjacently behind the Surger, and simultaneously be before a rival who is threatening to overtake. This would likely keep them in an L-format while zooming down the track.


    To begin their training, there were three roles to be taken: the Surger, the Blocker, and the Rival. Luca and Ansel switched between Surger and Blocker regrly, while Haas maintained his role as the rival opponent threatening to im a position in the race.


    They got into their respective cars, strapping themselves tightly after all safety measures were taken. The entire Trampos Racing crew that traveled with them stood at the sidelines, where grandstands would typically be during an actual event. The training facility had no bleachers for spectators.


    Analyzing and inspecting the status of his single-seater, Luca''s System deftly synced him with the Dara.


    Luca gripped his wheel, waiting for Mr. Grant''smand. Their cars were positioned midway through the track to simte the sudden need to execute the strategy during an official race. Luca yed the Blocker Driver, while Ansel took the role of the Surge Driver for the first phase of the training.


    Ansel''s car was positioned just ahead of Luca''s, to replicate the need to elerate away from pressure. Haas'' car sat behind Luca''s, with the same distance separating them as between Luca and Ansel.


    Mr. Grant ordered them to start their engines and roll slowly down the track, steadily building speed. Somewhere along the way, he would signal themand to initiate the Robust Formation Strategy..


    Once they reached speeds of 250 km/h, Mr. Grant gave the order for Haas to begin pressing toward the cars ahead. Luca elerated, shifting slightly to position himself defensively and block Haas from overtaking on the inside line.


    This freed Ansel from the pressure, allowing him to manage his car''s status and then surge forward. Luca adjusted his speed, focusing on holding Haas in check. Every time Haas tried to build momentum, Luca cut across just enough to disrupt his line without risking a penalty.


    The seconds stretched on as Ansel gained distance, sessfully creating a gap between him and the others.


    The roles were switched repeatedly, with practices continuing on and on while Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz took careful notes of their progress, assessing secondary strategies to implement as needed.


    Eventually, the sun began to set, casting a softer, mellow light over the circuit. The heat of the day had dissipated, leaving the track bathed in a golden hue. Luca and Ansel were visibly tired as Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz finally called it a day.


    They retired into the facility to refresh, only to be greeted by members of the F2 press, who had been waiting patiently. Cameras shed incessantly, and microphones were thrust forward as reporters swarmed around, eager to learn about their training, strategies, and expectations for the uing race.


    Luca was still slightly sweaty, though the cool st of the room''s air conditioning eased the heat from his body as he took a seat behind a white table cluttered with microphones. He sat to the left of Mr. Grant, while Ansel upied the seat to his right.


    Luca had just learned that the press had been waiting all along for the team to finish their training session before being permitted inside, in ordance with FIA regtions.


    "Mr. Grant, with only a few days left until the Australian Grand Prix, how confident are you in your team''s ability to execute the new strategies you''ve been practicing?" a reporter asked.


    "I''m very confident my team will execute wlessly in any race we face," Mr. Grant replied smoothly.


    "Luca has been making headlines recently with his rapid progression. Do you see him as a potential frontrunner in the championship, and how are you helping him manage the pressure?"


    "Our new driver might be young, but I can assure you, he''s not feeling the pressure. My boys stay cold even in the heat of their engines," Mr. Grant replied confidently.


    "And do you have any concerns that teams from the higher division mighte in and try to snatch him away if he proves to be exceptionally good?"


    Mr. Grant hesitated briefly, his brows twitching before responding. "I''m not going to answer that. We all know Luca is under a two-year contract with us." He gestured toward the next reporter. "Please, let''s move on to the next and final question."


    "Certainly, Mr. Grant. With the radical overhaul that the Federation is proposing, do you worry that this new format and expansion might alter the essence of motorsport, as well as your team''s strategy and your drivers'' experiences on the track? What are your thoughts on the FIA''stest announcements, and when do you anticipate they might implement these changes?"


    Mr. Grant leaned in on the table, interlocking his fingers as he ced them on the nketed surface of the table. His stern gaze swept the room as he readied his response. "I''m just a Team Principal of a feeder series team. The FIA''s announcement could involve racing underwater for all I care; this is their sport to manage, and my focus is guiding my team under that framework.


    As for when they will implement these measures, I can''t say. However, I assure you my drivers can navigate any obstacle thates their way. Thank you, but that will be all for questions."


    A reporter stammered out a follow-up, but Mr. Grant shut it down with a firm shake of his head as he stood. "My drivers will respond to no questions," he stated, leading Luca and Ansel out of the press room.


    Luca was just realizing the weight each race carried, even in Form 2. He would be racing a total of 12 or 13 races this season¡ªassuming Mr. Grant kept letting Haas take the wheel for the Sprint Races. His thoughts drifted as the evening slowly cloaked the training facility in shadows.

 Chapter 38 Silent Expectations

    Race Day: Mar. 22, George Park, Melbourne, Australia.


    Luca had mixed feelings after Mr. Grant confirmed that Erik Haas would be participating in most of the Sprint Races to build his ability and track awareness, ensuring he wouldn''t remain a dormant driver. The problem was that Sprint Races, like the first race of the season, could determine grid positions for the main Featured Race. Luca didn''t want to be stuck behind five cars at the very least.


    Judging from Haas'' potential, it didn''t seem likely he would break into the top five, let alone reach the podium.


    Fortunately for Luca, the grid position for today''s Featured Race wasn''t determined by the Sprint Race but by the final leaderboard from the previous race in Bad Rauenburg. Since Luca had finished third in Germany''s F2 Grand Prix, he was set to start on the inside of row two¡ªa strategic advantage that would help in his pursuit of victory today.


    The team arrived early at George Park Circuit to prepare for the Sprint Race, with other F2 teams showing up at about the same time. Luca considered going to meet Harry for a quick chat, but he knew it would be unconventional, perhaps even hical, given the circumstances.


    George Park Circuit was drastically different from Bergwaldring, and the contrasts made Luca suspect that new faces might appear on the podium since the track required different strategies. One aspect in Luca''s favor was that George Park consisted of just 46ps¡ªa relief until a nagging memory struck him as he remembered that he had only reached 6th ce by the 46thp at Bergwaldring.


    The thought left him wishing George Park had moreps to offer.


    The track presented more challenges than Bergwaldring, too: abrupt bends, tight chicanes, hairpin turns, and short, unforgiving straightways. The George Park Circuit was often called the sibling of the Serpeggiare for good reason. Another aspect that unsettled Luca was the closeness of the barricades.


    The grandstands were so near the track they reminded him of bleachers hugging the edge of a wrestling ring. A troubling thought crossed his mind: What if a racer crashes into the crowd?


    Nheless, the George Park Circuit was open for racing, with twenty F2 teams ready for the Sprint Race. The crowd was sparse this mid-morning but would undoubtedly swell before the Featured Race. The season''s structure had reverted to its usual format, with F2 races scheduled on Saturdays while F1, branded as the ''main event'' of the weekend, took ce on Sundays.


    Luca met with Mallow and his personal assistant, Sara, discussing crucial matters concerning the need to reach the podium or, even better, secure first ce in today''s Featured Race.


    The mid-morning sun shone brightly, but its warmth remained soft against the skin as the Sprint Race was set to begin. Luca thought about watching his teammates but decided instead to calm his nerves early by retreating to the locker room deep in their garage. Once there, he turned to his trusty mp3 yer, sting heavy metal music into his ears.


    Nodding softly to the hard, vigorous beats, he let the pounding rhythms drown his thoughts.


    Curiosity soon got the better of him, and Luca grabbed the draft sheet listing the participating drivers from all twenty teams. A peek at the lineup brought him satisfaction¡ªhe spotted the names of Miles and Addams in their respective teams. They were the two racers he intended to outdo today.


    He''d heard that Addams had nearly reached F1st season, only to miss the chance due to some unfortunate circumstances. So, it all came down to the fact that Max Addams was F1 potential already.


    Luca exhaled deeply.


    The Sprint Race ended just before noon. Even through the loudness of his music, Luca could make out the muffled roar of the now-packed grandstands. He pulled out his earpiece as Ansel and Haas entered the locker room.


    As expected, Ansel''s face remained neutral and expressionless, just like always, while Haas looked visibly displeased and frustrated. The German angrily tossed his helmet aside before storming out of the locker room through the other door. A crew member quietly picked up the discarded helmet and ced it back where it belonged.


    Chill, man. It''s just a Sprint Race, Luca mused, watching Haas stomp away in fury. Heter found out that Ansel had astonishingly finished first, while Haas had ended up in seventh¡ªa result Ansel bluntly described as "disgraceful."


    Luca couldn''t help but wonder what Mr. Grant saw in Erik Haas that justified continuing to ce the German in Sprint Races. If the goal was to foster improvement, Luca doubted it would happen, considering Haas had been on the team almost as long as Ansel and still wasn''t showing progress.


    After congratting Ansel on his victory, Luca apologized for skipping the race and staying in the locker room, listening to ''Master of Puppets'' by Metallica. Ansel merelyughed off the apology before starting to undress from his racing suit, preparing to refresh himself for the Featured Race, which was scheduled to begin in two hours.


    With little else to do, Luca figured he would wait until Ansel was ready for their personal teammate briefing, after which they''d both suit up for the main race.


    To pass the time, Luca switched on his phone and opened the candy game app that Sara had installed for him. He wasn''t particrly good at it, but the game''s intuitive user interface made it easy to learn.


    Surprisingly, he found himself on a winning streak when a familiar figure approached and sat beside him. It was none other than Mr. Grant, his Team Principal.


    Luca instantly switched off his phone and yanked out his earpiece. "Sir?"


    Mr. Grant cleared his throat as he leaned back against the wall. "Some would call that a crude device," he remarked, ncing at Luca''s mp3 yer. "We are gradually leaving that age behind."


    Luca chuckled, coiling the wire of his earpiece and cing it beside the mp3 yer. "Until we do, sir, I''ll still make use of it," he replied. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?"


    "Definitely," Mr. Grant said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. "It''s just a stern reminder of why I personally pushed Mr. Fisher to fund the scouts and send them all the way to Birmingham."


    Luca didn''t have the nerve to meet Mr. Grant''s gaze, so he focused on the metal frame of a locker while the 41-year-old man spoke.


    "I can''t speak for others, but for me, being a Team Principal isn''t just about the numbers, fame, or des. Many of us do it because we know the feeling of sitting back on a couch after retirement, watching old clips of the icon we groomed lifting trophies and iming podiums," Mr. Grant exined.


    "Denko Rutherford, one of my driversst season, now races for Haddock Racing in the main division. I want to groom both Ansel and you the same way. And from what I''ve seen, you might just make my job easier. Keep it up, Luca. The more you elevate the team, the more secure your ce will be in every race."


    Luca felt like his mind was slow to process Mr. Grant''s words, but the meaning finally clicked at thest second. He turned to nce at the man and started to say, "Thank y¡ª"


    But Mr. Grant didn''t wait. He stood up abruptly and strode out of the room, his lean figure moving like a shadow. For a moment, Luca wondered if Mr. Grant had once been a driver himself.

 Chapter 39 Silent Expectations 2

    An hourter, Ansel returned to the locker room, looking refreshed and ready for the race. He slung a towel over his shoulder as he dropped onto the bench beside Luca. "Guess who''s got 7% of the votes to win today''s race?" Ansel asked, raising a brow with a short smirk.


    Luca didn''t need to think hard to understand the implication. His lips twisted into a frown. "Me? 7% of the people here at George Park bet on me to win?"


    "Yep, number 21," Ansel confirmed with a soft smile. "Aren''t you happy you''ve got a portion of the crowd believing you''ll cross the finish line first?"


    The George Park Circuit holds about 85,000 spectators. Let''s say 70,000 of them are eligible to ce bets. That means almost 5,000 people think I''ll win? What the....Screw whatever Mr. Grant said to the press earlier¡ªI don''t like this kind of pressure. "And what happens if I don''t cross the line first?


    They lose all their money, right?"


    "Not exactly," Ansel replied with a casual shrug. "It depends on how much they ced and whether they made follow-up bets on other drivers. But yeah, in the end, they won''t walk away with what they were hoping for. Don''t sweat it. Their decision, their problem. I''ve disappointed bettors plenty of times.


    It''s just part of the game."


    Luca gave a slow nod. "And how many people bet on you to take first ce?"


    Ansel leaned his head back with a small groan. "Ah, nothing crazy¡ªjust 13.5%. Addams is the real favorite this time with 44%. Aaronson''s got 17%, which is annoyingly higher than me. Addams'' teammate snagged 8%, and then there''s your old Grey-Husson buddy, the young face of Ennd they say..."


    "Miles Bellingham," Luca muttered bitterly. He loathed that nickname.


    "Yes, him. 6% are on his side. That''s some strong belief," Ansel said, rising to his feet.


    For someone who finished sixth in thest Featured Race and has no F2 history, that really is some strong belief. Luca sighed and stood as well. He and Ansel kept up their chatter as they got dressed in their racing suits, discussing how they would implement both team and personal strategies during the race.


    Luca effortlessly slipped into his suit, the snug material hugging his body as he adjusted the cor. The Velcro on his cuffs secured with a sharp rip, and he pulled on his gloves, flexing his fingers to test the tight grip. A quick stretch of his hands made sure they were ready. With smooth precision, he fastened the neck support cor before grabbing his helmet off the bench.


    His helmet looked different now¡ªalmost identical to Ansel''s, thanks to the extra Fijee designs printed on it. While Ansel carried two additional sponsors and their responsibilities stitched onto his suit, Luca had just one. Still, it made him smile, thinking this was only the beginning.


    Together, Luca and Ansel walked out of the locker room toward the garage, where the distant roar of the crowd echoed through the walls.


    "...good afternoon, folks! It''s a beautiful day here in George Park, Melbourne, as we bring you thest race of the month in the F2 Championship. The crowded grid will once again battle it out on the track in the second Featured Race of the twelve scheduled for this season...!"


    "...Steve, are my eyes deceiving me, or is the George Park Circuit actually sold out...?"


    "...your eyes are as sharp as ever, Steve! And your ears, too. The George Park Circuit ispletely packed, and more fans are still trying to make their way inside. If I remember correctly, we didn''t see anything like thisst season, except maybe during the final, twelfth Featured Race..."


    "...well, what do you expect, Steve? After delivering such a performance back in Germany, both on-site and on TV screens, how could they not crave more? That race was top-tier, and the fans are back to experience that same thrill again..."


    "...they better get what they came for, because every turn, swerve, and curve matters on George Park''s winding track. The scious loops here will truly test the drivers'' capabilities today. And speaking of tests, let''s nce at the Team Standings so far in the Championship: Trampos Racing leads the way with 35 points, followed closely by Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr. with 31.


    Hatcherk Motorsport holds third with 14 points, Nevada is just behind them with 11, and, somewhat surprisingly, Squadra Corse Jnr. rounds out the top five with nine points..."


    "....It''s great to see Trampos Racing climbing toward the top so early. After their poor 7th-ce finishst season, I''m pretty sure the management told Mr. Lucas Grant, ''Sir, this cannot happen again. We have to make major changes.'' And so far, it looks like those changes are paying off.


    They''ve retained their sponsors, kept their F2 spot, and, with a couple of young talents on board, they''re building real momentum..."


    "...I like where you are going with that, Jon. And speaking of young prospects, let''s take a look at the Driver Standings in the F2 Championship. Max Addams after an exhrating race in Bad Rauenburg stands proudly at the top with 25 points. And like you had mentioned, Trampos has their two yers in second and third, Ansel Hahn and Luca Rennick, each having 18 and 17 points to their name.


    After falling short in thest race, Aaronson could hope to make this one different; forth is his home to reside for now with 12 points. Nevada''s Jorge Rivera managed to get 10 points and is ced at fifth. These are the leading five..."


    "...well, that could change after 46ps of George Park..."


    "...hehe, as paranoid as ever my comentator can be. We have Australia''s Grand Prix ahead of us, folks...!"


    Luca and Ansel entered the garage, greeted by the Trampos team crew. Immediately, a few staff members approached, attending to their suits. A female crew member noticed that Luca''s HANS device wasn''t properly secured and gently cautioned him.


    "It needs to be tighter," she said with a smile, adjusting the straps connecting the HANS to his helmet. She pulled the shoulder straps taut, ensuring they fit snugly against his racing suit.


    Luca nodded in appreciation. "Thanks," he said, giving a quick stretch of his arms and legs to loosen up.


    Just then, Mr. Grant arrived, apanied by Mr. Moritz. The determined look etched across Mr. Grant''s face left no room for misinterpretation, the message was nothing less than a podium finish would be eptable today.

 Chapter 40 Silent Expectations 3

    A/N: Thank you for 100+ powerstones this week. Plus one chapter it is.


    Mr. Grant studied his boys, his face stern as he searched for an iota of distress, anxiety, or timidity in their expressions. Eventually, finding none, he opened his mouth to speak.


    Luca, who was adept at masking his inner emotions, exhaled inwardly. It wasn''t just the question of whether he''d make the podium or not¡ªhe was anxious about the sheer act of racing itself. The sensation of pushing the limits at such high speeds before spectators was still foreign to him, and he figured it might take at least one more race to feel fully in sync with the essence of it.


    Until then, he''d steady his nerves and give his absolute best on the track.


    "Many races I''ve managed, and I can assure you, Motorsport is not like other sports," Mr. Grant said, his gaze lingering on Luca. It was clear that Luca was the intended audience for his words¡ªwhatever Grant was saying, Ansel likely already knew. "There''s no such thing as a seasonaleback, where a 14th-ce team magically rises to fourth by some miracle. No, nothing like that happens here."


    In 1998, Tekk Racing¡ªnow known as Haddock Racing¡ªclimbed from 16th to win the championship with the help of Sam Scott and in Mudryk. That was the rise of HR. Luca remembered this, but decided not to mention it, believing Mr. Grant was trying to make a point.


    "Points at the start of the season matter a whole lot more than those at the end. You use the fresh momentum to dominate early on and grab the title. That is what you do," Mr. Grant dered with authority. "We are leaving here with nothing less than 40 points. Do I make myself clear...?"


    Luca nced at Ansel. It seemed thest question had been directed straight at him. Mr. Grant was silently cing Ansel in charge for the race.


    "Yes, sir," Ansel answered with steady, unwavering confidence. Grant gave him a firm tap on the shoulder, then turned and walked away toward his viewing post without saying another word.


    As soon as the man was gone, Ansel and Luca shifted their attention to Mr. Moritz, who wore an amused smile.


    "Forty points, huh? Think you boys can manage that?" Moritz asked, half-teasing but curious.


    Luca and Ansel exchanged nces, then shrugged in unison as they pulled on their helmets. The bustling garage faded into a world of muffled noises, the cheer of the crowd and the crew chatter dulled by the snug fit of their headgear. They fastened their helmet straps with practiced ease, though the crew still hovered around them, pestering their necks and double-checking everything with care.


    Luca stepped briefly out of the garage, curiosity pulling him toward the edge. The circuit buzzed with an electric energy, the stands filled with spectators eager for the race. The grandstands were closer to the track than he had expected, with fans near the Trampos Racing garage pit leaning over eagerly, stretching their hands in hopes of touching him.


    He took a quick nce at the other team garages, and he could see they were ready to roll out their cars to the grid. From the far side of the third section, Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr''s garage was filled with able crew members catering for Max Addams and his teammate Dani Walding with the same meticulous care as though handling rare artifacts.


    Luca shifted his gaze further down the pitne, where another team''s garage caught his eye. He craned his neck to confirm¡ªyes, Squadra Corse Jnr was stationed just to the left, their mechanics hard at work. The line of teams stretched on, each preparing their machines for the battle ahead.


    "Full day," Luca muttered to himself, retreating back into the Trampos garage just as a few desperate fingertips from the crowd managed to brush against his suit.


    Approaching his car, Luca''s System effortlessly analyzed every detail, confirming that the single-seater was in optimal condition and was ready to go. The green text flowed seamlessly across his visor, soothing his nerves. He slid into the cockpit, where the crew deftly fastened the harness and safety belts around him, locking him into ce.


    Momentster, a tow truck rumbled into position at the edge of the pit. With smooth efficiency, it rolled Luca''s and Ansel''s cars out onto the curb. As the cars began moving toward the grid, pit crew members gave the chassis reassuring pats as gestures of motivation.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synced with Dara (F2 04)]


    The crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer as Luca and Ansel emerged with the other 28 cars, their sleek forms hugging the ground, low and poised for battle. The cars took to the track like gliders slicing through the air, rolling confidently to their assigned grid positions.


    Luca felt a twinge of satisfaction¡ªhe was starting from the inside of row 2, Position 3. Perfect. Ansel upied Position 2 on the outside of row 1, a mirror of their previous lineup at Bad Rauenburg.


    Now, I have a good chance of winning this.


    Max Addams'' blue-and-ck Dara caught Luca''s eye, the sight stirring a fierce hunger inside him. Whether it was he or Ansel, someone from Trampos would take Addams down today and dethrone him.


    [Host, are you confident this will be the race where youplete your Mission?]


    Luca inhaled deeply, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. With a quick press of the ENGAGE button, the engine roared to life beneath him, growling like a beast ready to be unleashed. The vibrations reverberated through his arms, steadying his resolve.


    "Don''t you believe in me, System?" he murmured.


    [The Form 1 System would not have been granted to you if I did not.]


    [Winning your first race will grant you lots of EXP, two new Skills, and an upgrade to Advanced Bundle.]


    "Alright, then," Luca muttered, shifting his gaze toward Aaronson, who upied 4th position just to the outside of his row. If anyone would give him trouble today, it was Aaronson. Max Addams? No¡ªAnsel could handle him. Aaronson was hisst minute rival from Germany. It woulde down to him and Aaronson.


    Aaronson''s car hummed, its revs so loud as if he was anticipating the very millisecond the lights went off so he could explode off the line and pass Luca. "Game on, then. We''ll have a rematch," Luca said, wishing Aaronson could hear. ncing at each other across the asphalt, Luca was certain they understood their threats nonverbally.


    "...the wait hase to an end, and the race can finally begin! Forty-sixps around the George Park Circuit¡ªthe second Featured Race of the season. We''ll soon see who and which team wille out on top with the most points by the end of the day..."


    "... it''s made known that after that exhrating performance in Germany, Trampos Racing''s new driver, Luca Rennick, 18, is the driver to watch for today''s race. I say he''ll live up to expectations within the next 80 minutes of engine and tires. What do you say, Jon...?"


    "...one good race doesn''t necessarily make one the seed for the birds. You will have to work your way to gain such appraisal. To me, the young driver would fall short even with the favorable grid position..."


    "...heh, we''ll take bets on that, Jon. But for now, the race awaits, and the lights are about to go out...!"


    Luca''s gaze settled on the sprawling track of George Park, snaking far into the distance like a serpent of asphalt and tarmac, its sharp corners coiling in ways that gnawed at his nerves. His eyes flicked to the massive screens overhead, disying the starting grid. The lights above the starting line flickered in sequence and began counting down to the moment everything would erupt.


    **Bring the points***


    The crowd roared, their cheers swelling to deafening heights, drowning out even the furious revving of engines all around him. But Luca blocked it all out, narrowing his focus to the twisting track ahead. His System hummed quietly, processing every visual input¡ªevery angle, every turn, and every threat. Anything racing-rted that entered his sight became immediate data for him to absorb.


    gs waved wildly from the grandstands, horns red, and tension rippled across the grid like electricity. It took just a single moment for the lights to blink off, all the cars shooting forward like uncaged beasts. Let''s do this! urgh!


    Luca''s body mmed hard against the seat as the brutal force of eleration pinned him in ce. The G-forces hit faster and stronger than he remembered, squeezing the air from his lungs. His helmet rattled slightly, but it didn''t disorient himpletely.


    [Endurance +1]


    [Host is participating in an Official Race]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 95 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 108 bpm


    -Operational Status: 90% (Very Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 60m


    -Time: 2.3 sec ]


    The feeling of being behind the wheel was surreal once again. This wasn''t just training or a simtor¡ªthis was the F2 Championship, and Luca was right in the thick of it with an impressive 17 points already under his belt.


    "Thanks for the update," Luca muttered to his System, his grip steady as his eyes locked onto the track ahead. An early bend loomed, notorious for its bottleneck. His pulse quickened as he saw Addams and Ansel up ahead, already adjusting their wheels to fit the curve. Their single-seaters surged side by side, perfectly synchronized, fighting for dominance at the bend.


    Luca remembered the car he was racing side by side with, and he nced in that direction while he tilted his own wheel. Aaronson was already speeding up even with the structure of the track they were approaching. The Australian was not interested in dragging positions with a driver who emerged from nowhere.


    He quickly zoomed into the bottleneck with a short drift and imed third position for himself. Luca tilted his wheel to adjust, but Aaronson''s car edged past, slipping smoothly into third ce with a narrow margin.


    Luca cursed as the leaderboard shifted instantly.


    [4th Position]

 Chapter 41 Australian Grand Prix

    [Host has skills to Overtake opponent]


    "Chill, I can''t just do it in a sh," Luca asked loudly, trying to hide his frustration that he had effortlessly given Aaronson third position, leaving him at the gnawing hoods of fifth position, Oliver Kristensen, Retona''s team''s racer.


    Luca deftly tilted his wheel like a seasoned conductor, each adjustment synchronized with the natural rhythm of the car and track. Aaronson''s rear stayed firmly in his sights as the pair approached the next bend¡ªa daunting, tight left-right that could spell disaster with the smallest misstep. Typical of George Park Circuit, the dual chicanes were unforgiving.


    His tires gripped the asphalt like a vice, Luca trailing behind Aaronson as though tethered to the back of his car and was being towed by Aaronson. He feathered the throttle, eyes locked ahead as he eased into the left turn, bncing just enough to maintain a perfect line. Aaronson, ever the predator, had taken a calcted defensive position, trying to close off any overtaking possibilities.


    But Luca, with precise timing, flicked the wheel right, skimming past the inside barrier as if the car knew exactly where the gapy.


    Having no time to adjust his wheel, the second set of left-right tight curves were just a few metres of rest. Luca hastily transitioned left, cutting a clean arc through the bend before snapping right with a graceful yet fierce determination. Any wrong move during that would have caused his car to skid out of the track. Lord knows what Mr. Grant would do to me.


    Without missing a beat, Luca transitioned left again, his car hugging the bend, tires screaming against the track. The car''s rear twitched violently, threatening to break loose, but Luca''s grip was firm, and he corrected it instinctively. He sliced through the bend, snapping right with determination, and elerated into the exit, pulling closer to Aaronson.


    There was no margin for error, not with Aaronson driving like he had something to prove.


    And then came the straightaway¡ªthe shortest one on the entire circuit, barely enough space to catch a breath, let alone make a move. Luca had no choice but to push forward, knowing that DRS would be his only chance. As he activated the rear wing, he saw Aaronson do the same, his car preparing tounch forward like a missile.


    The roar of their engines filled the track as they both fired down the straight. Luca''s heart pounded in sync with the pulse of the engine, eyes narrowing as he closed the gap, inch by inch. Aaronson wasn''t making it easy, staying in the center of the track to block any potential overtake. Luca pressed harder, knowing that the thirdp would be decisive if he failed to grab 2nd.


    **You better im back P3, Luca. Gaffer is not pleased here**


    Luca grumbled, his fingers caressing the buttons on his wheel''s pad. He moved to the right line of the track, hoping to see some space through. However, Aaronson was well skilled at defending his line and others as well.


    The roar of Kristensen behind him was daunting, creeping at his spine, but Luca managed to keep hold of his position, making it through the 3rd Lap as the crowd roared with life.


    "...six minutes into Australia''s Grand Prix, Jon. And I can tell you this, Trampos''sd did not start well. Handing a podium position so easily to apetitor like Aaronson is a mistake that mighte back to haunt him as the race progresses..."


    "...well, don''t forget I said he would fall short, Steve. Luca Rennick was in the perfect position¡ªright behind his teammate¡ªexactly what a team aims for in strategy. But a second into the race, Aaronson showed him why he''s a three-season veteran and a former champion..."


    "...I get your point, Jon. Meanwhile, up front, Hahn and Addams are putting on a motorsport masterss. It''s clear Addams has taken the lead for now, but we''ll let the leaderboard do the talking in theingps. Shifting our focus to the mid-pack and the back, the race is tighter than a wrench on a bolt. And let''s hope we avoid any fatalities, no matter how minor.


    APX will be doing everything they can to break into the top 10 this time. Their zero-point finish in Germany has left them holding the championship table from the bottom..."


    [4th Lap]


    The roar of a car''s engine pulled Luca out of his intense focus. He caught a glimpse of Retona''s ck-and-violet Dara inching closer, creeping into his side view. Oliver Kristensen was pushing hard, his helmeted face locked in concentration as he attempted to squeeze into the narrow edge of the track just before the twisting left-rightbination of George Park''s next section.


    Luca''s instinct told him he could nudge his chassis just enough to block Oliver''s slipstream. But then a more dangerous possibility shed through his mind¡ªif he blocked Kristensen, Miles, sitting in 6th position, might seize the opportunity on the open space Luca would leave.


    He could already envision Miles activating his DRS briefly, hitting the throttle hard, and gliding into view at the peak of the uing curve.


    [Intelligence +1]


    Luca swore on his contract he would never let such a thing happen.


    Determined not to lose ground, he stayed tight on his racing line, forcing Kristensen into a bad position. He adjusted his angle with precision, making his car as wide as possible without overextending into the slipstream.


    But Oliver Kristensen wasn''t backing off. He roared forward, elerating like a predator closing in on prey. For a brief moment, it seemed as if he would make the pass. Yet, just as the sharp bend loomed, Kristensen hesitated¡ªcontinuing alongside Luca at such a precarious angle would surely send him skidding off-track.


    Realizing the risk, he conceded and eased back into thene behind Luca, his front wing now aligned with Luca''s rear tires as the curve bit into the tarmac.


    [You sessfully defended your position. Keep it up, host.]


    Luca''s grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white beneath his gloves. His body leaned instinctively with the bend, syncing with the car''s smooth arc through the long, flowing corners of the circuit.

 Chapter 42 Australian Grand Prix 2

    Emerging out of the bend, Luca was d that he had closed up enough space that Aaronson was keen on erging.


    The Hatcherk Motorsport driver had set his sights on stealing Ansel''s spot just ahead, and judging by the speed and momentum with which he was approaching Ansel, Luca suspected Aaronson might capitalize on Addams and Ansel''s brawl at the lead, slipping into their line of space before they could even realize it.


    "Won''t happen," Luca muttered, mming the throttle. His body jerked back violently, as if an elephant had rammed into him. His car roared past a Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr g being waved from the crowd. The barricades and grandstands pressed too close to the track, and gs like these could easily poke into the drivers'' view.


    But Luca wasn''t about to let a g interfere with his pursuit to reim 3rd Position. The blue fabric whipped wildly in the air as he zipped through, and if the spectator hadn''t held it firmly, Luca was certain it would''ve flown onto the track and caused mayhem.


    [5th Lap]


    A straight was just ahead, engines roaring close together, with no driver confident orfortable in their position. Luca''s gaze flicked between the track and the data shing on his steering disy. A small engine heat-up warning¡ªnothing critical, it would cool down soon.


    Luca scoffed and adjusted his brake bnce to the rear, anticipating the next sharp bend where he nned to make up even more ground on Aaronson.


    His fingers hovered over the ERS button, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash the energy boost he''d been holding back. Another nce at his tire temperatures confirmed they were still in the optimal range for the speed he was about to push. His focus snapped back to the delta on his dash, tracking his pace against Aaronson, who was already elerating hard.


    Finally exiting the simple corner¡ªat least simplepared to the others at George Park¡ªLuca toggled the DRS button with his thumb, the rear wing ttening to reduce drag. He braced himself for the G-force as his Dara surged forward, the engine screaming. The track ahead began to blur slightly at the edges of his vision, but his focus remained razor-sharp on the rear of Aaronson''s car.


    A quick nce at his side mirror confirmed that Oliver and Miles were now locked in a fierce battle for 5th.


    "Good, keep ''em busy," Luca said out loud as his car zoomed past, barely inches from the barricade, before approaching the next bend. "Fuck this circuit," he cursed, easing off the throttle to decelerate.


    [6th Lap]


    Luca tilted his wheel midne, deliberately positioning his car to slice through the center rather than hugging the outer edge of the track. He flicked the wheel sharply to the side, initiating a drift through the tight curve. His tires shrieked in protest, fighting the asphalt, leaving a swirling trail of white smoke in their wake.


    The rear end skidded wide, creeping dangerously close to the barricade¡ªclose enough that Luca could almost feel the heat radiating from the concrete.


    The crowd erupted in a frenzy, their cheers growing louder as smoke billowed into the air, the acrid scent of burning tires fueling their excitement in the forth section of the circuit.


    Luca, however, stayed calm and steady, guiding his Dara through the drift with pinpoint precision, his gaze locked onto Aaronson''s car just ahead. He felt the rear tires itching to break free, but the front tires held firm, doing just enough to keep them in check as the car whipped through the tight curve with wild momentum.


    [You made a 3.5 g drift, host.]


    Luca''s eyes widened, adrenaline flooding his veins as he realized the drift slotted him perfectly beside Aaronson. Their cars now ran nose-to-nose, metal beasts locked in a furious race down a short but crucial straightway, every second crackling with tension.


    Aaronson shot Luca a quick sideways re, disbelief etched across his face. Their engines screamed in unison, the thunderous roars fusing into one overwhelming sound that drowned out the wild cheers from the grandstands. The crowd was on its feet, urging one of them tounch and take the lead earlier on.


    Aaronson spat a curse under his breath and forced his focus back onto the track. Both cars tore down the asphalt, trailing just behind Ansel and Max Addams like missiles locked on target. His gloved fingers hovered over the DRS button, itching to deploy the boost and leave the rookie in his dust. But the moment to engage had to be precise¡ªhe still needed space to maneuver first.


    His eyes flicked to his left mirror, tracking Luca''s car as it clung dangerously close, almost a phantom shadow stalking his every move. "Get off my nk," Aaronson growled, tightening his grip on the wheel. The next corner loomed just past the grid, forcing him to hesitate.


    Engaging DRS now could backfire with the sharp bend approaching, and the rookie was still right there¡ªtoo damn close forfort.


    The F2 veteran tapped his brake lightly with his left foot to reduce speed just enough to nail the uing corner. This tactic was capable of disorienting a rival who had been focused on keeping to your rhythm; the sudden abrupt change throwing them into confusion and hastily adjustment.


    However, Luca didn''t fall for this; he was relentless. He seemed almost glued to Aaronson''s car, refusing to back down, his engine growling with the same defiance reflected in his driving.


    [7th Lap]


    The subtle deceleration backfired, leaving just enough room for Luca to slip even closer alongside him. His attempt to disrupt the rookie''s rhythm had only granted Luca more ground. "Ugh, great," Aaronson grumbled as both cars hurtled toward the treacherous spaghetti curves that snaked ahead like a coiled viper.


    Luca, sharp as ever, noticed the shift in Aaronson''s line. He adjusted without hesitation, tilting his wheel to match the arc. It was a dance of precision¡ªthere was no room for mistakes. The leaderboard flickered with names, but none of it could be trusted just yet. Kristensen had fended off Miles for now, but their battle was far from over.


    Miles clung to Kristensen''s tail like a bloodhound, and Kristensen was visibly struggling to keep him at bay.


    Engines roared viciously, the sound slicing through the cool air as both drivers began their deceleration. Their tires screeched, carving a tight U-formation as they sliced through the curves, shing glimpses of their sleek frames to the ecstatic crowds.


    Luca''s eyes scanned the track, his focus unrelenting¡ªuntil he spotted debris scattered along the asphalt. stic cups and stray litter dotted the racing line, hazards the marshals hadn''t managed to clear in time. One of the cups wobbled dangerously close to the edge of the path, threatening to roll directly into the line of his tires.


    "Why''s Australia like this?!" Luca muttered under his breath as he corrected away from the cups by adjusting his trajectory while still snaking through the left-right chicanes.


    [8th Lap]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 190 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 32000 m


    -Time: 12 min. ]

 Chapter 43 Australian Grand Prix 3

    Luca could feel the tension in the wheel as his tires screeched against the asphalt, finding grip in the tight corners while he fought for control. The car rocked slightly, but Luca adjusted smoothly, catching the rebound with a slight tilt of the steering wheel to stabilize the rear. They say at curves, there is no room for error, no margin for anything but perfection.


    His goal at the moment was to stay on Aaronson''s slipstream as long as he could, avoid the nasty debris from the crowd and get through the deadly maze without losing much time to the favor of Kristensen behind him.


    **I had P1 for a moment, Luca. George Park keeps being my bane.....may I ask how you''re doing?**


    "I''m forth," Luca replied with a hoarse voice, his gaze unmoved from Aaronson as they bent like waves to the track. "Gimme three moreps at least, I''ll ovee this hurdle."


    **We have 38 Laps ahead of us, that''s more than enough**


    Luca''s Dara followed Aaronson cut through another sharp curve with fine precision. Aaronson''s tires zoomed too close to the track''s edge, and began kicking up some dust and loose gravel. Luca wasn''t sure if that was done on purpose as a tactic, but Aaronson''s rhythmic speed and movement altered for a moment, before the Hatcherk Motorsport driver adjusted himself.


    Luca saw his opportunity to surge a bit forward even while they were at the apex of a bend. He maintained just enough throttle to keep his front wing close, allowing the slipstream to drag him forward. But the tight bends demanded precision¡ªhe couldn''t let the dirty air from Aaronson''s rear disrupt his handling.


    His fingers flexed over the paddle shifters as he downshifted, feeling the car grip hard as it transitioned from the right curve to the next left.


    Still racing neck and neck, the two of them weaved through the wobbly tracks like two synchronized racers performing a high-speed ballet. The structure of somenes and sections brought Luca dangerously close to Aaronson sometimes, separating them by inches, mere fractions of a second.


    Aaronson hit the throttleing out of the next right-hand bend, his car fishtailing slightly as he struggled to regain traction on the exit. Luca took advantage, pressing down on his own elerator just a second earlier, his tires squealing as they fought for grip. The gap closed. Luca was right behind him now, so close that he could see the heat shimmering off Aaronson''s chassis.


    "I¨CI got you," Luca muttered angrily with determination, literally squeezing his wheel just to maintain a tight grip on it.


    [9th Lap]


    **Dangerous driving there, heh. I hope you aren''t falling into his trap**


    Aaronson shot Luca one back nce before hitting his throttle once he came out of the next right-hand bend, his car once again, fidgeting slightly as he struggled to regain traction on the exit. Luca shed a smile briefly as the floating icons on his System''s interface in his view helped him notice that faster. That''s why I''m beside you. To capitalize on all mistakes.


    He took advantage, pressing down on his own elerator just a second earlier, his tires squealing as they fought for grip. The gap closed even more.


    As they approached the final turn of the multiple chicane set, Luca eased off the throttle, confidently letting Aaronson dive into the sharp corner first. He focused on Aaronson''s chassis taking a wide entry, aiming to maintain as much speed as possible through the twisty section.


    Aaronson''s tires screeched expertly, slightly drifting as he positioned to the center, the nose of his car pointing the way straight ahead. With a single surge of speed and with the right precision from Aaronson, Luca was certain he would lose track of the Hatcherk Motorsport driver.


    Luca''s eyes darted to the little space granted by Aaronson to execute his proposed "checking out". Though he wanted to keep to his original n of surviving the deadly chicanes with no clear intention of overtaking, Luca couldn''t bring himself to miss such an opportunity. "Moreover, I remember saying I will capitalize on mistakes.


    I''m taking the cut," Luca said to himself, his System deftly analyzing the span of the line he was about to take.


    [Track Span Analysis: 2.5 meters wide (insidene avable)] [Optimal Racing Line Calcted: 1.8 meters]


    [Car Width: 1.9 meters] [Margin for Error: 0.3 meters (0.15 meters on each side)]


    "I don''t like what I''m seeing," Luca muttered, ncing briefly at Aaronson, who he sensed was about to hit that throttle and check out.


    However, the System shed an advisory in front of Luca''s eyes.


    [Possibility of Overtake: 72% sess rate] [Risk of Wheel Contact with Barricade: 18%]


    Oh, that surpassed my expectations, Luca mused, his fingers dancing around the controls while still tilting the wheel''s frame. The curves were like gods everyone obeyed.


    He aimed for the inside line as Aaronson''s tires screeched, releasing plumes of smoke filled with raw power. The crowd erupted, cheering wildly as if Aaronson''s move was performed just for their thrill. Luca didn''t hesitate¡ªhe trusted his System''s calctions and he cut sharply into the first left-hander.


    His tires skidded dangerously, his pulse spiking as a plume of white smoke exploded from beneath his wheels, kissing the very edge of the track.


    The crowd gasped as Luca''s car swung violently through the corner, just barely avoiding the barricades. He was literally bent in his cockpit, maneuvering the whole situation with a trickle of sweat. However, the crowd''s reaction was a stark contrast from what he felt in his cockpit. They cheered to the upheaval of smoke behind Luca and Aaronson as they battled for 3rd.


    It looked like they''d hit turbo speed, the smoke curling behind them like trails of nitro.


    Luca stayedposed within the chaos. His hands remained steady as he flicked the wheel to the right, smoothly transitioning into the next turn. Aaronson, confident his earlier move would throw Luca off bnce, was caught by surprise. Luca''s precision driving ced him side by side with Aaronson once more, their cars locked in the next phase of their brutal dance for 3rd.


    Luca had cut before Aaronson and was officialy third on the leaderboard. However, his System decided it was best to hold back the confirmation until he secured it outright.


    Aaronson scowled angrily inside his helmet as his car screamed down the track alongside Luca''s, both drivers with DRS fully activated. The straightaway ahead was a golden opportunity after the grueling left-right bends, and the tension between them surged. Determined not to lose the spot, Aaronson crushed the throttle underfoot, desperate to outpace Luca.


    But Luca''s car maintained the edge, its nose barely ahead and feathered Aaronson''s view.


    In one clean, final move, Luca sliced in front of Aaronson, perfectly cutting into the third line with grace. Aaronson''s heart pounded with frustration as he was forced to lift off the elerator to avoid a collision¡ªany contact would guarantee a penalty. "Bastard!" Aaronson snarled, mming his hands against the steering wheel in frustration as Luca pulled ahead.


    His own car slightly decelerated to stabilize the position, locking down 4th.


    [Good job, host. You have sessfully imed 3rd Position.]


    [3rd Position]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]


    [10th Lap]


    **That is my boy. You did well** Mr. Moritz congratted.


    Luca took a long, deep breath, savoring the moment as a well-deserved congrattion to himself. His eyes remained fixed on the rearview mirror, watching for any sign of Aaronson''s resurgence, while his feet pressed firmly on the throttle. He powered through the straight, leaving Aaronson struggling to catch up. The HM driver was visibly Kristensen''s prey now.

 Chapter 44 Australian Grand Prix 4 Gamble On 21st

    "...so, Jon, are we just going to pretend like we didn''t witness that artistry¡ªthe very definition of motorsport¡ªunted right before our eyes...?"


    "...that was a magnificent overtake, I agree, but not because of who executed it¡ªrather because of who was overtaken. I would give the same credit to any of the twenty-eight other drivers. Aaronson is a phenomenal driver, and anyone who gets past him deserves apuse, regardless of who they are..."


    "...now Jon, it sounds like you''re leaning to one side here..."


    "...I most certainly am not, Steve. We''re on Lap 15, with Addams and Hahn locked in a tight dance for the lead. The Trampos rookie is charging toward his teammate in 3rd, while Aaronson fights tooth and nail to maintain hisne. Meanwhile, the battle between Kristensen and Bellingham feels never-ending¡ªthey''re neck-and-neck, and they might just drag Kristensen down with them. As for sides?


    If the leaderboard holds, Trampos will walk away from George Park with the most points, just like they did in Germany..."


    "...whoa, hold on, Jon¡ªlook at that! Bellingham''s making a move! He''s lining up right behind Kristensen, and the gap between them is shrinking fast. Kristensen''s been clinging to 5th ce like his life depends on it, but Bellingham looks hungry. He''s been tailing him for a fewps now, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce..."


    "...ah, I see it as well, Steve. Bellingham''s been calcting this. You can see he''s setting himself up for the straight after the chicanes¡ªhe''s got a cleaner lineing out of those curves. Kristensen''s been burning a lot of tire rubber defending, and it''s starting to show..."


    "...And here they go, into the final chicane for anotherp! Kristensen hugs the inside line, determined to shut him out, but Bellingham''s gaining ground fast on the outside. He''s going for the outbrake¡ªlook at the control, Jon, that''s precision driving right there...!"


    On the 8th section of the grandstands, positioned just beneath the single ss room of the George Park Circuit, sat several agents representing the drivers contracted to various teamspeting in the F2 championship. Most had attended to watch their clients race, focused and intent.


    Mallow arrivedte¡ªaround the 15thp¡ªbarely making it into the filled circuit. His eyes scanning hastily for Sara, who was stationed near the 8th section. He found her amidst the noise, and they spoke in raised voices, struggling to be heard over the thunderous crowd as Miles Bellingham made the daring move to overtake Martin Kristensen.


    Once he finished delivering his message, Sara nodded thoughtfully and responded without hesitation. Mallow''s gaze flicked toward the 8th section, a serene ind of calm with the perfect vantage point over the track and the circuit''srgest TV screen broadcasting every pulse of the race.


    Though officially permitted a seat in the 8th section as a driver''s agent, Mallow lingered on the outskirts, clutching himself as the crowd erupted around him. Roars of excitement echoed across the stands as Bellingham slipped into Kristensen''s draft, seizing the perfect moment.


    The two cars barreled toward the corner, and in a breathtaking maneuver, Bellingham powered through with remarkable precision, leaving Retona''s Oliver Kristensen behind in the dust to im 5th ce.


    "...Bellingham''s not letting up, Steve. He''s piling on the pressure, and you can see Kristensen''s rear tires losing grip. This could be it¡ªif Bellingham nails the exit here, he''ll have the DRS advantage on the next straight...!"


    "...And there it is, Steve! Bellinghammits! Kristensen''s car twitches under braking¡ªoh, Bellingham''s got him! He pulls up beside him¡ªthey''re wheel-to-wheel now!"


    "...Heading into the straight! Bellingham''s DRS is wide open¡ªKristensen''s fighting back, but Bellingham edges ahead! He''s taken 5th! What a brilliant move by Miles Bellingham...!"


    "WOOOHHHH!" The crowd at George Park Circuit exploded with cheers.


    Mallow grumbled, half-heartedly shielding his ears from the noise. Over themotion, the distant voice of the English-speakingmentators rang out through the loudspeakers, celebrating Bellingham''s breathtaking overtake with fervor.


    After weaving through the crowd for a while, Mallow finally reached the 8th section. He paused at the entrance as officials verified his personal information. Momentster, he was granted ess, and the roar of the crowd softened behind him as he stood at the threshold. Mallow''s gaze swept across the room, where agents and sponsors observed the race with focused intensity.


    The action on the track was hotter than ever, yet Mallow still had no idea what position Luca was holding. Nevertheless, he trusted thed.


    At the front row, Mallow spotted a familiar figure¡ªa certain man seated with perfect posture. His heart lifted when he noticed the empty seat beside him. As Mallow approached, the older man nced up from under his sses, his expression cool and unreadable. Neither man showed surprise upon locking eyes, both exuding a quiet calm at the sight of each other.


    Mallow slumped into the vacant chair, running a hand through his hair in a habitual gesture. His gaze flickered to the leaderboard, and his heart melted with joy as he saw Luca''s young face disyed beside therge, bronze-colored number three.


    "Mr. Mallow," the man, Mr. Schafer, broke the silence without shifting his eyes from the track, where cars sped past like streaks of rainbow. "How wonderful of you to join us in this reserved section to watch your client race."


    A subtle smile tugged at the corner of Mallow''s lips as he settled deeper into the plush chair, his arms restingfortably on the armrests. "I''m d you made that distinction¡ªmy client, and no one else''s. I trust you''re not having second thoughts and regrets about cheating the boy back at that academy of yours?" Mallow sneered, crossing one leg over the other.


    "Because if you take a good look at him now¡ªyour ''better'' boy hasn''t even sniffed a podium spot, yet Luca''s making it his yground."


    Mr. Schafer sighed quietly, removing his sses with care. He wiped the frames meticulously with a small cloth, then reced them without missing a beat. A brief nce flicked toward Mallow before his attention returned to the screen, as "I have no regrets about not endorsing your client, Mr. Mallow," Schafer said with measured calm. "He turned out to be a fine racer¡ªgood for him.


    Miles Bellingham is a fine racer too. Achieving sixth in Germany isn''t easy, as you well know. The important thing is that Grey-Husson managed to produce two excellent first drivers this year. That''s what matters to me."


    His index finger twitched involuntarily as Bellingham came within inches of executing a swift curve¡ªone that could have propelled him into 4th position.


    "And this Grey-Husson Academy of yours, gaffer, how long do you think it''llst?" Mallow asked, leaning back in his chair.


    "What¡ªwhat do you mean?"


    "Mr. Schafer, I may have been just an assistant back in the day, but I know what goes on for standard. The Federation is eager to shut down the Grey-Husson program," Mallow said with a shrug. "Come on, gaffer, you know the deal¡ªunequal engines, outdated training schemes, ipetent staff. The whole operation''s deviating from the Federation''s standards, and you''re well aware of that.


    Keeping things under wraps won''t help¡ªespecially since ''someone'' has pushed this problem to the top of the Federation''s agenda."


    Schafer''s expression remained calm, but the intensity in his gaze sharpened as he stared at Mallow. "You didn''t have to do that," Schafer said evenly. It didn''t take him time to understand Mallow had reported his establishment.


    "Ah, same way you didn''t have to rip my client''s rightful spot that day. If it ain''t his face on Grey-Husson''s, then it won''t be the other. After all, whenst did the renowned academy produce anyone truly special?"


    Without waiting for an answer, Mallow gestured for a drink, and a server promptly handed him one. He poured a second ss and extended it toward Schafer, who gave a curt refusal with a wave of his hand. Unbothered, Mallow took afortable sip from his own ss. "Oh, by the way¡ªBellingham''s sitting in 8th, ording to my slip," Mallow added.


    Schafer scoffed softly, rubbing the underside of his nose as the race''s intensity climbed to a fever pitch. "You''ll lose your money, Mr. Mallow. Trust me," he said softly.


    [20th Lap]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 300 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 115 bpm


    -Operational Status: 60% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 92000 m


    -Time: 30 min. ]


    [Tires are in average condition, host. Fuel level at 65%. DRS is now avable. Engine temperature stable. Brake wear at 18%.]


    [Telemetry reports smooth handling. Aerodynamic efficiency optimal. However, considering you''re onp 20, a pit stop is highly demanded.]


    Highly demanded? Must be serious, Luca thought, ncing at the System interface before him, his eyes scanning the information rapidly.


    **So, what do you say,d? 21st or 22nd¡ªyour call. Just don''t push beyond 22nd**


    "21st it is," Luca replied, gripping the wheel with precise control. He couldn''t help but marvel at how wlessly Ansel handled his own car, far ahead with Addams¡ªboth of them dominating the race. Curiosity got the better of him, and he asked Ansel about his Operational Status and the overall condition of his car.


    **I''ll need a pit too, Luca. You go first. I''ll take mine on the 22nd. Let''s see if I can grab P1 this time.**


    "Very well," Luca responded, rounding a curve smoothly. His racing line held perfectly, allowing him to breathe easily without a rival''s engine breathing down his neck. The crowd blurred by his peripheral vision as he unleashed DRS along a straight, the world around him fading into speed and momentum.


    [21st Lap]


    [Stamina +1]


    [Strength + 1]


    **Alright?**


    "Alright," Luca confirmed, tilting his wheel to guide the car toward the third line for an optimal pit stop. He knew this brief pause would allow Aaronson to close the gap behind him, setting the stage for another fierce battle through the tight chicanes of the George Park Circuit.


    The Trampos Racing garage loomed ahead, with the pit crew ready and waiting. Luca braked hard, his Dara lifting momentarily before settling back down with a thud. Wrenches nked, tires spun off and on, and finally, a solid pat on his chassis signaled the all-clear.


    Luca mmed on the throttle, rocketing away from the pitstop at the required speed and merging back into the track''s middle line with precision.


    **2.9 seconds, baby!**


    [Pitstop Prodigy +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 25%]


    His eyes darted to the top left corner of his System interface, watching as the Operational Status steadily climbed to 85%, the indicator shifting to a satisfying green.


    [You are picking up speed.]


    Feeling the surge of eleration beneath him, Luca flicked a quick nce at the rearview mirror, gauging how much ground Aaronson had gained during his own pitstop. But what he saw made his eyes narrow with confusion.


    Hatcherk Motorsport''s car colors weren''t ck-and-golden, were they? Yet there it was¡ªa sleek, ck-and-gold Dara barreling toward him with terrifying speed, its rear wing red open for DRS, shimmering heat waves pouring off the front nose like a beast unleashed.


    [4th Position closing in]


    Luca whipped his gaze back to the track and cursed under his breath. When the hell did HE get to 4th?

 Chapter 45 Australian Grand Prix 5

    "How far is he from me?" Luca asked, his engine roaring like a freight train as it elerated through the straightway at top speed.


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


    [5th Position is 3 sec away, host.]


    [System''s prediction: that value may change¡ªand not in your favor.]


    Luca could feel the force of the Gs pressing him back into his seat as he rocketed down thep, rounding off the 21st and plunging into the 22nd. The next set of left-right curves loomed closer, and he knew it was time to disengage the DRS.


    [22nd Lap]


    He nced at his side mirror for the tenth time in under thirty seconds, his pulse pounding just as intensely as Miles''s approach. "Wow, where''s he getting such momentum?" he questioned, reluctant to ease off the throttle for the bends. Miles, still on the straight, would keep his speed up, tightening the gap with every millisecond.


    I can''t afford to drop speed unnecessarily, Luca thought swiftly. "System, calcte my optimal entry speed," he ordered, bracing himself for the looming curve.


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 78%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 178 km/h]


    "Thanks," Luca murmured, his gaze shifting between the road ahead and the growing dot in his side mirror¡ªMiles Bellingham. So, nothing more or less than 178, he reminded himself.


    With his fingers poised to disengage the DRS just before the turn, he felt the first curve approaching and mmed the brake, sending a shockwave through the car as it decelerated sharply. His body jerked forward under the force as the Dara responded instantly, emitting a sharp, high-pitched whine as the speed dropped off.


    The world seemed to slow, the grandstands and banners melting into a blur as his car prepped for the curve.


    [DRS disengaged, host.]


    "Please keep me updated with our distance," Luca requested, his face tense as he swung the wheel to the left, tires screeching as they gripped the curved tarmac.


    [Certainly, host.]


    He maneuvered the tight corner, bracing himself for the next right-hander. In his side mirror, he saw Miles''s ck-and-golden Dara entering the same turn, closing the gap with unsettling speed.


    [Distance reduced: 2.4 seconds.]


    "Oh, freaking heavens. Is he like on steroids or something?"


    Pushing into the next right, he could feel the tires struggling again to maintain grip. He could already sense that he was losing traction, the rear of the car threatening to slide out from under him. "System, traction report?" he asked, his focus split between the road and his side mirror. Letting Miles Bellingham overtake him was not an option.


    [Tire traction: 68%.]


    The constant twists of the track were wearing down the fresh tires from hisst pitstop. Luca wondered if George Park was deliberately constructed for more than one pitstop per race.


    He decided to ease up, shifting into a lower gear to sacrifice some speed for tighter and better control through the treacherous curves.


    [Distance reduced: 1.9 seconds.]


    After rounding two more curves, the System updated him as he''d requested, and Luca couldn''t believe his eyes. Miles''s car was now in his rearview mirror¡ªa sleek shadow of determination closing in fast. "But where''s he getting such momentum?" Luca muttered, finally epting a sliver of panic to creep in.


    [Host, it is not unusual for racers to have moments of increased momentum. 5th Position is likely benefiting from your slipstream, using your car to reduce air resistance and gain speed. Additionally, he may have optimized tire performance for these stretches, giving him an edge in eleration. His fuel load may also be lighter, allowing for greater speed output.]


    [Analysis: 5th Position maintains an optimal exit speed of 191 km/h from thest straight.]


    Luca cursed under his breath. If it is a surge of momentum, it will eventually die down at some point, won''t it?


    He shifted his gaze to the end of the final chicane curves, spotting Ansel''s car expertly weaving through the track to approach the straightaway.


    [25th Lap]


    Luca realized he could warn Ansel about the looming threat just behind him. Together, they could attempt the Robust Formation Strategy. Even if Miles managed to overtake Luca, at least Ansel would be too far ahead for him to catch up.


    [Intelligence +1]


    ncing at his Sync Bar''s progress, Luca saw only the first segment filled and shook his head in dismay.


    "Guess who''s on my tail," Luca said to Ansel as soon as the radio opened.


    **Uhh? The young face of Ennd?**


    "Yeah¡ªwhat? Don''t call him that when we''re talking," Luca grumbled.


    **Hehe, how fast is he moving? Is he that much of a concern?**


    "He''s not a concern; he''s a problem. And we need to keep you in 2nd for both our sakes. How about we go with the RFS?" Luca suggested.


    **Sure, sure. Cut with me at the next left chicane. It should give you some space behind me. We time it right. Once we hit the second bend, I''ll drift wide, and you tuck in close. We''ll shield each other from the slipstream and force him to take the longer line.**


    "Alright," Luca replied, casting a quick, cautious nce at his side mirror. "Copy that."


    **When we exit the second bend, I''ll pull forward, leaving you just enough room to cut off his momentum. He won''t have enough straight to recover before the next turn. Got it?**


    "Yes, I got it. We will mess him up."


    **Yeah**


    [26th Lap]


    [4th Position closing in]


    [Distance reduced: 1.4 seconds.]


    Luca tightened his grip on the wheel, feeling the vibrations resonate through his palms. He still couldn''t believe he was officially racing in front of a crowd in Australia. His gaze caught the number ''5'' switching to ''6'' beside ''2'' on his wheel disy, right after his System announced the start of the 26thp. Oddly, Luca felt as though he hadn''t even started racing today.


    He quickly toggled through the settings on his steering wheel, ensuring the brake bias was optimized for the uing curves. His Dara responded smoothly, reassuring him he was in control.


    "Is that 178 still good for this turn?" Luca asked his System, the floor of the track dissected into grids on the interface as he calcted which line he would follow to make the first left-hander.


    [This curve is much tighter, host.]


    [Reanalyzing...]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 150 km/h]


    Luca sighed, replying, "Very well," as his foot danced lightly on the brake pedal, aiming for a brief tap just to bleed off speed without sacrificing the little momentum his engine had at the moment.

 Chapter 46 Australian Grand Prix 6 L Stands For Lockdown

    "System? How far am I from Ansel, 2nd Position?" Luca asked.


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 2nd Position]


    [You are 4 seconds away, host.]


    Luca recalled the intense training sessions with Mr. Grant, who insisted on precise timing and coordination, especially in stalling potential threats to protect teammates using RFS tactics. As they approached a series of tight curves, he and Ansel calcted the perfect gap, ensuring their positions aligned wlessly.


    Following the rmended 150 km/h, Luca eased his foot off the throttle, guiding the car to that exact speed¡ªor a touch higher. The sudden deceleration pressed him against the seat, the G-forces gripping his body as he quickly angled the wheel.


    The car''s sleek frame tilted, unting itself to the crowd, who reached out eagerly to touch the cars even though they couldn''t no matter how close the barricade was.


    Up ahead, Luca noticed a yellow g waving through one of the left-right curves. A nce revealed scattered debris hurled onto the track by the rowdy crowd, too much to ignore. Drivers were alerted to proceed with caution through this zone. To Luca, the George Park Circuit needed serious changes¡ªstarting with shifting the fans back.


    If things were like this for Saturday''s F2 Featured Race, he could only imagine the chaos that Sunday''s F1 race would bring. His past crowd experiences with F1 events had taught him that, at times, the crowd''s intensity eclipsed even the track''s tension.


    Luca maneuvered through a bend, his car clinging close to the outer track while his tires gripped the asphalt tightly, faint smoke emitting from the base of the tires as they let out a soft screech.


    [Agility+1]


    **I have fresh tires and a full fuel gauge. P1 looks promising¡ªlet''s make sure that Bellingham boy doesn''t give me any worries**


    "Sure," Luca replied, knowing that if Ansel could reach 1st Position, it would be ideal. After all, securing points for the team was the ultimate goal.


    Luca rounded the next curve, noticing that Miles'' earlier burst of momentum had settled into a steady, controlled pace through the chicanes, no longer the aggressive charge he had shown before. Aaronson, who had recently lost his position to the young English driver from Squadra Corse Jnr, was trailing just behind, much closer to Miles than Miles was to Luca.


    And right on Aaronson''s tail was Kristensen, their cars forming a tense chain of roaring engines. Luca sighed slightly in relief. "He''s got his own battle to handle," he muttered, watching as therge, green holographic number 2 above Ansel''s car grew steadilyrger, signaling that he was closing the distance between them as they navigated the curves.


    Luca was yet to fully understand most of the entities on his System''s interface. Its screen was filled with clusters of tiny, rapidly changing numbers that updated in mere nanoseconds. A thin blue line spanned the distance between his car and Ansel''s, filled with intricate alphanumerics he couldn''tprehend.


    He figured that might be all the calctions done by his System because it was embedded at all edges of the screen. But he could still make out a few key details¡ªhis Sync Bar, position, voice notes, and car Operational Status. Can I even make Sync Buff this race? Luca asked himself, pushing his mind to stay sharp for perfect car positioning.


    His fingers danced swiftly on the wheel as he drove behind Ansel with seamless movements, all cars weaving in almost perfect harmony through the curves. Behind, Miles Bellingham was bringing a pack of fierce F2 racers, all battling relentlessly for a podium finish.


    The top six cars moved through the chicanes, nearing the end of the 26thp, while the middle pack powered down thest straight, with 7th Position soon entering the first left-right curve.


    [4th Position closing in]


    [Distance reduced: 1 second.]


    [Reanalyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 2nd Position]


    [You are 3 sec away, host.]


    **Bank beside me, then**


    Luca responded with a soft mutter. He watched as Ansel began to shift his car to hug the outer line. Luca''s mind raced as he remembered what and how to follow-up so they could finalize the Robust Formation Strategy. He had practiced it in simtions after the normal training, and now, he would pull it off with a charging rival breathing down his neck.


    Luca didn''t need to tilt much; his wheels were already angled just right for the bend. He only pushed forward, cutting in close on the inside, and within seconds, he and Ansel formed an L-shaped blockade. Their engines roared in sync, a wall of noise and force, the two cars aligning like clock hands at 3:00, perfectly timed to box out any attempt to overtake.


    Ansel held steady at the wider, outer line, leaving Luca a clear view of Addams just ahead. The blue, holographic number 1 glowed above the Bueseno driver''s car, pulsing with a vibrant energy that reminded him of what they were aiming for.


    **Keep it up, boys. Gaffer''s words** Mr. Moritz''s voice came through the radio, booming with approval. Luca had no doubt Ansel was hearing it too. **He asks for more.**


    "¡­ tires screeching against the tarmac, rubber burning hot! The Trampos boys are locked in tight, and it''s a masterss of defense. Miles Bellingham might find no space to slip through, especially with these brutal bends where it''s all about focusing on your line, not the guy ahead¡­"


    "...after such an incredible disy someps ago? The Squadra Corse Jnr team''s own star boy wouldn''t like to back down. I can see Rennick and Hahn doing their very best to keep Hahn away from potential threats. Who is keeping Rennick away from potential threats..?"


    "¡­hmm, excellent point, Jon. But with those two cars forming an imprable wall of speed and precision, Bellingham might have no choice but to either back off or risk an impossible pass. Let''s not forget, Aaronson is still fuming after what went down earlier, and Kristensen hasn''t slowed an inch. If Bellingham backs off now, he''ll be right back in their jaws.


    And we all know what happens when you go for impossible passes¡­"


    "¡­exactly, Steve! And that just strengthens my point¡ªBellingham''s only real option might be to force Squadra Corse Jnr into a top 3 position, whatever it takes¡ªeven if that means attempting that risky, almost impossible overtake¡­"


    "¡­well, are we about to witness it? Bellingham is practically glued to Rennick''s rear wing, and my word, Jon, you might just be right. Even with these tricky chicanes ahead, it seems a wrecked car is worth the risk for P3..!"


    Miles Bellingham was so close now that Luca could feel the tension crackling in the air. He could see the heat haze rolling off his rear wing, and he tightened his grip on the wheel. Just like thementators hinted, Bellingham was taking his chances for Squadra Corse Jnr., with his teammategging all the way back in 11th. It was up to Miles to w back the points and keep thempetitive.


    His curiosity piqued once he noticed another Trampos Racing Dara just ahead of Luca''s. He quickly realized it was Luca''s teammate he had heard a lot about. They say Ansel Hahn was like the John Watson of F2, capable and reliable, a solid performer, but not the star genius. The F2 was said to belong to Max Addams, and...


    Aaronson, who happened to be having the worst start to the championship, his struggle to find his rhythm this season was the talk of the paddock. A few others had moved over to the main division, while uing drivers like Dani Walding, Martin Kristensen, and Albert Derstappen, Miles''s teammate.


    It didn''t take long, Miles noticed what the Trampos team was doing, and he was forced to decelerate, assessing the tightly woven L-shaped barrier in front of him. Luca could see him in the mirror, the sleek shadow of his car dancing from side to side, searching for any gap to exploit. In general, all cars were transitioned, racing through the curves in unison as though they were choreographed.


    Miles had no choice but to fall back slightly, unable to find any opening in the L-shaped defense. It was as if he were trying to crack a safe. He cursed deeply, maintaining a definite speed to keep Aaronson at bay while seeking an opportunity through the filled lines.


    **Good, keep it up,** Ansel''s voice came through, steady and assured. A quick nce in his own side mirror showed Luca''s red-and-ck Dara holding Miles firmly at bay, the ck-and-gold car pacing restlessly behind.


    Luca replied with a murmured acknowledgement. He noticed he was the one with the most strain and effort. It was difficult maintaining the L-formation while maneuvering through the curves. His engine was working overtime to keep the bnce and speed necessary to align with Ansel. Whereas, Ansel had the freewill to elerate whenever he wished.


    "Let''s make it to the straight, and we''re golden then," Luca said, his eyes darting to the straightaway he could see to the right.


    [340 metres ahead straightaway] the System calcted swiftly once Luca''s eyes went that way.


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 37.5%]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 153 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 115 bpm


    -Operational Status: 82% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 120000 m


    -Time: 52 min.  ]


    "...and we can see the drivers finally emerging from those exhausting bends. We might not beputers, but it''s obvious that Hahn is wasting no time firing up his throttle, aiming to catch up with Addams, who''s just entered the 27thp. This move is bound to give Hahn plenty of room to focus on Max Addams alone, right, Steve...?"


    "... truthfully, yes. It turns out Luca Rennick has sessfully kept his teammate out of harm''s way and helped his pursuit for the lead. Now that it''s over, when the straight opens uppletely, I wonder who we would be having their names on the leaderboard, Bellingham or Rennick?


    The Squadra Corse Jnr driver looks lethal behind Luca Rennick, and we all know who has been building momentum, and who has been suppressing another..."


    **Good one boys. Nextp up ahead**


    **I''m free as a bird. Thank you**


    "Anytime," Luca replied, ncing briefly at the track ahead as he approached the straight. His heart raced with satisfaction as he caught the faint smoke trail left by Ansel''s tires, a sign of the intense eleration his teammate was unleashing ahead. Now, Luca was easing through the final bend, the sensation of pure focus kicking in as the road straightened.


    [4th Position closing in]


    With Ansel rocketing forward, Luca''s stint as the Blocker wasplete. His foot pressed down firmly on the throttle; the race was his again. Behind him, Miles had taken advantage of the new gap and was shifting wide, setting up for a potential drift into the straight''s first bend.


    Luca caught sight of Miles''s ck-and-gold Dara nking out, clearly aiming to pull in fast and tight, determined to snatch any opening he could.


    The two racers exchanged a quick nce as Miles swung wide through the track. The two recognized themselves, albeit they were helmeted¨Cyears of high school made their figures unmistakable.


    Yet again, they would face head-to-head, on Australian soil this time.


    [27th Lap]

 Chapter 47 Australian Grand Prix 7

    Mr. Schafer cleared his throat, a subtle signal for a drink from the attendant carrying a tray of sses.


    "Is your mouth dry from watching Luca keep ahead of Bellingham?" Mallow sneered, chuckling at his own joke.


    "No, not at all, Mr. Mallow," Mr. Schafer replied, taking a sip. "I''m just pre-celebrating. Cheers to Miles Bellingham for third-ce in the Australian Grand Prix."


    "We''re at Lap 32 now, I believe," Mallow said, ncing at the TV to confirm. "They''ll keep battling side by side, but my money''s on Luca¡ªnot just because he''s my client, mind you. We both know he works magic when ites to overtaking. He''s outstanding at it."


    "Mr. Mallow," Schafer said, holding his ss with a calm gesture, "George Park isn''t built for aggressive overtakes. It''s a technical circuit, rewarding stability and consistency. The strategy here is to capitalize on your opponent''s mistakes.


    Luca, pushing Hahn, set up his teammate with that basic draft strategy, but all he did was press down Bellingham''s momentum without creating much for himself." He pointed at the track, just as Luca and Miles raced nose-to-nose. "Simple motorsport math, Mr. Mallow. Miles had built up a certain momentum, and Luca spent a wholep chipping away at it. So who do you think will peak faster?"


    Mr. Mallow frowned, feeling out of his depth with the nuances of racing strategies, he had no real expertise about it. Mr. Schafer, however, was once the Team Principal of Nevada HanSama, leading the team to an impressive record of trophies. He retired after thest generation of Form 1 but, as a prominent figure, acquired the new training facility at Grey-Husson''s, once a bustling circuit.


    "If it were that predictable, Mr. Schafer, nobody would bother betting," Mallow countered in his defense.


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    Mr. Schafer chuckled, the reflection of the bright, towering screen glinting off his sses as he watched the race unfold. The atmosphere had grown ominous¡ªa chill breeze brushed through the roaring crowd as the sun began to slip behind gathering clouds. His chuckle deepened. "Just hope it doesn''t rain, Mr. Mallow.


    I doubt any of our boys have much experience under those conditions," he remarked.


    "...and Luca and Bellingham are in an absolute showdown right now! Look at them go, Jon. They''re practically glued to each other''s rear wing, inching closer every second, both hunting for the smallest mistake from the other..."


    "...no sign of backing down from either of them. Sticking this closep afterp could be risky for both young drivers. If they could hear me, I''d advise a bit of space..."


    "¡­I doubt they''d hear you now, Jon. With their wheels nearly touching, the roar of their engines has be one. Bellingham is hugging Rennick''s slipstream. It''s almost like they''re daring each other to break first. Who do you think would break first, Jon...?"


    "... I''ve said it before, Steve. The Trampos Racingd might be driving with precision, constantly adjusting for each bend, but Bellingham''s impending overtake is inevitable to me. The signs are clear, Steve. We''ve seen things like this. Bellingham is wild, taking risks, pushing his car to its absolute limits..."


    "..OH oh, Jon! Risky! Just as you said, Bellingham''s really making daring moves here at George Park. You can feel his frustration mounting as Rennick promptly shifts to force him off at thest second..."


    "...and that''s the thing, Steve. The Trampos Racing driver has endured once again, but he won''t forever, would he? This is the 35th Lap, and we all know how things turn out during theteps. Miles Bellingham is staying aggressive, Aaronson behind him contributing to that drive. Eventually, he would force a mistake out of Luca Rennick..."


    [35th Lap]


    [3rd Position]


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to disclose opponent.]


    Luca''s eyes were glued to the track now, his brows furrowed with concentration. He had no time to nce at Miles, who was rocketing through the curves with him. They glided effortlessly but tensed through, Aaronson and Kristensen just behind with a few seconds margin. Luca had to ept the fact he was dealing with threepetitors, not just one.


    The edges of Luca''s System interface shifted deliberately to a calming wavy cyan blue, attempting to soothe him as it signaled his spiking heart rate. Luca fought to keep steady and tried not to panic, aware that with Miles pushing for fourth and the 36thp closing in, his podium chance would slip if he let his guard falter now.


    Moreover, Sync Buff was far from avable as the Sync Bar was still two out of four bars full.


    He ttened his foot against the elerator, feeling the raw power surge through the engine as the car lurched forward. Exiting thest curve, his focus locked onto the short straight ahead. It was barely a stretch for bncing out before they''d plunge back into the chicanes.


    His tires clung hard to the track, the wind slicing past his helmet as G-force mmed him into the seat. Despite the force, Luca leaned forward, urging the car for more speed.


    [Endurance +1]


    [You are moving at 300 km/h]


    Speed. Pure, unadulterated speed filled the straight, their engines screaming in perfect synchrony. The crowd became a distant blur, mere streaks of color on the edges of his vision. The track became much brighter due to the cloudy atmosphere of the sky. Luca prayed that not a drop of rain shall leave the sky until this race was over.


    Miles was relentless, holding his position alongside Luca through the brief four seconds of the short straightway. Both drivers knew that the uing turn could very well determine their final positions, as George Park''s turns were notorious for separating rivals in a way many deemed as "the right way."


    Luca''s hands flexed on the wheel, bracing himself for the turn while his System diligently calcted the curvature of the track, factoring in the precise speed he would need to execute the maneuver and maintain the tight, favorable line.


    Luca''s eyes twitched, darting left for just an instant. He picked up on a weird, subtle change in the way Miles'' car shifted beside him.

 Chapter 48 Australian Grand Prix 8 Tightrope For Traction

    [Tire Wear at 82%]


    Even with the blurred movement, Luca could catch the subtle flick of Miles'' vehicle''s rear. He quickly formed guesses about Miles'' intentions but wasn''t entirely certain. As they approached the left-hander, it became clear that Miles intended to take the corner with a short burst of speed, skimming close to the inner edge to shave off milliseconds and potentially disrupt his line and car harmony.


    "...with Lap 35 nearing its end, folks, it looks like Bellingham and Rennick are setting up for what might be the faceoff of the season so far. Remember Rennick''sst head-to-head, Jon? That was against Aaronson just before the Trampos driver clinched third in Germany..."


    "...kudos to the 18-year-old, but let''s not forget, Bellingham''s also under 20. Both are pushing the boundaries here. May this track settle any debate fans might bring up in the future..."


    Miles flicked his wrist in his car just as the track opened wider after a very tight curve. He kept the pace with Luca as he shifted the bnce of his car just enough to maintain full control while drifting into the corner¨Cjust as Luca had guessed.


    [Intelligence +1]


    Luca couldn''t attempt such a move himself; he needed a different strategy. They crossed the grid again, entering Lap 36, now just behind Ansel and Addams. "System, can you calcte his line of movement? Help me assess where I could sweep through," Luca said hastily.


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to make urate predictions of  opponent''s movements.]


    Luca shook his head, finally ncing at Miles, who seemed to be focused on his wheel at the moment. He had to be; he was drifting from the corner and would need precision if he ever hoped to overtake Luca. Miles''s tires clung to the track, contrasting to Luca''s more conventional approach on the asphalt.


    Luca suddenly wished they were on a right-hander; he would have had the upperhand, switching favorable positions with Miles.


    Desperate to keep his lead, Luca''s foot ced slight pressure on the throttle, aware he was moving through bends. Miles was running at a simr speed to Luca''s, but Luca felt he was faster. However, the structure of the left-hander granted Miles the advantage, and he was determined to capitalize on it before the track bends the other way.


    Once Miles reached the apex of the bend, his car cut cleanly through a Hatcherk Motorsport g fluttering above the roaring crowd. Luca caught a sharp glimpse of him moving to the innerne, and he sensed Miles'' car beginning to decelerate


    Miles had clearly honed his craft with the meticulously trained Squadra Corse Jnr team. He was executing a technique that Luca recognized immediately¡ªa precise decrease in speed mid-turn, allowing him to harness a powerful eleration on the exit. Unlike aggressive braking, this maneuver relied on calcted control, a skill passed on from the senior team''s training scheme to the junior team.


    Once the technique grew obvious to Luca, his heart skipped with panic. He had encountered it a lot of times in the simtors he spent most of his hours in. A very popr, well-known technique in fact, and two races he had participated into the season, it was justifiable that no one had executed it on him, not yet.


    George Park Circuit''syout only enhanced the potency of this technique, and Miles'' team had astutely seized on this advantage, feeding it through his radio at the perfect moment.


    In the blink of an eye, just at the channel between the left-hander transitioning to the right, the crowd roared as Miles Bellingham slid just ahead of Luca Rennick.


    Thwack! Skrahh!


    Luca felt the impact immediately.


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    Miles''s car jolted, but his car luckily resisted the centrifugal force. He merely staggered and bounced on Luca''s car before regaining traction on the asphalt. Luca, however, wasn''t so lucky.


    "....oh! My goodness! Bellingham''s sudden shift forced Rennick to adjust mid-turn. The two were nearly touching, but I did not expect the tires to clip¡­!"


    The stands at George Park Circuit erupted into pandemonium. Fans leaped from their seats, their voices merging into a thunderous roar that drowned out the noise of the track.


    The moment their tires kissed in a reckless X-crossed trajectory, Luca''s car shuddered violently, a fierce tremor jolting through the chassis. "Shit!" Luca yelled, the urgency of the moment wing at his gut.


    The vibrations surged through him, a harsh reminder of the raw power beneath him, and for a heartbeat, his fingers betrayed him¡ªslipping on the wheel as the world around him spiraled into chaos.


    "...and that got Rennick really bad! He''s been sent into a wild skid, his tires wobbling..!"


    "... would that be a penalty? I don''t think so. With both drivers having an equal im to that favorable corner, that slight collision of their tires was inevitable in my opinion, it was just simply tight racing..."


    "...we will leave that decision to the stewards, Jon. But right now, the Trampos Racing rookie is careening off course, spinning in a blur of screeching rubber and burning friction. I do hope he finds his traction...!"


    **Oh! God damnit!**


    The Form 1 System flickered to life with a series of notifications and brief alerts. First and foremost, the System had to make it clear to Luca that he had lost P3.


    [4th Position.]


    After that, came a series of warnings, sensing the disharmony in the sync between host and the Dara.


    [Loss of traction detected...]


    [Analyzing System Stabilization Protocols for host...]


    [Rmend Action: Reduce Speed¨CGrip and control wheel.]


    Ah, fuck. Luca let out a groan, his steering wheel trembling in his grip as he fought against the car''s instinctive urge to veer off track. The roar of the crowd was more than disturbing, followed by a subtle thunder rumble in the now cloudy sky.


    It gnawed at him that Miles had pulled off such a wless maneuver. The slight collision between their tires lingered bitterly in his mind, and he found himself hoping that a penalty would be called on Miles. "Has he been penalized? Tell me he''s been penalized," Luca said to the radio.


    **You just lost P3. Focus on that engine**


    Focusing on his System''s directive, Luca released the throttle, feeling his speed drop steadily as he eased off the gas. Braking would only worsen his already precarious bnce. His wrists flicked in controlled, precise movements, countering the skid with each shift of the wheel. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his body wired with adrenaline as he wrestled the car back into line.


    [Agility +1]


    **Put the car back on the track, Luca. Gain control. We can''t afford a DNF**


    In that split second before he regained control, Luca saw the world spinning around him. The dizzying motion blurred everything but the stark, metallic sheen of rival cars flying past him. Aaronson and Kristensen, once a few seconds behind, surged forward, taking ruthless advantage of his momentary chaos.


    "Oh, Mr. Grant will kill me," Luca muttered as his heart sank, witnessing their cars zoom ahead effortlessly, their engines roaring as they climbed higher up the rankings.


    [5th Position]


    [6th Position]


    [Host will be disciplined for dropping so rapidly.]


    A heavy sigh escaped him, frustration mingling with the grim reality of his situation. He had no words left, not even the energy to plead with his System''s relentless reminders. The pressure gnawed at him, but he gritted his teeth, forcing his focus back on the task at hand.


    His fingers tightened around the wheel, knuckles going white as he fought to regain control of the car. The tail end wobbled dangerously, but with a few expert flicks of the steering wheel, Luca managed to steady it. The screech of his tires on asphalt felt like a small victory as he veered back onto the track, the roar of the crowd fading into the background like a distant storm.


    [Traction detected...]


    "...I think he''s back in it now, after a shaky moment on that curve...!"


    As he slipped into thene, Luca nced in his rearview mirror. There, looming ominously, was the reflection of Dani Walding in 7th position, barreling down fast, likely hoping to capitalize on his misfortune. Luca grumbled, shaking his head, frustration coursing through him.


    Flicking his gear, he quickly scanned the System''s interface for any warning signals that might indicate a need for a pit stop. The screen glowed a reassuring sea blue; tire clipping hadn''t done any serious damage to the car¡ªjust his position.


    He needed to mentally recover fast. Pressing down on the throttle, he surged forward. After dropping to sixth in the most unfortunate way, he couldn''t let Dani Walding pass him as well. That would be a humiliation he couldn''t endure.


    "¡­after that grueling encounter, Jon. The leaderboard has changed drastically, hasn''t it? While Bellingham and Rennick were battling it out in the chicanes, Addams and Hahn took the fight for P1 to a whole new level! And now, Hahn has given the Trampos Racing fans something to cheer for after that disappointing result from Rennick; Ansel Hahn has imed first!


    I repeat, Trampos Racing has 25 points to grab!"


    "...impressive disy. And like you said, the leaderboard really has changed. Now, not a single team has both drivers in the top three. Bellingham, Aaronson, and Kristensen have all moved up, with Luca Rennick dropping down just the same. What did I say before this race regarding the young driver, Steve..?"


    [You are picking up speed.]

 Chapter 49 Australian Grand Prix 9 One Win, One Loss

    Luca tried to shake off the frustration as he entered the 40thp, Kristensen''s rear distant enough to crush anyst hope of reiming position. Now, he was left to defend P6 with Walding pressing persistently from behind.


    The weight of his recent setback hung over him, clouding his focus. The problem wasn''t just losing ground¡ªit was the sudden sense of vulnerability that came with it. Luca felt the control slipping, like he was no longer inmand. Now, it seemed he was just driving not for victory, but for redemption.


    Breaking the news to Ansel about his fall from position was out of the question. With just twops left, Luca figured Ansel would be in a tightly focused state, and thest thing he wanted was to distract him with his own dismay. Instead, he kept his line precise through George Park, minimizing any room for error, while Mr. Moritz calmly discussed the situation over the radio.


    [41st Lap]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 280 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 117 bpm


    -Operational Status: 65% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 170000 m


    -Time: 1 hr 3min. ]


    [Stamina +1]


    [Endurance +1]


    [Tire condition: adequate but degrading. Fuel level: 65%. DRS is now avable for deployment. Engine temperature: stable. Brake wear: 22%.]


    [Telemetry indicates satisfactory handling but monitor for any degradation. Aerodynamic efficiency is slightlypromised. Advise maintaining optimal pace and executing clean exits to deter 7th Position''s advance.]


    "Thank you," Luca responded automatically, half-amused at his System''s calm tone, as though it wouldn''t hold him ountable once the race concluded.


    [42nd Lap]


    Dani Walding kept probing for an opening, hoping for any slip-up from the Trampos Racing driver, but Luca''s line stayed wless, and the leaderboard remained static as the race neared its end.


    A fresh wave of yellow gs came up, urging Luca to heighten his caution through the corners. He was determined to visit George Park Circuit once again in this his motorsport journey, and deal with its track structure one more time.


    As the drivers entered the 43rdp, the crowd''s roar intensified, their anticipation buzzing in the stands. Excitement charged the air, with fans leaning forward, hoping for one final burst of action before the checkered g fell.


    ---------------------------------


    "That doesn''t look good for him, does it?" Mr. Schafermented to Mallow with a hint of irony. "The time''s up for their decision, and as I told you, clinging to hope was pointless. Miles won''t be penalized¡ªit was unintentional."


    Mallow grumbled, shaking his head. The instant he''d heard the scrape of tires, he knew Luca was in trouble. Dropping from third to sixth had put their lucrative bonuses from Fijee''s contract at serious risk.


    "Word of advice: don''t rely too much on people," Schafer continued, clearly enjoying the sight of Miles holding third. "Funny enough, even I didn''t bet on Miles. Care to guess who I picked?"


    Mallow shrugged, unimpressed.


    "Luca''s teammate, the ever-ready Ansel Hahn. And lucky me, he''s leading," Schafer said with a sharp p of his hands before rising slowly. "Only twops left. It''s tradition to be on your feet for the finish."


    -----------------------


    To Luca, it felt as though the crowd''s cheers and roars were meant for a different race entirely. His body didn''t pulse with the usual adrenaline that every driver felt during the finalps. Instead, he hummed softly to himself, focusing on getting through the track while his System notifications pinged when necessary.


    The world blurred past him each time he engaged DRS on the straights, his hands almost seeming to guide the wheel on autopilot while his mind drifted back to what urred someps ago.


    [45th Lap]


    Everyone was on their feet in George Park as the checkered g was ready to begin its wave of finality. The Saturday''s race would eventuallye to an end, F1 would take over the next day. George Park tomorrow, and Australia''s Grand Prix would be one to remember.


    The finalps were calm, a stark contrast to the riotous energy in the crowd. Luca noticed a g with Addams'' face being waved above, making him wonder if Addams held the lead.


    [46th Lap]


    The track stretched ahead as Luca raced, somber but steady. His Dara pushed confidently through thest few corners, with Kristensen''s rear barely visible in the distance. Luca focused only on maintaining his pace to hold P6, knowing there was no hope of catching up with the leaders but feeling a measure of relief in securing the points. At least 6th ce came with eight.


    Up front, the checkered g began its slow, triumphant wave, sparking excitement as each driver crossed the finish line in a sh of electrifying motion.


    "...Addams is pushing hard, right on Hahn''s tail! Could this be it? Could Addams steal the lead in the final moments...?"


    "...Hahn''s defending well... Addams is giving it everything, but¡ª"


    "...Hahn takes it! Addams pushed hard, but Hahn holds on for 1st ce! ANSEL HAHN finishes first...!"


    "WOOOHHHH!" The crowd erupted as Hahn surged across the line, securing a definitive victory.


    "...Bellingham takes third...!"


    "WOOOHHHH!"


    Luca exhaled heavily as his car crossed the finish line just behind Kristensen. The roaring cheers felt distant, muted by his own reflections.


    Gradually, he eased his car into the cluster of racers, his speed dropping in real-time on his disy, with his Operational Status at 40%¡ªa close call, as he''d nearly needed another pitstop. He couldn''t believe he hadn''t even managed to make Sync Buff.


    He released the wheel, feeling the stiffness in his fingers as he flexed them to restore cirction. "At least it''s over," he muttered. Damn, what kind of race was this?


    [You did not make the podium, host.]


    [6TH POSITION]


    "C''mon, don''t rub it in," Luca replied, slightly exasperated. "I can''t believe you''re actually going to punish me for finishing sixth. It''s not that bad, is it?"


    [I am not disciplining you for finishing sixth, host. I am reprimanding you for dropping to sixth in rapid session. This is to ensure such a slip doesn''t ur in more critical races, where points for you and your team (Trampos Racing) are essential.]


    Luca powered down his car, the engine rumbling to a halt as he rested his hands on hisp. Outside, the roar of the crowd seeped into his otherwise silent cockpit, creating a surreal contrast as the cloudy atmosphere added a cinematic touch.


    Cars were parked haphazardly beyond the grid as drivers exited, but Luca remained in his cockpit a little longer, bracing himself for the Form 1 System''s reprimand.


    "Alright, give it to me," he said, feigning confidence.


    [Punishment:


    Strength -1


    Intelligence -1 ]


    Luca dropped his head, exhaling. "That''s harsh," he muttered. "Alright, show me my Status, physical information, and Skills."


    [Hosts status generating....


    [..... Generationpleted]


    [Physical Information:


    Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs


    Height: 6''1"


    Body Fat Percentage: 10%


    Muscle Mass: 32%


    Strength: 12


    Stamina: 17


    Endurance: 20


    Agility: 15


    Intelligence: 13 ]


    "I still have something to work with, at least," Luca murmured, relieved. He then navigated to his Skills & Techniques.


    [Skills & Techniques: Total Grade - C


    Reflexes: 17


    Overtaking Skill: 19


    Track Awareness: 15


    Pitstop Prodigy: 4


    Others (Locked) ]


    Luca took a deep breath and pushed himself out of his cockpit.


    "WOOHH OOH! WOOH OHH! WOOOHHHH OOH!" The crowd''s cheers were deafening.


    His eyes instantlynded on Miles, who looked ecstatic with his third-ce finish. Luca wasn''t sure he could watch him climb the podium, given his own disappointment. But when he saw the Trampos Racing crew celebrating Ansel, realization dawned that Ansel had taken first ce.


    A wave of joy swept over him, lifting his spirits. At least something good hade from this race; Trampos Racing had scored a solid 25 points thanks to Ansel.


    Luca hurriedly jumped out of his car and ran towards Ansel to join in on the celebration. Though Ansel''s smile faded slightly on learning Luca had finished sixth, they both knew the season had only just begun, and this was just one of those setbacks.


    After a brief gathering, Luca and Ansel headed back to the Trampos Racing garage to await the podium ceremony. In the excitement of Ansel''s win, Luca had nearly forgotten the looming hot soup he would be in with Mr. Grant.


    Grant''s silence was louder than words, leaving Luca wondering if a sixth-ce finish was truly as disappointing as it seemed. Sure, there were over twenty drivers, so P6 wasn''t the worst. But, like Luca''s System, Mr. Grant was less concerned about the position than with how Luca had dropped down the ranks so quickly.


    He intended to address that issue before it could happen again over the course of the season.


    Just before the podium, the sky finally showed some signs of precipitation as it began to drizzle slightly, small droplets of rain glistening the George Park Circuit''s chicanes and straightways.


    As the podium was readied, the sky began to drizzle, tiny droplets glistening over George Park Circuit''s chicanes and straights.


    With the Form 2 race over, Ansel took the podium, with a disgruntled Addams on his left and a proud Miles in third. They popped the champagne, spraying it over Ansel to the roaring delight of the crowd, which continued cheering long into the afternoon as the teams finally retired. Stay tuned to empire

 Chapter 50 Attributes Advancement 2

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [Host should begin Daily Routine.]


    Luca''s heavy, sleepy eyelids snapped open, his eyes bloodshot and his body unwilling to cooperate. He grunted, swiping his hand over his face as he forced his head off what felt like the world''sfiest pillow. "Good morning, System," he muttered instinctively, squinting around his hotel room.


    [Beautiful morning, host.]


    [Please, begin your Daily Routine.]


    Luca sat up, ruffling his messy hair. Still in Melbourne, he remembered they''d be leaving for Germany in three days. Today was Sunday, a day off for F2 drivers after yesterday''s thrilling race, but George Park was gearing up for the F1 event that would soon fill it with roaring engines and fans.


    He''d gotten to his hoteltest night, around 9 p.m., barely finishing the abrupt Daily Quest his System had assigned him. Dinner had been courtesy of Sara, who, in her usual fashion, had ordered precisely what should go on his te. Exhausted, he crashed into bed, hoping for a quiet morning. Moreover, there were no training practice, no updates and meetings today.


    But, naturally, his System had other ns; at dawn, it rang insistently in his head, shing a prompt in his groggy line of sight.


    Sighing, Luca sat up, reached for his bottle of water, and took a few sips before sitting still to meditate. Last night''s dreams had reyed his race encounter with Miles, showing endless variations that might have ended more in his favor. Shaking it off, he took a deep breath, centering himself.


    Getting up, Luca brushed his teeth, searching for his tracksuit. He spotted it neatly folded on a small couch in the corner, packaged in a clear bag. He unpacked it, lifting up the well-tailored, custom Trampos Racing tracksuit with a small, appreciative smile.


    Nice, he thought, facing the mirror as he started putting it on. Just then, a knock at the door startled him, and he walked over to answer it.


    Mr. Mallow stood in the hallway outside Luca''s hotel room, shades on, his expression unreadable. "Good morning," he greeted.


    "Morning," Luca replied, adding a casual, "What''s up?" as Mallow stepped inside.


    "We didn''t talk after yesterday''s race, so I figured I''d take the chance now¡ªespecially since I know you hit the gym every morning," Mallow said, ncing around the room before settling himself at the edge of Luca''s bed. "As your agent, it''s not my job toment on your ups and downs in the championship. My job is to know the condition of my client and make sure we''re aiming for financial growth.


    So, I''ll ask you once: are you doing fine?"


    Luca chuckled, a soft, confidentugh. "Yes," he replied, zipping up his tracksuit.


    Mallow gave a satisfied p, then walked over to the cab beneath the television, snatching up two doughnuts and biting into one. "Good. Now,e on¡ªI''ll drive you to the facility," he said, waving Luca toward the door.


    Grabbing his bag, Luca followed Mallow out to the waiting car. They drove briefly through the bustling Melbourne city streets before reaching the quieter suburbs, where the facilityy nestled.


    The two chatted along the way, discussing Luca''s gradual progress and what the future might hold, especially if Mr. Grant decided to pull him from the driver''s seat for the next Featured Race. That possibility loomed, and both of them knew it would cost Luca the bonuses Fijee hadid out.


    But he was still hopeful. Missing one race seemed drastic over a single setback, right? Luca was confident he could prove it was just a bump in the road and that he deserved to stay behind the wheel.


    "You should be d. Harry''s still struggling to even get recognized as the main reserve driver," Mallow remarked, his attention mostly on the road as he rounded a curve on the quiet stretch leading to the facility. "There are three reserves in OLAC, and honestly, I don''t see him getting close topeting against you on track. Maybe next season will be his time."


    "Yeah, I feel bad for him," Luca mumbled, ncing out the window. Of the seven drivers in Grey-Husson''s program, only he and Miles had managed to make it to the track so far. Maybe another was somewhere far behind, but Luca hadn''t noticed. Not everyone could shine¡ªhe''d just realized that.


    As they neared the facility, Luca enjoyed the region''s tranquil silence, the sky softening into dawn hues. It was just three minutes until his gym session would kick off his Daily Routine. The absence of birdsong or rustling leaves made the crunch of gravel beneath the car''s tires seem even louder in the stillness.


    "So, what''ll you be doing tomorrow? It''s another free day," Mallow asked, raising an eyebrow above his shades as Luca stepped out of the car.


    Luca tightened his grip on his kit bag, squinting as the first rays of morning sun hit him. "Uh¡­ I dunno," he replied with a shrug. "Maybe I''ll call up Harry, spend the day as tourists?"


    "Sounds good," Mallow said, revving the car. "Just don''t think about racing all the time. It''s not great for da mental health."


    Luca nodded. "Roger that," he barked.


    He watched Mallow drive away, then turned toward the facility entrance. Now, it''s just me and you, System.


    Once inside the gym, Luca savored the rare solitude. His footsteps echoed through the empty space, mingling with the distant sounds of cleaners and a few early staff members. The chill of the air conditioning hit him hard, sting through the gym like an icy wind. He rubbed his hands together, getting ready to warm up in the frosty air.


    He sprang into action immediately, diving into his Intermediate Bundle-rted Daily Routine exercises. He hit the floor for burpees, moving rapidly, his muscles already firing up as sweat started to bead on his forehead. Without pause, heunched into high-intensity intervals¡ªshort, powerful bursts that had his heart pounding in seconds.


    Moving into his core workout, he tackled nks and Russian twists, testing his endurance. Push-ups came next, his arms burning as he pushed through, followed by lunges, each one with careful focus. He wrapped up with flexibility training, holding deep stretches and yoga poses that released the tension in his muscles.


    [Good job.] The System congratted him after thirty solid minutes of exercise.


    Luca panted, catching his breath, "Guess now we''re on to Attributes, right? That''s usually next after the workout."


    [Certainly, host.]


    [During your sleep, Systempiled a custom set of exercises tailored to improve after yesterday''s¡­ less-than-ideal race performance.]


    [Through detailed analysis, System identified two key incidents for optimization: first, when host collided with a tree, and second, when the host''s tires clipped a rival''s. From this, the System concludes host needs focused training on in-race agility, evasive maneuvers, and optimal control, coupled with enhanced quick decision-making.]


    "That''s... that''s actually thoughtful of you. Thanks a lot," Luca said with appreciation.


    [My objective is to make you the best Form 1 racer in history, host. This is simply System''s duty.]


    [Retrieving Data....]


    [....Data Retrieved]


    [This side programme will focus on the following:


    ¨CReaction Ball Timing


    ¨CBnce Board Training


    ¨CRapid Direction Change Sprints


    ¨CCognitive Speed Training


    ¨CSimted Racing ]


    [Some of these exercises would benefit from another person''s assistance. The System advises host to secure a personal trainer.]


    "Yeah, Sara said she''d handle it. But let''s knock out the ones I can do on my own for now," Luca replied, stretching out his arms. "Pretty sure I can simte solo, right?"


    [Certainly, host. However, a dedicated day for Simted Racing has been scheduled. You''ll engage in intensive simtion training for a full five hours.]


    Five hours?! That''s intense...


    [Analyzing....]


    [... Analyzed]


    [Today''s session will focus on the following for sole participation:


    ¨CBnce Board Training


    ¨CRapid Direction Change Sprints


    ¨CCognitive Speed Training ]


    [EXERCISE: BALANCE BOARD TRAINING]


    [EQUIPMENT: BALANCE BOARD]


    [Host is required to stand on the bnce board while maintaining stability and performing tasks to enhance coordination and control.]


    [This will be done for 5 minutes, focusing on bnce and core engagement while tossing and catching a lightweight medicine ball to himself, requiring adjustments to maintain stability during the movement.]


    With no time to waste, Luca looked for a bnce board and a medicine ball in the gym. He found and grabbed them, setting them up in his designated gym area.


    Carefully stepping onto the bnce board, he yelped as it wobbled slightly beneath him. "I won''t forgive you if I fall," Luca muttered to his System, gripping the medicine ball tightly. With focused determination, he tossed the ball into the air, catching it smoothly while adjusting his weight to maintain his bnce.


    He repeated the motion, gradually increasing the speed of his throws, feeling his core engage fully just as his System instructed.


    After a grueling five minutes, he finished, panting heavily as he hopped off the board and sank onto the floor. "Okay," he said breathlessly, still catching his breath. "What''s next?"


    [Good job, host. Moving on to the next.]


    [EXERCISE: RAPID DIRECTION CHANGE SPRINTS]


    [EQUIPMENT: CONES]


    [Host is required to sprint between a series of cones set at varying distances, making sharp, quick turns to simte racing reflexes. Focus on speed, immediate direction changes, and foot cement to enhance agility.]


    [This will be done for 5 sets, eachsting 30 seconds, with short rests in between to allow your body to recover while maintaining intensity.]


    "This is not alien to me," Luca replied, instantly gearing up. His System was assigning drills that directly targeted his reflexes and agility, exactly what he needed to face simr scenarios from yesterday.


    He positioned the cones in a staggered line, setting them at varied distances to ensure an unpredictable pattern for weaving. After a quick nce at the first cone, he grunted and sprinted forward, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the gym.


    Snaking through the cones wasn''t difficult, but the unique challenge here was the rapid change in direction while sprinting. Luca knew his System had selected this exercise specifically to help him adapt to sudden course changes while driving.


    He pushed himself, making sharp pivots and dashing to the next cone with renewed focus. Each change of direction tested his control, and he concentrated on maintaining his speed through each turn. The burn in his legs fueled him, his 20 Endurance score showing its worth as he drove through the exercise.


    After resetting andunching into the final set, Luca finished, only slightly winded but feeling the satisfying strain of effort. He exhaled deeply, resting his hands on his knees. "Done."


    [Very good, host.]


    [Moving on to the next.]


    [EXERCISE: COGNITIVE SPEED TRAINING]


    [EQUIPMENT: NONE]


    [Host is required to perform physical movements, such as sprinting or jumping, while simultaneously responding to verbal or visual cues. Tasks will include answering questions, solving quick math problems, or identifying patterns to enhance mental agility under pressure.]


    [This will be done for 3 sets of 5 minutes each, maintaining a high level of intensity while improving decision-making speed and cognitive performance.]


    "What? Am I training for a circus?"


    [No, host. This will be highly beneficial for your decision-making under high-stakes conditions.]


    "Damn," Luca whispered, surprised by the level his System was taking things to. "So it involves you throwing questions at me? Like a quiz while I work out?"


    [Yes, host. Your simple words exin it perfectly.]


    [Let us proceed with COGNITIVE SPEED TRAINING.]


    Luca shook his head, half in disbelief and half amused. "Alright, let''s see what this ''circus training'' is all about," he muttered as he stretched and prepared himself. "Alright then, hit me with your best shot."


    [Cognitive Speed Training Initiated.]


    [Retrieving questions for host...]


    [... Questions retrieved.]


    [What is the sum of 23 and 57?]


    Luca sprinted in ce, focusing on his movements while quickly calcting. "Uhmm....uhmmm, eighty," he replied quickly, the answer flowing out as he jumped high,nding softly.


    [Correct. Identify the next number in this sequence: 2, 4, 8, 16.]


    What the heck. Luca leaped onto an imaginary plyometric box, then hopped back down, his mind racing to decide if it was a geometric or arithmetic progression. "Thirty-two!" he shouted instinctively, louder than he expected.


    [Correct. How many bones are in the adult human body?]


    [Keep your brain sharp, host.]


    "Uhh, I think¨CI think it''s two hundred and six," Luca replied as he transitioned into a series of high knees.


    [Correct. What is the boiling point of water in degrees Celsius?]


    "Uhhhhh," Luca stammered as he switched toteral shuffles. "Can I skip?"


    [Yes, host.]


    "Skip."


    [Skipped.]


    [Who wrote "Romeo and Juliet"?]


    Luca shook his head, his mind racing but he couldn''t seem to grab the answer. "I have no idea," he muttered. "Skip."


    [Skipped.]


    [What is the square root of 144?]


    "Twelve!" He answered unhesitatingly, throwing in a few quick jumps for extra intensity in the exercise.


    [Correct.]


    [In what year did the Titanic sink?]


    "Ah, ah, 1934!" Luca replied with confidence, pushing himself through a sprint.


    [Incorrect.]


    [Answer is "1912"]


    Damn, I thought I was right.


    [Who painted the Mona Lisa?]


    "How the fuck does this have to do with racing? I have no idea, System."


    [Answer is Leonardo da Vinci]


    [Which gas is most abundant in Earth''s atmosphere?]


    Luca felt a burn in his legs as hended from a jump. He quickly pivoted to maintain his pace as he moved quickly to blend the rhythm of his exercise. "It''s nitrogen," he answered calmly.


    [Correct. We have reached the end of Cognitive Speed Training.]


    Luca exhaled sharply, spinning on his heels and slumping onto the gym bench. "Thank you very much, System. You just brought back school trauma," he gasped, reaching for his water bottle. Experience more content on empire


    [This session of your Daily Routine is nowplete.]


    [You achieved a performance score of 55.5%. Aim to improve next time.]


    [Ding!]


    [Agility +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [Intelligence +1]


    [Good job, host. You can now proceed to the next phase of your daily routine.]

 Chapter 51 Respite

    With his gym session behind him, Luca stepped out of the facility and into the fresh air of the premises. His bag and water bottle were clutched in one hand, while the other struggled to fit the earpiece securely into his ears, an awkward battle of bnce.


    A stroke of luck awaited him: one of the senior staff members at the facility was about to board a white van. The man mentioned he needed to pick up some supplies and offered Luca a ride back to his hotel.


    Luca didn''t hesitate and climbed into the passenger seat. Out of respect, he decided to unplug his earpiece, opting instead to engage in conversation with the man who had kindly offered him a lift. He still found it surreal, the way life had changed¡ªtalking to strangers from different corners of the world. Funny how this man could''ve driven off on any other day, blissfully unaware of his existence.


    "Thanks so much for this," Luca said as they neared the hotel after a long route that allowed the man to handle some job-rted errands. The man responded with a warm wave, his Australian entcing his polite reply.


    Luca, who was standing on the pavement, nced up at the towering hotel before shuffling himself inside. I will enjoy myself today, he said internally.


    He entered his room, tossing his bag onto the neatlyid rug. First order of business¡ªshower. The water felt wonderful, and Luca sighed as the cold stream washed away the tension built up from the morning workout. Midway through his shower, his phone rang, forcing him to step out, still soapy and dripping, to answer.


    It was Sara, checking in and asking if she could send up his breakfast now. He greeted her warmly and assured her it was indeed a perfect time for that.


    Luca resumed his shower, humming deeply as the cold water cascaded over him, rxing every muscle that had tensed up during his early morning workout. When he was done, he stepped out, water still beading down his skin, and grabbed a warm, white towel to dry off. Just as he was finishing, a knock sounded at the door. Luca tightened the towel around his waist and walked over, opening the door to let the steward in.


    The humble man moved swiftly, cing the breakfast tray on the empty side table with practiced efficiency before giving a respectful bow and stepping back to leave.


    As the door clicked shut, Luca''s senses were instantly teased by the rich aromaing from the tes. His best guess was grilled salmon and sweet potatoes, maybe with some chicken breast too, abination he had specifically mentioned in the list to Sara.


    Feeling free as a bird for the first time in weeks, Luca slipped into afortable set of homewear and pulled on some socks. He sat down at the table and enjoyed his breakfast, drinking water in long gulps, like a camel quenching its thirst after a trek through the desert.


    Once he''d polished off thest bite, Luca flopped onto the bed¡ªnot to sleep, but to unwind. He reached for the newptop Sara had surprised him with just yesterday, sitting on the nightstand to his right. She''d mentioned she''d uploaded a few movies for him, and Luca couldn''t wait to indulge. I wonder how long it''s been since Ist watched a movie, he thought with a smile.


    Theptop screen lit up, flickering through a loading sequence that felt oddly satisfying. Luca picked up his phone from the bed, deciding it was finally time to go through his messages. The screen buzzed with notifications rted to F1¡ªodds, predictions, and statistics flooding the top of his disy. The main division was set to take on Australia today, racing through the challenging and scarred George Park Circuit.


    But Luca had no intention of tuning in to watch the professionals, he wanted to rx as Mallow advised.


    Though curiosity got the better of him, prompting him to check on the F2 standings and table. After the setback he''d faced yesterday, he was pretty certain he''d slipped from the top three in the individual standings. Swiping and scrolling through the updates, he saw a headline photo featuring Ansel pumping his fist triumphantly, with Max Addams in the background, shaking his head in frustration.


    PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    -------------------------------------------------


    1.            | Trampos Racing           |   68


    2.            | Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr.  |   53 Explore new worlds at empire


    3.            | Hatcherk Motorsport   |   28


    4.            | Squadra Corse Jnr       |   25


    5.            | Nevada HanSama Jnr |   12


    Luca''s eyes skimmed down the table, noting that Squadra Corse Jnr. had moved up to fourth, discing Nevada''s junior team to fifth ce. The sight of Trampos Racing leading the standings brought a sense of satisfaction; he knew he''d yed a major role in that sess. Without hesitation, he swiped to the driver standings.


    PROVISIONAL DRIVER''S CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    --------------------------------------------------


    1.            | Max Addams                |   43


    2.            | Ansel Hahn                   |   43


    3.            | Luca Rennick                |   25


    4.            | Miles Bellingham         |   25


    5.            | Sean Aaronson             |   24


    "Very tight," Luca muttered, studying the numbers closely.


    He noted that Aaronson, despite never making it to the podium, had managed two consecutive fourth-ce finishes, bringing him tantalizingly close to the leaders. Meanwhile, Miles shared the same points total as Luca, thanks to an extra two points for securing the fastestp, leveling their positions.


    Luca licked his lips with determination, silently vowing to climb higher in the standings and keep Trampos Racing firmly at the top. He swiped over to his messages.


    Responding to each message felt effortless. One even caught him off guard¡ªa brief check-in from Mr. Fisher that made Luca smile. Harry had also sent a suggestion to hang out in Melbourne before they all headed back to their respective team bases around the world. Luca''s reply was quick: That''s exactly what I had in mind.


    Just as he was about to turn off his phone and focus on theptop in front of him, his eyes fell on an unread contact: Isabe. He winced, noticing he''d identally spelled her name with two S¡ªIssabe. After all the effort he put into getting her number, he had yet to message or call her.


    Luca cussed himself as his thumbs hovered uncertainly over the keyboard on the empty chat screen. What should I even text...?


    The only thing that came to mind was a simple ''Good Morning'', so he reluctantly typed it out andzily hit send. The message sent sessfully and marked as delivered, and then, to his surprise, the chat showed that she had read it.


    Luca''s heart skipped a beat and his eyes widened once the text was read. He whispered, "Oof," pressing the power button hard to turn off the screen and putting his phone down swiftly.


    ncing around the empty hotel room as if to reassure himself, he took a deep breath and focused on theptop on hisp. He knew little about navigating the device, but he could at least locate the movie yer where Sara had loaded some blockbuster films fromst year.


    Settling deeper into the bed, Luca sank into the soft embrace of the mattress and pillows as the "Transformers" movie came to life on the screen. The dramatic music boomed from the speakers, stirring excitement in him.

 Chapter 52 Respite 2

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    Luca had spent the previous day in solitude, confined to his hotel room. He only ventured out once, feeling the need to stretch after being glued to his bed and binge-watching movies on hisptop. His eyes felt sore and unfocused, and he could barely see straight as he made his way out of the room.


    When he reached the hotel''s recreational center, he found it buzzing with activity. The indoor pool was crowded with people enjoying themselves, and other guests were engaged in various games and workouts. Luca, looking for a way to unwind, joined a few older men who were ying table tennis. He stretched his arms and felt his calf muscles tighten, grateful for the movement after so much inactivity.


    Byte afternoon, Luca was in the middle of a game with a good fellow, when the TV screens around the center flickered to life, broadcasting live footage of the uing Form 1 race at George Park. The circuit was just a few miles from the hotel, in the same bustling district.


    Luca had hoped to avoid motorsport altogether for the day, taking a rare break from the high-speed world he inhabited. But luck wasn''t on his side, and racing found him anyway. The older men grumbled amongst themselves,ining about not being able to attend the race due to the venue being at full capacity. Resigned to watching from afar, they settled into their seats, chilled drinks in hand, ready for 90 minutes of roaring engines and blistering speeds. Luca was relieved that none of them seemed to recognize him as a Form 2 driver; he even liked it that way.


    A few guests continued with their activities but cast the asional nce at the screen to catch updates on the race. Luca was one of them. He resumed his table tennis match with a middle-aged Asian man, but his eyes kept drifting back to the screen, stealing nces at the F1 cars and racers as the anticipation mounted.


    "...Good afternoondies and gentlemen, and wee to the heart of Melbourne! We''re just moments away from the start of what promises to be an exhrating Form 1 race...!"


    Luca''s bat had swung through the air,pletely missing the tennis ball. He nced up at the man he was ying with, expecting a look of frustration or disappointment, but the man''s gaze was locked on the TV screen, just as distracted as Luca. With curiosity sparked, Luca turned his eyes to the broadcast that had momentarily stolen their attention making him miss the white ball.


    "...as the cars line up on the grid, let''s take a quick look at our pole sitter today¡ªdriver number 44, Squadra Corse''s one and only Antonio Luigi, who''s shown incredible pace in thest race. Right alongside him, we have the everpetitive number 32, Marcellus Rodnick representing Jackson Racing, to capitalize on any mistake..."


    A low murmur of disappointment rippled through the older men seated in front of the TV. He found out that the reason for their displeasure was that their favorite, Marco Rossi, the reigning F1 champion from Jackson Racing, had now been absent for two consecutive races. No official exnation had been given, but Luca had a few guesses. It could be anything from unresolved contractual issues or the Team Principal must have gone nuts, making an inexplicable decision to bench the star driver in favor of Rodnick.


    "...let''s not forget about the weather, Sam¡ªclouds gathered during the feeder series yesterday, and today''s skies don''t look any clearer. A rain shower could shake things up. How will the teams adapt...?"


    "...what we are looking at here is the pinnacle of motorsport, Alex. These drivers know how to navigate through any situation; a slight drizzle would be the least of their problems..."


    Luca nced back at the man he had been ying against. They exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement that they have been toying with themselves. Without a word, they both set down their paddles and joined the others who had gathered to watch the race unfold.


    The aged men made room for Luca, and before he knew it, someone handed him a chilled bottle ofger. Luca stared at it curiously; he''d never had beer before. With some hesitation, he took a sip, then another, and managed only three before the pungent stench overwhelmed and intoxicated him.


    The racemenced, and an electric energy filled the room, matching the intensity on the track. The old men who had been lounging a moment before suddenly came alive, shouting at the screen and leaping to their feet. Some clenched their betting slips with white-knuckled desperation, silently urging their drivers forward, while others groaned as their picks started to slip down the leaderboard.


    Nearby, a group of friends exchanged banter, pointing out the strategies unfolding before them, theirughter mingling with shouts of encouragement. A quiet man at one side leaned forward, eyes glued to the screen, whispering tactics to himself as if he was a supreme being, plotting the race''s oue.


    Luca wondered if people had reacted this way when he skidded off the track to Miles Bellingham. Maybe a man in this room had ced his money on him. The thought of it made Lucaugh inwardly as he couldn''t help but be swept by their enthusiasm bouncing off the walls of the recreational centre.


    After a thrilling hour and a half of racing, it finally ended and the results were fairly surprising. The same Marcellus Rodnick the men disapproved, astonishingly imed 1st in George Park. Antonio Luigi took second ce, which sparked an odd sense of satisfaction in Luca. In fact, he was more than happy with the leaderboard after Nevada HanSama''s Hank Rice set the fastestp in the race and secured third ce.


    Luca didn''t linger to watch the podium celebrations. He excused himself quietly and returned to his room, spending the remainder of the daypleting his daily training routine and indulging in more movies.


    Now, today was a fresh start.


    Luca got out of bed and went through his morning routine like a well-programmed machine. The motions felt predictable, almost robotic, as if he were caught in an unending loop. He had already called Sara to pick him up and drop him off at the training facility.


    Luca made it to the gym once again and began his exercises, keeping his body fit as ever.


    Stay tuned for updates on empire


    [Today''s session will focus on heated Simted Racing to mirror in-race scenarios for abrupt switch and swerve ofne to avoid contact with rivals and transition their cut-ins against them.]


    [EXERCISE: SIMULATED RACING TRAINING]


    [EQUIPMENT: RACING SIMULATOR]


    [Host is required to sit in the racing simtor while maintaining focus and control, performing tasks to enhance coordination and reaction time.]


    [This will be a 4-hour session. It will involve replicating real-time racing dynamics, focusing on precision driving, endurance, and reaction time while navigatingplex tracks, sharp turns, and high-speed straights. Host must adjust strategies based on simted race conditions to maintain peak performance and efficiency throughout the session.]


    [Next phases of Daily Routine will be shifted to amodate this session.]


    Luca shook his head slowly, hands resting on his waist as he stared at the racing simtor. Four hours of non-stop racing wasn''t just training anymore. He desperately hoped that after all this, his steering and alertness would see some noticeable improvement.


    He checked the time on his wristwatch: 6:28. That meant he''d probably be done and out of here by around 10:30. Exhaling deeply, Luca slid into the simtor. The padded seat enveloped him, and he adjusted the straps with a practiced hand. The VR headset lowered over his eyes, pulling him into the immersive world of simted racing. His hands gripped the wheel instinctively, and his feet hovered over the pedals, his senses drowned in the roar of engines.


    Luca raced for four solid hours, with no breaks for water or bathroom trips. His concentration never faltered, even though the virtual tracks looked and felt incredibly real. But he could easily tell the difference. The simtions, while spot on, never quite matched the brutal demands of a real race¡ªyet, somehow, they felt even tougher.


    After what seemed like an eternity, Luca finally finished the simtion. He groaned as he peeled off the gear, his muscles stiff, his body aching from maintaining such intense focus and posture for so long. "Ahh, System. What have you done to me?" he bellowed, his eyes dry as he stumbled, the dizziness creeping in. He stretched his arms out in exhaustion, letting the tension slip away as a tired yawn escaped him.


    [Activity helped you advance your Attributes, host.]


    [Strength +1


    [Stamina +1]


    [Endurance +]


    [Agility +1]


    [Intelligence +1]


    "That''s very impressive. I thought I wouldn''t make a thing after failing to fill the Sync Bar," Luca said, leaving the simtion room with swollen eyes.


    He stepped into the cool mid-morning air, taking a moment to stretch as he jogged down the short steps. With a quick snap, he opened the tip of a Fijee energy drink. Sara waved at him from the driver''s seat, her shades giving her a cool, effortless vibe¡ªher own money starting to show in the little details.


    Luca nodded tiredly, taking a long gulp from the can as he walked to the car. He climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door behind him.


    Sara turned to him, showing him the screen of her phone. Luca''s gaze shifted to the details of a Middle-Eastern man on the disy. "Who is this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Do you like him? I picked him as your personal trainer. Just wanted your validation," Sara said, shaking the phone in front of him with urgency.


    Luca squeezed the Fijee can and tossed it under the airbag. "You must''ve selected the best. What other validation do you need?"


    Sara smiled, satisfied. "It''s settled then," she said, dropping the phone and turning the car''s engine on, her hands resting confidently on the wheel.


    As they drove back to the hotel, Sara kept himpany while he enjoyed ate breakfast and took a rxing bath. After a short nap, Luca was jolted awake by a phone call from Harry, eager to hang out. At the same time, Ansel suggested a meet-up to chill. Sensing an opportunity for a good time, Luca quickly arranged a get-together for all three of them.


    Luca dressed casually yet stylishly¡ªdark jeans, a fitted graphic tee, and a lightweight jacket thatplemented his look perfectly. He followed Sara out of the hotel and into the car once again, the destination set for Abisal Square, a vibrant and lively spot right in the heart of Melbourne.

 Chapter 53 Respite 3

    Luca met up with Harry at the entrance of Abisal Square. Harry was easy to spot in the bustling venue, wearing an outfit simr to Luca''s, along with his distinctive brown skin and hazel eyes. The two nudged each other as they approached and instantlyunched into stories about theirtest endeavors.


    Harry was genuinely proud of Luca. From the first moment he stood at their dorm room door at Grey-Husson''s, he''d known Luca was going to be good. That thought kept him going, giving him hope that the OLAC management would recognize his own potential in a single-seater and give him a shot behind the wheel, even if just for Sprint Races.


    They strolled around Abisal Square, waiting for Ansel, who was runningte. The square was a blend of modern architecture and open space, with a massive screen disying cultural highlights. Momentster, clips from yesterday''s F1 race flickered across it. They chatted, paused to watch street performers, stopped at food stalls, and even dashed after pigeons,ughing and soaking up the atmosphere.


    They grabbed cold drinks and settled on the terrace, watching girls pose for photos in the open space. Just as they were gettingfortable, Ansel called to announce his arrival.


    With a shared nce, Luca and Harry walked back to the entrance to greet him. Ansel approached, dressed in a ck jacket and jeans, a cap pulled low over his eyes. Luca figured he had good reason to be cautious; after two years in Form 2 and a victory in Saturday''s Feature Race, Ansel''s face was probably recognizable to thousands of Australians.


    "I see she even flew halfway across the world just to watch you race," Ansel said, smirking as he nodded toward Luca. They exchanged greetings, and Ansel shot a nce back at the road behind the square. Sara was there in the driver''s seat of a parked car, shades on, absorbed in her phone.


    Luca almostughed out loud, tempted to tell his friends that Sara was his PA, not his significant other. But he found the misunderstanding amusing enough to let it ride.


    Ansel joined them, drink in hand, and soon they were talking andughing like they were drunk¡ªthough it was just fatigue making its presence known.


    Theirst full day in Melbourne hade to an end, with Luca and Ansel giving Harry a heartfelt goodbye as they parted ways. Sara sped off as soon as Luca settled into the car, the sky turning a deeper shade of blue as his evening hangout concluded.


    That night, Luca began packing his belongings, convinced that starting early was better than scramblingter. After finishing his dinner and taking a night bath, a weary Sara excused herself and headed to her hotel room to rest.


    With his suitcase half-packed, Luca''s phone rang¡ªMallow''s name lit up the screen. He answered briefly, only for it to ring again immediately after. This time, "Mother" was disyed in bold. Luca found himself groaning at the idea of answering his own mother''s call. He never knew how to handle her effusive praises and constant wishes for his safety, as if she were an ardent believer speaking to her divine maker and protector.


    Luca was sure she wanted to thank him for the recent deposit Sara had made earlier that day. That gave him even more reason to hesitate. He dropped onto the edge of his bed, letting the call ring out before switching to messages instead.


    Luca: Mother, good evening. I''m at a forum now, can''t answer calls, what''s up?


    Mrs. Rennick: Luca, my beautiful son...


    Luca rolled his eyes and groaned at the ceiling. The length of the iing message already made him thankful for dodging that call. Still, a small smile crept onto his face as he realized how lucky he was to have such a caring mother. With a shift in his mood, he replied with the same affectionate energy.


    His gaze drifted to the chat beneath, eyes slowly widening when he saw Isabe''s name. He''dpletely forgotten that he''d messaged her. Now, there was a reply¡ªsent 1 day and 10 hours ago.


    Luca stroked his forehead, wondering why he chickened out before. Taking a deep breath, he opened the chat where five new messages greeted him, thest one ending with "what about you?"


    Humming to himself with a touch of irony, Luca scanned her responses. First, a polite "Good Morning," then, "It''s been a while," followed by, "I thought you wouldn''t text or call." Just beneath that, a one-minute gapter, came, "I''m in Italy now for school applications, I''m doing pretty fine," and finally, "what about you?"


    Not bad, Luca thought. And to think I''d worried I had scared her away. The ease with which Isabe engaged surprised him and sparked a renewed sense of hope and investment.


    Thest detail Isabe shared caught Luca''s interest. He''d been curious about her age for a while because he never wanted to ask her straight away. School applications, she said. That likely made her Sophia''s age, just about to enter college.


    Luca mulled over what to reply, spending over ten minutes staring nkly at the hotel room''s cab and shelves. He''d once heard that not overthinking things often led to more genuine, sessful oues. With this renewed sentiment, Luca hammered at the screen: Will be in Berlin by the end of tomorrow for more core training.


    After a brief pause, he added: Good luck with the school applications.


    He dropped back onto the bed, eyes drifting up to the ceiling, phone still in hand. His life had taken such a drastic turn, and he could barely recognize who he was anymore. He wondered just how much more things would change once he finally reached F1.


    With a long exhale, Luca let his eyes close for a moment.


    [Ding!]


    [Host is yet toplete Tuesday''s Daily Quest]


    Luca couldn''t tell if he consciously chose to ignore the notification or if the pull of sleep was simply too strong.

 Chapter 54 Respite 4

    Luca sat up on his bed, stretched, yawned, and took a moment to meditate.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [Host was unable toplete Tuesday''s Daily Quest]


    Luca rubbed his sleepy eyes as the System''s message appeared. "Oh, I totally forgot. I was so sleepy," he muttered, realizing this was the first time he hadn''t finished a Daily Quest. "You did say you give punishments for failing Daily Quests, didn''t you?"


    [Yes, host.]


    "Alright, so go ahead. I''m curious."


    [Are you sure, host? The System can pardon this instance.]


    Luca''s curiosity won over. He''d never faced a Daily Quest punishment from the System, and he was intrigued by what it would entail. "Yes, yes. Just give me the punishment."


    [Please note: This action cannot be reversed.]


    [Issuing...]


    [Punishment for Failing Tuesday''s Daily Quest:


    -Persistent Dehydration]


    [Status: Issued]


    [Duration: 3 hours]


    Luca blinked, wiping his eyes to make sure he was reading that correctly. The punishment¡ªpersistent dehydration¡ªwas there in bold System font. He let out a dry chuckle. "You''ve got to be kidding me. Why dehydration, of all things?" He asked, biting his lips. "Did you deduct any of my attribute scores¡­?"


    [No, host. Your Tuesday Daily Quest did not have Deduction Punishments attached.]


    [Additionally, punishments are randomly selected from aprehensive database of punishments.]


    "Wait, you''re serious about this persistent dehydration? You know I drink water all the time."


    [Duration: 3 hours]


    [Calcting...]


    [Your Tuesday Daily Quest Punishment willst until approximately 8:30.]


    Three hours? Really? Luca shook his head, incredulous.


    He couldn''t believe the System was serious about issuing such a peculiar punishment. Staying hydrated was vital, especially after his intense workouts¡ªit kept him bnced and energized. The status showed ''Issued,'' so he decided to see if it was legit.


    Reaching for the water bottle on his nightstand, he took a long drink, emptying it. To his surprise, his mouth still felt parched, and his throat remained dry, like a desert. "No way," he muttered. "This is... kinda cool. But why didn''t you issue it while I was sleeping? I could''ve skipped needing water at night."


    [System was offline.]


    [Host should begin Daily Routine.]


    [System has nullified all liquid intake requirements for Wednesday''s Daily Routine. You can nowplete Wednesday''s Routine without failing due to liquid intake.]


    Luca''s eyes wandered to a stack of Fijee energy drinks sitting on a small table in his hotel room. The curiosity gnawed at him to know how far this could go. "Even that won''t help, huh?" he asked.


    [Yes, host. All liquids are included. Your thirst cannot be quenched for the next 3 hours.]


    "Wow. I didn''t see thating."


    Heughed dryly, a nervous edge to his voice. "I might copse at the gym."


    The thought of skipping today''s Daily Routine crossed his mind¡ªthere weren''t any penalties for missing it. But he pushed that idea away. This was just another challenge, a hurdle to ovee. Besides, there was something intriguing about pushing through difort. It might even turn into one of those stories he''d tell with a proud grin. "Alright, let''s do this," he said, rolling out of bed.


    Brushed. Dressed. Drove to the facility. Hit the gym.


    The workout was grueling, his body screaming for water as every muscle burned and his throat felt like sandpaper. Dizziness crept up on him, making each rep feel like a battle. But Luca embraced the difort, determined to see it through.


    After what felt like an eternity, he dropped onto a bench, gasping for air, drained beyond belief. "I might die before I even make it to F1," he whispered between shallow breaths, suddenly regretting his earlier enthusiasm for the punishment. Desperate, he gulped down a bottle of water and even a can of Fijee, but the liquid felt useless, sliding down without any relief, as if his throat and tongue were coated in waterproof film.


    Wobbling to his feet, Luca stumbled out of the facility and into his car. Sara, waiting outside, took one look at his pale face and frowned in concern. "Are you okay? You look... drained."


    "Just gym fatigue," Luca managed, giving her a weak smile.


    Once they returned to the hotel, Luca rushed for a bath, hoping that the steady stream of water against his skin might somehow ease the unrelenting dryness within him. It brought some relief, but it wasn''t enough to quench the overwhelming thirst. He avoided eating, ncing frequently at the wall clock, bottle of water already in hand, waiting for 8:30. His foot tapped impatiently on the rug as the seconds ticked by.


    [Ding!]


    [Punishment for Failing Tuesday Daily Quest


    -Persistent Dehydration]


    [Status: Lifted]


    Without wasting a moment, Luca tilted his head back and drank deeply from the open bottle, nearly choking in his eagerness. The chilled water rushed down his parched throat, bringing an immediate, soothing wave of relief. He felt the tension in his shoulders melt away as he drank, each gulp producing a rhythmic sound as his Adam''s apple bobbed up and down.


    Luca drained the bottlepletely. The cool liquid rejuvenated him, spreading throughout his body and clearing the cloudiness that had weighed on his mind. Satisfaction washed over him as he exhaled. "Ahhhh," he murmured, savoring the taste. Water had never been so heavenly.


    He set down the empty bottle on the nightstand with a soft thud, staring at its emptiness with relief. "I don''t think I''ll miss a Daily Quest again," Luca muttered, taking his gaze to the table where his food was kept. It must be getting cold, he thought.


    He stood up slowly, a newfound energy coursing through his limbs as he made his way to the table. Despite knowing it wasn''t the best habit, Luca browsed his phone while eating the meal, which reminded him of the one he had before the race on Saturday.


    He checked the team''s travel ns. Everything was perfectlyid out¡ªflight details, hotel reservations in Dubai, and a fully packed itinerary of events. All logistics were in ce, ensuring that Trampos Racing was ready for the next step.


    Satisfied, Luca set his phone aside and focused on his meal. With the flight scheduled for 3 p.m., he had half the day to himself.


    Luca nned his next few hours with leisure in mind, involving nothing more than staying put and enjoying the dimfort of his room. His gaze fell on hisptop charging in the corner, a smile creeping across his face. He indulged in games and movies, soaking in the rare downtime before taking a short nap. The rm at 1 p.m. jolted him awake, signaling it was time to prepare for the uing journey.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 55 Under the Banner of Red, Black, and White

    The flight back to Germany was long and exhausting. They boarded a certain Airbus A270 for the 14-hour journey to Dubai, where they had a brief two-houryover. The stop provided a chance to stretch their legs and grab snacks. Luca and Ansel wandered through the airport shops, absorbing the city''s vibrant nighttime ambiance. Thefort and allure of Dubai made Luca ponder if it might be the ideal future home for his mother and sister.


    The next leg to Frankfurt took around six hours, during which Luca managed to sleep twice. He ate dinner onboard, sticking to his diet, while engaging in lighthearted banter with the Trampos Racing staff. Their camaraderie was infectious, and Luca couldn''t shake the thought that he might be too attached to them by the end of the season.


    The final flight to Berlin was a brief hour-long journey, and they arrived in the afternoon. The sun zed overhead with relentless intensity as they exited the ne, casting intense heat across the tarmac. As the team continued their chatter andughter, Luca zoned out, seeking a moment of solitude. He reached for his MP3 yer, letting heavy metal and intense instrumentals wash over him.


    Loaded with their belongings and gear, the team made their way to therge bus waiting for them at the airport. It was painted in the signature red, white, and ck of Trampos Racing, ready to ferry them to their headquarters. The atmosphere remained lively as they boarded.


    Luca still found it difficult to believe that this crew¡ªprevious drivers, engineers, mechanics, strategists, data analysts, tire changers, and even the unsung heroes in logistics¡ªdid this 12 times a year for an entire season. Now, he understood why every engineer and mechanic screamed in joy and fell silent in sadness during the race. This was a whole new passion for them, and Luca suddenly felt unworthy to be among such dedication, especially after recalling his own lost love for the sport some time ago. Taking a deep breath, he made an internal promise: this season would be different. Trampos Racing would rise together, and they would celebrate their first championship. They would have more to celebrate.


    As the bus maneuvered through familiar streets on the way to the Trampos Racing headquarters, Luca felt a sense of nostalgia settle over him. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow, its intensity tempered by the tinted windows, softening the rays that reached his face.


    When the bus finally pulled into the open parking lot, Luca could see it was already filled with various vehicles, likely belonging to the management and notable figures of the team. The crew began disembarking, their chatter filling the air¡ªsome conversations light and joking, others more serious as the team reconnected with those who hadn''t traveled.


    The drivers¡ªLuca, Ansel, Haas, and the young American, Victor¡ªwere excused for the rest of the day to recuperate, while the rest of the team got straight to work. There was a palpable energy in the headquarters as luggage and equipment ttered and voices mingled in the background.


    Luca wheeled his suitcase into his modest living space, pausing to take in the small but functional room. The neatly made bed, the minimalist decor, and the wide windows that let in the filtered sunlight made the space feel almost temporary. He frowned at the thought. What am I thinking? Why am I considering staying here permanently?


    He couldn''t believe he had the idea of treating this room as home when he could easily afford to rent or buy a much better ce. The distant sounds of crew members unloading equipment and talking drifted into the room, grounding him in the moment. Determined to change his mindset, Luca resolved to find a better ce.


    Sitting at the edge of his bed, he quickly sent a message to Sara, who was still en route with Mallow. He outlined his ns about securing a more permanent andfortable residence.


    Luca then turned his attention to his notifications. Isabe had sent him four new messages, thest one ending with, "What do you think?"


    He hesitated, biting his lip. Experience with his sister Sophia had taught him that when a woman asks, "What do you think?" it demands thoughtful consideration and a response that aligns with what she likely wanted to hear. Luca decided to stall his reply, wanting to choose his words carefully.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    He then decided to check the uing race details. If I remember correctly, we don''t have any more races until mid-April, right?


    Monaco Grand Prix


    Location: Monte Carlo, Monaco


    Date: Apr. 10


    Track: Circuit de l''¨¦toile (A.K.A. Ster)


    A smirk crept across Luca''s face. He knew Monaco well and its legendary morous association with motorsport. The variety in race locations never failed to amaze him, from iconic circuits to unexpected city streets.


    Recalling the Daily Quest his System had assigned while on the bus ride to the headquarters, Luca stood up to get started.


    ------------------------------------------------


    At the break of dawn the next day, routinesmenced as usual until it was time for the team training session that Mr. Grant had scheduled for all drivers. Enjoy more content from empire


    The facility doors opened for a neer¡ªa middle-eastern man who introduced himself as Luca''s Personal Trainer. Each of the four Trampos Racing drivers had their own dedicated trainer, present for both team-wide and individual gym sessions. This was Luca''s first face-to-face encounter with his trainer, matching everything Sara had shown him on her phone. The man was of average height, with dark brown skin, ck cropped hair, and a chiseled jawline that hinted at his physical discipline.


    "Good morning, Luca. My name is Amir, Amir James," the trainer introduced himself, extending a hand for a casual handshake. Luca''s eyes didn''t miss the visible muscles carved into Amir''s arms and shoulders. He cautiously reached out and grasped Amir''s hand. As he expected, Amir''s hand was as strong as steel.


    "I''m d to have you as my personal trainer," Luca said with a smile.


    "The pleasure is mutual, my friend," Amir responded, scanning the training hub with an approving nod.


    The training hub featured exceptionally advanced gyming equipments, especially cardio stations and free weights lying everywhere. There were simtion rooms to the side to give arge space for dynamic sessions and also for the team to walk freely like they were doing. The walls proudly disyed the Trampos Racing banner and the bold logo of their top sponsor, Catapult, unified in shades of red, ck, and white.


    Catapult had a reputation for pioneering wearable training technology¡ªGPS trackers, heart rate monitors, and other devices athletes used to fine-tune their performance. Luca nced down at his wrist, where one of Catapult''s sleek trackers blinked steadily.


    "I''ll get today''s training draft from your principal, tailor it to your strengths, and add a touch of my own," Amir said with a confident smile before walking away to gather the materials.


    Just then, Ansel entered, a towel draped over his shoulder, his German trainer following closely behind. The trainer''s muscr frame made him look more like a bodyguard than a fitness expert. Within minutes, Haas and the final Trampos driver filed into the room with their trainers in tow, the sound of weights nking, staff bustling, and jokes filling the space. It felt as if every member of Trampos Racing was part of a tightly-knit family.


    The training crew began setting up performance metrics and screens, aligning everything for the session ahead.


    Soon, trainingmenced under Mr. Grant''s watchful eye. The physical trainers moved in tandem with the team, their expertise blending seamlessly to push the drivers to their limits. Each exercise was tailored to build endurance, enhance reflexes, and prepare the body for the physical strains of the track, all essential for peak performance in the relentless world of motorsport.

 Chapter 56 Under the Banner of Red, Black, and White 2

    "Gaffer said timedps, and timedps it is," said a crew member as he walked down the short ramp from the telemetry room, holding a draft sheet in his hand. The early morning sun cast a sharp re, forcing him to squint as he approached the group of Trampos Racing team members and their drivers¡ªLuca, Ansel, Hahn, and Victor, the young American.


    Another crew member took the sheet, scanned it in a second, and nodded approvingly. "Looks like the usual schedule. But maybe we can spice things up a bit. What do you all think?" he asked.


    Ansel smirked, his hands on his hips, looking as though his racing suit was tailored exclusively for him. "What kind of fun? Letting Beany finally take ap?" he teased, gesturing at Victor.


    The entire crew burst intoughter, the sound carrying down the length of the track. Some yfully jostled Victor, who responded with an exaggerated grumble while being nudged around.


    "Of course, why not? Everyone of us is training today," another crew member pointed out with a sharp pause, his eyes dancing around with amused mischief. "but at least we get to really do our jobs on the track!" He boomed.


    Theughter roared again, mingling with the morning breeze, as masculine and feminine chuckles interwove seamlessly. Even Luca joined in as it was refreshing to have someone to poke fun at. Victor''s zero driving time had be an inside joke, one that never seemed to lose its charm.


    Even Haas allowed a faint smile to surface. He stood ready, helmet in hand. "Alright," he said, his gaze softening as he looked at Victor. "Ease up on him. His time wille. Just keep showing up, like the rest of us."


    Theughter subsided, and they all transitioned into a heavy chatter as the cars were towed to the edge of the track where they stood. Luca indulged into some deep conversations with Ansel and the team crew. Most of their talks basely had no path, it was all jokes and light-hearted banter toward each other.


    When the single-seaters were finally positioned, Luca''s System scanned them methodically, confirming that each car was in peak condition. The sleek frames glistened under the sun, the scent of petrol rich and heady, giving Luca an intoxicating sense of anticipation. The crew members continued their thorough checks on the cockpits, tires, and engines, ensuring the Daras were prepped and ready to roar.


    "Speed is all it is, then. Keep the engines warm, fingers flexible, and the asphalt hot," said another crew member, tapping the polished surface of one of the cars. He cast a look back at the telemetry room where Mr. Moritz and Mr. Grant observed their every move from behind the ss. "Let''s get to it. Time''s ticking. C''mon, Beany, hop in," he sneered.


    "For him, it''s about survival, not speed," another crew member shouted, triggering another round ofughter.


    Victor grumbled, shoving his helmet on with a sharp motion. Luca exchanged nces with Ansel and Haas, who were simrly donning their helmets. He followed suit, the familiar HUD of his System appearing before his eyes, icons shimmering briefly before forming into an organized disy.


    All four Trampos Racing drivers entered their single-seaters smoothly with rehearsed movements. Luca settled in his cockpit, the feeling of being in that tight space felt somewhat normal to him now as his System dubiously synced him with the Dara. He nced at the telemetry disys while settling his grip on the wheel, caressing the buttons.


    [Host is now synced with Dara (F2 04)]


    Luca took a quick look at Ansel''s car ahead, then nced sideways at Haas, with Victor positioned behind him. Their zigzag formation provided ample space for each to elerate unhindered.


    "Alright, let''s go," a crew member announced, pping his hands beside Ansel''s car. The team around them erupted in cheers and light apuse as the drivers powered up their engines.


    Theyunched into the training session, speeding through the track in fluid, synchronized movements. This practice of timedps gave each driver the opportunity to push their limits while staying connected over thems. For Luca, it was surprisingly reassuring to hear all four of them in conversation¡ªa rare moment of solidarity.


    Victor, Haas, and Luca eased off the throttle to let Ansel surge ahead in a breathtaking burst of speed. In turn, Luca took advantage of the newfound space to elerate sharply, followed closely by Haas, and then Victor.


    The exercise continued with the drivers alternating leads and practicing strategic maneuvers, eachp punctuated by precision and control, while the telemetry room recorded every data closely.


    "Woohoo!" The Trampos Racing crew erupted into cheers as the single-seaters roared to the edge of the track. Thumbs shot up and hands pped as they attended to the drivers'' needs in their cockpits. Mr. Moritz joined them now, a file tucked under his arm as he joined in the apuse, the bright sun showing no sign of hiding behind the clouds.


    "Great work, boys¡ªfantastic job," Moritz praised, tapping Ansel''s car, which still hummed with energy. "Next, we''ll focus on the fluidity of our pit stops," he announced, casting a nce over the team, his eyes meeting masculine and feminine faces. "I say this every session, not because I doubt you, but because every second in the pit matters. The quicker we pit, the quicker our boys are back on track. We can''t afford any mistakes."


    Crew member 3, anky man with tousled hair, rallied everyone with a p of his hands. "Alright, you heard the boss! Let''s get to our units."


    The team cheered in response and chatted all through as they walked across the track to the pit. It was like a cut outne, adjacent to the track, with a whole stock of fresh tires and white hoses were nearly coiled.


    With murmurs of enthusiasm, the team made their way to the pitne¡ªapact stretch adjacent to the track, lined with pristine tires and neatly coiled hoses.


    Moritz brought the radio to his lips. **Okay, we''ll run five pit stops from each of you. Complete ap and enter the pitne one after the other, fast and seamless**


    Ansel revved up, leading the group as the crew took their positions, each member knowing their role by heart.


    The drivers navigated the track, slicing through turns and straights until the pitne came into view. Ansel, at the front, surged ahead, ready for the first pit.


    The crew members hurriedly maneuvered around the pit area, ensuring everything was in ce. Tires were lined up meticulously; fresh rubber glistened under the sun. Fuel hoses were checked and double-checked, while tools were organized for quick ess. Every Motorsport team knew there was no room for error at a pitstop.


    Ansel''s car hurriedly approached the pitne, and the crew readied themselves. Moritz''s voice echoed through the radio. **First car up¡ªHan. Positions ready, everyone.**


    One crew member hurried to the front, ready to lift Ansel''s car as it roared toward the pitne, while others positioned themselves strategically by the tires, tension and focus in their eyes behind their visors. As soon as Ansel''s car halted, the crew sprang into wless, synchronized action.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Crew member 7 dropped to the ground, wrench in hand, and expertly removed the first tire, flinging it aside as Crew member 2 slid in seamlessly with a fresh one, locking it in ce with swift, precise movements. Across the car, Crew member 10 matched the rhythm perfectly, securing the opposite tire with practiced skill. Meanwhile, Crew member 4 dashed to the front of the car, deftly attaching the fuel hose for a small refuel.


    Whirr! Screw! And click went the fuel nozzle, Crew member 4 yanking it away.


    "Clear!"


    Ansel''s engine roared as he bolted out of the pitne.


    **6.4 seconds**


    There was no time to rest as Luca''s Dara approached with increasing speed. Haas and Victor would follow shortly, and Ansel would repeat the pit cycle seamlessly.


    Luca felt the familiar lift as the crew set to work with mechanical efficiency. The sound of pneumatic tools and nking metal filled the air. A soft thud followed, then the wave of a hand signaled him to go.


    **3.2 seconds! Perfect!**


    Luca hit the throttle and shot out of the pit, catching a brief cheer from the crew before they refocused¡ªHaas was already approaching fast.


    **Alright, let''s keep this momentum going**


    The team continued their pit stop training for another thirty minutes, pushing through the fatigue. As the sun beat down, the crew members executed their roles with increasing skill and coordination. Each time a driver rolled into the pitne, the team operated by shoutingmands and coordinating movements without a hitch.


    **7.6 seconds**


    **3.4 seconds**...


    [Pitstop Prodigy +1]


    "Oh, thank you, System," Luca muttered as hepleted his fifthp, his caring to a halt behind Ansel''s.


    As the session wrapped up, the crew was visibly exhausted, but their spirits remained high. They exchanged congrattory ps on the back, proud of their improvement, knowing that their hard work would pay off when it mattered most on race day.


    It was around 1 pm as they retired to the bleachers next to the training hub to rx and ease their muscles. The cars were being towed away, and the tracknes were being cleaned of any fuel spills.


    "Monte Carlo, April tenth isn''t far from us, so don''t think that way," Mr. Grant spoke as he met up with the team after the final session. "We still have work to do. We still have to hone not only our drivers but ourselves to perfection. This week is packed, and we''ll be here every day if we want to do well in Circuit de l''¨¦toile."


    "Yuppp," Mr. Moritz chimed in with a sigh. "Ster is right smack in the middle of the city." Discover hidden tales at empire


    Luca remembered Circuit de l''¨¦toile vividly. He recalled watching his father race there once, a magnificent track right in the city where buildings nked the edges of the course. A thought urred to him. "Is it a night race?" he asked instinctively.


    "You''re damn right it is," crew member 1 replied, his tone tinged with something like displeasure. "It''s always night races in that Circuit."


    Luca couldn''t understand why the crew member wasn''t thrilled with the race''s time schedule. He loved night races!


    The cool night air rushing past must be otherworldly. The track would be illuminated by vibrant lights and reflections from the buildings, making it all look like a video game. Luca was more than excited to race in such an atmosphere. Imagine winning the championship in Circuit de l''¨¦toile¡ªit''d be as if the heavens themselves had made it so.


    Mr. Grant continued addressing the whole team and finally ended with a few pleasantries.


    Murmurs and chatter erupted as everyone had the chance to joke about some of the mistakes they''d made during the pitstop training. They all headed into the facility''s cafeteria to grab lunch.


    --


    A/N: Preparing mass release.... will take a while.

 Chapter 57 Strategic Shifts

    [SYSTEM ONLINE..]


    [Happy New Month, host.]


    [Calcting progress within thest month...]


    [... progress calcted: 94.5%]


    [Host should begin his Daily Routine.]


    Luca rose from bed without dy, diving into what was his endless grind that paved his path to sess.


    Amir stood at the gym entrance, ready to start their PT-client session. "Happy new month, my friend," he greeted with his usual enthusiasm.


    "Same here, mate," Luca replied, though a trace of gloom shadowed his tone, matching the overcast sky outside.


    The morning was dim and cold, a nket of gray stretching across the city. Droplets of dew shimmered on parked sedans and SUVs, their surfaces reflecting the muted light, while the rooftops of nearby buildings bore the same glistening sheen.


    Luca''s eyes felt heavy, despite following every rmendation his System provided and clocking enough sleep hours.


    "I received your focus ns and studied them well," Amir said with a lively grin as Luca approached. "I must say, you''re quite serious about developing quick reflexes while maintaining perfect bnce, and enhancing your cognitive reasoning to ensure split-second decision-making on the track."


    Luca nodded as they stepped inside the gym. "I need to eliminate mistakes, especially when I''m wheel-to-wheel with another driver," he said, punctuating the statement with a deep breath and a small jump to ignite energy in his limbs.


    "Seems like you and your Team Principal are on the same wavelength," Amir continued. "The draft I received from him outlines a strong emphasis on situational awareness and reaction training. I''vebined those elements with my own tweaks to create a program that I think you''ll find both challenging and effective."


    "Okay, let''s hear it," Luca said.


    Amir started speaking, pausing asionally to check the thick sheaf of papers in his hands to ensure uracy. "Multi-tasking drills," he said confidently.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]N?v(el)B\\jnn


    [System is analyzing and retrieving training program issued to host.]


    [Multi-tasking Drills analyzed.]


    "Simted close-quarters racing scenarios."


    [High-pressure Simtions analyzed.]


    "Reaction time drills," Amir concluded.


    [Reaction Time Drills analyzed.]


    [Ding!]


    [Sessfully Retrieved!]


    Amir lowered the papers with a satisfied grin. "With this program, my friend, you''ll be as reflexive as a cat out there. Let''s see who dares to disrupt your flow and make your car skid."


    Luca chuckled lightly, already stretching to begin his usual Intermediate Bundle exercises. "Thanks for the support, man," he said beforeunching into burpees.


    Though Luca appreciated Mr. Grant''s attention to his situational awareness and reaction reflexes, it added an extrayer of stress. Thest thing he wanted was for Mr. Grant''s focus to be on him, scrutinizing every move. He just wanted to race for Trampos Racing with no more attention than necessary¡ªaside from healthy media coverage obviously.


    Amir kept a vignt eye on Luca''s form as he moved through his exercises. Anypse¡ªa knee not bending enough or a misaligned posture¡ªwas met with a demonstration of the correct stance. "Keep your core tight, my friend. That''s the key," Amir reminded, positioning himself to show the proper alignment.


    Luca nodded outwardly as a show of appreciation, though inside, he wished Amir would ease away a little bit. Pushing through the creeping fatigue, Luca powered through the intense drills.


    "Good job to you, my friend!" Amir called out with his trademark enthusiasm when Luca finally finished.


    Great. I''ve got an overzealous personal trainer.


    "Now, let''s see what we can do about Reaction Time Drills," Amir continued, signaling for them to move to the next station. "We''re focusing on light reaction drills today. I''m sure you''re familiar with them."


    Luca followed closely with a towel draped over his shoulder. They approached a sleek, metallic vertical tform embedded with an array of colored LED lights set up against the wall. The lights shed randomly, designed for quick-response training.


    [ACTIVITY: LIGHT REACTION DRILLS]


    [EQUIPMENT: LED LIGHT GRID]


    [Host will respond to sporadically lit lights by tapping the corresponding area on a touchpad.]


    [This will be done for 3 sets of 12 reactions, focusing on improving speed and uracy. It also enhances reflexes and decision-making under pressure.]


    As Amir spoke, Luca''s System reinforced the details of the exercise. He ced his hands at the edge of the touchpad, feeling its cool, smooth surface beneath his fingers.


    Amir stepped back, giving him space and an encouraging nod. "Stay rxed and anticipate the lights. The goal is to react quickly and urately. Don''t overthink, just respond," Amir advised.


    [Let us proceed with LIGHT REACTION DRILLS]


    Ting!


    Luca''s instincts sharpened as the first light, red, shed on. He lunged forward, tapping the corresponding spot on the touchpad with precise timing. The light blinked off and was reced almost instantly by another, green this time. Luca''s hand followed, tapping the next spot with swift precision as the exercise continued.


    This is¨Cthis is.... kinda fun though. System? How fast am I responding?


    [1st setpleted]


    [250 miliseconds]


    [uracy: 91.67 %]


    Not bad at all. This is not a bad score. That means I''m not training to correct my reflexes and awareness, I''m actually trying to make it better?!


    [It seems that way, host.]


    [Hosts status generating....


    [..... Generationpleted]


    [Agility: 17


    Track Awareness: 15


    Reflexes: 18]


    Luca studied the figures. They were solid, but not wless. If they had been perfect, his steering would have responded seamlessly when Miles nked him with that aggressive cut-in during the race. He pushed the thought aside and prepared for the next set, determined to do better.


    He resumed the drill with heightened concentration, each tap growing smoother as the sequence of shing lights sped up. Red, green, blue¡ªLuca''s hands moved like they were wired to the grid itself, each motion more fluid and confident than thest.


    [2nd setpleted]


    [230 milliseconds]


    [uracy: 95%]


    Nice. I''m getting sharper.


    Without pausing, Lucaunched into the final round, muscles firing on instinct. His fingers struck each light with clockwork precision, every misstep minimized, his focus unyielding.


    [Activitypleted]


    [Final Time: 225 milliseconds]


    [uracy: 97%]


    Luca stepped back, breathing steadily. "That should do," he murmured, satisfied with his progress. Time to move on to the next activity.


    Amir guided him to the simtion stations, the rooms prepped for advanced close-quarters racing simtions. A female crew member was already setting up the equipment and gave Luca a thumbs-up when she finished and he responded with a smile.


    [ACTIVITY: HIGH PRESSURE SIMULATIONS]


    [EQUIPMENT: RACING SIMULATOR]


    [Host will engage in simted races againstputer drivers on circuits designed to mimic real-world tracks, focusing on tight racing conditions. The simtion will emphasize quick decision-making, overtaking, defending positions, and reacting to unexpected maneuvers by opponents.]


    [This activity will consist of 3 timed sessions, eachsting 10 minutes. Between sessions, short breaks will allow for performance analysis. The goal is to enhance reflexes, situational awareness, and tactical decision-making when under pressure from rival drivers in close proximity.]


    Exactly what I need, Luca thought as he slipped on the simtor gear and settled into the cockpit-like seat. He meticulously adjusted and secured every part, ensuring each felt right against him and fitfortably in his grasp. His hands wrapped firmly around the force-feedback steering wheel as he nced at the curved screen before him, disying a digital recreation of the circuit. With onest check, he pulled the visor down over his eyes, ready to begin.


    Amir sat on a leather bench behind Luca, arms crossed and eyes focused on the screen disying Luca''s race in real-time. He watched intently as Luca skillfully maneuvered through tight andplex sections of the track. Though Amir was neither a Team Principal nor a racing strategist, he found Luca''s driving impressive, almost instinctual from Luca''s POV.


    It felt as if Luca was one with the track, seamlessly anticipating each bend and chicane, guiding his car with precise tilts to ensure the cleanest exits possible.


    As the race continued, the same female staff member approached and informed Amir that Mr. Grant, the Team Principal, was calling for him. Amir was surprised by the timing of the call but realized this was Luca''s final session of the day and that the driver knew what he was doing. Reluctantly, Amir stood up and left to meet with Mr. Grant.


    The Team Principal had important feedback and ns to share regarding Luca''s progress. As Luca''s Personal Trainer, it was essential for Amir to stay informed and aligned with any changes or strategies Trampos Racing wanted to implement.


    [Session 3 Completed.]


    [Performance Report: 87%]


    [Good job, host.]


    Luca leaned back, catching his breath as his heartbeat gradually slowed. The simted apuse and cheers on the disy felt like a reassuring pat on the back.


    By the time Luca finished his session, Amir returned from Mr. Grant''s office. He congratted Luca and assisted him out of the simtor seat.


    "It''s an hour past noon," Amir noted. "Get some rest, and we''ll pick up tomorrow, starting a new scheme."


    Not really catching his words, Luca nodded and took a long drink from his water bottle. He and Amir walked out of the gym, exchanging casual farewells before parting ways¡ªAmir heading toward the gate.


    [Good job, host. You can proceed to the next phase of your Daily Routine. Your gym session isplete.]


    Just as Luca reached the steel stairs leading to his quarters, the crew member who had helped with the simtor earlier appeared, her hair swept by the gentle breeze of the still-gloomy sky.


    "Gaffer wants to see you," she said quickly.


    -------------------------------------------------


    Luca didn''t know why Mr. Grant wanted to see him, but meetings with the head of the team rarely promised good news for any athlete.


    To his surprise, Mr. Grant stood on the balcony of the staff building, staring out at the Trampos Racing track, where a light fog veiled the surface.


    Luca approached and stood at the doorway. "You wanted to see me, sir?" he announced his presence.


    "Yes," Mr. Grant replied promptly, turning to face him. "It''s about the uing Monaco race. I wanted to congratte you and give you a bit of encouragement. We''re counting on you to bring in points."


    "It''s no problem, sir," Luca said, trying to mask his apprehension.


    "But there''s more," Mr. Grant continued, his tone shifting. "After Monaco, you won''t be behind the wheel for the next two GPs."


    Luca''s eyes widened. "Why?" he asked, the questioning out before he could stop himself.


    "Haas will be taking your spot," Mr. Grant said tly. "The board will exin in detail, but it''s a formal decision that we believe is best for the team''s overall progress at this stage. It''s always good to implement strategies early in the season."


    Luca''s mind raced. Being benched for two main races was unexpected, and the thought of watching Haas partner with Ansel on the track made him uneasy. He wasn''t sure he could sit in the sidelines for two GPs. "What about the Sprints? Will I still participate in those?" he asked.


    "No, you won''t," Mr. Grant confirmed. "During your benching period, you''ll be briefed on aspects of race management. This decision is 90% strategic and 10% tied to your new program. You''ve been assigned a tinum training program, and as a newer driver, we''re not entirely confident that you can handle both the strain ofpeting and the demands of the program simultaneously. Do you understand?"


    "A new training program?" Luca echoed, needing rity.


    "Luca, I''d prefer it if you refrained from questioning me further. Maintaining a solid manager-driver rtionship is essential. Your personal trainer has been informed of the details and will brief you. I''m sharing this with you personally as a courtesy," Mr. Grant said, pausing to draw a breath. "Now, do you understand?"


    "I understand, sir."

 Chapter 58 Strategic Shifts 2

    This was the first time Luca had ever seen Anselugh until he was gasping for breath. All Luca could do was sit still and endure the teasing as the bus rattled its way toward the airport.


    Luca groaned but couldn''t help finding it a bit amusing. He sighed and turned away from Ansel, whose face had turned red fromughter. "You''re supposed to have my back," Luca said. "Y''know you''d team up with Haas then."


    Ansel finally caught his breath, still chuckling. "Forget that for now," he said between snickers. "You''re going to sit at the pit and learn¡­" He paused, a grin stretching wide across his face, ready to burst intoughter again. "What did you call it?"


    "tinum program," Luca muttered, fueling the humor in the air as Ansel broke into another fit ofughter. Luca rolled his eyes. "I''m sure Mr. Grant will put me back in if Haas doesn''t perform well in the first race."


    Ansel wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and rested an arm against the window. "He better," he said, his gaze drifting to the road as he recovered from hisughter. "I''ve raced with Erik before, and I can tell you, the chemistry was nowhere near what we have. I need you there, partner. But that doesn''t mean picturing you in reserve isn''t hrious," Ansel added with a smirk. "Just imagine you, sitting there¡­ he he!"


    "Alright, enough," Luca muttered, sinking deeper into his seat. He pulled out his phone, hoping it would distract him until the flight, saving his loud music for when he''d be on the ne heading to Monaco.


    Mallow had messaged him earlier, warning that the nned benching could take a significant toll and jeopardize their sole sponsorship bonuses¡ªpotentially costing Luca over $100,000. Luca sighed. It wasn''t even the finances or the potential profit that bothered him about being sidelined.


    Taking a look at the Driver''s Standings of the F2 Championship, Luca''s concern deepened. The realization hit him hard that two races were more than enough for the standings to shift dramatically, creating an insurmountable gap that could potentially push him out of the top five. The thought gnawed at him that the climb back up would be brutal, no doubt.


    Max Addams sat confidently at 43 points, tied with Ansel. Luca knew Addams was too consistent to ce below fifth in any race, which could easily push his score past 70 after the next two races. The idea was troubling. Then there was Miles, whose points were neck-and-neck with Luca''s. The only way Miles'' tally wouldn''t increase was if he somehow DNFed both races¡ªan unlikely scenario. Aaronson, with a solid 23 points, seemed to creep into the background of Luca''s calctions, but deep down, he knew he couldn''t ignore the possibility of Aaronson making a substantial leap in the standings while he was benched.


    Luca drew in a deep breath, pressing his back into the bus seat. System, please show me my status.


    [Hosts status generating....


    [..... Generationpleted]


    [Personal Information:


    Name: Luca Rennick


    Age: 18


    Nationality: Italian ]


    [Physical Information:


    Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs


    Height: 6''1"


    Body Fat Percentage: 10%


    Muscle Mass: 32%


    Strength: 14


    Stamina: 18


    Endurance: 21


    Agility: 17


    Intelligence: 16 ]


    Oh c''mon! I''m more than equipped! Just take a look at this!


    [....listing paused.]


    [Actually, host. You have only attained 29% of overall in your Attributes. You are doing well, but there is still a significant gap to acquire.]


    Luca swallowed hard. Oh. He paused, trying to process what this gap truly meant. Does this include understanding my rivals too? He recalled Mr. Grant emphasizing that part of this tinum program was anticipating not just the machinery but the psyche of hispetitors. I thought Intelligence covered that?


    [This program does indeed fall under Intelligence and Track Awareness, in the same way responsiveness and speed are epassed by Agility and Reflexes. Advancing these will contribute to improving Intelligence.]


    "Hm," Luca murmured, eyes darting between the translucent System interface and the dull glow of his phone screen. The realization weighed on him. He needed to be proactive. Can you draft out a separate program, different from what my team has assigned? I want to draw from as many sources as possible.


    [Certainly, host.]


    [System will structure and draft a customized training program as proposed.]


    [...listing resumed.]


    The disy resumed its rundown, and Luca''s fingers tightened around his phone.


    [Skills & Techniques: Total Grade - C


    Reflexes: 18


    Overtaking Skill: 19


    Track Awareness: 15n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Pitstop Prodigy: 5


    Others (Locked) ]


    [System will notify host once the training program has been sessfully generated.]


    Thank you, Luca thought, exhaling a long breath as he prepared himself for the short 1.5-hour flight to Monaco¡ªa destination that, even in the wildest recesses of his dreams, he never expected to visit.


    Before shutting down his phone, Luca took a moment to scroll through and reply to a few messages, re-engaging in his long, ongoing conversation with Harry. His thumb hovered for a moment when he reached a message he hadn''t responded to in a while.


    Gathering himself, he opened Isabe''s message. To his relief, the "What do you think?" wasn''t some profound inquiry but was simply a question about her choice of college. She had even attached several images that she must have taken time curating.


    Italy was his homnd, yet Luca was clueless when it came to its universities. He examined the images, scrutinizing the prestigious architecture and uniforms with a newfound curiosity. Obviously, he picked the most impressive-looking one, and his mind drifted for a second, picturing Sophia donning that same uniform, attending sses with her usual ir. The thought coaxed a small chuckle out of him before he shut his phone off. By then, the bus had rolled to a halt at the airport.


    The team filed out of the bus, moving in sync, their bags clutched tight as they stepped into the airport. Luca followed, pulling out his MP3 yer and fitting in his earpiece, tapping the tiny buttons until the volume pumped up to the beat that fueled him.


    This was it¡ªhis career as an official F2 racer, with eyes set firmly on F1. The benching might be a hurdle, but Luca was determined to make the most of the races thaty ahead, racking up points for the team, and more importantly, for himself.


    Maybe, just maybe, if he delivered a solid performance in Monaco, Mr. Grant would reconsider this benching. Perhaps he''d see that Luca didn''t need all this "refurbishing" he was talking about.

 Chapter 59 Monaco Grand Prix Starting Grid

    "...good evening, everyone! Wee to the stunning Circuit de l''¨¦toile here in Monaco, where the atmosphere is bright even in the dark as we approach the start of tonight''s F2 race. Just one hour to go until lights out...!"


    "...good evening to you too, Steve. I can feel the excitement and the chill even from ourmentary gantry. Circuit de l''¨¦toile never disappoints. A notoriously difficult track for overtaking¡ªonce someone gets ahead, it''s a real challenge to reim that position. The Sprint Race earlier today was a testament to that..."


    The Trampos Racing team gathered in the inner space of their garage, a cozy area set up withfortable seats for their drivers. Luca and Ansel were seated, surrounded by some crew members, while others busied themselves attending to the cars and coordinating with Federation Officials.


    "...so, what you''re suggesting, Jon, is that Ansel Hahn, number 43, stands a good chance of taking victory tonight from Monaco? His pole position could really work to his advantage, don''t you think...?"


    "...absolutely! He''ll need to defend his spot right from the start. With the tight streets of Monte Carlo, once he breaks away, it''ll be difficult for anyone to catch him. But with Max Addams, a name synonymous with speed and skill, right behind him, Hahn will have to push his engine to its limits..."


    Explore more at empire


    The Trampos Racing booth remained bustling with activity. Luca and Ansel worked side by side, tapping away at their phones as they ran through a light grid exercise, while they waited for Mr. Grant, who was finishing up a quick pre-race interview. The evening air was cold, filling the space with a crisp chill, and the dark sky outside made every light in the room glow even more intensely, casting sharp reflections off the equipment and sleek car bodies.


    "...it''s also a night race, Steve, which adds anotheryer of challenge. Though the track is wholesomely Illuminated, the visibility might be tricky, who knows. We are not the drivers themselves. But maneuvering through the streets where the track slims down to make a bend could bring about disrity, if I''d say. Just take a look at street 4 of sector 3, the lights don''t seem to reach there..."


    "....oof, that''s true. Even the cool temperature tonight can affect tire performance. The teams, whether big or small, should adjust their strategies ordingly..."


    Luca looked up from his screen as themotion in the booth near their paddock grew more intense. The crew made way for Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz as they moved through the bustling space. He and Ansel put their devices down as Mr. Grant approached, his expression serious and focused.


    "...with only an hour to go, the teams are finalizing their strategies and prepping their cars. This is the third Featured Race of the championship,and every point garnered from today matters. Once again, good evening, and wee from wherever you are watching. Circuit de l''¨¦toile might have few grandstands, but we can hear your cheers from behind the screens. This is one of our highest television viewership yet! Stay tuned under the lights in Monaco, and let''s see if Hahn could convert what is one of the most favorable tracks for pole position into another victory...!"


    After congratting Haas for impressively finishing third in the earlier Sprint Race, Mr. Grant revised his other two drivers today on everything that had been strategized between the team. The central focus was the Synergy: The strategy to empower Hahn to secure the highest possible position, with no tolerance for any setbacks. In parallel, Luca would implement and adapt a tactical role, strategically positioning himself within thepetition to draw attention away from Hahn while advancing himself. Mr. Grant set up this dual approach to create optimal conditions for Hahn''s effortless sess while enhancing Trampos''s overallpetitive edge on the track.


    "Alright, everyone knows this is a 62p race due to the shorterp length here," Mr. Moritz said, taking over smoothly. "We''re aiming for our first pit stop aroundp 25 to get the most out of the softer tires while maintaining pace. Then another aroundp 45, but if the car feels good, don''t take it. Stick to one pit if you can."


    "Especially you, Hahn," Mr. Grant interjected, his tone sharp. "If you can manage with just one stop, do it. We don''t want to risk unnecessary time loss."


    "Understood, sir," Ansel responded, giving a firm nod.


    "Good. Andmunication is key out there," Mr. Moritz continued. "Let us know if you''re stuck behind a backmarker. With Monaco''s tight streets, any dy could cost you valuable seconds."


    Luca caught Mr. Moritz''s expectant look and nodded with a clear, "Yes, sir."


    A crew member stepped forward and announced that the drivers needed to start suiting up as the cars would be rolled out soon. Moritz pped his hands, signaling the team into motion. Luca and Ansel got to their feet, their focus shifting to getting fully dressed for the race ahead.


    Alright, let''s do this, Luca muttered inwardly as he slipped on the remaining pieces of his suit, adjusting the fit as he moved. He secured his gloves and tightened the straps, trying to sharpen his focus despite the eager faces of the crew members surrounding him. He nced at Ansel, who cracked his neck swiftly. In unison, they grabbed their helmets and held them firmly, ready to head out to the track in a couple of minutes.


    The crew made way for the two drivers, tapping them encouragingly as they marched out to the garage where more team members were busy, the bright lights creating an almost surreal atmosphere for Luca.


    As they stepped into the garage, Luca''s eyes settled on his car with the bold number 21 before he slipped on his bva and nudged shoulders with another crew member. Two more crew members rushed to him and Ansel, the area bustling and crowded with individuals dressed in red, ck, and white.


    "You cut it close this time," the crew member ensuring his safety remarked, her hands prodding Luca''s body as he readied himself.


    Luca chuckled, instantly recognizing her from hisst pre-race encounter. "I learn fast to avoid second mistakes," he said as she tapped his chest hard, signaling he was good to go, and that he could now put on his helmet.


    Luca eagerly fit his socked head into his racing helmet, locking the straps beneath his chin and making sure it was secure. The world around him dimmed slightly as he adjusted to the confines of the helmet, the noise of the garage bing slightly muffled even though he was still in the center of it. He took a moment to breathe and adjust to the airspace in the helmet. Once ready, he nced at Ansel, who appeared prepared as well.


    As usual, Mr. Grant approached them with some final remarks, emphasizing the strategies that must be adhered to without deviation, and encouraging them not to hesitate when making overtakes, as such opportunities were rare at Circuit de l''¨¦toile.


    After the briefing, their mechanics began rolling the single-seaters out of the garage as directed by the race stewards. Luca and Ansel followed, carefully entering their cars when the moment came, settlingfortably in their cockpits.


    Luca''s System confirmed that the Dara was primed for action, syncing seamlessly with the powerful machine that gleamed under the bright fluorescent lights of the paddock.


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]N?v(el)B\\jnn


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synched with Dara (F2 04)]


    Even through the thick, protectiveyers of his racing suit, Luca could feel the sharp, cold air surging through his veins as his car was rolled out, following close behind Ansel''s. The low growl of their engines filled the air, resonating through the narrow streets lined with barriers and illuminated by the distant glow of the city lights.


    The track exuded a haunting quietness, broken only by the soft hums of engines and the echoes ofmentary reverberating through the streets. There were few grandstands, reced by tall buildings whose residents leaned out from balconies to catch glimpses of the impending race. Despite this, Luca could pick up the roars of excited fans, their cheers carrying faintly across the distance.


    A wave of frustration surged through Luca as he eyed his position on the outside of row 3. It annoyed him that the results of the earlier Sprint Race hadn''t determined today''s grid positions. Had they been used, with Haas''s impressive third-ce finish, he would have been three spots ahead, giving him a stronger shot at the podium.


    He steadied his body, hands firmly gripping the wheel as the soft purrs of engines around him grew more insistent. Every driver there wanted nothing less than victory, whether they belonged to a well-funded team or an underdog. Luca nced through his visor, identifying Aaronson positioned just ahead of him and Kristensen on the inside of row 3, having finished fifth in the previous race.


    You won''t see my rear today, Luca silently vowed, letting his fingers graze the wheel''s buttons as if memorizing its structure. His eyes fixed on the starting lights, he calmed his breath.


    **Can I have a word from you?** Ansel''s voice filtered through thems.


    "Yup, I''m ready," Luca muttered.


    **Let''s do this then**


    "...8:30 pm, and we''re almost ready for the start. Jon, I wonder who has the most pace to make an early move..."


    The track unfolded like a wave of water before Luca, each line being analyzed and calcted by his System before returning to its real-world form.


    He nced away from the lights briefly, taking in the revving engines ahead to give his System a clear view for track calctions. A path beside Aaronson''s slipstream appeared ideal, and Luca fixed his focus back on the lights, his breath cold and steady.


    "...here we go! The lights are out! Monaco is underway...!"


    All racers mmed on their elerators, and the air filled with the roar of engines.


    "¡­a surprisingly strong start from Trampos''s Rennick, and he''s already alongside Aaronson! He''s gone for it¡­!"


    Luca raked up an unreal eleration and managed to surge forward rapidly, capitalizing on theunch as the race officialy begun.


    [Host is participating in an Official Race]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 98 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 108 bpm


    -Operational Status: 90% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 60m


    -Time: 5 sec ]

 Chapter 60 Monaco Grand Prix 2

    Aaronson didn''t hesitate to defend his position early on, but Luca had already elerated aggressively to his right, matching him nose to nose. Any direct cut-in by Aaronson would lead to an immediate penalty.


    Luca''s eyes flicked briefly to Ansel, who maintained the lead despite the early engine cluster, just before they approached the first turn that would mark the leaderboard''s first record.


    With his early momentum, Luca managed to slip behind Ansel, his tires raking over the track as he settled into hisne, disying his rear to Aaronson.


    "¡­Addams trying to steal that lead from Hahn, but Hahn is not giving it to him. He now has to shift focus to the Squadra driver just a second behind him. And my! Look at that! Rennick has thrown Aaronson behind him. We''ve seen many lights-out overtakes, but that''s one to remember¡­!"


    [4th Position]


    [5th Position closing in]


    [6th Position closing in]


    [7th Position closing in]


    As they rounded the curve, Luca''s feet put pressure on the throttle, his car surging forward and his body jolting under the forces. He watched as his speedometer on his System interface sped up while he closed in on Miles'' ck-and-golden Dara, still battling for a stable 4th with Kristensen, who aimed for higher. Aaronson hadgged early behind, but that didn''t mean he still didn''t pose a threat.


    The blue-hued asphalt zoomed beneath their tires as the pack sliced through the first straightaway, made a turn through a street bounded bymercial buildings, weaved through four more turns, before sectioning into another straightaway that would then lead to the grid once more.


    [You are gathering speed]


    [2nd Lap]


    [5th Position closing in]


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to disclose opponent]


    "This Kristensen is underrated," Luca muttered to himself, tilting his wheel to match the movements of Kristensen''s Retona Racing car, the ck-and-violet livery gleaming in his side mirror.


    **Don''t let him get close. If he does, you won''t see him again**


    "Understood," Luca responded, his foot firmly on the throttle, only easing up when necessary to navigate the curves. His car sliced through the darker bends of the street. Although his hearing was limited to the radio and the roaring of his own engine, he could still catch the faint whirring of a helicopter above, probably capturing the race from a bird''s-eye view.


    [12th Lap]


    [Stamina +1]


    [5th Position closing in]


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to disclose opponent]


    **Stay sharp. This is how Monaco has always been. Keep your consistency.**


    **Han? Is Addams'' pressure too much?**


    **It is**


    **You see, Luca, you both have defending to do. I''d give anything to see this race finish in the positions you''re holding now. Let''s not falter, eh?**


    **Roger**


    "Roger," Luca replied steadily, making a curve that he was eventually familiar with, the sparse cheers of the crowd behind the caged barriers were faint but still motivating.


    [15th Lap]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]


    [5th Position closing in rapidly]


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to disclose opponent]


    Ahh, C''mon man. Luca shook his head after ncing at his side mirror. The neon, fluorescent lights illuminating the track reflected off Kristensen''s chassis, further painting a picture of a threatening beast to his P4. Moreover, Miles was significantly far ahead, leaving Luca in a vulnerable position.


    "All these skills¡ªwhen can I unlock them exactly? I''m still stuck with some basic stuff," Luca voiced hisint to the System as he defended his line, he and Kristensen zipping past the screens, their section bing the major focus.


    [With these following:


    ¨CLeveling to the next Bundle bypleting a Mission


    ¨CMaxing out a current Skill to 20


    ¨CHaving all Attributes 20, 30, 40 or more]


    [5th Position closing in rapidly]


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    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to disclose opponent]


    **Keep to the center, Luca. Do not drop speed. The driver behind you isn''t nning on staying behind for long**


    The high-pitched revving of Kristensen''s engine filled the space between him and Luca. Luca could sense his rival''s nose practically brushing his rear as they zipped through Ster. He did his best as they approached the next bend, but Kristensen was too close, with Aaronson not far behind.


    "... it''s a game of inches for those two stars. Kristensen is ready to pounce on Rennick at any moment..."


    Kristensen''s car was basically attached to Luca''s rear wing. Luca considered making a sharp drift at the next bend to force Kristensen off his line¡ªmaybe even off the track and into a soft crash.


    [Intelligence +1]


    [Track Span Analysis: 2.5 meters wide (outsidene avable)] [Optimal Racing Line Calcted: 1.8 meters]


    [Car Width: 1.9 meters] [Margin for Error: 2.15 meters (2 meters on the left side. 0.15 metres on the right)]


    Luca flicked the gear and sharply tilted his wheel, the tires screeching and leaving a ck arc on the asphalt, smoke billowing into the evening air.


    [Calcting host drift exit...]n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    [.... sessfully calcted]


    Time seemed to freeze for Luca as he chose from three possible routes to direct his nose upon exiting the drift. He opted for the line that would cut ahead of Kristensen. The issue was that his rival, Kristensen, was drifting too.


    "¡­they''re both drifting! This is unbelievable! Look at the closeness¡ªthis could be catastrophic...!"


    Both cars slid sideways, tires fighting for grip. Luca''s direction was aiming to cut in left, while Kristensen could easily exit the drift through the right space Luca created. Luca cursed deeply, his choice of direction turning out horribly wrong as Kristensen was the one who found just enough traction to edge forward. With a deft maneuver, he nudged past Luca, making a very slight contact that sent a soft jolt through both machines.


    [You made a 2.7 g drift, host.]


    [Strength +1]


    [5th Position]


    "¡­Oliver Kristensen takes advantage of that intense moment, leaving Rennick to recover quickly if he wants to stay in contention...!"


    [20th Lap]


    Luca could hear Moritz''s supportive pping through the radio, but it only deepened his frustration at being overtaken.


    Kristensen wasn''t far ahead, the holographic number 4 now materializing above the violet Dara in Luca''s view, which his System quicklybeled as a leading opponent.


    Stay calm, Luca. Overtakes happen all the time.


    [Analyzing host and Dara (F2 04) distance from 4th Position]


    [You are 1 sec away, host.]


    Luca didn''t need a reminder that he wasn''t too far back, and was determined not to let the straightaways widen the gap between him and Kristensen.


    He adjusted his grip on the wheel, fine-tuning his steering sensitivity. A quick flick of his thumb activated the DRS, and he felt the slight change in drag as the wing opened up just as he rounded the next bend. His weight shifted, and his car responded to hismand, the tires gripping the asphalt as he straightened out with Kristensen a prey in his visor.


    Aaronson was just behind Luca, engaged in a fierce battle with Max Addams'' teammate, Dani Walding, and the once-magnificent Albert Derstappen of Squadra Corse Jnr, all packed tightly in the 6th to 9th positions. But Luca''s focus remained on offense. His mission in this race wasn''t to be a passive, defensive prey; it was to create chaos among the rivals, giving Hahn a smoother path, thereby leaving just one opponent for his teammate to worry about.


    [You are gathering speed.]


    [eleration maxed.]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 300 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 115 bpm


    -Operational Status: 80% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 64000 m


    -Time: 38 min.  ]


    Luca was pinned to his seat by the powerful thrust as his car kept covering asphalt in mere seconds, making good use of the straightaway. He effortlessly danced to the slight curve of the track, riskily keeping his speed at a high value as the steel barricades blurred at his sides.


    [Endurance +1]


    [Host is closing in on 4th Position]


    "Now, that''s what I like to hear for a change, System," Luca muttered, briefly ncing at his full System interface for a self-conscious check himself. His eyes drifted to his side mirror, for another check of his position''s safety.


    The track resembled a dark river, illuminated by the blue glow from the towering buildings and the asional lights positioned along the track. Most of the cars behind him,cking holographic numbers above them, would regrly blend into the shadows before emerging into the lit sections. Over the course of 20ps, Luca had noticed this phenomenon but had adapted to it, relying on the System''s regr proximity warnings and any foreign engine roar that reached his ears.


    The gap between Luca and Kristensen began to close as they rounded out the 20thp and moved into the 21st. Luca kept to the rightne, fully aware that the uing street would be a right-hander. His eyes flickered to the interface for a moment, determined to make this turn count.


    [DRS disengaged, host.]


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 78%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 140 km/h]


    Luca angled his wheel, now close enough to Kristensen''s violet Dara to see the shimmering heat waves rising from its rear.


    [You have ultimately reduced speed]


    Luca adjusted his brake bnce to shift more weight to the front tires now that the DRS was disengaged. Every ounce of downforce was crucial at turns, providing better tire grip. He felt the deceleration, watching Kristensen''s car for any changes or signs of slowing down as well.


    Nice, Luca thought, spotting it himself.


    "...Addams is still hot on Hahn''s tail. It''s anyone''s game as they hit the straight..!"


    "...Bellingham is a few seconds behind Addams. Do not count him out, Steve, he could make a move at any moment. He''s really shown us he''s known for aggressive straight overtakes; you can bet he can capitalize on any mistake from those two veterans before him..."


    "...as tight as it is at the lead, so it is everywhere, the tail, and even the middle. This is a reminder the Sprint Race was nothing like this, and we were having one car per section. Now they''re more than a car per section, inching closer to each other. Even Rennick believes the battle for P4 isn''t over; he''speting with Kristensen again in yet another bend..."


    [Strength +1]


    Luca weed the pressure of the G-forces as his tires dug into the asphalt, screeching loudly to Kristensen''s side.


    Kristensen panicked in his cockpit after sizing up his dashboard and car details for a potential pitstop. The momentum and sheer force he had used in chasing Luca throughout the 15th-20thps had caught up with him, and his car was at an average Operational Status at the moment. Yes, he could manage and push to defend his line. However, Luca, who was exerting his car for the first time, had a much better car status, with the bend favoring him more.


    "...Rennick is right alongside Kristensen at the apex of that dark corner. He''s taking the outside line¡ªthis is a bold move to reim what he once had! Kristensen is feeling the pressure, and he''s edging to the third line to keep Rennick at bay¡ªbut¡ªno, they''re exiting the bend and Rennick has his nose in first...!"


    "...He had the superior grip. I''m not surprised he made the overtake stick. P4 is his once again...!"


    [4th Position]


    **Perfect, Luca! Let''s go! Go grab that third! C''mon!**


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 37.5%]


    [Ding!]


    [Host has maxed Overtaking Skill!]


    [Ding!]


    [You have unlocked a Skill:


    -Corner Chopping: 2 ]


    Luca exhaled as he slipped back onto the asphalt after driving on the rigid curb for a few seconds. ncing at his side mirror for reassurance, he could see Kristensengging, his dilemma for a pitstop evident.


    "Corner chopping? What''s that?" Luca asked, excitement brimming within him to use a new skill.


    [Corner Chopping is a tactical maneuver used to effectively defend one''s position while disrupting an opponent''s racing line during corners. It disrupts their momentum by 5¨C25% and gives you a psychological edge by 5¨C20%]


    "Uhmm, I''m still kinda lost here."


    [Can you remember when System warns host hasn''t unlocked skills to disclose an opponent?]


    "Yeah?"


    [You have unlocked one of the required skills, host. You can now disclose your opponents with a perfect execution of Corner Chopping]


    A grin spread across Luca''s lips as he chuckled softly.

 Chapter 61 Monaco Grand Prix 3

    [25th Lap]


    "This is a strange skill, how exactly do I execute Corner Chopping so I can disclose my opponent, grab a point, and level up further?" Luca asked, his hands firmly on his wheel as he navigated through the same street tracks of Monaco all over again.


    [Retrieving Data on Corner Chopping...]


    [...Data Retrieved]


    [Execution of Corner Chopping:


    ¨CApproach a corner


    ¨CBrakete and firmly


    ¨CAim for the apex


    ¨CMaintain bnce and control


    ¨Celerate early


    ¨CDefensive positioning ]


    Luca nodded as he took in the information. This step-by-step was something he did many times but with slight professional adjustments, attached with beneficial points.


    ncing at his side mirror, Luca could see Kristensen had totally lost the wits of his game, and Aaronson''s orange-and-ck car was looming behind him, probably determined to have revenge for the early lights out overtake Luca executed on him.


    **How does the car feel? Current readings here show temperatures slightly elevated but within eptable limits**


    Luca nced at his Operational Status, and it read ''Fair'', something that might likely change with theingps. He took a quick breath and focused on the wheel beneath his hands. "It''s holding up well, but I can sense a bit of strain at times. I know we nned for a pit around now, but should we reconsider?" Luca asked.


    **Of course. Negative for pitstop now. We got a good rival behind you, can''t risk that much. We''ll keep an eye on the readings, while you see if you can manage the next fewps, maybe Aaronson might drop**


    "Got it," Luca replied, his mind suddenly racing with the speed of his car as he considered situations ahead. The radio crackled dead, and he focused on Miles''s hovering number 3, calling out to him. Luca was certain he could reach if fate just tilted in his direction.


    [5th Position closing in]


    "Calcte distance."


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


    [5th Position is 4 sec away, host.]


    [System''s prediction is that that value might change, and drop to 5th Position''s merit.]


    Luca smirked as he begun the 30thp, just after Miles zipped over the grid. "Let hime," he said. "He''s trying to haul out the remaining power of his car before a pit."


    [DRS disengaged, host.]


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 80%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 185 km/h]


    Luca flicked for the brake pedal, his thumbs grazing all buttons at once as his gaze settled for the apex of the bend where he could see more civilian streets of Monte Carlo beyond the circuit. Aaronson''s engine roared close behind, loud and persistent. Luca''s mind raced with the determination to execute Corner Chopping for the first time, with Aaronson as the unfortunate target.


    Luca brakedte ordingly, his car''s fairly used tires strained with might as they gripped the asphalt. He also adhered to the speed rmendation from his System. Every detail was critical: nothing more, nothing less. The bend was one of the few rare curves on the Circuit de l''¨¦toile, and Aaronson was primed to capitalize on it.


    Luca''s rear tires swung with the rhythm of the turn, while the front nosed smoothly toward the bend''s apex, illuminated in a striking blue glow. The sharp sound of Aaronson''s drifting tires filled the air, merging with the mor of the sparse crowd behind the cage barricades. Their cheers added to the charged atmosphere, urging Aaronson to seize the moment and attempt an overtake.


    Luca''s car slipped back into the middlene with calcted precision, bnced and secure, denying Aaronson any opening to exploit his slipstream, unless his car was not a SomberCore, and could easily recover from a drift. This instantly stripped away all Aaronson''s momentum, his car having to decelerate rapidly as Luca forced him back to rhythm using Corner Chopping.


    With a quick shift, Luca smashed the throttle as if his life depended on it. His car surged forward, the powerful G-forces mming him back against the unforgiving leather of his seat.


    "... Aaronson would need more than trailing to catch up with such an eleration...!"


    [Agility +1]


    [Strength +1]


    [Corner Chopping +1]


    "Nice. I thought I really didn''t do it well, at all."


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 50%]


    Halfway. Can''t this thing fill any faster?! With it, I can zip past Miles like it''s nothing!


    [Ding!]


    [Straightaway Chopping Skill umting 1/3]


    [Host would have to correctly execute Corner Chopping three times to simply unlock the subordinate skill¨CStraightaway Chopping.]


    Luca smiled endlessly. "Now, that''s an impressive aspect from you, System. Let me guess, Straightaway Chopping works the same way but for straights?"


    [Yes, host.]


    [Tires are in good condition, host. Fuel level at 65%. DRS is avable. Engine temperature stable. Brake wear at 18%.]


    [Telemetry shows smooth handling but indicates slight performance drop. Rmend an immediate pit stop to optimize tires and fuel strategy.]


    Luca activated themunication system. "How about now?" he asked Mr. Moritz, noting the less-than-ideal performance metrics on his screen. The Operational Status had figures he found unappealing to his eyes.


    **Yup! Ansel boxed threeps ago. You have enough space before Aaronson and Walding**


    "Alright," Luca confirmed, focusing on the track.


    **He''sing in!** Mr. Moritz alerted the pit crew.


    Luca zipped smoothly through the halfway point of the 32ndp, approaching the team garage with the calm precision of a seasoned racer. The roar of his engine echoed through the narrowne as he entered the pit box, bathed in the glow of red fluorescent bulbs that symbolized Trampos''s signature color. The pit crew was poised and ready, their movements synchronized and sharp. With seamless precision, Luca engaged Pitstop Prodigy, allowing the crew to execute a wless tire change and refuel in record time.


    Enjoy exclusive content from empire


    Within seconds, Luca was back on the track, regaining his pace. His face beamed with happiness as his Operational Status trickled high with green life.


    [Stamina +1]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 150 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 115000 m


    -Time: 1 hr 2 min.  ]


    "¡­a fewps beyond the halfway point of Monte Carlo tonight, and the pitne is bustling with activity. Oh¡ªoh, Hahn has finally yielded to the warnings on his dashboard, and I can see him directing toward Trampos''s garage. Remember, Addams hasn''t pitted yet, while a refueled and recharged Miles Bellingham still holds 3rd. What''s your take on this, Jon¡­?"


    **Hahn is pitting, get ready**n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    The pit crew sprang into coordinated action again as Ansel, the pack leader, hurtled toward them with a car showing clear signs of wear.


    "¡­it might not make much of a difference. Behind Bellingham, we have a fresh Rennick, followed by Derstappen, Walding, and Kristensen. Aaronson just entered the pit now. Pits canst mere seconds, and with two powerhouses like Hahn and Addams, they''re fully aware of the stakes as they push their cars to the limit. Bellingham may be skilled, but I predict the leaderboard will remain stable for at least the next tenps¡­"


    "¡­but the viewers may see you eat your words, Jon, because the leaderboard is clearly poised for a shift. Addams can''t risk a DNF¡ªhe''s going to tilt, and it''s in to see Bellingham''s rear wing deploying. No doubt about it, folks, he''s been biding his time, and now that DRS activation is going to make all the difference¡­"


    [Distance between host and 3rd Position is growing rapidly]


    He''s freaking speeding up. Luca clenched his jaw, unwilling to be overshadowed by Miles as the ck-and-gold Dara with the hovering number 3 edged further away.


    Determined, Luca pressed harder on the elerator, coaxing every ounce of speed from his car as he worked to regain momentum lost from the pitstop.


    "¡­zipping across section 4''s straightaway, just a few seconds behind Bellingham is Rennick, bringing along a pack of hostile wolves hungry for the podium. Hahn and Addams havepleted their pits! Bellingham is now just a second behind Addams! Addams needs to elerate! He can''t! He can''t! And they''re approaching a street bend¡­!"


    Luca''s eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. Bellingham, demonstrating razor-sharp instincts, had secured the ideal racing lineing out of the corner. Addams attempted to replicate the maneuver, but with cold tires that hadn''t yet achieved optimal grip, he struggled to maintain control.


    The roar of Monte Carlo''s electrified streets rose like a tidal wave, the voice of the announcer booming over the circuit speakers. Even from within his car, Luca could hear it, deep and resonant like rolling thunder.


    "¡­perfection. Bellingham has done it! Despite a minor scrape against the rear barricade, he''s undoubtedly more content than Addams. Squadra Corse Jnr. has managed to leapfrog one of their rivals¡­!"


    If Miles could pull it off, so could he.


    Luca''s determination burned as he aimed to exploit Addams'' probable frustration, momentary disorientation, and yet-unsteady car. After pushing his car to maximum speed, Luca reduced it just in time to navigate the bend, his pulse quickening as Addams'' now number 3 loomed within reach.


    [5th Position closing in], the System alerted as Luca elerated into the next straight.


    "What? Who''s that?" he barked, surprised that he was being hunted even as he pursued his own prey.


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to read rivals'' profile]


    Luca darted a quick nce at his side mirror, squinting to identify who was closing in on him. A sh of blue and ck caught his eye¡ªthe same colors worn by the car he was chasing.


    "¡­Walding would definitely not let Rennick get anywhere near his teammate! After a grueling tight weave between Aaronson and Derstappen, Walding maintains his position as they enter the 40thp¡­!"


    [Host has unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent at a bend.]


    [Host hasn''t unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent on a straight]


    Luca''s eyes lit up with a mix of relief and urgency as sector 3''s street 4 curved into the obscured horizon. "Calcte, please."


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [...visual obscurity concerns added...]


    [Tire traction: 80%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 100 km/h]


    "That''s low," Luca muttered, easing off the throttle.


    [DRS disengaged, host.]


    Luca tilted his wheel and his tires obeyed, screeching quietly as the chassis bent in alignment to the curve. Walding, the tenacious 20-year-old Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr. driver, clearly aimed to keep Addams, their main contender, untouchable while defending against any attempts from Luca. Luca could tell that was what the racer behind him had plotted in mind, because that was his job on the track tonight as well.


    Aiming for the dark apex with brakes engaged confidently, Luca''s instincts for Corner Chopping hopped in, and he flicked his ABS to prevent wheel lock in any way. Instantly, Walding responded just the way Luca had nned, and the Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr racer lost all momentum instantly, his deceleration and brake immediate.


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 62.5 %]


    [Ding!]


    [Straightaway Chopping Skill umting 2/3]


    "So, I did it well? Nice," Luca murmured, quickly checking his mirror. Walding was now a safe distance behind him, fending off Derstappen and Aaronson, who pressed hard for 5th ce. Luca exhaled, thankful to have escaped the dangerous mid-pack chaos.


    [41stp]


    [Stamina +1]


    Luca activated his radiomunication to Ansel. Tonight''s mission remained paramount, and he needed assurance he hadn''t let his team down.


    **Yes, I still have P1** Ansel''s voice crackled back, easing Luca''s mind. **But your boy is a stain on my mirror**


    "I''ll get to him, don''t worry," Luca promised, ncing at the top left of his disy where his Sync Bar thrummed with energy. If only it could fill a bit more.


    [42nd Lap]


    "¡­an exhrating race disying sportsmanship and high-caliber maneuvering. The leaderboard features Trampos''s Hahn in first, Squadra''s Bellingham in second, and reigning F2 champion Addams holding third with Rennick looming just behind. It won''t be easy for Rennick, considering Addams'' prowess in defensive driving¡­"


    "¡­Absolutely. Addams'' track record is unmatched when ites to maintaining his line. But it seems inevitable that a sh may happen, potentially shaking up the leaderboard as I had initially doubted. My sincere apologies to Bellingham¡­ And look at Rennick, the 18-year-old edging ever closer, showcasing the fearless overtakes we saw in Germany and earlier in this very race. We might be in for the season''s most thrilling battle yet¡ªAddams'' impable defense against Rennick''s relentless outpace and wless overtaking¡­"

 Chapter 62 Monaco Grand Prix Buffed To Win

    "...Walding is too close forfort of nning an overtake, which means Rennick might have to focus on defending hisne instead of weaving for an opening through Addams. The pack roars past the grid again, marking 43ps and an hour and twenty minutes into this F2 Grand Prix. I can see a bending up that could be Rennick''s chance to close the gap on Addams. The champion himself has navigated it already, chasing the young London prodigy who snatched P2 manyps ago...!"


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 75%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 175 km/h]


    "Thank you," Luca muttered, adjusting his engine output ordingly as his tirestched onto the track''s curve. It was the familiar left-hander he had mastered over thest 43ps, and this time was no exception. The blue street lighting illuminated the bend well, guiding his focus to the apex as the Corner Chopping instinct surged within him.


    [5th Position closing in.]


    "Oh, he''s that close already?" Luca said aloud as he exited the bend with all steps implemented.


    Walding''s eyes were fixed on Luca''s rear, determined to pull off an overtake in the same bend. But Luca''s strategic hard braking during the apex caught Walding off-guard. Walding''s reflexes kicked in as he rapidly decelerated and shifted slightly to the right. As they emerged from the curve, Luca''s sudden burst of eleration left his tires screeching and a trail of smoke clouding Walding''s vision.


    "...Rennick has pulled off that move not once, but three times in today''s race. You can bet all teams will be studying that technique tonight. The gap has widened, and no one needs to tell him to surge ahead...!"


    [Corner Chopping +1]


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


    [Ding!]


    [Straightaway Chopping Skill umting 3/3]


    [Ding!]


    [Host has learnt Corner Chopping Skill!]


    [Ding!]


    [You have unlocked a Skill:


    -Straightaway Chopping: 2 ]


    "Thank you, very much!" Luca eximed inwardly, a surge of satisfaction coursing through him. Now, with the ability to disclose his opponents at any point on the track, his strategic edge was sharper than ever¡ªso long as he wlessly executed the Chopping sibling skills. "Any specifics to Straightaway Chopping I should know about?" he asked, seeking full rity while maintaining his pace on the straight. Walding''s presence was still formidable, lingering close behind like a shadow.


    [Retrieving Data on Straightaway Chopping...]


    [...Data Retrieved]


    [Execution of Straightaway Chopping:


    ¨CApproach the straightaway


    ¨CPosition your vehicle for the optimal line


    ¨CMaintain control, bnce and maximum speed with DRS


    ¨CRegte opponent''s speed


    ¨CPrepare for defensive positioning


    ¨CBrake suddenly upon 1-2secs of opponent behind you


    ¨CCapitalize on opponent''s dissonance ]


    Luca nodded as the data illuminated on his HUD. This was a skill he was already familiar with, yet the System''s enhancements added a professional finesse to it. Straightaway Chopping was a form of aggressive, tactical defensive driving¡ªdesigned to seize control while fending off opponents. By foreseeing a rival''s overtaking attempt and aligning his car to obstruct their path, Luca would brake at a crucial instant, disrupting their momentum and throwing them off bnce. Read new chapters at empire


    A second''s misjudgment and the technique could backfire, but Luca''s instincts hummed with readiness. His grip on the wheel tightened as the roar of engines, the electric lights of Monte Carlo, and Walding''s relentless pursuit merged into a symphony of intensity.


    [You are moving at 300 km/h]


    [47thp]


    [Next bend approaching]


    Luca tilted his wheel to align with the track''s curve, his eyes set on his side mirror as he noticed Walding conciously giving some space between him and Luca''s Dara¨Ca measure to prevent being chopped again. "I see you''re learning from your mistakes," Luca sneered. "You''re probably nning on elerating once we exit, huh? Too bad you have no idea I got both skills now. Just follow me."


    Walding''s ck-and-blue car was still too distant for Luca''s System to analyze fully, given the limitations of the Intermediate Bundle. This left Luca relying solely on his instincts to estimate Dani Walding''s speed as they both came out of the bend.


    **47thp** Moritz''s voice erupted over the radio. **How good is your car? Perfect for the rest?**


    "Aye, sir," Luca answered, casting a quick nce at the borders of his System''s disy to double-check. "Everything is solid here."


    **Excellent. Maintain that line**


    The radio crackled and went silent, leaving Luca alone with the roar of engines and the electrifying pulse of the track. Addams was inching further out of reach, and with it, the podium. Luca had done everything right so far, his race strategies executed with precision. But the relentless pace of thepetition was sapping his stamina. Mr. Grant would have to understand that today''s battle was among the fiercest.


    "...and out of the bend they go. Your prediction from a moment ago might be turning true, Jon. Walding''s rear is exposed, and his back tires are roaring for traction. Rennick''s in the middlene! Can Dani Walding close in on his teammate and bolster Velocit¨¤''s position...?"


    Luca carefully eased off the throttle, and his car responded with a sudden, measured retardation.


    "...Oh my! That was almost contact! Walding narrowly avoided clipping Rennick''s rear! A quick reflex, indeed! Jon, do you think that was intentional...?"


    "...No doubt, Steve. Just look at him. Rennick''s gunning ahead, extending that gap after intentionally shrinking it. Walding''s trying to recover control, searching for momentum. Steve, I dare you to ask again if that was intentional..."


    [Straightaway Chopping +1]


    "Booyah! C''mon, Let''s go!"


    **Brilliant move, Luca! You''ve shaken him off. That spot is yours now, defend it well**


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 87.5%]


    [You are gathering speed]


    Luca couldn''t help but grin non-stop as the notification for Straightaway Chopping +1 slowly faded away from his view, the Sync Bar glowing softly in anticipation to the upper left. Luca could tell he needed one more point to get that bad boy filled up.


    [50th Lap]


    [Stamina +1]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 290 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 75% (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 180000 m


    -Time: 1 hr 30 min.  ]


    "...with the final tenps at y, we have the stewards and marshals sharper than ever, and I am pretty sure everyone is at the edge of their seat or even so, on their feet. The current leaderboard favors Trampos Racing with the most points, their best start to the season ever. Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr. would emerge with the next highest, and Squadra Jnr, with lesser but satisfactory points..."


    "...there is more than enough gap between the drivers, and their paces seem all equal. It''s a textbook harmony of engines here, and all we can do is watch and anticipate the leading pack. Can Bellingham snatch the glorious P1 from Hahn, and can Rennick do the impossible and deprive Addams of the podium? The 51stp is underway...!"


    Luca''s focus on his wheel did not waver. His grip on the wheel was firm as he sped down the track, his tires searing and radiating heat. His eyes flicked repeatedly toward the Sync Bar, hoping to see it filled and suspecting the System might have missed an announcement. But still, there were only three bars lit.


    [Tires are in satisfactory condition, host. Fuel level at 65%. DRS is now avable. Engine temperature stable. Brake wear at 18%.]


    [Telemetry reports smooth handling. Aerodynamic efficiency optimal. No pitstops are rmended. Host is capable of finishing the race with current Operational Status]


    "That''s not the notification I wanna hear," Luca muttered as he maneuvered through Street 4 bend with practiced precision. He tapped into the instincts ingrained by his Skills, each subtle move executed as if by second nature, each inch of the track taken like a calcted gamble. Addams'' pulsing number 3 shone like a taunting beacon, feeding Luca''s hunger for victory.


    "...52ndp, folks! Walding and Derstappen seem to be battling fiercely for that 5th ce, but Walding looks like he''s losing traction, and Derstappen could capitalize. Kristensen holds on to sixth, while Aaronson has dropped to seventh. Quite disappointing for Hatcherk Motorsport so far..."


    Luca thought this might be how far he could go. But just at the 52ndp, a swift notification swiped into his view, disying a +1 to his Track Awareness. Luca''s eyes lit up instantly, and his heart brimmed with joy.


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 100%]


    [SYNC BAR COMPLETE]


    [Host, Sync Buff can now be used]


    "C''mon! C''mon! C''mon! Let''s gooooooo!"


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    Luca nodded unhesitatingly and selected yes.


    [INFUSING....]


    [Strength: 13 ???? 50


    Stamina: 15 ???? 50


    Endurance: 17 ???? 50


    Agility: 12 ???? 50


    Intelligence: 14 ???? 50 ]


    [You can only select three skills]


    [Reflexes/ Overtaking Skill/ Track Awareness/ Pitstop Prodigy/Corner Chopping/Straightaway Chopping]


    Luca exhaled sharply, his mind narrowing as the options shed before him. A dilemmay ahead, one he needed to ponder carefully before making a decision. The race was far from over, and the pressure was mounting.


    He knew his first pick immediately: Overtaking Skill. That was a no-brainer, essential for making his moves and gaining ground when it mattered most. Next, he focused on Reflexes. It would help him navigate through the track, reacting swiftly to any unexpected changes, without putting himself in danger. Finally, Straightaway Chopping seemed like the perfect way to hold his position after overtaking. He needed a skill that would let him keep rivals at bay during those high-speed moments on the straights.


    His heart raced as he selected the three skills, each one sharpening his focus. The decision was made. Now, it was just time to execute.


    [Sessfully Selected!]


    [Reflexes: 19 ???? 50


    Overtaking Skill: 20 ???? 50


    Straightaway Chopping: 3 ???? 50 ]


    [INFUSION SUCCESSFUL!]


    [You have 4 min. 58 sec left for Sync Buff]


    That familiar surge of energy coursed through Luca''s veins as the System''s interface lit up, igniting a new intensity within him. His senses sharpened, and every fiber of his being seemed to synchronize with the machine around him. The cockpit felt less like a confined space and more like an extension of his own body, a direct connection to the race unfolding.


    Alright, let''s do this, Luca said inwardly as he whipped through another bend, smoothly hitting the straight that marked thep''s end.


    No longer needing to monitor his speed on the curves or worry about the crushing G-forces pressing against him, Luca''s feet stayed firmly on the throttle. The engine screamed at the high RPM, its pitch cutting through the in-city circuit like a battle cry. The distance between him and Addams was closing fast, and the number on Addams'' car shrank as he approached, gaining terrifying momentum.


    "...I don''t believe what I''m seeing! Rennick''s machine is absolutely possessed! It''s like he''s tearing through reality! Addams moves to cover the inside for his defense¡ªhe''s blocking¡ªhe''s got no choice! But herees Luca Rennick! Look at that momentum¡ªhe''s still at full throttle...!"


    Max Addams veered sharply, desperately trying to defend as the roar of Luca''s engine frightened him. But with perfect confidence and exceeding limits of his mind and muscle, Luca shed to the outside, threading through the smallest gap in Addams'' defense like a hot knife through butter, his SomberCore shrieking as if taunting Max Addams'' weakness.


    **That''s it, Luca! That''s it, squeeze into that damn podium!**


    [You are moving at 310 km/h]


    "...oh my goodness, Jon. The youngd might be risking his own fate here. He''s still elerating even through bends. Not even a breath on the brake, he''s a mazerunner out there..."


    "...we can see Addams trying to cut back, but it''s toote... and... there it is! Luca Rennick is already gone, and he''s rocketing ahead..."


    [3rd Position]


    **Attaboy!**


    [55th Lap]


    Luca didn''t have time to celebrate his ascent into P3, the ck-and-golden Dara of Miles Bellingham shing just ahead, its number 2 teasing him like a prize just beyond reach.


    The System, needless to calcte rmended speed for maneuver or analyze track structure, resorted to reading his data in nanoseconds as the interface gleamed with vibrant life around its corners.


    [Congrattions!]


    [Fastest Lap Attained!]


    The world around him blurred, the cityscape at night a smudge of lights as he barreled down the straight, his car closing in on Miles with every second. His heightened Intelligence and Track Awareness were firing on all cylinders, guiding him through the turns as he prepared to close the final gap.


    Luca''s eyes darted, his vision zeroing in on the shimmering heat radiating from Miles''s rear tires. The interface gleamed with rity as it read the track''s data, a symphony of numbers and lines that Luca barely needed to process, his instincts doing the heavy lifting.


    [You are moving at 300 km/h]


    Without easing off the throttle, Luca tilted early to the right.


    Miles was alerted instantly, his nerves perking with fear as the ear-splitting roar of Luca''s engine crept to his side.


    The right-hander transitioned into a left-hander, giving Miles the upper hand to cut in from the innerne. However, Luca, taking the outside line at an unrestrained speed, still managed to wrap around the curb earlier, his car holding steady.


    [You have 10 seconds left for Sync Buff]


    "...with unbelievable momentum from P4, Luca Rennick is challenging the might of Miles Bellingham! As they enter the left-hander, Rennick''s taking the outsidene with relentless speed, and he''s not backing down! Do not blink¡ªthe two cars are nearly rubbing paint...!"


    Luca pushed past Miles. The audience roared. Mr. Moritz couldn''t stop hollering.


    [2nd Position]


    [Sync Buff has psed!]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 0%]


    [58thp]


    Though it was just five minutes, Luca had gotten used to the otherworldly Endurance and Strength. Once the Sync Buff left his body, a g-force struck him, and it hurt ording to the value of his Endurance and Strength.


    However, the adrenaline rushing through him masked out the pain as the euphoric disy of "2nd Position" slowly faded away from his view, reced by Ansel''s car.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    **You are marvellous, Luca! Han?! Han?!**


    **Eh?**


    **Luca''s got your back, now! We got the race! We got the points!**


    Ansel had to nce at his side mirror to be certain. His eyes widened with disbelief as the gleaming surface of a red-and-ck Dara designed with ''Fijee'' on its frame trailed behind him as they made a bend.


    **That''s wonderful! How''d you do it?!**


    Luca''s breathing was heavy, Sync Buff akin to a doping medicine that took his breath away. He inhaled the musk air of his helmet sharply, his hands firmly on his wheel. "I just pushed hard," he replied to the radio.


    **Keep yourne, boys! Trampos has this in the bag! We''re ruling Monaco tonight, c''mon!**


    [59thp]


    "¡­with just onep left after this! Trampos Racing is poised to redefine the word victory! Jon, you might want to keep making those predictions, because every time you do, the opposite seems to unfold! Rennick is calm on Hahn''s tail, and you can bet Bellingham is fuming behind the wheel, desperate to reim that P2 position! It''s the 60thp, folks! I can barely sit still in my seat..!"


    "¡­The pack has zipped through the grid once more, and it''s one finalp around the stunning streets of Monte Carlo. Rennick can''t let all his hard work go to waste now! Bellingham is right behind him, ready to pounce! Oh my! We don''t want to see a potential P2 photo finish right now..."


    Luca failed woefully when he took a heavy risk as he tried executing Corner Chopping at a certain bend. It impably cut down some of the gap between him and Miles. With the next and final straight approaching, Luca quickly plotted with Ansel, Miles''s natural momentum being something they shouldn''t toy with.


    "RFS?" Luca suggested.


    **Are you sure he would fall for it again?**


    "Just bank adjacently, let that L form," Luca replied, his feet hovering near the brake. To his luck, Miles was close enough to have his Dara analyzed, and it granted Luca all he needed to discern for an optimum Straightaway Chopping.


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 300 km/h (300 km/h) (200¡ª300km/h in thest five seconds) (20km/h each millisecond)


    eleration: 3.5 sec (0¡ª100km/h) (28.57 km/h per second)


    Max Power: 620 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 1.5 ]


    Luca braked.


    Miles''s eyes widened as he steered roughly to the right, his tires screeching into the night as he fought for traction with the immediate retardation. "Fuck!" he cursed in his helmet.


    Luca flicked off the brake. "You''re free to go," he said to Ansel, engaging DRS and moving his feet to the throttle all in a second. His car jerked in response, his back tires revving.


    "...and Miles Bellingham is desperately trying to correct his overcorrection, but Luca Rennick is leaving him in the dust! Hahn is leading his teammate down the straight! Bellingham just can''t keep up! Addams is ap down! Trampos Racing¡ªTrampos Racing has secured Monaco...!"


    "....Ansel Hahn confidently ims first ce¡­!"


    "WOOOHHHH!" roared the audience in excitement.


    "....Rennick crosses second for Trampos¡­!"


    "WOOOHHHH!" the fans erupted once more.


    "....and Bellingham makes the grid for third ce..!"

 Chapter 63 Monaco Grand Prix Podium Under The Stars

    The second theme song for that season boomed in the background¡ª"Chop Suey!" by System of a Down¡ªas the cars stacked up beyond the grid, the atmosphere humming with engine heat, a stark contrast to the cool night air.


    Thementary resonated throughout the city, blending with the roars of the spectators leaning out of the high-rise windows and cheering from the stands behind steel barricades. After an intense hour and forty-five minutes of racing, the leaderboard finally solidified, ready to record the night''s unforgettable oue.


    Luca''s System disyed his final position, the yellow glow of number 2 reflecting off his helmet and casting a warm light across the cockpit. He felt the power of his car wind down, only then allowing himself to release the steering wheel, his fingers stiff and tingling.


    Explore new worlds at empire


    [2ND POSITION]


    [Congrattions, host! You have made a podium!]


    **You are the man, Luca. You guys have done it!**


    Luca chuckled, exhaling deeply as relief coursed through him. With the help of that powerful Sync Buff, he''d secured 2nd ce even with only 60% Operational Status. "Second podium for me, it is!" Luca grinned as he lifted himself out of the single-seater. The rush of the night breeze, the glow of the track lights, and the distant roar of the crowd washed over him.


    In the cool-downne, drivers from smaller F2 teams pulled up, their cars decorated in varied hues, and exhaustion was marked on their faces. Luca''s eyes searched for Ansel, finding him atop his car, jubntly pumping his fist toward a group of fans waving from the roof of a nearby building.


    Luca removed his helmet and climbed down from his car. He caught sight of Miles and, without hesitation, brushed past him with a deliberate shoulder nudge on his way to Ansel.


    "...and it will surely be a night to remember for Trampos Racing. Look at their boys go, demonstrating teamwork on par with Form 1 ss. This season is shaping up to be theirs. Now, let me ask my comentator for his thoughts..."


    "...if I were you, Steve, I wouldn''t start handing out trophies just three Featured Races into the season. We''ve got a long year ahead, and luck can turn faster than a car blowing out its tires..."


    "...and speaking of luck, it certainly ran out today for the reigning F2 champion, Max Addams. Just look at him kicking his tires in frustration. Two young challengers took him down, officially ending his nine-podium streak. Meanwhile, Aaronson looks crushed and is already heading back to his team. For a driver who imed bronzest season, this is turning into a brutal campaign..."


    Luca and Ansel returned to their team''s garage with wide smiles, weed by their crew''s cheers and shouts of excitement. The 45 points (25 from Ansel, 18 + 2 from Luca) represented a significant boost for the season ahead.


    The teammates were showered with pats and congrattions. Even Mr. Grant couldn''t help but apud the incredible show of motorsport from his drivers. He pped firmly, a proud smile on his face, before pulling Ansel aside for the press.


    Luca found himself surrounded by the cheering Trampos crew beneath the bright lights, which illuminated a rey of his fastestp. It showed him overtaking Addams and expertly cutting in front of Miles. Watching the footage of his red-and-ck Dara slicing through Circuit de l''¨¦toile, Luca felt a surreal wave wash over him, as though the reality of the achievement hadn''t yet sunk in.


    ncing up at the sound of his name, Luca was surprised to be called for the quick press interview. He swiftly maneuvered through the cluster of the crew, out of the garage, and halfway down the side of the pitne. "Chop Suey!" continued booming in the background, mingling with the distant cheers of the crowd.


    As the interviewsmenced, the podium was being prepared at the grand edge of Circuit de l''¨¦toile, where a magnificent fountain illuminated by white lights added a touch of splendor to the scene.


    Luca responded smoothly to the press, doing his utmost to keep his excitement in check. His face lit up the top screen of one of the tallest buildings nearby, broadcasted on every channel in real-time. After the interview, Mr. Grant approached Luca in the bright tunnel, congratting him and expressing heartfelt gratitude for following orders and executing the strategies wlessly, which had secured Trampos''s victory.


    Luca appreciated the encouraging words and acknowledgment from Mr. Grant. He wanted to ask then and there if the result of this race would change the ns to reserve him for the next two races. But he decided against it, not wanting to push too far too soon. After all, Mr. Grant was the Team Principal, and his decisions were for the benefit of the team.


    The podium celebration soon followed.


    Luca, who had practiced popping champagne bottles, eagerly awaited the moment as he watched Ansel step proudly to the top spot. Luca took the second position, and Bellingham stood at third. Their names were announced to the electrified crowd as medals were awarded with due ceremony, and Ansel received a gleaming trophy.


    Bright confetti rained down from the dark night sky as they were handed their champagne bottles. Luca smirked, catching Ansel''s wide grin. They shared the same thought as they gripped the corks of their bottles, aiming at each other.


    In a show of pure joy, they soaked themselves in victory,ughing and leaping on the famed Monte Carlo podium while officials and spectators cheered and pped. Miles, barely engaging, half-heartedly sprayed some champagne before stepping down to join his team.


    Celebrations continued for Trampos Racing through the night. They were able to get in contact with some fans who had eagerly flown to Monaco just to watch the race. Luca was surprised that he had gotten the likings from many Trampos fans already, and they seemed eager to know more about him as he took pictures with some of them under the cool night sky.


    April 10th, the Celestial Riviera Hotel belonged to Trampos Racing as the 5-star venue roared with festivities well into the night.


    Luca eventually crashed and slept on a couch in the penthouse, while Ansely sprawled on the floor next to the firece.


    --


    A/N: Premium will soon begin from Chap. 32n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

 Chapter 64 Steps Toward Grandeur

    Before leaving Monaco, Luca and Ansel had made a pact that they would indulge in an extreme shopping spree in the dazzling city of Monte Carlo. With his spirits as high as the clouds, Luca''s eyes flung open at the chime of the System''s morning ring. He began his day just as he had for the past three mornings since the exhrating Featured Race. Form 1 had kept Circuit de l''¨¦toile alive and buzzing with excitement the very next day, stacking the lingering energy in the air.


    Caught up in the jubtion of their victory, Luca and Ansel had barely spared a thought for the bigger boys and their roaring engines. Instead, they dedicated their time to recreational games and sightseeing, exploring as much of the stunning city as they could. The adventures strengthened their bond, creating memories they wouldn''t soon forget.


    Luca''s daily routine started significantly earlier than most, a habit that allowed him to enjoy the hotel''s gym in near solitude. Save for a few gym enthusiasts who couldn''t help but nce his way, Luca had the space to himself as he worked out, shaking off any residual traces of celebration from the past three nights.


    When he was done, he slumped onto a bench, towel draped over his forehead as he caught his breath. Finally, he reached for his phone.


    The first message to pop up was from Mr. Fisher, filled with warm congrattions. Mallow''s message followed, and then Harry''s. Smiling, Luca responded to each one thoughtfully, ensuring his words carried the right tone of gratitude and camaraderie.


    Realizing he hadn''t checked the standings since thest race, Luca navigated to the Form 1 info tform on his phone. His eyes lit with joy, his head slowly nodding instinctively as he licked his lips.


    PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    ----------------------------------------------


    1.            | Trampos Racing           |   113n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    2.            | Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr.  |   75


    3.            | Squadra Corse Jnr      |   46


    4.            | Hatcherk Motorsport   |   34


    5.            | Nevada HanSama Jnr |   12


    Just as Luca was relishing Trampos Racing''smanding lead in the standings, a notification abruptly shed on his phone, pulling him back to the present.


    [Ding!]


    [Training Program for Racecraft sessfully generated!]


    "Oh, finally," Luca muttered, his interest piqued. "Let''s see what you''ve got for me."


    [Retrieving Data....]


    [....Data Retrieved]


    The program outlined itself in neat bullet points.


    [This side programme will focus on the following:


    ¨CHost will retrieve and recognize the names and faces of each F2 periodic driver, their respective teams and significant achievements.


    ¡ªHost will spend an umted total of 25 hours watching past Form 2 races, focusing on key races, strategy y, and rivalries.


    ¨CHost will review public telemetry data from F2 opponents during key races to predict how drivers behave under pressure.


    ¨CHost will run specific simtions under various conditions (dry, wet, twilight) that also introduce weather changes, while engaging in practice sessions where real-time instructions from engineers must be acted upon within seconds ]


    Luca stared at the interface, his mouth slightly agape. A wave of disbelief washed over him as he processed the absurdity of what he was reading.


    "Wow," he said, shaking his head slowly. "This... this is the most ridiculous program you''ve ever handed me. You''re literally asking me to study like I''m in school¡ªmemorizing names and faces¡ªand the only racing activity here puts me behind a simtion wheel. Not even a real one." He scoffed, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Are you sure this is the it? This is what I''m supposed to spend my time on?"


    [Yes, host. Withprehensive knowledge of your opponents, you might be able to predict their moves before unlocking the required skill.]


    [This programme will help you understand every element influencing the race and the game as a whole.]


    Your journey continues at empire


    Luca sighed, his eyes scanning the listed activities again. Twenty-five freaking hours of watching races?! Though it wouldn''t all be in one sitting, it still felt overwhelming. That would mean watching at least fifteen full races, analyzing every detail like an engineer poring over a telemetry report.


    The thought made his head spin. He leaned back for a moment, remembering how Mr. Grant had once again turned down histest plea to ce him for the next race. It wasn''t surprising, but it left Luca feeling stuck. The reality dawned on him that he''d even have more than enough time toplete this rigorous program. But that time was something he desperately wished he didn''t have.


    "Alright. We''ll get started with Amir when we''re back in Berlin. For now, I''ve got a day nned ahead." Luca said, pushing himself up from the bench and grabbing his belongings.


    [Certainly, host.]


    [Good job, host. You can now head over to the next phase of your Daily Routine. Your time in the gym today is over.]


    Luca left the gym, just as Haas and Beany where entering. They greeted like any one would before Luca moved through the doors, heading to the elevator.


    On entering his hotel room, Luca wasted no time. He took a refreshing bath and ordered breakfast, a necessity since Sara hadn''t been able to secure a room at The Celestial Riviera. The luxurious hotel was bursting at the seams, packed to capacity thanks to the immense pull of Trampos Racing.


    After finishing his meal, Luca picked up his phone and dialed Ansel, who was staying just one floor below. Ansel answered groggily, clearly still shaking off sleep. He assured Luca that he''d hit the gym quickly and join him soon, but Luca didn''t buy it for a second. Ansel was notorious for dragging his feet when it came to sticking to time. Instead of waiting around, Luca decided he''d meet himter at the mall.


    Next, Luca called Sara, who had managed to find amodation in a cramped motel about a mile away in the bustling heart of Monte Carlo. Unlike Ansel, Sara was already up and ready to go, promising she''d join him within minutes.


    Luca felt empty and loose. ncing at the mirror to recheck himself, he could see the reflection of his fitted navy blue sweater. The dark chinos beneath offered a more polished look for the casual outting he had in mind, and the clean white sneakers added a touch of ease and freshness. Luca didn''t have much clothes yet, but he was determined to have that change after today. Le Grand Pis, here Ie, Luca said inwardly, adjusting his outfit.


    The simple, dark leather watch on his wrist was the only thing that brought his body together, but he still felt open. Luca then realized that it was because he was in a foreign city. Additionally, he carried nothing on him except his phone, which gave him the feeling of unpurposeful wandering. Luca bit his lip and searched for that one messenger bag Sara had gotten him.


    "There you go," he whispered, slinging the gray bag across his body and rechecking himself in the mirror.


    Satisfied with theposure the bag had given him, Luca stepped out, locking his room behind him. He made his way down to the hotel courtyard, where guests like himself moved about, immersed in lively social activity. His eyes wandered to an ornate fountain bubbling softly at the center of the space. Feeling the need to pass the time, Luca casually ordered a drink and a croissant, though hunger was far from his mind. He wanted something to keep his teeth busy and his tongue wet as he perched on the fountain''s edge, scrolling through his phone.


    To his surprise, a group of women dressed in white, obviously part of a rich club or something, approached him. One bent over and asked if he was part of the racing team that lodged in the other day, and Luca humbly answered positively. He nodded actually.


    "Wonderful!" She eximed in a polished British ent, making Luca wonder how dynamic the world really was. "Could you join us?" she added, gesturing toward the lounge where her friends were gathered, sipping drinks and chatting.


    For a moment, Luca considered declining. Yet, it was a harmless offer, and the hard concrete of the fountain was already making his butt ufortable. The group of women, varying in age, exuded kindness and refinement. With a polite smile, Luca rose, leaving his croissant behind as he followed her to the lounge.


    He found himself seated in the middle of a cluster of rich, vibrant women, theirughter light and definitely uncontagious. They giggled and tossed their hair as they exchanged stories, their world seemingly a different ne of existence.


    Luca remained seated, sunk in the plush, lounge chairs and listened to them animatedly discussing theirtest travels and extravagant experiences. They sure didn''t leave out gossiping about acquaintances, and debating on capital goods prices.


    Luca listened intently, absorbing their stories while sipping his drink, his phone resting in his hand as he waited for Sara''s call. He couldn''t help but admire their confidence and charisma, their world seemingly perfect and stress-free.


    As he anticipated, the conversation eventually shifted to him. To his surprise, the woman who had approached him earlier revealed that she was considering investing in Form 1 racing. Unsure about the risks and rewards, she was thrilled to encounter a Form 2 driver, believing it would be an excellent starting point to explore her interest while nning for the future.


    "¡­and you finished second?" one of the women asked, her tone curious, as she swirled her index finger in her mug. Unlike the others, her face was refreshingly free of makeup.


    "Yes," Luca replied with quiet confidence. "Just right after my teammate."


    "Wow, you must be very good," the British woman remarked, her eyes lighting up. "And so young! You have a bright future ahead of you."


    She beganying out her ideas, speaking animatedly about her ns to make Luca her first endorsed racer.


    Oh my goodness.


    How could Luca Rennick possibly say no to that?


    She had even mentioned she was the owner of a cattle ranch in Norfolk and also owned self luxury amodations all over the great country of Ennd.


    "Of course, madam," Luca epted in a heartbeat but added a reminder that any real negotiations would need to go through his agent. The woman, Felicity, nodded in agreement, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.


    As the conversation continued, Luca exchanged numbers with her, quietly wondering how much endorsement he might attract at the pinnacle of his career.


    "Hello?" a voice interrupted from the lounge entrance, drawing everyone''s attention. It was yet another British woman, d in an all-ck suit, trousers, and heels. Her shades obscured her eyes, but her sharp posturemanded attention.


    Luca nced up, astonished to see Sara standing there. Surprised she hadn''t called ahead, he quickly rose to his feet, relief washing over him. Without hesitation, he introduced her as his personal assistant.


    The women acknowledged Sara with polite nods and waves as Luca excused himself, leaving the lounge with her. Together, they walked toward the hotel entrance.


    They drove to the Le Grand Pis mall, and Sara began discussing Luca''s ns for a house, seeking his preferences to align the budget while ensuring maximumfort and satisfaction.


    Luca wasn''t too sure the structure of a house he would like, but he sure wanted it to be quiet and peaceful.


    Sara took good note of that, and sent to his phone an article featuring homes for sale that matched his slim preference


    Luca bit his lip, his eyes settling on the varying price tags between the buildings as Sara pulled into the parking garage of the grand motel.

 Chapter 65 Small Wheels

    After meeting Ansel at the Le Grand Pis mall, Luca finally rified that Sara was his personal assistant and not his spouse, putting an end to the running joke. This came after Ansel heightened his surprise at seeing her in Monte Carlo.


    Ansel scoffed, offering Luca a sarcastic congrattions for fooling him all this time. Theyughed it off and wandered through the bustling mall, exploring what else to purchase while Sara handled boutique shopping for Luca.


    They began by picking up grooming products before heading into the books,ics, and magazines section. Ansel mentioned he had always wanted to finish reading an entire book for once, so Luca helped him choose a perfect pick from his favorite genre¡ªHistory. Luca grabbed a fewics for himself, even though he knew he might have little to no time to read them.


    With that session done, Sara announced she had selected the finest stylish apparel for Luca¡ªand a few for herself¡ªher hands full of bags. Luca and Ansel concluded their visit by purchasing the wonderful yStation 3, swearing to each other they''d find time to y together.


    They left the magnificent mall and returned to the hotel, marking the end of another day. The following morning, their travel ns came into motion. The Celestial Riviera Hotel emptied as the Trampos Racing team headed to the airport.


    Once their ne took off for the two-hour journey, they sought ways to pass the time¡ªespecially Ansel. Without hesitation, he flipped through the pages of the magazines he''d purchased, the history book tucked at his side as though he was debating whether to dive into it next.


    Luca, meanwhile, engaged in conversation with some of the staff, their discussions meandering far from motorsport and into other facets of life unrted to their profession. Eventually, he drifted out of the conversation, picked up a magazine, and slipped on his earpiece, connecting it to his MP3 yer as he idly studied the pages.


    The flight was uneventful, and before long, they began their descent into Berlin. Landing safely, the team disembarked to find Trampos security waiting for them, along with their original, gleaming team bus basking in the afternoon sun.


    One staff member Luca had grown fond of mentioned they wouldn''t be heading to the headquarters immediately. Instead, the team was scheduled for a visit to an U-13 motorsport academy located in the suburban region of Berlin. Luca didn''t recall seeing this event on the team schedule in his phone, but he followed along as everyone piled into the bus.


    They arrived a few minutester at a semi-modern facility nestled in a suburb Luca struggled to pronounce¡ªHohenberg. The exterior boasted sleek lines and ss windows, a hallmark of any motorsport facility. A charming go-kart track wound around the main building, surrounded by less-developed structures and an open field stretching to the right. In the distance, Luca could see children ying together, theirughter blending with the faint hum of motorsport activity. From the main building, more young voices filtered out into the warm air.


    The Trampos team was greeted by facility officials who shook their hands enthusiastically and congratted them on theirmanding victory in Monte Carlo. The officials introduced the academy, exining it was under government supervision and designed to nurture young motorsport talent. Luca learned that all F2 teams were required to visit this month, with Trampos being the third to arrive so far.


    Squinting through the sunlight, they were led further down the path and away from their bus. Luca feeling the heat, had to remove his jacket and tie it around his waist. His eyes caught the row of brightly colored go-karts lining the entrance with banners attached to them fluttering in the breeze.


    A mischievous thought crossed Luca''s mind as they approached the facility. He wondered if the System could retrieve data from go-karts as well. Curious, he edged closer to the row of vehicles while following the team into the main building.


    Nothing''s happening? Luca questioned silently, his brow furrowing when the system interface failed to disy any data.


    Stay connected with empire


    [I''m sorry, host. System cannot proceed with this request.]


    Why? Isn''t it a single-seater?


    [It surely is, host. However, itcks the necessary details for analysis.]


    [This single-seatercks an operative super engine for system to assess]


    [Drag Reduction System is unavable]


    [There is no fuel tank. This single-seater runs on electricity, host.]


    I see, you win this time.


    "Everyone! Can we wee the Trampos Racing team?!" a staff member of the young academy pped her hands and announced cheerfully as they stepped inside. Her feminine voice resonated through the space, drawing the attention of the bustling crowd of young children.


    The academy was alive with energy, its atmosphere was vibrant and youthful. Young drivers zipped around a well-maintained indoor track, their adorable focus evident as they maneuvered their little karts. The spacious lobby was adorned with gleaming trophies disyed prominently in ss cases, a tribute to the academy''s past U-13 champions.


    Luca''s eyes wandered to therge viewing area overlooking the track. A group of adults, likely parents or guardians of the aspiring drivers, sat attentively, watching the kids with pride. The track itself seemedpact, with ayout suggesting it wasn''t even long enough for a full standardp, but the young racers made the most of its tight turns and straightaways.


    The children immediately stopped their training, scrambling to their feet and chorusing an enthusiastic, "Hello!" Yet amidst the excitement, a particr 12-year-old boy stood out. He didn''t bother masking his disdain for Trampos Racing. The sight of Luca and Ansel¡ªthe drivers responsible for dethroning his idol, Max Addams¡ªonly deepened his scowl. Regardless of his feelings, the event continued seamlessly.


    The Trampos team was tasked with interacting with the kids, taking pictures, and sharing insights about the art of racing. As part of the program, arger go-kart was even rolled out for demonstration. Ansel shrugged and refused to enter it, Haas and Beany not even bothering to nce in its direction.


    Unwilling to disappoint the academy staff or the eager children, Luca stepped up. Without hesitation, he squeezed himself into the tiny cockpit, his legs awkwardly folded to fit. The sight drew a chorus ofughter from the children and staff alike as Luca joined them on the track. Despite his best efforts, he failed to even ce in the top ten, eliciting yful jeers from the young racers.


    As the visit wound down, the team bid the children goodbye, wandering out to the field and inspecting the less-developed buildings nearby. Along the way, the academy staff shared their hopes for expanding the program. They emphasized the need for a broader scope to nurture future talents and elevate the potential of young racers.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    All Luca could do was smile. His smile wasn''t deliberate, it was just on his face, his ears red.


    He surprisingly had a good time, and Ansel could tell because he caught a glimpse of Luca change his phone''s wallpaper from an apocalyptic racetrack to a picture he had taken with the kids.

 Chapter 66 A Steady Start

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    Luca was eager to begin his new training program and absorb everything he could about racing, striving to be an all-rounder.


    Getting up from bed, he noticed the spring had begun to show its effects. The mornings were now strikingly cold, dark, and damp, while noon brought a bright, clear sky with a warm sun.


    To begin his Daily Routine, Luca got dressed in a tracksuit, strapping his wrist with a Catapult wristwatch, and securing a headband across his temple. He stepped out of his amodation, ready to seize the day.


    However, his ns took an unexpected turn when he received an impromptu call to Mr. Fisher''s office. Luca couldn''t help but wonder why Mr. Fisher and the other members of management wanted to see him. Was it another round of congrattions for helping the team secure massive points early in the season?


    As he pondered, Luca made his way to the office and was ushered in with a touch of formality. Inside, Mrs. Doyle was seated, along with a few others. This made Luca question the nature of the meeting¡ªit didn''t seem celebratory anymore. Could it be a reprimand for something he hadn''t realized he did?


    His suspicions were wrong. It was neither praise nor scolding.


    The board started by acknowledging the outstanding results at the Monaco Grand Prix, expressing their hope for simr oues in the future. Then, they moved on to the more pressing topic which was Luca''s benching in the next two races.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    The decision, made by the Team Principal, seemed odd, especially considering the synergy between Luca and Ansel. As the discussion unfolded, Luca could sense a divide among the board members that some were clearly against the idea of benching him.


    In fact, many were against it.


    Luca couldn''t believe his ears when Mrs. Doyle read outints sent by fans and other notable figures in the motorsportmunity regarding Trampos Racing''s decision. As soon as the announcement became public, there was significant bacsh, as the majority seemed to favor Luca Rennick''s unique driving style.


    However, the board wanted to exin the rationale behind their support for Mr. Grant''s decision, having thoroughly discussed it with him beforehand.


    The primary reason was the structured team strategy associated with the decision, which aimed for long-term sess. Trampos Racing had a contractual obligation to Erik Haas, requiring the German to participate in at least two Featured Races each season. This obligation had been fulfilled every season, and Trampos had no intention of making this year an exception. After all, Haas wasn''t a terrible racer.


    Mr. Grant believed it was best to utilize Haas early in the season to allow ample time to recover any points lostter. Additionally, the decision factored in technical and strategic considerations, including the experiment of testing Ansel and Haas''patibility on the track. Find more to read at empire


    The final reason caught Luca''s attention. He was pleased to hear that Mr. Grant acknowledged their scouts had discovered a true gem in him. Mr. Grant expressed his desire to personally nurture Luca into a formidable driver, shaping him into the epitome of racing excellence. His ultimate goal was to indoctrinate Luca with his racing philosophy, gradually grooming him to be Trampos Racing''s number one driver. If fate led to Ansel''s departure someday, Mr. Grant wanted Luca to be ready to assume the mantle.


    Luca thanked the management wholeheartedly, showing his understanding. His heart felt unexpectedly lighter, realizing this was not just beneficial for the team''s long-term sess but also carried significant merit for him personally. He wondered how packed his uing schedule would be, juggling the System''s Racecraft program, his usual routine with Amir, and whatever additional training Mr. Grant would likely draft for him.


    Leaving the boardroom, Luca walked down the ss-lined hallway, a sense of relief washing over him. He exchanged polite greetings with a few men and women in suits, likely waiting for their own briefings. Soon after, he headed out toward the gym, joining a stream of team crew members also making their way into the training hub.


    "You arete, my friend," Amir greeted him with mock sternness as Luca entered. "Exin yourself, or I''ll make you do burpees until you can name every song on my workout ylist."


    Luca chuckled, tossing his bag onto a nearby bench as he stretched his fingers for relief. "I went to see the board. They had some important things to share," he exined, pping his hands together with renewed energy. "Let''s get to work! I want to make the most of every second I have."


    "Before we start," Amir interjected, raising a slim file in his hand, "the clinic approached me. They''re concerned about this ''abdominal injury'' you had. You never told me about an abdominal injury, my friend."


    Luca, mid-way throughcing his trainers, raised his brows in surprise. "That''s because there''s none," he said casually. "My sides feel fine. It''s just a precaution. The doc told me he''d follow up in about a month."


    Amir nodded thoughtfully, locking eyes with Luca for a moment before clicking his pen and marking something off the file. "Fair enough. Moving on," he sighed, flipping through the papers. "You, my friend, have a hefty week ahead of you¡ªwell, ahead of us. Here''s the n. Your Team Principal has approved the difficulty level."


    Pausing his arm stretches, Luca sat on the bench and took the file Amir handed him. He studied the contents carefully. The outlined tasks were exactly the kind of hands-on, practical training Luca had been hoping for. It wasn''t just endless hours of race study or watching old tapes¡ªit was real, tangible work that would put him behind the wheel. Satisfied, he nodded in approval.


    "Let''s start today," Luca said eagerly, cing the file aside.


    To kick things off, Luca began his routine exercises, starting with burpees. It took him ten solid minutes toplete the set, barely breaking a sweat by the end. Amir smirked in admiration and congratted him, respecting the discipline Luca maintained. Luca then excused himself to grab a quick shower and breakfast before diving into the first stage of the new training program under Amir''s watchful guidance.

 Chapter 67 A Steady Start 2

    The following day, just after the gym session, Luca headed straight to the track with Amir by his side. The sky was much brighter, a wee change from the previous damp mornings.


    "Your Team Principal is a frightening man," Amir whispered as they strolled along the pavement leading to where Mr. Grant stood with five crew members at the edge of the track. Luca''s Dara, prepared for the day''s training, gleamed under the sunlight. Its red, ck, and white polished sheen stood out, and the scent of its fresh rubber tires lingered in the air.


    Luca chuckled at Amir''s remark. "You think so, huh?" he replied, ncing at Mr. Grant''s bald head, which perfectly reflected the rising sun. Both he and Amir shared a quietugh. "I''ve learned the man is all business¡ªno room for, you know, a little lightheartedness. But hey, as long as he doesn''t bite my head off, we''ll be fine."


    "Good morning, Mr. Grant," Amir greeted as they approached. He nced at the Trampos crew tending to Luca''s single-seater like it was a priceless gemstone. "And good morning to all my friends here."


    "Good morning, sir," Luca added humbly, nudging Amir to tone down his cheerful antics.


    Mr. Grant''s stern gaze didn''t waver, his eyes scanning both men. Luca, sensing the tension, casually pivoted toward the crew, striking up a conversation to lighten the moment.


    Mr. Grant''s attention then turned fully to Amir. "You''re his personal trainer, not a staff member of Trampos Racing. What exactly are you doing this far into the facility?" he asked, his hands sped behind his back. Dressed in a red T-shirt, ck joggers, and matching red sneakers, Mr. Grant looked sharp andmanding.


    Amir tucked his files under his armpit and pulled out a scarf to blow his nose. "Excuse me," he muttered, a heavy snort followed by the soft flutter of the white fabric. Sniffing, Amir pocketed the scarf and turned his gaze toward Luca, who was eagerly chasing after a crew member that had swiped his MP3 yer. "I don''t mean to interfere with any procedures. I''d just like to see thed drive before I leave. Surely, a simple warm-upp won''t do any harm, would it?"


    Mr. Grant rolled his eyes with a scoff. "One simple warm-upp, then."


    "Thank you."


    Enjoy new tales from empire


    pping his hands sharply, Mr. Grant gathered Luca and the team''s attention. Their yful antics immediately ceased as they returned to the single-seater, which seemed to have been eagerly waiting for its chance to roar to life.


    Once the team assembled, Mr. Grant folded his arms, his stern gaze erasing any lingering amusement in the air. "Alright, Luca. Onep around the one-thousand-meter. Get your fingers flexible, the car warmed, and ensure your speed and precision are on point. Then, we''ll move on to today''s agenda," Mr. Grant instructed, briefly flicking his eyes toward Amir as he finished.


    Without hesitation, Luca jumped into action. A crew member tossed him his helmet, which he slid onto his head effortlessly, foregoing a head sock, and tightened the straps as he flexed his legs. The cramped cockpit often left his legs sore after every session in the single-seater, let alone after all three races he hadpeted in.


    Amir and Mr. Grant observed intently as Luca climbed into the cockpit with practiced ease, the crew strapping him in securely.


    pat patnded on his chest from McCauley, one of the lead crew members. "Let''s see how fast you go, pal. Up, up, and away."


    Luca chuckled beneath his helmet, giving a thumbs-up as his System seamlessly synchronized him with the car. The interface shimmered to life, analyzing everyponent and blending his senses with the machine.


    Mr. Grant turned his attention momentarily to the telemetry building, only a stone''s throw from thene. Through the wide ss windows, Mr. Moritz and his team of engineers were hard at work. As if sensing Mr. Grant''s gaze, Moritz instinctively looked up, their eyes meeting.


    Mr. Moritz smiled and raised a thumbs-up before turning his focus back to theputer screens in front of him.


    Back on the track, Luca''s car was already revving, its rear shimmering with the heat of the engine. Mr. Grant brought the radio to his lips. "It''s a free track, Luca. Move your car as much as you want," he said.


    **Okay, sir** Luca replied promptly.


    The tires screeched as Lucaunched forward the moment McCauley gave the signal. A torrent of wind swept past the crew and Mr. Grant, who stood firm, unflinching despite the rush. Amir, however, staggered backward, struggling to remain upright as his papers scattered into the air.


    Hastily gathering his files, Amir nced at the track with wide eyes. "And how much did he elerate with?!" he eximed to no one in particr.


    **7.70 m/s2** came Mr. Moritz''s calm reply over the radio.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Mr. Grant exhaled, adjusting his stance as he watched Luca''s car disappear around a bend, the engine''s roar fading into the distance. "That''s close to a hundred kilometers per hour," he muttered. "That''s good."


    Amir, still stunned, shook his head. "So, you''re shaping this youngd into a beast? A machine heh?"


    Mr. Grant scoffed. "There''s nothing young about thatd, Mr. James. He''s a man in a boy''s body. That much is clear," he said, his gaze fixed on the screen mounted on the side of the track like a traffic signal. There he could see Luca carefully navigating through the peaceful track, and would soon zoom by them any second.


    Amir nodded thoughtfully, taking his gaze to the right where the approaching sound of Luca''s engine dragged like a zing horn through the air. The red-and-ck Dara sliced past once more, Luca pushing for anotherp despite not being instructed to.


    "You''ll need to regte him," Amir said, breaking the silence. "Don''t push him too hard early on. You might not reap the benefits¡ªor worse, you might reap the opposite."


    Mr. Grant''s brow furrowed as he processed Amir''s cryptic remark. He turned to the trainer, his expression hardening. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"


    Amir shrugged. "I mean, I could be Luca''s PR for his entire career, but let''s be realistic¡ªTrampos probably won''t be his team forever. I''m not trying to¡ª"


    "Mr. James, please leave the facility," Mr. Grant interjected coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.


    Amir paused, taking onest nce toward the distant track. With a nod, he turned and made his way down the tarred path, leaving the area.


    Mr. Grant stood in silence, his mind racing. The audacity of Amir''s words stung, but the difort they caused only underscored their likely truth.


    Shaking the thought away, he turned back to the track in time to see Luca''s car decelerating and rolling to a stop.


    Luca''s future career path wasn''t his concern, Mr. Grant reminded himself. His job was to win championships by getting the best out of his drivers¡ªnothing more, nothing less.


    As Luca''s helmeted face came into view, Mr. Grant gave a nod. "Good job," he said. "Let''s get started."

 Chapter 68 A Steady Start 3

    The fourth round of the championship was fast approaching as the month neared its end. The calendar marked the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, set in the heart of its capital, Baku. Luca had no idea such a country even existed, and he was eager to discover what it looked like and how its people interacted. From the television screens, one could hardly grasp how vast the cities were that hosted these races.


    Baku National Circuit was the venue¡ªan average track in the opinion of most. With its 50ps, the climate was mild, with precipitation that was rtively average and predictable. Luca couldn''t help but wish he could race on such a track.


    But he would not. Number 21, Luca Rennick, would instead be in the paddock that afternoon.


    Before the voyage to Azerbaijan could begin, Luca dove into the program set out by his System, training rigorously under Mr. Grant''s guidance and continuing his morning exercises with Amir. His first task was to learn about the current Form 2 generation before moving on to hours of race footage.


    A quick, effortless search yielded detailed information about all fifteen teams, their sponsors, and drivers. It was a surprisingly extensive list, featuring over 60 Form 2 drivers, many of whom Luca could now identify easily after participating in two races.


    Luca''s gaze lingered on the most prominent teams as he scanned through the profiles, absorbing every face, name, age, team role, and, most importantly, their personal achievements.


    Trampos Racing


    ¨CAnsel Hahn


    ¨CLuca Rennick


    Squadra Corse Jnr.


    ¨CAlbert Derstappen


    ¨CMiles Bellingham


    Hatcherk Motorsport


    ¨CSean Aaronson


    ¨CPeter De Klerkn/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr.


    ¨CMax Addams


    ¨CDani Walding


    Retona Racing


    ¨COliver Kristensen


    ¨Cd Volyinski


    Out of everyone, the most decorated driver was Max Addams, as the data made clear to Luca. The Canadian had built an impressive record to reflect on. Over his four years in Form 2, the 24-year-old had amassed 30 podium finishes, secured 14 race wins, and ced in the top five of the championship standings for three consecutive seasons. Overall, Max Addams was the powerhouse of Bueseno Velocit¨¤. His consistency in securing pole positions always worked to his advantage during races.


    Recollecting the fact that he had outpaced such a veteran made Luca smile. The reigning F2 champion, no less.


    After studying the data intently, Luca formed a personal hierarchy of the most decorated drivers currentlypeting. Notable names like Denko Rutherford and Dante Reyes had already transitioned to the main division, but among those remaining, Luca ced Max Addams at the top of his list, followed by Aaronson, Derstappen, and then his own teammate, Ansel.


    This ranking wasn''t based solely onst season''s final standings, which were indeed simr. Instead, Luca meticulously considered the drivers'' achievements and concluded that these were the very best in the field.


    In the previous season, Bueseno Velocit¨¤ had clinched the championship title with amanding 70-point lead over Hatcherk Motorsport. Both Addams and Aaronson had carried their teams to such heights. Surprisingly, third ce hadn''t gone to Squadra Corse, which finished fifth that year. Instead, third ce was imed by Retona, thanks to Dante Reyes¡ªa major asset they had lost after his six-year tenure with the team. Fourth ce went to Nevada Jnr, and fifth to Squadra.


    Trampos Racing had failed to crack the top five. Thest time they had managed it was two years ago, finishing fifth with a slim three-point margin over sixth. That result exined why Ansel had ended the season in eighth ce. Still, Luca couldn''t me him entirely¡ªit had been a highlypetitive season. He was here to change that. After all, many of the drivers here were losing their form. Aaronson and Derstappen, in particr, were no longer performing at their peak. Rumors were circting that their teams had begun scouting for solutions¡ªbetter, younger drivers.


    Luca was determined to capitalize on this shift. He was bing a machine in his own right, and the timing couldn''t have been better.


    A sigh escaped Luca''s lips as he realized he had been submerged in his thoughts. Blinking himself back to focus, he moved on to the next piece of information he nned to study.


    Luca had managed to obtain past public telemetry data from other teams. essing such data waspletely legal and surprisingly easy and straightforward. All it required was a query into F2''s shared resources and databases, coupled with publicly avable data from official FIA releases during steward screenings. Enjoy new tales from empire


    The telemetry data from the top five teams ofst season''s Dutch Grand Prix caught Luca''s attention the most. He had overheard the Trampos crew discussing that race at length, particrly its suspenseful moments and the three DNFs.


    Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Luca set the hefty book of thin pages and blue-printedyouts in front of him. His eyes were drawn to Bueseno Velocit¨¤''s data, focusing on Max Addams and Dani Walding. He was eager to understand, graphically and analytically with the help of annotations, key metrics and charts, how they managed their cars and engines to fend off Aaronson''s attacks¡ªultimately forcing Aaronson to spin out of the track. That race had been a turning point, with Max Addams clinching a win that significantly bolstered his championship campaign.


    [Intelligence +1]


    Good at navigating his System''s interface, Luca found the telemetry data straightforward to decode. The more he analyzed, the more absorbed he became, with the sun dipping lower in the sky.


    Max Addams'' race strategy, when broken down visually, was as fascinating as it was on the track. Luca learned much from analyzing two races, ensuring he studied Ansel''s performance as well. The data brought the race to life in his mind¡ªthe ups and downs of the graphs mirrored the tension of eachp, the echo of team radios filled his ears, and he could almost feel the engines'' heat and the speed fluctuations reflecting each strategic decision.


    It was both sad and amusing to see Aaronson''s data tline to zero once his car came to a halt, vividly detailing his inability to continue. His aggressive elerations on the straights stood out to Luca as reckless unless there was a clear overtaking opportunity. Based on Aaronson''s data, it seemed first ce was always the priority.


    It sure is, Luca thought, stifling a yawn as the room filled with the warm glow of the setting sun.


    He was tired.


    After spending an hour behind a strength-straining single-seater earlier that day, Luca could feel fatigue creeping in. His eyes were heavy from scanning endless alphanumeric data and graphs.


    Closing the weighty book, Luca rolled off the bed and walked to the window to shut the curtains. Outside, the open area of the headquarters was mostly empty, with only distant chatter breaking the evening silence.


    Drawing the curtains brought a satisfying darkness to the room. He wanted one thing now¡ªfood. Stepping out, he grabbed a can of Fijee before the cool evening breeze greeted him, his hair shifting lightly in the wind.


    The fizz of the energy drink sparkled as he cracked open the can, releasing a sharp citrus scent into the air. Luca took a refreshing sip as he walked down the steel stairs.

 Chapter 69 A Steady Start 4

    The next day was a near copy-and-paste of the previous one for Luca, though he managed to fit some time in the simtor into his schedule.


    After settling into the cockpit-like seat, Luca strapped on the required gear and immersed himself in the virtual track. His goal was to sharpen his reflexes and decision-making under pressure, replicating the intense environment and conditions of a real race. While doing this, he also practiced responding to real-time instructions from his engineering team, who provided crucial feedback on tire choices and driving strategies.


    Amusingly for Luca, the simtor''s team engineer voice sounded exactly like, if not identical to, the ones from the video games he had yed. This made the simtion feel less foreign and even more entertaining, as it felt more like he was on a mission rather than just racing for victory.


    Theputer-generated opponents were coded with advanced algorithms to mimic real racers, making decisions based on specific conditions and generally putting up a tough fight. For nearly an hour, Luca pushed himself against these virtual rivals while Ansel and Haas trained on the track.


    Afterpleting two virtual races, Luca was surprised that his System didn''t reward him with even a single point for all the hard work he had put in. Sighing in slight disappointment, he exited the simtor and went on to finish the rest of his Daily Routine. By that time, Mr. Grant would likely havepleted the session with Ansel and Haas, ready to focus on Luca as nned.


    Returning to his amodations, Luca refreshed himself with a satisfying breakfast before heading out, leaving little time to check his phone for important messages. Jogging to the uniform building, he donned Trampos''s colors and made his way to the track.


    Mr. Grant had just finished a session with Ansel and Haas, the three of them conversing just beside the track. As Luca approached, helmet in hand, he had the distinct feeling that they were discussing something important. And these conversations was the kind he l Iiked to be part of.


    Ansel stood up from his single-seater as Luca arrived, and everyone exchanged greetings. Mr. Moritz, ever boisterous, threw an arm around Luca''s neck, jerking him yfully but with enough force to make Luca wince. "I hope you''re feeling fresh! We''re upping the difficulty today!" Mr. Moritz sneered. He nced over at Haas and Ansel. "Would you two like to stay and watch me torture thisd?"


    Haas shook his head and began to unzip his suit, the crew jogging toward them to roll their cars out. "Not for me," he said, giving his car onest pat before walking off. "I would rather go home."


    Luca humbly stepped aside, giving Haas enough room to pass.


    Ansel sighed, as though exhaustion was something entirely new to him. He locked eyes with Luca and shrugged.


    Luca wasn''t about to beg anyone to stay and watch him train. In fact, he preferred fewer spectators. "No problem," he said calmly. "Go get some rest."


    Ansel approached Luca and leaned in to whisper, "I don''t get it, man. You''re not even driving in the next races. Why''s your schedule so tight, huh?"


    "You''ve seen it," Luca replied, his frown betraying his frustration.


    Ansel chuckled deeply like an old man, tapping Luca heavily on the shoulder before ambling away toward the uniform building.


    "Alllrrright!" Mr. Moritz bellowed, his voice echoing across the facility. "Let''s get these cars cleared out and bring in a fresh one ASAP!"


    Two minutester, Luca''s Dara was towed to the track, its sleek frame as appealing as a perfectly sculpted work of art.


    ''Ready to go,'' his System confirmed, and without hesitation, Luca climbed into the cockpit to begin his session. Read new adventures at empire


    ------------------------------------------------------------------------


    By 4 PM, the day had ended for most, but Luca was still deeply engrossed in the telemetry data books. It felt like deciphering aplex, cryptic form¡ªdense with variables¡ªyet somehow, Luca found rity. Understanding the patterns made him feel like a choreographer, as vivid images of race strategies yed in his mind.


    Even after speaking with Mr. Mallow, Luca returned to this newfound obsession. Mallow had dropped by to check on him¡ªnot because Luca needed supervision, but because Mallow wanted to pat him on the back andmend him for his radiant charm.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Luca had unintentionally attracted the endorsement of Felicity Hawthorne, the wealthiest cattle ranch owner in Ennd. Mallow had acquired her contact through Luca and began speaking with the charismatic woman immediately, sharing Luca''s journey into motorsport and highlighting his progress. Mallow believed this was an essential setup for a potential endorsement and was keen to take a measured pace before diving into the finer details.


    Luca, amused by Mallow''s enthusiasm,ughed off the praise, had lunch with him, and saw him off before returning to his routine.


    Now, Luca''s eyes were sore¡ªnot from exhaustion, but from hours of poring over data. Yet, he wasn''t ready to stop. His eyes ached from staring at pages filled with insights and strategies, but his determination pushed him forward.


    As the sun dipped below the horizon and he prepared to wrap up the day after a refreshing shower and dinner, Luca settled into bed. Underneath a warm nket, hisptop screen cast a soft glow in the otherwise dark room.


    Navigating to his first choice, Luca double-clicked and tapped the spacebar. The screen momentarily darkened before illuminating with the familiar logo of Form 1, apanied byst season''s iconic theme song that built anticipation.


    The F1 logo quickly transitioned to the F2 emblem with a zap mimicking the speed of a single-seater.


    "...Good afternoon,dies and gentlemen, and wee to the Austrian Grand Prix...!"


    The voice of Steve Cole, Form 2''s seasonedmentator, crackled through the speakers as the screen disyed Austria''s circuit teeming with cheering fans and glimpses of Vienna in the background.


    Luca sank further into his bed, eager to binge-watch the race until sleep imed him.


    The championship standings appeared on the screen, followed by precise data designed to help viewers catch up on the season''s developments.


    The film quickly skipped to the electrifying starting grid. Luca''s gaze locked on Trampos''s colors, easily picking out the familiar designs among the other teams.

 Chapter 70 Scarlet Focus

    Azerbaijan, a country located at the crossroads of Eastern Europe and Western Asia, was known for its rich cultural heritage, stunningndscapes, and modern architecture. The capital, Baku¨Cthe team''s destination¨Cwas also famous for its blend of ancient and contemporary structure. The circuit hosting the weekend''s F2 and F1 races was sure to have these unique features, making their grandstands and overall track structure very different from others.


    The Baku city''s dynamic cityscape was on full reveal as the track weaved through the forked streets. Unlike Monte Carlo, the attendance matched the television viewership. The culturally rich country attracted fans globally, with tourism spiking as motorsport seeped into itsnds for the year.


    Luca wished he could race in such a beautiful atmosphere. The humidity was perfect, the sky neither too bright nor too dark. The track itself was fairly amodating, with 50ps marking the path to victory.


    The Trampos team attended a convention immediately after their arrival. Retona, Hatcherk, and three average teams were also present.


    Lucater learned that the teams in attendance shared the same racing suit manufacturer¡ªVeststar. This was merely a convention event that they were all obliged to attend. Luca preferred Squadra Corse Jnr''s racing suit manufacturer. Then again, he remembered that junior teams shared their senior teams'' sponsors, making their features more polished and advanced. By contrast, Veststar and Over Armour were typically affiliated with F2 teams thatcked senior counterparts.


    Everyone but the Veststar management seemed eager to wrap up the event. Being in the same venue as opponents they''d soon face in the next few days felt stifling. Luca was sure he saw Aaronson clutching the tablecloth in frustration. His irritation now and back in Monte Carlo was evident. Luca''s best guess was that he''d be the aggressive one on the track there in Baku, a chance of redemption at its finest. Ansel and Haas would need to watch out for him.


    Moving on to the training facility designated for them, Trampos Racing wasted no time starting their drills.


    Luca spent his time with the crew observing Ansel and Haas'' driving as they drilled themselves and the team''s strategies for the race. As a spectator, Luca noticed that Haas'' driving exuded confidence, the kind that consistentlynded in the top five. He sincerely hoped this form would persist, as maintaining a substantial point difference from Bueseno Velocit¨¤ was what truly mattered.


    asionally, Luca joined the drills whenever Mr. Grant suggested it, injecting some healthypetition into the mix. Despite the packed schedule, Mr. Grant carved out time to continue Luca''s program.


    Enjoy new adventures from empire


    Race day approached, and the Baku National Circuit buzzed with life. The boulevard region, Old City, offered a perfect blend of modern and histordmarks, creating an ideal backdrop for the race. This picturesque setting gave Luca faint hope that the calm, enigmatic atmosphere might temper and mellow the fiercepetition set to unfold.


    Luca found himself lost in thought, the bustling team garage a background to his wandering mind as he stared at the pristine Dara chassis. The mechanics worked meticulously, inspecting the cars for the uing Featured Race. Ansel and Haas had just finished the 30p Sprint Race, with Ansel taking 1st and Haas securing 3rd.


    That might seem like a solid result, but Luca wasn''t entirely convinced. Bueseno Velocit¨¤ had fielded their reserves instead of Addams and Walding, and Hatcherk followed the same approach. However, Squadra Corse did y Miles, who imed 2nd. A warm-up race after all, Luca thought.


    One of the crew members noticed Luca''s gaze fixed on the rear of the sleek single-seater. The chubby fellow tapped and caressed the frame where "Catapult" was boldly brandished near Haas'' number 39. "A wonderful machine, isn''t it?" the crew member muttered, interpreting Luca''s stare as admiration.


    Luca nodded, inhaling sharply as he straightened up. "Yup, it is," he replied, looking up at the man. "I''m sure you''ve dreamt a lot about driving it."


    The crew member grinned, his cheeks reddening slightly as though Luca had uncovered a private fantasy. "Oh, you bet I do," he admitted. "Especially when you guys lose it out there. Feels like I should step in and save the day myself."


    Luca chuckled, nodding his head as his eyes returned to the four-wheeler. It was, after all, a dream machine for many. "But why the Dara, though?" he asked after a brief pause. "Why not any other model for F2?"


    "The Federation changes the spec chassis every generation, and this generation''s the F2 04," the crew member replied, adding, "alongside its Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit."


    Luca raised a brow. "You could just say SomberCore and save yourself the trouble," he pointed out.


    "Yeah, just like to keep it official sometimes. Not all engines have nicknames, just the notable ones," the crew member said, ncing around. "We''ll speakter, mate. I''ll be right back."


    Luca watched him walk away dutifully and disappear up the stairs where more colors of Trampos Racing were crowded. He returned his gaze to the Dara chassis. I wonder why the SomberCore. System, what''s special about it?


    [Host has been previously synched with Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit (SomberCore)]


    [So data on Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit (SomberCore) can be retrieved]N?v(el)B\\jnn


    [Retrieving Data...]


    [.... Data Retrieved]


    [The Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit, known as the SomberCore, is a B-level engine specifically designed for the Dara F2 04. It features a 1.2L V6 turbocharged hybrid engine, delivering around 620 hp and 800 Nm of torque. The hybrid system includes a KERS that provides an additional 120 kW of power, enhancing eleration and an overall stable performance.]


    [This power unit is integral to F2''spetitivendscape, bncing power and efficiency while meeting the series'' dynamic regtions andpetition. The use of bio-fuel also reflects amitment to sustainability within motorsport.]


    [The Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit is essential for teams aiming to maximize performance while maintaining reliability across multiple race weekends, ensuring a level ying field in the championship.]


    B-level engine you say? So there are C and A-levels?


    [Yes. Form 1 teams are typically allowed to use any level. However the feeder series are restricted to B and C ordingly.]


    I didn''t know they were graded.


    Luca quickly nced to his right, where Ansel and Haas had emerged from their prep room. The race was about to begin, and he realized he''d been so lost in thought that he hadn''t noticed the rising cheers of the distant spectators.


    Numbers 43 and 39 stood ready, boldly adorned in the red-and-ck livery with subtle white ents, their helmets gripped securely in their hands. Luca rose to his feet, joining the cluster of team members offering encouraging taps and words of motivation before Mr. Grant made his arrival.


    "Don''t worry. I''ll make sure we win," Ansel assured, giving Luca a confident pat on the shoulder.


    Luca''s gaze shifted to Haas, hoping for a simr sentiment, maybe words of assurance for good points, but Haas remained stoic and silent. With Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz approaching, Luca stepped aside to make way.


    Grabbing a bottle of water, he made his way to the paddock and slumped into one of the cushioned seats, nestled between other crew members and Victor, the American. It didn''t take three seconds, the paddock was already filled with masculine frames and deep voices discussing amongst themselves as the single-seaters were rolled out.


    Luca''s eyes wandered to the track. Under the shimmering sunlight, it seemed like a venue fit for the Greek gods to race, with Trampos'' carsmanding attention from P1 and P2 on the grid¡ªa wless starting position. He silently hoped Haas wouldn''t just squander the advantage.


    Unwrapping a stick of gum, he popped the pink piece into his mouth, chewing methodically. He recalled someone mentioning that gum helped reduce blood pressure, something he might need as the tension built on this sunlit afternoon in Baku.


    With his arms folded and his posture leaning forward, Luca chewed slowly, the grinding of the gum echoing louder in his ears than the distant hum of the crowd. Perhaps it was because of the dead silence in the paddock, every crew member holding their breath as they awaited lights out.

 Chapter 71 A Podium Without Glory

    Luca had watched races from the grandstands and on screens, but never had he experienced a race from the paddock. It was a whole new experience¡ªa heart-wrenching one at that.


    The start and the first fewps were okay, but as the race progressed, Trampos wasn''t exactly where they had nned to be. The P2 Luca had secured for Haas was totally lost; the 21-year-old was battling in P5, barely holding onto it as the 15thp concluded.


    Luca forced himself not to think much about Ansel, despite being utterly disappointed. He tried to console himself with the fact that his friend must be having a hard time out there. Yet again, the heaviness in Luca''s heart was palpable when everyone witnessed Sean Aaronson, whom he had feared the most today, outpace Ansel after a grueling duel.


    Aaronson currently held the fastestp. His rise from P7 to P1 was something worthy of the history books, with Hatcherk Motorsport''s fans wild with chants. Luca could even hear Steve Cole''s voice resonating through the circuit, proiming the artistry and precision with which the Australian executed a street bend to take the lead.


    Luca was frustrated but also frightened for Ansel. He knew very well how easy it was to lose momentum after being overtaken. It was like a dam breaking, opening the floodgates for other rivals to zoom past. Each driver was hungry for the opportunity, and once the lead slipped away, it became a relentless battle to regain it. Luca vented his anger on his bubblegum, watching as Ansel made a bend, his number disyed on the screen. Miles was behind him, only seconds away, and was surely hungry to reim P2.


    Luca nced to his left, peering through the crack of the telemetry room''s door. There he could see Mr. Moritz speakingmandingly into the radio, his expression clearly unsatisfied with the current results.


    "...on the 20thp..." Luca heard the announcement echo through the grandstands. The information was confirmed on the screen he was watching, his teeth sore from chewing too hard on his gum.


    asionally, he would nce up at the track whenever Ansel zoomed past thene closest to their garage. Eventually, one of Ansel''s approaches brought him into the pitne for a pit stop, the 25thp forcing him to refresh his car.


    All the Trampos individuals in the paddock, including Luca, rose to their feet as Ansel barreled toward the pitne, his tires visibly worn. Once he boxed, the pit crew executed their work smoothly and seamlessly, granting him a quick turnaround to rejoin the race.


    With Ansel''s car so close during the pit stop, Luca couldn''t resist quicklymanding the System to analyze it, hoping to discern Ansel''s performance trends over time.


    [Vehicle Specifications:


    Brand: Dara


    Model: F2 04


    Engine Type: Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit (SomberCore)


    Weight: 740 kg ]


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 300 km/h (70 km/h) (250¡ª0km/h in thest five seconds) (20km/h each millisecond) Experience tales at empire


    eleration: 4.0 sec (0¡ª100km/h) (25 km/h per second)


    Max Power: 620 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 1.5 ]


    [Operational Status:


    Fuel Level: 80%


    Tire Condition: Used


    Telemetry Status: Active


    DRS Avability: Not Engaged ]


    Luca joined in on the ps as Ansel zoomed back onto the track, still holding P2.


    Sighing, the team returned to their seats, slumping back into them while picking up their water bottles for a drink. By the 30thp, Haas had fallen to 6th, with Max Addams and Miles Bellingham closing their duel dangerously close to Ansel. Meanwhile, Aaronson was significantly far ahead, making any chance of catching up seem almost impossible.


    The race was grueling to watch, every bend bing a disappointment and ultimately detrimental to Trampos Racing.


    By the 45thp, the situation seemed hopeless, the paddock filled with grunts and murmurs of discontent. Luca cursed under his breath, his frustration bubbling as he heard the chants of rival supporters growing louder. He nced at the pit wall, watching as Ansel struggled to fend off the aggressive pressure. The gap to Aaronson remained insurmountable, and just as the finalp began, Max Addams made his move, slipping ahead of Ansel into P2.


    Everyone in the paddock rose to their feet in protest, but it was futile¡ªthe checkered g was already waving, signaling the end. A heavy silence fell over the team as they sank back into their seats, watching the carse to a stop at the cooldownne.


    "...Sean Aaronson makes Baku count! Hatcherk has finally imed first in this season''s championship! Ansel Hahn failed to capitalize on his pole position, and not only did the Australian veteran take advantage, so did reigning champion Max Addams, who edged in for P2...!"


    "WOOOHHHH!"


    The Trampos Racing fans offered hollow cheers, their disappointment evident despite Ansel managing to secure a podium finish. It had been an hour and fifteen minutes of watching a downward spiral and a clear degradation in performance. The cheers that filled the grandstands were reserved for Aaronson, who proudly celebrated with an Australian g, waving it triumphantly to the crowd. Some apuse was directed at Max Addams, who had likely started a new podium streak after his stumble in Monte Carlo.


    The mood in the paddock shifted dramatically as the team jumped into action, a tense silence permeating the space despite the bustling crowd. Luca spotted Ansel exiting his Dara, pulling off his helmet. Luca immediately focused on his teammate''s expression¡ªit was exactly what he had hoped for and was d there was no hint of satisfaction. There was absolutely nothing to be satisfied about. The team had squandered significant points after starting with their drivers in pole position and P2.


    Luca maneuvered through the cluster of Trampos personnel, hoping to intercept Ansel before he reached the garage. The distant chants of the crowd provided a dramatic backdrop to the tense atmosphere. He nearly collided with Mia, a crew member frantically jotting notes about the race, which slowed him just enough for Ansel to enter the telemetry room first. As he followed, Luca noticed team members offering Ansel supportive pats on the back.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Upon entering the telemetry room, where Mr. Grant, Mr. Moritz, and several engineers were already gathered, Luca could feel the pressure hanging thick. He stood behind Ansel, who was bracing himself for the debrief¡ªwhether it would be stern or supportive was yet to be seen.


    Luca''s simmering frustration began to cool when he caught sight of Ansel''s expression. He looked more displeased than anyone else in the room, even more so than Haas, who had stumbled in moments earlier, visibly exhausted after finishing 7th. Ansel seemed on the verge of snapping at anyone who dared remind him of the grueling 50ps he had endured. Luca decided it wouldn''t be him. Instead, he sank into a chair, quietly observing the discussions taking ce.


    The ring issue for Trampos Racing during this event had been the distance between their two drivers for most of the race. While teammates don''t often race in unison, the strategic advantage of running close together¡ªvisually reinforcing their presence¡ªcan sometimes prove beneficial, even if marginally so. Today, however, it was evident to Luca that Erik Haas hadn''t been a strong enough teammate for Ansel, at least in his opinion.


    Moreover, after thorough review, Mr. Moritz voiced his concern, highlighting that Ansel himself hadn''t been at his best during the race. The telemetry data revealed telling signs of his uncertainty andck of confidence during the race, illustrating his erratic throttle applications which cost him precious time on the track.


    Ansel''s frustration was evident as he absorbed the feedback, his cold gaze fixed on the screens in reluctant acknowledgment. Mr. Moritz shifted the discussion to the car''s suspension settings, pointing out how Ansel''s struggles in cornering were clearly reflected in the data. By contrast, Haas'' performance needed no detailed analysis¡ªit had been subpar from the start, with little to review beyond the ringly poor results.


    Ansel appeared ready to defend himself, but the call for the press cut the briefing short. Alongside Mr. Grant and Haas, he left for the tunnel. Afterwards, the podium was set and the traditional celebration was ought to begin. Though Ansel and Trampos weren''t at the position they hoped they''d be, it was still obliged that he mounted the podium. And Ansel did just that, Hatcherk Motorsport''s fans cheering wildly for Aaronson who pumped his fist with pride and joy.


    Luca observed Azerbaijan took the day''s race as a ceremonial annual event. They say its Grand Prix was always a spectacle, with fans spilling into the streets, fireworks lighting up the skyline, and festivities stretchedte into the evening. Most of which Ansel wasn''t interested in participating in. He hopped off the stage and returned to the team as they got ready to leave the circuit early on, allowing Aaronson and Hatcherk Motorsport to revel in their well-deserved glory. As a team with no seniors in F1, one could say Hatcherk Motorsport did very well solo.


    Inside the garage, the mood was markedly different from the festive air outside. The engineers and support staff moved methodically, packing up equipment and dismantling the temporary setups. The garage, which had buzzed with activity just hours earlier, was now filled with the sound of metal nking and the rustling of tarps being rolled up. Luca decided to join the effort and give Ansel some time to refresh. His own mind was still reying the race highlights, particrly the distance that had gued Ansel and Haas throughout.


    Trampos Racing disassembled their cars and equipment before loading their trucks. Leaving the vibrant atmosphere of Baku National Circuit behind, they rolled out an hourter to their designated amodation.


    Luca could only nce at the team standings after this.


    PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    -------------------------------------------------


    1.            | Trampos Racing           |   128


    2.            | Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr.  |   96


    3.            | Hatcherk Motorsport   |   63


    4.            | Squadra Corse Jnr       |   59


    5.            | Retona Racing              |   12


    Luca could see the gap between Trampos and Bueseno was still eptable, at the very least, and Hatcherk still had a long way to prove a reasonable threat to them. But still, if the day''s race had gone in Trampos''s favor, the gap would have been much bigger, giving them a more rxed mind and greater flexibility for pardoning mistakes in the long run.


    Luca had no intention of staying long in Azerbaijan, much less touring around. The country had a strikingly differentnguage he was sure he would never get to understand in a lifetime. The unfamiliar sounds and characters seemed to mock his attempts atmunication, as well as the results from the other day, while the country''s capital kept buzzing with motorsport.


    Luca made time to watch Form 1 the next day and was d that he did. He was able to watch as a spectator with a bag of chips in his hand, witnessing Nevada HanSama im first, Squadra Corse take second, and Bueseno Velocit¨¤ im third. It was a wonderful race in his opinion and one of the few things he enjoyed in Baku, along with the sprawlingndscapes and historical sites.


    Apart from that, Luca yearned for their return to Berlin. The air and the familiarity of their headquarters'' track would surely put the team back into focus for the possibilities ahead.


    The flight seemed shorter than when they came, and Luca was able to strike up conversations with Ansel once again, deliberately keeping the race out of them.


    Bahrain Grand Prix


    Location: Sakhir, Bahrain


    Date: Apr 21


    Track: Bahrain International Circuit


    Hmm, another unpopr country? Luca wondered to himself. He pondered how many points Trampos would have after Bahrain, with him being in the paddock once again.

 Chapter 72 Spring Air

    Explore more at empire


    Midweek Schedule, Apr 15., Trampos Racing headquarters, Germany.


    "The team can still survive Bahrain on top. Thirty points is enough to keep our rivals at bay for one race," said Mr. Fisher to Mr. Grant. "But after that, you''ll have to put Rennick behind the wheel for the rest of the season."


    Mr. Grant nodded in response, his eyes drifting through the ss walls of the management building. From their vantage point, the headquarters'' track came into view, where the Trampos drivers were locked in a strict training session. Mr. Moritz oversaw the drills below while Mr. Grant engaged in this official conversation with the President.


    "I am still very much interested in understanding why Hahn fell short," Mr. Fisher continued, his handsfortably lodged in his pockets. For a man of his round stature, his height gave him an imposing presence, taller even than Mr. Grant. His belt, strained under the effort of restraining his belly, seemed symbolic of the discipline he expected from his team. "We cannot n to build a top-tier driver when the one we already have closest to that level is showing signs of decline."


    Mr. Grant bit his lip. There was no denying the poor disy of Ansel''s performance in Baku. A mere periodic setback or not, it waspletely not eptable in a team where he was considered the crucial driver. "We''re still having much analysis as we believe it must''ve been a nonphysical influence on him. Perhaps, pairing with Haas in apetitive atmosphere like a Featured Race was something fresh," Mr. Grant replied, unintentionally defending Ansel. "He would have to adapt to that. Bahrain Grand Prix is like just a week away, and Trampos still owes Haas one more Featured Race," he added to neutralize his stance.


    Mr. Fisher chuckled, pulling a hand from his pocket to rub his belly. His secretary entered the room, handing him a document to sign. He epted it with a quick flourish of his pen, then turned his attention back to the track. Three single-seaters zipped by, their engines growling. "I can see he has better chemistry with Rennick," Mr. Fisher remarked. "We''ll focus on that in the second half of the season. By mid-season, I''ll make it my priority to allocate additional resources to you."


    "Resources?"


    "Yes, Mr. Grant," Mr. Fisher affirmed with a slight smile. "Better staff, improved equipment for the boys. You, Mr. Grant, will have the privilege of selecting these new additions¡ªwithin the confines of our budget, of course."


    "That''s wonderful. I appreciate it," Mr. Grant replied.


    "It''s for the team, Mr. Grant," Mr. Fisher said.


    Remembering what Luca''s Personal Trainer had mentioned days ago, Mr. Grant suddenly grew worried. The prospect of grooming Luca into a world-ss racing force, only for a Form 1 team to poach him, gnawed at him. Unable to shake the concern, he voiced it to Mr. Fisher.


    Mr. Fisher listened thoughtfully, nodding as though considering the possibility for the first time. But when Mr. Grant finished, he dismissed the concern with a shrug. "We''ll turn down their offers," he said simply, almost a mutter. "We still have two and a half years on his contract. I even intend to extend that."


    "What if he wants out?" Mr. Grant challenged. "You can''t deny the possibility of him aiming higher, can you?"


    "We''ll turn down all offers," Mr. Fisher repeated, his voice resolute.


    "And if that leaves us with an unhappy driver in the team?"


    Mr. Fisher''s gaze hardened as the drivers began rolling to a stop, the clock ticking close to 2:30 p.m. "If ites to that, Mr. Grant, then it''s inevitable. The cycle of sending top talent to the premier teams will go on." His voice carried a grim finality that echoed the weight of their reality.


    -------------------------


    Luca removed his helmet as soon as he exited the cockpit. He exhaled deeply, relishing the cool spring air as it filled his lungs, a wee relief from the confines of the helmet and cockpit. He nced over to see Ansel and Haas already starting to undress, Ansel tugging off his gloves with quick movements.


    The training session had gone well. Luca felt a sense of aplishment, confident in the progress he had made by seamlessly blending the day''s programmes. "So, heading home after this?" Luca asked casually, turning toward Ansel.


    "Yeah," Ansel replied with a grunt, pulling out his arm from the snug suit. "We''ll be back tomorrow, so I need to rest as much as possible."


    Luca nodded, stepping aside as the team rolled his car off the track. His gaze briefly flicked toward Mr. Fisher and Mr. Grant, who stood behind the ss walls observing them, but he avoided making full eye contact. "Sounds good. What do you usually do when you''re home?" Luca asked, genuinely curious about what Ansel does whenever he goes home.


    Ansel''s brows furrowed, not just from his poor performance earlier but from the realization that his home life was far from exciting, and there was really nothing he did. "Not much," he admitted with a shrug. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Want toe over? We could finally y that ystation."


    That''s exactly what I want, Luca thought, but he kept his excitement contained, allowing only a small grin to break through. "Sure thing, man. I could use a change of scenery, and I''d love to see your ce," he replied.


    As the cars were cleared from the track, the day''s work officially wrapped up. Everyone was free to unwind, though the week ahead promised a grueling schedule for Trampos Racing¡ªand Luca especially¡ªwith no respite until the weekend.


    After a refreshing shower, Luca dressed in a ck hoodie with the word "Veststar" emzoned in white across the chest, paired with ck joggers and white sneakers. He left his hair in its natural tousled state and pocketed his phone before stepping outside.


    At the towering gates, Ansel was waiting for him, leaning casually against his KIA sedan. The sight of his teammate, dressed in his usualid-back attire, made Luca''s grin widen as he approached.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

 Chapter 73 Hans Second Racetrack

    The drive to Ansel''s home was quiet as Luca sat watching the roads and streets zoom by, apanied by the hum of the air conditioning and the radio buzzing faintly through the car''s interior.


    Luca noticed Ansel was rather cautious, diligently obeying traffic signs and signals and making calcted turns. His driving was starkly different from the aggressive, high-speed style required on the track. As he executed a precise U-turn, Ansel signaled toward the next street, mentioning that it would ultimately lead to his home.


    Luca''s body jolted slightly as the car''s tires rolled over a narrow road bump. Meanwhile, the radio''s volume suddenly seemed louder as the announcer transitioned to a segment on top-tier sports, delving into the thrilling motorsports scene of the century. As Luca had anticipated, the announcer soon began discussing the ongoing championship, offering a detailed review of thetest Grand Prix in Azerbaijan and breaking down results from both divisions.


    Ansel cursed under his breath almost immediately upon hearing the segment. Without hesitation, he removed one hand from the wheel to quickly switch off the radio, restoring the car to its tranquil silence. Luca acted as if he hadn''t noticed, keeping his gaze fixed outside the window. The view outside swirled as the car smoothly entered a roundabout and then began ascending a hill.


    They soon entered Charlottenburg, an upscale neighborhood with quiet, tree-lined streets and homes that exuded charm and affluence. The houses boasted elegant balconies, well-maintained gardens, and architectural designs that seamlessly blended natural aesthetics with modern luxury. From his seat, Luca could tell that these homes were worth thousands of dors each, their tasteful designs exudingfort and sophistication.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    After a brief ride through the serene neighborhood, Ansel pulled up in front of a striking house thatbined brick and ss in its modern design. Itsrge windows bathed the interiors in soft,te-afternoon light, while a manicuredwn and neatly framed pathways weed visitors with a sense of refinement.


    "Beautiful house," Luca remarked as he stepped out of the car once Ansel turned off the engine. He lingered for a moment, taking in the home''s aesthetic, already envisioning his future house resembling something simr.


    "Thank you," Ansel replied with a nod before leaning into the backseat to retrieve hisrge bag. Straightening up, he tapped a button on his key to lock the car.


    Beep beep went the KIA.


    "It''s been two years since I got it," Ansel said, leading the way to the doorstep, where vibrant flower beds framed the walkway in bursts of color. At the stylish wooden front door, he gave a firm but casual knock.


    The door swung open a few momentster to reveal a slender brte with wide lips and a pointed nose. Luca instantly recognized her¡ªLaura, Ansel''s fianc¨¦e. Her gaze flitted between the two men before she offered a slightly nervous but warm "hello" and stepped forward to embrace Ansel.


    Ansel dropped his bag to return her hug, holding her close. Their embrace ended with a firm kiss, one that left Luca standing humbly to the side.


    "Laura, I''m sure Luca isn''t a stranger to you," Ansel said, gesturing toward him.


    "Oh, of course not," Laura replied, extending her hand for a polite shake, which Luca epted with a slight nod. "I remember him well. Please,e in! I made pasta sd," she added cheerfully, ushering the men inside.


    Ansel motioned for Luca to step in first, while Laura led them into a grand living room. The space was inviting yet refined, illuminated byrge floor-to-celieng windows that entuated the bright white walls. A few artworks and personal photos adorned the space, including snapshots of Ansel and Laura together. Among the frames, Luca also noticed unfamiliar faces, likely Ansel''s family members.


    Truthfully, he had no idea Ansel had a loving part of himself to cultivate such a warm weing ce. Watching the ease between Ansel and Laura, Luca couldn''t help but think they made an ideal pair. Their shared energy radiated harmony, as though their future together was already written in stone.


    The sound of cartoons crept into Luca''s awareness. He looked in the direction of the TV, where a popr cartoon, SpongeBob SquarePants, was rolling brightly with a loud volume. The ited head of a young girl poked above the couch that directly faced the TV, her attention clearly undivided and fixed on the pink starfish that was being disyed.


    Luca''s brow lifted in surprise, his thoughts racing. He nced briefly at Ansel and Laura, now chatting quietly near the dining table, before looking back at the girl.


    Love sure manifests in unexpected ways, he mused, surprised Ansel had never mentioned the ultimate product of love already gracing his home.


    "Uncle!" the girl suddenly shrieked, leaping up from the couch to face them. Her bright eyes sparkled as she grinned, finally acknowledging the neers.


    Uncle?


    Luca watched the little girl weave expertly through the morous furniture before crashing into Ansel, who knelt to wrap her in a warm embrace.


    Judging by her size and demeanor, Luca ced her age at around six, which made him wonder exactly how long Ansel and Laura had been together. But she had said "Uncle," hadn''t she?


    Clearing his throat, Luca observed the yful interaction. Ansel had scooped her up, tossing her lightly before holding her close again. "She''s your niece?" Luca asked. Enjoy new stories from empire


    An amused smile spread across Laura''s face as she stepped toward the doorway, though Luca''s question stopped her mid-stride. "Did you think she''s our child?" she asked with a soft chuckle.


    "Who wouldn''t? I mean..."


    "No," the couple replied in unison. Ansel set the girl back down gently and motioned toward her. "She''s my sister''s daughter. Her name''s Emma. Emma, this is Mr. Luca Rennick," he introduced warmly.


    Luca raised a brow, crouching slightly to her level. "You can just call me Luca, dear."


    "Why''re you standing, mate? Grab a seat," Ansel said, gesturing to the room''s plush furnishings as Laura disappeared toward the kitchen to prepare the pasta sd. "I''ll put Emma to bed. Bet she hasn''t slept a wink today."


    "No! I don''t wanna sleep!" Emma protested, but Ansel had no patience for negotiations. He scooped her up easily, ignoring her brief squirming until she finally gave up, resting her head against his shoulder. Luca watched as they disappeared upstairs.


    Now alone in the living room, Luca wandered to the couch, where an orange tabby cat dozed peacefully. He chose a seat near the edge and let his eyes drift back to the TV, where a fresh episode of the cartoon was starting.


    For a moment, he let himself be entertained by the cartoon''s bright colors and whimsical antics. When Ansel returned, he carried two cups and a couple of stout bottles, cing them on the coffee table.


    Ansel sank into the couch and sighed, clearly spent. "Emma''s six, by the way," he began, confirming Luca''s earlier guess. Over the next few minutes, he shared Emma''s story about how her father had passed away from cardiac arrest, leaving her mother to manage the household alone. Her work had taken her overseas, forcing her to entrust Emma to Ansel and Laura while they prepared for their own future together.


    Before Luca could respond, Laura reappeared with bowls of pasta sd. As she set them down, Ansel leaned forward, grabbing a yStation controller from the entertainment console and tossing another one to Luca.


    "Five rounds," Ansel said, smirking as he booted up the console. "Loser runs ten extraps tomorrow."


    Luca grinned wildly, sitting up and adjusting himself. The controller did not feel foreign in his grasp at all. ying videogames was his schtick, and he bet Ansel was a novice. "Very well, you''re on then," he replied.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

 Chapter 74 Destined Path

    Luca spent the day immersed in gaming at Ansel''s home as if their life depended on it. Laura ensured the pair stayed fueled, continually bringing them snacks as the hours ticked by and the pasta sd disappeared.


    Just like Luca had anticipated, his gaming skills far outmatched Ansel''s. Whether it was racing or shooting games, Luca swept through each round with ease, leaving Ansel in a consistent state of defeat. By the time evening arrived, Ansel had lost their bet entirely, much to Luca''s amusement.


    When the sun dipped below the horizon, Ansel suggested Luca stay the night. Although tempted, Luca declined. He valued his routines and had responsibilities to address, particrly the looming Daily Quest he was still yet to get its notification.


    Despite being visibly tired, Ansel managed to drive Luca back to Trampos''s headquarters. The city''s nightscape blurred past them as the car weaved through its streets. Upon arrival, Luca exited, giving Ansel a casual wave goodbye. He made his way through the securepound, greeted by patrolling guards, and climbed up to his private quarters.


    Once inside, Luca quickly got to work. The day''s Daily Quest involved a very easy task and it was mere wall push-ups. Within minutes, the notification appeared:


    [Congrattions! Daily Quest Completed!]


    Satisfied, Luca headed to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. Dinner was next: a carefully crafted te featuring grilled salmon marinated in olive oil, paired with fluffy quinoa. Roasted zhini, carrots, and bell pepperspleted the meal. The delicious aroma filled the room as Luca ate, reflecting on the day.


    He briefly considered resuming his training regimen by watching a race before bed. However, his eyes still felt strained from hours of gaming. Deciding against further screen time, Luca opted to retire early, letting his body and mind recharge for the challenges of the next day.


    --------------------------------------------


    The following day held as much energy and action as its predecessor. Trampos Headquarters bustled with activity as everyone returned to their routines, all eyes on the results from Bahrain''s preparations. Lucapleted his tasks with Amir, skillfully bncing his Daily Routine with simtor sessions to hone his skills.


    By the time Luca finished his morning, Ansel and Haas had wrapped up their sessions as well. The trio took to the track, pushing the limits of their cars with undirectedps and swerves and acting as opponents for Luca''s Racecraft programme.


    Later in the day, the team gathered for a long-anticipated interview with the official Federation''s press. The atmosphere in the venue was lively, filled with the sound of clicking cameras and murmured conversations as journalists jockeyed for position. Mr. Grant dominated the discussion, confidently addressing questions about the recent results from Baku, and how the team would tackle and remedy the drop in points. He assured the press that Trampos Racing was poised to reim its standings, dering with conviction, "This is our year to win the championship."


    Ansel and Haas chimed in during the interview, sharing their perspectives on team dynamics and race strategies with Bahrain''s Grand Prix in sight. Luca remained in the background, not part of the main interview that was held at the table, but a few questions were thrown at him and Mr. Moritz in the other room.


    Fans were present in the venue, and their presence surely depicted that their teams were in attendance. Two other German teams in F2 had attended the day''s meeting in Kreuzberg, the venue hosted in the Tempodrom. Trampos Racing were obliged to meet up with them and foster thatradeship amongst themselves. Luca was d that the other teams were bottom table teams, meaning Trampos Racing were basically the pride of Germany in F2, and maybe in all divisions. Luca wasn''t sure if he could even recall a German F1 team.


    The interview came to an end, and the teams began to leave the lobby. The fans outside waved eagerly to get glimpses of Luca and Ansel, red, ck and white crowding the area. Luca couldn''t believe this many people actually turned out to see them, and also spent their weekends on race weeks watching motorsport.


    Ansel took the lead and acknowledged the fans in a casual but firm manner, humbly taking pictures with them and signing autographs. Luca followed suit, many younger fans rushing to him. Fortunately, the barricade and the security did a good job to prevent direct physical contact with Luca.


    "Would you race next Saturday?!" One young girl asked as Luca ducked in for a selfie. She was blonde with a red Trampos bow on her head, a red t-shirt that clearly brandished Luca''s Dara with his 21.


    "No, I''m afraid not," Luca replied with a soft smile. "Would you like me to race?"


    "Ja!" Another boy screamed with enthusiasm.


    "Don''t worry, this is all for the team. I''ll race in the next round after that. Make sure you''ll be there, okay?" Luca said, waving to others behind the kids. "Where''d it be hosted? I hope it isn''t far, I would like to see your faces in the stands."


    "In London," a young teenager said with a shrug, and others confirmed. "It isn''t that far."


    London? Luca asked inwardly, the name of the familiar city resonating within him like an echo. Luca grimaced and blinked while nodding thoughtfully. "That''s perfect," he finally muttered as he took more pictures with them, greeting people of varying ages.


    The British Grand Prix is right after Bahrain''s?! That''s wonderful! Luca had no idea this was what the season''s calendar had for him. The thought of having the chance to meet his mother and sister instantly dawned on him, and Luca couldn''t hold back his excitement, channeling his smile to the fans.


    After a while of mingling with the fans, Luca finally noticed Ansel folding his arms with a look of impatience etched on his face. The rest of the team stood nearby, ncing at their watches and shifting from foot to foot, clearly ready to get back to their preparations and schedule. Luca had to cease the glory and return to the team. Cheers filled the air, the fans waving them goodbye as they boarded the bus.


    "You''re having fun with your little fan club?" Ansel sneered. "They got too fond of you so quickly."


    Luca grinned as he settled into his seat, the bus rumbling with life with their HQ their destination once again. Resuming the week''s heavy schedule was the major objective. "I think so. I was just soaking in the moment," he replied, ncing at the window where the people were still standing, watching them leave. "You won''t believe where we have next."


    "The UK?" Ansel said. "I remember you saying you''d lived there..."


    "Yup!" Luca responded, his excitement bubbling up. "I might get to see my mother again."


    Ansel nodded softly, shifting his concentration to his phone. Luca followed suit and had to pull out his own phone from his pocket, the stagger of the bus making the action quite difficult.


    Finally unveiling the device, Luca wanted to check for the details himself to be truly sure Ennd was their next destination after Bahrain. Opening the F1 application, there were the details he was searching for.


    British Grand Prix


    Location: London, Ennd


    Date: May 10


    Track: Stadhaven CircuitN?v(el)B\\jnn


    Luca''s heart skipped a beat. Stadhaven Circuit?! The very same circuit where it all started for him? It would host the sixth round of the championship!


    Luca''s eyes remained wide open as he slowly pressed the power button, and the screen flickered off, revealing his surprised reflection.


    He would finally be behind the wheel for an F2 race, and Stadhaven would be the circuit hosting that race. He calmly digested the surreal information, knowing nothing was as better as the fact that he wouldy eyes on his mother and sister again.


    Luca changed his surprise to a smile, his mind reeling as the bus came to a stop in the HQ and the team disembarked. This would surely mean that his mother would get to watch him race in Stadhaven, further giving him the drive to win!


    But first, Bahrain was in sight, and the team had a hurdle to ovee. Trampos Racing went to work for the mere 2 hours left for the day, yet it was enough to cover significant ground.


    [Ding!] went Luca''s System after another day, rewarding him with [Strength +1], taking that attribute to 17. Now, Luca''s Attributes had garnered these values.


    [Strength: 17


    Stamina: 22


    Endurance: 22


    Agility: 18


    Intelligence: 18 ]


    He believed there was still work to be done before he entered the main division, Form 1, where thepetition was much more difficult than Form 2.


    The fifth round of the championship came around, and the team boarded their equipment, vehicles and personnel to the country of Bahrain. The small ind country in the Persian Gulf, didn''t really have a rich history for motorsport. The Bahrain International Circuit was just constructed some years back, and the nation was slowly bing a permanent entity for motosport.


    Luca found the country strikingly simr to Dubai, perhaps due to its Arabian nature and modernity. In the capital of Manama, the team had ess to a remarkable training facility that boasted state-of-the-art equipment. Mr. Grant made excellent use of these resources, emphasizing all attributes during their practice sessions.


    The host racetrack had high-speed straights and challenging corners, Ansel and Haas had been informed beforehand, and their drills were meticulously designed to help them limate to the circuit''s demands. They focused on honing their braking techniques and perfecting their cornering strategies, all while monitoring telemetry data to fine-tune their performance. Each session came with daunting press interviews afterwards as the team and other teams sharpened themselves for Saturday.

 Chapter 75 Fourth Place Equals Frustration

    Race Day: April. 22, Bahrain International Circuit, Manama, Bahrain.


    The race began at 12:30 pm. The weather above the Circuit was deemed perfect for the day''s event. The sun shone brightly, casting clear skies with minimal cloud cover, bringing about warm temperatures hovering around 77¨C86¡ãF.


    A light breeze brushed through the stands, serving as a backdrop to thementator''s resonating words. Visibility was excellent, favoring both drivers and spectators thanks to the ideal atmospheric conditions. Even the structure of the circuit was magnificent, mirroring the modernity of the training facilities where the teams had practiced. The asphalt was pristine, bordered by fine grass beyond the bright red and white tracks. The grandstands featured exquisite roofs, providing fans with shelter from the sun and a weing shade as the single-seaters zoomed past, navigating the 44p race.


    Sitting in the paddock seats once again were Luca, Victor, and other non-driving team members, their legs tense and ready to leap in celebration at any overtake Ansel might manage against the top rivals.


    The race progressed, and Luca was so far satisfied with the current results¡ªat least where Ansel was concerned. Haas remained a setback, with P8 being his best position so far. Ansel, however, was pushing hard for P2, putting on an impressive disy that forced the Bahrain crowd to cheer.


    Luca leaned in, absorbing every detail of the race as it slowly approached its peak. He noticed that some drivers, especially Addams and Aaronson, were unting moves he recognized fromst season''s races. Luca wasn''t sure if it was because those clips were still fresh in his memory, but he found their strategies strikingly easy to read once he focused on subtle shifts in their chassis movements.


    Even Ansel was repeating the same in-outne maneuver all over again, trying to pass Addams on the inside of the track before cutting to the outside. This move would ideally set him up in the middle of the racing line¡ªa textbook overtake in anyone''s opinion. But Addams, as strong as ever, was an expert at defending his position. Although Ansel briefly imed P2, the leaderboard consistently disyed Addams'' name in the second spot. Meanwhile, Aaronson was cruising up front, seemingly poised to win the Bahrain Grand Prix as well.


    However, by the 20thp, the track became heated, and all the team paddocks had their members on their feet. The congestion was intense: Addams was closing the gap to Aaronson while his teammate, Walding, surged to P6, overtaking Volyinski to position himself just behind Derstappen in a fierce battle. The sh extended to Kristensen, resulting in three single-seaters bottlenecked at the chicane until Walding emerged in P4, with Kristensen following close behind.


    Luca''s concern shifted to Ansel, whose Trampos-colored car was alone in the leading pack, just a few seconds ahead of the ever-hungry Miles Bellingham. The 30thp forced Ansel into a pit stop, his car barreling down the pitne.


    He had to get back into the race as quickly as possible, and the pitstop didn''t look like it would make his race any better.


    "...ohh, and it''s slow. It''s a slow one. Hahn would wish for better as he gets back into it... but Bellingham is on that DRS; he''s gonna fuel that frustration!"


    Luca gripped his hair as the roar of Miles''s engine seemed to crawl over his body, making him feel as if he were Ansel. He couldn''t help but wonder how Ansel felt at that moment. The pitstop took a nail-biting 4.9 seconds, and Ansel could only try to cut back. But with Miles''s momentum, Trampos dropped to P4.


    The whole paddock cursed as Squadra Corse fans leaped to their feet in jubtion. Their new star was fulfilling the hopes they had ced on him. With Derstappen out of form, Miles Bellingham had restored the renowned team to its former heights.


    "...Bellingham makes the exit, right behind BV, and Hahn can''t keep up with that momentum. The 40thp begins, and Trampos Racing loses sight of the podium...!"


    "...poor, poor, poor. Even P4 doesn''t look secure for him. Walding is closing in, and with the sheer determination the 20-year-old has shown all season for his team, it''s only a matter of time before he makes a move..."


    Mr. Grant could only remain silent in his viewing post as he observed the race intently, speaking with his assistants asionally. For him, he had wanted to groom Luca to be the bedrock and pir of Trampos Racing, where Luca would be the very powerhouse needed to gain the points on every GP. Mr. Grant was just realizing it now that Luca was already the pir of Trampos Racing the moment he finished third in Bad Rauenburg. And now, the whole team have been aligned with his influence. The whole team, including Ansel.


    Mr. Grant remained silent as the leading pack approached the final sector, the crowd on their feet to give a deafening round of apuse and cheers. Trampos Racing remained seated, hoping for a miracle to push Ansel''s car beyond P4. He had raced well today, but the odds were not in his favor.


    Ansel made a bold attempt on the inside, trying for ast-minute outpace. But Miles felt the pressure, kept his cool, and maintained his racing line. On the final straight, all the top cars had equal eleration with DRS, pulling away from each other as the checkered g waved to conclude the Bahrain Grand Prix.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "...with an incredible finish to the race, Aaronson ims first in the championship for the second race in a row! Addams taking second with Miles Bellingham making P3 for Squadra Corse Jnr...!"


    "...Ansel Hahn gave it his all, you can see the disappointment, but he raced valiantly, keeping Trampos Racing in the fight. He''ll take valuable lessons from this race as he looks ahead..."


    The Trampos Racing garage remained quiet for a moment, letting the season''s theme song echo through the circuit as the crowd cheered for the drivers rolling to a calm stop. Secondster, the team sprang into action. Luca rose to his feet, taking a deep breath to ept the results thementators couldn''t stop analyzing. The leaderboard clearly disyed Ansel in 4th¡ªa final position they had hoped to avoid.


    Luca wondered how high Bueseno had climbed, considering Addams''s P2 and Walding''s P5. Thatbination would tally up a frightening score, putting Trampos''s lead in jeopardy.


    Hatcherk fans were free to celebrate like never before as Aaronson drove by, waving to them. Their second win in the championship was solidifying them as strong contenders, potentially even more than Squadra Corse, given the current standings. Luca began setting up those he would look out for in London, keeping the teams'' points in mind. In a situation, he could let Volyinski or Kristensen, Retona''s drivers outpace him just for him to keep hold of the real rivals with threatening points.


    Weaving through the crowded garage, Luca felt an intense desire to analyze the telemetry data again. Ansel had clearly raced better today than in Azerbaijan, but thepetition had been far too fierce. Luca wanted to see if theputers could reveal details invisible to the naked eye.


    Arriving at the telemetry room, he found Mr. Grant already present, surrounded by Trampos staff, all d in their red uniforms. Locking gazes with Mr. Grant, Luca could sense the man''s unspoken demand: to get back on the track and help Trampos win a Grand Prix again!

 Chapter 76 Spring Air 2

    The Form 1 season schedule grew tougher and more congested than ever as the championship approached the sixth round and midseason. This tight itinerary gave all F1 and F2 teams rtively just a one-week gap between the Bahrain and British Grands Prix.


    And with tighter schedules came tighter and denser training drills. The team had justnded in Fulham, London after a two-day airline dy caused by heavy rainfall and thunderstorms. The spring season was at its peak just as the new month of May unfolded, offering fresh opportunities for corrections and improvements before thetter half of the year.


    Stepping out of the bus to their designated training facility before the uing race on Saturday, Luca paused for a moment to savor the cool, crisp air.  Overhead, the sky was a muted gray, casting a soft, almost mncholic light across the city. The faint scent of rain lingered, mingling with the earthy aroma of blooming flowers. The streets were alive with the hum of traffic and the distant chatter of pedestrians, creating a backdrop that was uniquely... London.


    Luca removed his headset and hung it around his neck, sighing deeply as the team exited the bus in an organized line to their shuttle, like soldiers preparing for battle. His gaze swept the surroundings. It was obvious that it had rained earlier today as everyone except them had umbres with them.


    FAF Performance Centre, Luca muttered inwardly as he stared at the bill hung on the facility. He had never heard of it. Much likely because he didn''t live in this part of London. Even at that, Luca had expected to meet this city with some sense of familiarity. He had thought nostalgia would wash over him, his body tickling with anything that reminded him of the memorable past.


    Surprisingly to Luca, London just felt like the other four cities around the world he had traveled to. There was no igniting spark of recognition, and it seemed like any other citybeled under the Form 1 calendar.


    "Make sure not to get too hydrated, you''d use the bathroom much more than you nned!" A tall staff member with a clipboard voiced loudly. "And alsoyer up any chance you get. It''s very chilly in every corner, especially at the simtors."


    Mr. Moritz pped his hands loudly, the sound resonating as filler bottles were handed out to everyone. "Well, wee to us! Let''s stay sharp, focused and build up that energy again. We rule London by Saturday!" He hollered, leaning to a technician to listen closely to whatever was being discussed.


    Luca felt the cold through his sneakers, gripping his bag tightly as he awaited further instructions. Ansel, Haas, and Victor stood close to him, surrounded by other crew members they were fond of.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    After a brief round of instructions, the team was directed further inside, where full-scale training couldmence. The track was as conventional as ever, with a calm, focused atmosphere perfect for concentration.


    Trampos Racing got to work.


    After a series of quick physical drills, the arrival of the machinery truck signaled the start of preparations. The team assembled the cars, fine-tuning them for optimal performance. Soon, all four Trampos drivers donned their racing suits as the single-seaters were rolled out for them onto the track.


    Within minutes, they were zipping around the facility at a safe speed, carefully warming up the engines and tires while sharpening their focus and reflexes. After a few warm-upps, Mr. Grant and his assistants gathered the team¡ªLuca and Ansel¡ªto discuss their major race strategy. Mr. Grant emphasized that they would adopt a strategy simr to what had led to their victory in Monaco, with slight modifications for the unique challenges ahead. He expected Ansel not to hold his line but to drive aggressively and aim for a podium finish, preferably P1.


    "Stadhaven is a new circuit for us," Mr. Grant exined. "We haven''t raced on this track yet, so we can only specte about its challenges. However, we sent representatives to survey theyout, and their feedback indicates that it''s quite bnced."


    He paused to pull up a tablet, revealing aerial images of the well-structured track. "Theyout is a 50:50 in terms of challenge¡ªoffering both tight corners and long straights. This bnce makes it suitable for various racing strategies, allowing for overtaking opportunities while also testing our skill in maneuvering through the tighter sections. The surface appears to have good grip, which should benefit us during the race."


    Luca''s eyes scanned the familiar circuit. Stadhaven was nice, no doubt. It had this perfectyout to the sun, making the grass and the track glitter naturally. The aerial photos with empty grandstands even brought out the deep beauty of the track¡ªthe curves and straights. Stadhaven was really 50:50.


    "Overall, the track seems fair," Mr. Moritz continued from where Mr. Grant stopped. "If we keep our speed and turns correct, I see a strong result for us. C''mon."


    Luca took a deep breath as he spun around to face his car. His eyes caught Ansel''s inward grumble¡ªa clear sign of unhappiness¡ªand Luca had seen a lot of it ever since Bahrain. Luca understood Ansel''s frustration, and if he were to be honest, he''d be unhappy too. Ansel had looked like he would be in wonderful form just after Australia, where he imed his first P1 of the season, with Monaco making it his second, only for him to drop back in the following races.


    Putting on his helmet, Luca let his System flicker to life, the words [SYSTEM ONLINE...] briefly disyed on the screen before another assessment of the Dara before him took ce.


    Mr. Grant stood by Luca''s single-seater once he entered, the engine rumbling deeply beneath him. Luca turned to see his Team Principal ring down at him, clearly ready for a brief conversation¡ªwithout the radio. Quickly, he slotted up his helmet''s visor as Mr. Grant leaned on the chassis.


    "You''re well aware we do not owe Haas any more races?" Mr. Grant began, and Luca nodded.


    "Good. So that means you have all Featured Races to you and your pal there, and I want the both of you to cook up a chemistry that has never been seen before. Do you get me?"


    "Yes, sir."


    "It''s Trampos''s season. We started morously; we must finish with that same mor. Do you get me?"


    "Yes, sir."


    Mr. Grant nodded, giving his vibrating car a nice, supportive tap. "Alright then. Drive away, and keep your eyes open. I don''t want any contact with a rival," he said, ncing at Haas behind Luca. He made a quick signal, yelling, "Onward!"


    Luca shut his visor and focused on Ansel''s car just ahead, his mind reeling with many thoughts as they were set to fire away. Haas would work as an opponent and pose significant threats while Luca and Ansel practiced clean track hugging and effective use of straights.


    They were signaled to begin, and they all shot away, speeding up gradually.


    **What''s your status?** Mr. Moritz asked.


    Luca nced around his System, and everything seemed fine. Realizing the tone of Moritz''s voice, Luca chuckled. The question was not about his car. "I''m good, powered up in fact," he replied.


    **Good. Good. Let''s fly**


    ---------------------------------------


    After two wonderful days of training with a third to look out for, Luca was d to see a notification for an attribute point.


    [Ding!]


    [Agility +1]


    With that increase, his Attributes had these values:


    [Strength: 17


    Stamina: 22


    Endurance: 22


    Agility: 19


    Intelligence: 18 ]


    Luca was excited because the System had assured him that once all Attributes reached the 20 mark, a new Skill would be unlocked and made avable for his use, thereby increasing his chances of winning more races. Simrly, when the Attributes all reached the 30 mark, another Skill would be unlocked, then again at the 40 mark, and so on.


    Taking a look at his Skills & Techniques section on the screen disy, Luca was also eager to max out Reflexes and Track Awareness. Maxing out each Skill individually, not collectively, to 20 would also unlock one additional Skill for Luca.


    [Reflexes: 19


    Overtaking Skill: 20


    Track Awareness: 18


    Pitstop Prodigy: 5


    Corner Chopping: 4


    Straightaway Chopping:3


    Others (Locked) ] Read exclusive adventures at empire


    Alright, Luca. I''ll y my cards well, he said to himself as he entered the chill-out section of the facility. The atmosphere was chilly, but Luca felt warm after spending minutes in the cockpit of an overheating beast of a machine.


    He instinctively sat down on a bench fixed to the wall, dismissing the System interface before pulling his phone out of his bag. Luca was determined to analyze what he was up against in Stadhaven and n how to react to each rival.


    He swiped his phone to unlock it, greeted by hundreds of unread messages piling in. Luca had no time to respond to them all or even check who had messaged him. He had pinned chats from Sara, Amir, Mallow, and Mr. Fisher for quick ess. With practiced efficiency, he replied to each of them swiftly, ensuring everything was on track without any major dys. Skipping over the other messages, Luca opened the F1 application.


    The fact that Aaronson had won two Grand Prix races in a row gnawed at him. Even Walding must have racked up plenty of points with consistent finishes near the podium. There was no denying it that Trampos''s lead was under threat.


    To confirm, Luca scrolled to the team standings and reviewed the rankings for himself.


    PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    --------------------------------------------------


    1.            | Trampos Racing           |   142


    2.            | Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr.  |   126


    3.            | Hatcherk Motorsport   |   90


    4.            | Squadra Corse Jnr       |   75


    5.            | Retona Racing              |   22


    Luca let out a sigh of relief, though there was a subtle hint of cynicism. Trampos still held the lead, which spoke volumes about the massive gap they had built earlier. But with Bueseno also in triple figures and wing closer, one more poor race from Trampos could hand them the lead.


    Luca wouldn''t let that happen. This waspetition at its finest, and he swore toe out victorious.


    Ansel''s familiar footsteps echoed into the chill-out section, drawing Luca''s attention away from his phone. Ansel looked despondent as he passed by to grab his water bottle. His usual stoic demeanor now carried a noticeable somberness.


    "You were pretty fast today, I''m not gonna lie," Luca remarked, hoping to spark that electricity once again. "You think you can do the same on Saturday?"


    Ansel chuckled softly, a deep breath escaping his lips. He dabbed at his neck with his towel and gripped the strap of his bag, clearly ready to call it a day. "We can only try our best," he said before walking toward the door. But he stopped before Luca, raising a brow. "You said you''d like to meet your family when you got here. You haven''t yet, have you?"


    "Nope, not yet."


    "When will you? After the race?"


    "Yup," Luca replied, switching off his phone. "I don''t want anything distracting me beforehand. For now, it''s focus. Sunday will be the perfect time to meet them."


    Ansel smiled warmly, offering Luca a hand. Luca quickly epted, grasping Ansel''s strong grip as their muscles tensed. With a grunt, Luca was pulled to his feet and he dusted off his pants.


    Picking up his bag, the two left the chill-out section together and retired for the day.

 Chapter 77 Return To Stadhaven

    Race Day: May 10, Stadhaven Circuit, London, Ennd.


    Stadhaveny just on the edge of the city, and all teams arrived on time for preparations, setting up, media engagements, listing, and briefing. As dynamic as the city of London was, the circuit and its surrounding venues were already crowded with people even before the start of the Sprint Race. Whether Form 1 or Form 2, the thrill of the sport was the same for them, and these spectators were here to savor every moment.


    Trampos Racing rolled in just after 11:30, their sleek transport trailing behind Retona''s distinctive violet buses. Luca looked around, his eyes scanning every detail he could recall from his few visits to this ce.


    Stadhaven was unique, with buildings and surrounding organized structures not typically seen at regr circuits. It felt as though the venue served multiple purposes, with motorsport racing as its primary function. Luca secretly admired the setup; it gave true purpose to a sports venue, with hundreds of traffic personnel managing the area. Maybe it is just London''s style, he thought, as their transport came to a halt.


    The cheers of fans scattered around the circuit''s outskirts erupted in ps as they disembarked. Security promptly weed them, leading them into a safene previously used by Retona''s crew. The safene was a nting pavement cleared of fans to allow teams to enter the circuit safely through a tunnel that branched off into different sections and facilities.


    Luca chuckled as he remembered walking this same path behind a security guard a few months ago, only to meet Sara, the then-secretary. He wondered what Mr. Mallow and Sara might feel, or have in their minds, as they returned to London and Stadhaven.


    "Could we just move this way, please?" a marshal urged, his voice cutting through the din. The team obeyed, navigating through the throng and entering the tunnel, where the atmosphere shifted. The cacophony of excited fans faded to a low hum, reced by the rhythmic thud of their footsteps on the smooth concrete. Luca stayed close to Ansel and McCauley as they were guided deeper into the venue, Trampos Racing trailing behind Retona.


    Momentster, their progress was abruptly halted. A pair of security guards stood at the far end of the tunnel, gesturing for both teams to pause. "A minor issue," they exined, needing a moment to clear the area. Stadhaven, it seemed, was even more crowded inside than Luca had imagined it would be. After all, this was the circuit''s first official race in the championship.


    Both teams were required to wait in the tunnel while the issue was resolved as quickly as possible. The bright white light from the ceiling reflected off the vivid red of Trampos Racing''s uniforms and the deep violet of Retona''s. The two teams clung to opposite sides of the tunnel, their bodynguage rigid as they waited in silence.


    Luca couldn''t help but nce in Retona''s direction, mostly to get a closer look at Oliver Kristensen, their main driver, with d Volyinski just behind him, leaning casually against the wall. Kristensen was a lean, tall bloke with sideburns and deep brown hair. At 21 years old, he was Norwegian by nationality. Luca admired Kristensen''s personality, which radiated a mature calmness and good sportsmanship.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    He leaned back against the cool wall, taking in every second of the tension between the teams. The dy seemed to stretch on for an eternity, though itsted just a few minutes. Even so, some members of both teams began showing signs of irritation, shuffling their feet and casting side nces at each other.


    If Luca''s memory was correct, Retona currently had 22 points in the standings,pared to Trampos'' 142. They were not the rivals Trampos needed to worry about this season, so Luca didn''t regard them as a serious threat. Surprisingly, the rest of the Trampos team did. He''d learned that Retona had once been Trampos'' fiercest rivals at midtable. Back when junior teams like Squadra Corse, Bueseno Velocit¨¤, and Nevada HanSama dominated the division, with Hatcherk close behind, Retona and Trampos were neck-and-neck, battling to break into the top five.


    The marshals eventually returned, bringing the news they had been waiting for. Both teams were now allowed to proceed, with Retona retaking the lead.


    More figures entered the tunnel, their shadows stretching across the floor, and Luca could hear murmurs of weing. Mr. Grant, who had been lingering at the back, strode quickly to the front and extended his hand for a handshake with a certain man surrounded by others who seemed subordinate to him.


    "Wee. I hope your team does well," the man said, gripping Mr. Grant''s hand firmly.


    "Thank you. And thank you for this excellent facility," Mr. Grant replied, breaking the handshake before returning to the team. Each member of the Trampos crew took turns shaking hands with the weers, and Luca instantly recognized the man.


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    I almost forgot about this man. Wow, Luca thought inwardly as he approached Mr. Vance for a handshake. So, he''s still managing this ce. Good for him.


    "Wee. I hope your team does well," Mr. Vance repeated the same phrase as he shook Ansel''s hand before turning to Luca. But as soon as Mr. Vance''s eyesnded on him, he froze, his fake smile morphing into a confused frown.


    Aren''t you the one who signed me to Trampos? Why are you stunned?


    Luca quickly extended his hand, eager to get to the team''s paddock and kick off preparations. But Mr. Vance, seemingly too stunned, just stared at him without reacting.


    Luca withdrew his hand and walked away toward Trampos''s paddock and garage, the crowd''s cheers growing louder as he emerged from the tunnel. I''ll give you more reasons to be stunned when I win today, he thought.


    Pausing briefly, he took a second to take in the sight, thendscape of Stadhaven as his eyes searched for the particr spot where Antonio Luigi''s car had hit him. His gaze swept over the already filled grandstands and the track adorned with Form 1 sponsor logos beforending on the exact spot. Though it was far away, he recognized it instantly.


    "Luca!"


    He turned to see McCauley waving for him. Without hesitation, he jogged toward the garage, now a hive of activity. Adrenaline coursed through him, his anticipation rising. He was ready to get back on the track and burn his tires to victory.

 Chapter 78 Return To Stadhaven 2

    The tension in the pit was thick with anticipation, though a muted, drizzly gray still hung in the air despite the creeping noon. Luca sat on a bench in the Trampos Racing garage, head tilted back, his gaze on the ceiling as he listened to the steady thrum of heavy metal in his ears¡ªa personal ritual to settle his nerves. But his focus was broken when a teammate leaned over, breaking into his solitude.


    "You''ve got 33% backing you today, Luca. They''ve put your name at the top of their list," the crew member urged, his voice somewhere between motivation and pleading. "If you can''t win it for anything, win it for us. That 33% aren''t clueless¡ªthey know why they put their money on you."


    Luca gave a crooked smile, the hint of a smirk. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, McCauley interrupted from behind, shoving the over-eager crew member aside with a scoff.


    "Quit telling him that crap," McCauley voiced, scowling at the funny crew member before turning his attention to Luca. Luca''s smile widened with amusement as if he was holding backughter.


    "You think you can finish top five at least? Starting at P8 with suchpetition is a difficult thing, and we need at least two-figure points from you and Ansel to stay at the top," McCauley said. "So, can you?"


    "Yes, I will. Podium might prove difficult, but I assure you, I won''t finish below P5," Luca replied. "There''s nothing for you to worry about though."


    McCauley''s scowl softened, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he rubbed his gloved hands together against the chill to grant himself some warmth. "Good to hear it straight from you." He looked past Luca, toward the paddock where the grandstands buzzed with a steady hum of spectators. The morning''s sprint race had set a high bar for the team, with Ansel dominating from pole position to take P1, while Haas secured P4, missing a top-three finish by mere seconds.


    It was a good result, but once again, Luca wasn''t satisfied. Just like before, the top teams had put in their reserves to participate in the Sprint Race, and not their main drivers, which was lesspetition for Ansel. Luca still congratted him and urged him to perform even more as the main event for the day approached rapidly.


    "How long until lights out?" Luca asked, dropping his gaze to McCauley.


    McCauley paused in the doorway, his brow quirking as he nced at his watch. "About an hour," he replied, ncing out toward the murky sky. "This weather makes it feel like we''re in a waiting room, right?"


    Luca chuckled, running a hand over his face. "Yeah, feels like I''ve been sitting here forever."


    McCauley nced back with a knowing nod. "Let''s see if I could get you a set of grid lights set up so you can keep your reflexes sharp until Ansel''s back."


    "Sounds good," Luca replied, eager to shake off the dull lull. His fingers flexed in anticipation as he set down his headset, already visualizing the starting lights.


    Ansel entered a few momentster, greeting Luca before settling quietly onto the bench adjacent to Luca''s. He remained quiet, leaning in to interlock his fingers as he gazed endlessly at the floor.


    Luca had learnt this was Ansel''s way of preparing for a race¨Cby being quiet and concentrating at a random spot, his cold eyes focused intently on nothing in particr. Today, though, there was something more intense in his gaze; his eyes were sharper, almost icy, and the only part of his face visible beneath the ck bva that masked his nose and mouth. He was half-dressed, d only in a fitted vest,pression sleeves and boots.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Luca, on the other hand, had only his vest and boots on. He wanted to speak to Ansel, but McCauley and a few other crew members slipped in, their presence noisy and crowded.


    "Forty minutes left till lights out, gentlemen," McCauley announced, striding over to Luca with a tablet in his possession. "Let''s run through quickly. Gaffer will be here anytime soon."


    Ansel didn''t bother to look up, his ritual never disrupted by anyone if not Mr. Grant. Luca sat up right and epted the tablet, tapping its screen as it flickered to life. The same setup from all light reaction drills he had practiced, and Luca was getting good at it.


    He focused intently, going through session after session as a few crew members gathered nearby, watching his progress with growing excitement. At the end of his 55th session, Luca exhaled deeply, his fingers lifting from the screen as the crew cheered. An impressive 84% uracy across so many rounds. It was no small feat.


    Luca stood up, blinking hard as he rubbed his eyes, which ached from the constant focus. The grid lights still seemed to sh in his vision like an afterimage that lingered even as he looked away. He blinked rapidly, then shook his head clear and strode over to where his racing suity folded, ready.


    Ansel rose as well, his quiet moment finally over. The hum of the crowd''s cheers and thementary echoed from the screens and speakers around them. The announcer''s voice grew louder, weing spectators and detailing the season''s highlights so far as they approached midseason.


    Both young drivers slipped into their suits, the fabric hugging their bodies like a second skin. The bold white letters of ''Trampos'' stretched across their chests, catching the room''s light and grounding them in the moment¡ªthis was the British Grand Prix, and everything they''d trained for was right ahead.


    Luca tugged on his bva, then his gloves, flexing his fingers to get a feel for the grip. From the corner of his eye, he studied Ansel, whose expression hovered somewhere between calm and fierce. He didn''t look happy nor sad, he had a face of determination, if Luca could call it that.


    Ansel noticed Luca''s scrutinizing gaze and chuckled beneath his head sock. "Is there something wrong?"


    Luca shrugged. "No, just... you look... too ready."


    Ansel rolled his eyes, rubbing his wrists. "Aren''t we supposed to be? Besides, gaffer''s here." Find exclusive stories on empire


    Luca turned to see Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz stepping into the room, their expressions as focused as ever.

 Chapter 79 Lights Out In Stadhaven

    Trampos Racing had both drivers starting from P4 and P8¡ªfairly solid positions for a team, yet with elite drivers ahead, breaking through would be difficult.


    Luca and Ansel were focused on executing the Dual Advance Strategy, where Luca, starting at P8, would adopt an aggressive approach. Ansel, holding P4, would maintain a steady pace, defending hisne against overtakes while scouting for opportunities to advance. The n hinged on Luca creating chaos in the upper midfield, potentially unsettling the drivers ahead. This would allow Ansel to transition from passive to aggressive, capitalizing on the disruption to im P3, P2, or even P1.


    In summary, Mr. Grant wanted Luca to be fierce out there, and Luca was more than happy to ept such an assignment.


    Both drivers emerged from the garage with their helmets firmly in hand. The roar of the circuit outside grew louder, apanied by the steady shuffle of activity within the garage. The anticipation was palpable as the wait was over. It was time tounch the British Grand Prix. Aheady 45 gruelingps of Stadhaven, a race that carried significant weight for every driver and team in Form 2, especially with points at stake before the season''s mid-break.


    "... Bueseno Velocit¨¤, 13, Max Addams, 67, Daniel Walding...!"


    "... Trampos Racing, 43, Ansel Hahn, 21, Luca Rennick...!"


    "... Hatcherk Motorsport, 33, Peter De Klerk, 09, Sean Aaronson...!"


    The announcer continued, his voice booming through the circuit speakers as he proimed the names of the drivers set to race. The roster was locked in; no changes could be made, and each driver announced was required to participate.


    When Hatcherk Motorsport''s drivers were named, a deafening wave of apuse and cheers erupted from the grandstands, noticeably louder than for any other team. Luca immediately took note. Being an English team, Hatcherk''s overwhelming fan support was evident, and the crowd''s enthusiasm painted a clear picture.


    Curious, Luca stepped forward and peeked out from the garage, and his suspicions were confirmed. The grandstands were a vivid sea of Hatcherk''s signature orange as banners, hats, and gs waved furiously, transforming that section of the circuit into a wall of energy and color. Even the damp, dreary atmosphere couldn''t dull the vibrancy of the disy.


    It had drizzled a little after the Sprint Race, dropping the temperature even lower and projecting a hazy sheen to the entire circuit. The dampness gave the track an almost reflective quality, with ambient lights casting a soft glow that shimmered against the slick asphalt. Some puddles had gathered, creating shattered patches along the track.


    Luca was thrilled to drive on such ayer of challenge. Racing in adverse weather was something he had practiced countless times in simtors, but now he had the chance to prove himself in reality


    He rushed back into the heart of the garage where the cars were ready. Ansel had his helmet on already, visor down, engrossed in conversation with the team''s lead engineer. Federation stewards moved around the garage, clipboards in hand, conducting their routine pre-race inspections. The Trampos crew gave them space, ensuring everythingplied with regtions.


    Luca pulled on his own helmet and adjusted the straps, securing it tightly. The garage promptly narrowed to the visible field of his visors and his mind focused. Okay, Luca said inwardly, taking in a deep breath of the helmet''s interior scent. He gave a quick thumbs-up to a female crew member who approached him with a tablet, reviewing his own telemetry. The team had just adjusted his brake bias and tire pressures to adapt to the damp track, adding grip for the challenging atmospheric conditions ahead.


    "You''re spearheading today?" She asked as Luca nodded his head to the info.


    He transitioned his nod to answer her question. "Yes. Han will y off whatever chaos I manage to stir," he replied.


    "Alright, then," she said, taking her gaze around. "Can we make sure Luca''s well suited?"


    Before he could protest, several crew members surrounded him, making final adjustments to his suit. They checked for every detail¡ªtugging at seams, smoothing folds, ensuring he was perfectly fitted. Luca sighed, ncing around as the announcer''s voice echoed once more through Stadhaven, signaling the time to race was drawing near.


    Mr. Grant had already taken his ce at his usual viewing post. He had nothing left to say to his drivers as victory was the only thing that mattered now. The garage gradually emptied as the team crew made their way to the paddock, leaving only the main engineers and mechanics behind to assist Luca and Ansel into their cockpits.


    Haas walked past Luca, giving him a firm tap on the shoulder and locking eyes with him through his visor. "Please, just help get our lead gap back," he muttered before heading to the paddock without waiting for a reply. Luca was left momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond.


    "...And a warm wee to our guest of honor today, Sir Anthony Crowley, the Secretary of State for Digital, Culture, Media, and Sport, joining us to witness the excitement of the Form 2 British Grand Prix..!"


    As he waited for Ansel, Luca allowed himself a brief moment to study the two single-seaters in front of him, poised in anticipation. The sleek machines gleamed under the garage lights, ready for action. His System confirmed they were prepared, leaving Luca no doubts about their performance.


    Ansel soon jogged over, nudging Luca hard in the side. It was a sign of ''let''s begin'', and Luca took it very well. Together, they moved toward the cars, which had been rolled to the mouth of the garage. As Luca followed Ansel into the cockpit, the cheers from the Stadhaven grandstands reached a fever pitch. The sight of all thirty cars emerging from their team garages created a thrilling atmosphere that electrified the cool air.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synced with Dara (F2 04)]


    "... It''s a cool, breezy day at 62 degrees Fahrenheit here at Stadhaven, London! Good afternoon to everyone tuning in across the world, and wee to the Form 2 British Grand Prix!"


    "...The cars are rolling onto the grid as we inch closer to lights out. Sean Aaronson sits on pole, Max Addams in P2, and Bellingham at P3. Can Aaronson convert his pole position into another victory on this magnificent, fresh circuit? A win would boost Hatcherk''s points total but still won''t be enough to edge them past Velocit¨¤ Jnr for second."


    "...And as for our current leaders, Trampos Racing, this race will be pivotal in determining their fate by midseason. With a narrow 16-point lead over Velocit¨¤ Jnr, they must maximize every opportunity¡ªnot just to get one driver to the front but both if they want to regain their dominant lead."n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    "... Certainly. Ansel Hahn starts at P4, Dani Walding at P5, Oliver Kristensen at P6, Albert Derstappen at P7, and Luca Rennick at P8. With everyone now on the grid, all eyes are on the lights as we prepare for an epic race¡­"


    **We''ll be with you every second. Just focus on your driving. And please watch the curbs, they''ll be slick from the drizzle**


    "Aye, sir," Luca replied, his voice steady despite the tension. Inside the cockpit, the heat was an almost suffocating contrast to the cold, damp atmosphere outside. His eyes sharpened behind his visor, locking onto Derstappen''s car positioned beside him on the inside of row 8. As the wet track stretched out ahead, Luca''s System provided detailed analytics, aiding him in plotting potential routes for a perfect start.


    Luca had this wing feeling that the upper midfield might give him more issues than Mr. Grant anticipated. Volyinski was right behind him, with De Klerk following close. They weren''t elites but that didn''t mean they couldn''t seize opportunities to overtake.


    Luca''s gaze instinctively shifted to the gantry as the first red light illuminated, his SomberCore humming deeply, almost in anticipation. The second light shed, followed by the third, as the crowd''s cheers at Stadhaven grew louder, refusing to yield to the tension building across the grid. Then came the fourth light, and the fifth.


    For a brief moment, Luca''s thoughts flickered to the people who would undoubtedly be watching this race. He knew many people in London he grew up with were before their TV screens, or even present in Stadhaven at the moment.


    His mother and sister were surely watching.


    Even Mr. Vance, the jerk, was likely at his office, spectating from thefort of his window.


    Luca had everything to prove in this British Grand Prix. He wasted no time elerating from 0km/h to an rming 90 km/h once all five lights disappeared.


    The grid exploded with the deafening roar of engines, tires screeching violently against the damp asphalt as thirty cars surged forward from their starting boxes.


    "...lights out! Aaronson gets a good getaway as Max Addams tucks in behind. Watch out for Ansel Hahn on the inside of Miles Bellingham, but Sean Aaronsonfortably through the first corner...!"


    [Endurance +1]


    Luca didn''t flinch as the 5g force mmed into him atunch. Instead, he harnessed the surge of momentum and eleration, racing neck and neck with Derstappen for 1.1 seconds before slipping into 7th.


    [7th Position]


    It wasn''t an ideal position. The cluster of cars remained chaotic as the pack barreled toward the first curve¡ªa right-hander. Luca clung to the inside, calcting a move to squeeze past Kristensen while keeping an eye on Derstappen, who was eager to reim his lost ground.


    [Host is participating in an Official Race]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 88 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 118 bpm


    -Operational Status: 90% (Very Good) Continue your journey on empire


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 125 m


    -Time: 7 sec ]


    Turn 1. Turn 2. Turn 3.


    **P3** Ansel muttered along the turns.


    That''s good, Luca mused, though he doubted Ansel could hold it for long. He suspected the leaderboard would shuffle before stabilizing.


    The leading cars approached the first straight that cut right through Stadhaven. As a 6km circuit, the first and longest straight likely served as an equalityne. The curve aligned forward, and all drivers knew they could ease off the brake and go for the elerator this time.


    Luca had smartly clung to the interior of thest turn¨Ca right-hander, knowing it would straighten to his favor to the insidene. He deftly slipped in before Kristensen at the start of the straight. But Luca couldn''t easily adhere to swerve trajectory like he could to the system''s speed rmendation.


    [6th Position]


    [Overtaking +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]


    He cut into Kristensen, but with so much momentum, he edged too far and Kristensen was able to slip out from the right and reim P6 within mere seconds.


    [7th Position]


    Luca was forced to tuck in behind as they officially hit the straightaway. Engines revved with power, all cars surging forward with high speed on the wet track.


    His eyes widened as the leading cars¡ªincluding Kristensen''s¡ªzed down the straight, their tires kicking up walls of spray. Sheets of water arched into the air, shimmering like silver banners unfurling in the rain. The puddles Kristensen tore through sent droplets flying, scattering like stars in Luca''s visor.


    Luca had no idea the drizzle had amounted a lot of water. He could only imagine the problems it woulde with. For the spectators, it was more glory and entertainment, but for him and the other drivers, it was a harbinger of disaster.


    **Don''t let the spray blind you. Use your wipers if needed**

 Chapter 80 British Grand Prix

    The gap gave structure to the leaderboard, the cars holding definite positions as they barreled across the circuit, tires spraying water high into the air. It was a challenging moment for Luca, who struggled to gauge the right time to activate DRS. His System still managed to provide a detailed description of the track but failed to give precise information about Kristensen''s car ahead.


    Relying on his instincts and the rumble strips curving ahead, Luca quickly braced himself for the approaching bend. He cast a quick nce at his mirrors, noting how the sheets of water kicked up by his tires obstructed Derstappen''s view as well.


    [8th Position closing in]


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 65%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 80 km/h]


    The 65% traction didn''t look promising, and 80 km/h felt like too much of a drop in momentum. Still, Luca adhered to the rmendation, understanding that it was calibrated to help him and his Dara adapt to the slick asphalt.


    [You have reduced speed]


    Luca''s tires skimmed over the curb as he clung to the inside line again. The cars had just left the wet straight, allowing visibility to clear up once more. Never relenting, as the team''s strategy demanded today, Luca remained focused on overtaking Kristensen''s violet Dara.


    Kristensen, noticing Luca''s determination, edged closer to the curbs, attempting to block his line as they approached the bend''s bottleneck. However, he failed to notice Derstappen exploiting the open outsidene, executing a smooth drift to im P6 as the left-hander transitioned into a right.


    [8th Position]


    "...and how about that from Albert Derstappen! A magnificent double overtake to edge closer to the top five¡­!"


    Damn you, Luca thought, directing the insult at Kristensen as the track''s transition brought them side by side. Derstappen''s ck-and-golden Dara fishtailed slightly after the aggressive maneuver, but it held steady.


    P7 was Luca''s as thene curved in his favor. He poked ahead of Kristensen just enough to shift the leaderboard before tackling the final and bendiest curve.


    [7th Position]


    [760 meters Straightaway ahead]


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 6th Position]


    [You are 2.5 seconds away, host.]


    Derstappen managed to hold firm through the bends as the cars weaved through the greenery before transitioning to a straight that led back to the grid.


    As soon as the straightaway opened, Luca saw his opportunity. The roar of engines filled the air as all cars hit full throttle.


    [DRS Engaged]


    His rear wing adjusted, granting him an extra burst of speed. He capitalized on Derstappen''s slipstream, an orange spark shing briefly from Luca''s chassis as he surged forward. Luca glided past Derstappen''s right side, seamlessly moving ahead as he crossed the grid.


    [6th Position]


    [2ndp]


    **Good one, mate. Nice racing, nice racing**


    [Overtaking +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 25%]


    Turn 1 loomed ahead, and Luca navigated it with precision, adhering to the System''s speed and maneuverability rmendations. His focus shifted to the holographic number 5 hovering over Dani Walding''s blue Dara at Turn 3. Though Walding was still far ahead, Luca knew that time, consistency, and calcted moves would close the gap.


    [9thp]


    [Stamina +1]


    **Storm in Fulham. News is that it mighte this way**


    "It''s a big problem, right?"


    **Of course. Get ahead early** Mr. Moritz switched to a dualmunication channel with both Ansel and Luca. **Both of you. Get ahead early**


    Miles had reimed P3 from Ansel, and the two were locked in a fierce battle for dominance. Meanwhile, Luca was attempting another overtake on Walding, but the Bueseno driver maintained a betterne advantage through the turns. On the straights, Walding''s superior eleration left him out of reach, even with Luca''s DRS engaged. This dynamic left Luca vulnerable to Kristensen, who had reimed P7 from Derstappen and was closing in fast.


    [13thp]


    Just as Mr. Moritz had warned, the sky grew increasingly oppressive. Heavy storm clouds rolled in with startling speed, their charcoal shade casting deep shadows over the Stadhaven Circuit.


    "Fucking hell," Luca muttered, his eyes darting to the ominous horizon. A subtle growl of thunder reached his ears, and the wind began to whip through the circuit.


    **We''ll keep checking tire traction. Expect lower visibility and wet patches soon¡ªlight rain forecast in five minutes.**


    A ''Wet Weather Warning'' symbol shed on the dashboard, prompting drivers to prepare for the inevitable slick conditions as they began the 15thp.


    Some teams, like Trampos, debated pitting their drivers early, while others chose to gamble on the weather improving before the conditions became too hazardous.


    The threat of rain started to bother Luca, the challenge more fierce than what he was eager to participate in. He gripped his wheel tighter and sped through the wet straight, raising water in the process.


    "...the weather is anything but fair today, Jon, and so is the track. The storm clouds are practically breathing down on us here, and it might definitely start ying tricks on the drivers..."


    "..you''re absolutely right, Steve. Now, they''d have to second-guess their line, their speed, their braking points. Any misjudgment, especially in this weather, could spell disaster..."


    "...and with the rain looking like it''s just minutes away, we could see some teams scrambling to make those critical tire changes. But here''s the risk: you pit too early, you lose ground. Pit toote, and it''s a slippery mess out there. A gamble, no doubt..."


    [7th Position closing in]


    [Host has unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent.]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 88 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 118 bpm


    -Operational Status: 90% (Very Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 26000 m


    -Time: 19 min. 5 sec ]


    Luca''s instincts for Corner Chopping kicked in as he neared the bends, with Kristensen pressing him fiercely. Edging to the curbs, Luca braked just enough to align with the rmended speed, gliding toward the bend''s apex, marked by Walding''s earlier drifting tire marks.


    Kristensen followed Luca like a fly into the bend, and Luca was waiting for him as they emerged. With a low speed, Luca hooked abruptly, cutting off Kristensen''s building momentum. And as quickly as he braked, Luca elerated, high but low enough to avoid a tire lock-up.


    Luca was able to Corner Chop Kristensen but not Derstappen. The Belgiangging behind by a mere second had taken full advantage of the bend, outpaced Oliver Kristensen and was now side by side with Luca.


    The track shifted into a right-hander, seemingly giving Luca the advantage. Determined to maintain his position, Luca prepared for the turn. Yet, Derstappen proved fiercer than expected, his outside trajectory perfectly lined up with Dani Walding''s rear, his nose edging dangerously close to Luca''s line.


    Luca''s eyes flicked to his System''s disy, instantly processing the data:


    [Trajectory Assessment: Right-hander advantage detected. Line integrity at risk from 7th Position''s approach.]


    [Rmended Action: Enter at 35% throttle; maintain inner apex trajectory. Anticipate 7th Position''s outside pressure.]


    [Risk Factor: High (collision potential with 7th Position). Adjust for slight understeer at exit to regain position.]


    He is trying to do what Miles did to me in Australia, Luca thought, noticing the subtle shift in Derstappen''s chassis.


    The X trajectory was clear. Within milliseconds, Luca would either drop to P7 or face the consequences of a tire clip¡ªor something worse.


    He couldn''t risk either option. Decelerating to let Derstappen through would kill his momentum, and Kristensen wasn''t far behind. Stubborn and unwilling to lose P6, Luca made a split-second decision.


    He veered off track, into the grass, just as Derstappen''s nose cut into his line of sight.


    [Traction lost...]


    "...And Luca Rennick is off the track! But wait¡ªhe''s back on in seconds!"


    [Traction detected...]


    Luca''s tires wobbled as they tore across the uneven grass. The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and gasps as he rejoined the track, his unconventional maneuver cutting ahead of Walding''s blue Dara.


    P5 was officially his. Walding, who had been frustratingly hard to overtake, was now behind him.


    But the roar from the stands wasn''t just for the boldness of Luca''s move¡ªit was for its illegality. The stewards immediately sprang into action, signaling a review of the maneuver that had just unfolded.


    [Reflexes +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 37.5%]


    [15thp]


    **Luca, you''ve been hit with a five-second penalty for going off track and gaining an advantage. We''re going to need to serve that at your next pit stop**


    Luca rolled his tongue in his mouth. He had been expecting Moritz''s voice to crackle through the radio, and it had.


    "Five seconds," he muttered, his tone half dismissive. Deep down, he felt no guilt. Derstappen had yed dirty, and Luca had done what he had to prevent a contact that would end in Derst''s favor.


    But five seconds was no small punishment. It could mean the difference between holding onto P5 or slipping down the leaderboard. The thought made him sigh, but then his System chimed in with an alert as he speared through the wet track.


    [Ding![


    [Host has maxed Reflexes Skill!]


    [Ding!]


    [You have unlocked a Skill:


    -Spatial Awareness: 2 ]


    Luca''s mouth bent to a frown. "You could have given me something more dynamic and rare. I know what Spatial Awareness is, and I''m pretty sure I execute it in every race," Luca said.


    [Now host, you have unlocked the ability to increase its starting two-point value, so you can get better at it. Moreover, the more Skills, the better the chances of making Sync Buff in every race.]


    Hmmm.


    [Spatial Awareness is a Skill simr to Track Awareness]


    [Spatial Awareness is an intuitive maneuver that enhances host''s ability to perceive and navigate his surroundings on the track, allowing him to sense nearby vehicles and understand his space andne. This skill slightly affects and improves host''s decision-making, helping host avoid collisions and execute overtakes effectively.]


    "Oh. Now you put it like this... it looks nice."


    **Box, Luca. Let''s serve that penalty**


    [Operational Status: 60%]


    Still holding P5 illegally at the 16thp, Luca deftly edged to the side of the track, barrelling down to the pine.


    **Glide in steadily**


    The pit crew was ready. He rolled to a precise stop as McCauley raised his hand, signaling the penalty countdown.


    [Serving Penalty...5...4...3...2...1]


    [6th Position]


    Though it was 5 seconds, it felt like an eternity to Luca. He frowned as Dani Walding imed back P5 while he waited in the pit box.


    The moment the 5-second timer hit zero, Trampos'' pit crew sprang into action. Tires were changed in a sh, and he could hear the faint chatter of the team as they adjusted the car.


    **You''re clear**n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    [Penalty Served]


    Luca shot out of the pit box and sped down the pitne just as Derstappen was barreling toward the same exit point. The world outside his cockpit blurred into streaks of color as he focused on the track ahead.


    [Trajectory Assessment: Intersecting Pine advantage. Line integrity at risk from 7th Position''s approach.]


    [Rmended Action: Enter at 80% throttle; maintain downforce. Anticipate 7th Position''s outside pressure.]


    [Risk Factor: High (collision potential with 7th Position). Adjust for slight understeer at exit to regain position.]


    **Get in there, Luca!**


    Luca slipped back into the straight just before Derstappen''s nose, narrowly avoiding a collision as Derstappen swerved to correct. The both of them fought to regain traction, tires screeching before their engines got their cool.


    **Good timing**


    Continue reading on empire


    [You have sessfully defended your position. Keep it up, host]


    [7th Position closing in]


    "You just know how to raise my BP," Luca said exasperatedly as he entered the turns, hoping Derstappen gets close enough to eat his Corner Chopping.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 200 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 106 bpm


    -Operational Status: 85% (Very Good)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 32000 m


    -Time: 24 min. ]

 Chapter 81 British Grand Prix 2

    [20thp]


    [Corner Chopping +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 50%]


    [You have sessfully defended your position. Keep it up, host]


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


    [You are 1 second away, host.]


    "Daniel... fucking... Walding," Luca whispered yfully like a venom as he began the 20thp. "Here Ie. And you won''t pass me again."


    **Your status?**


    Luca blinked. It wasn''t Moritz this time, as Ansel''s distinct voice broke through the radio. "P6," Luca replied calmly. "You?"


    "P4," came Ansel''s blunt response.


    Luca knew which position Ansel was in, but he wanted to ask because Ansel had asked about it, and mostly because Luca wanted to catch the tone in Ansel''s voice and discern his current mood.


    It wasn''t good for sure.


    Intertwining between P3 and P4 with Miles Bellingham, time had brought Luca and Walding closer to Ansel as Miles edged farther, half ap ahead.


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 80%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 185 km/h]


    Dani Walding clung bitterly to P5, his car hugging the line defensively, determined not to let Luca past as Luca closed down on him with every second. "It''s the second time he''s troubling me," Walding murmured into his own team''s radio.


    **He has fresh tires and a refuel. We expect nothing less, and we might let him have it** Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr''s team engineer replied.


    "What?!"


    **Box, Dani, box. Let''s get that car ready for the nextps**


    Dani Walding felt the urge to resist. He clenched his teeth, still gripping onto P5 with the tenacity of a man unwilling to surrender. "No way I''m letting him take this," he muttered, fingers tight on the wheel. He''d already had to fend Luca off once, and giving up now gnawed at his pride. But his team knew better.


    **Box, Dani, box. It''s for the long game. You''ve got to hold back for now. Max is at P2. Rx**


    After a frustrated pause, Walding reluctantlyplied, but not without a final act of defiance. As he exited the turn, he lifted slightly off the throttle, slowing just enough to create a subtle roadblock for Luca.


    Luca, pushing hard, realized Walding''s maneuver only at thest second. His eyes narrowed as he veered left to avoid a collision, wrenching his wheel as Spatial Awareness surged within him, heightening his sense of every angle and approaching impact.


    [Spatial Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 62.5%]


    Despite Luca''s evasive move, his Dara''s chassis clipped Walding''s car, the impact sharp and sudden. The moment of contact reverberated through Luca''s frame as his vehicle jolted slightly, but his finely tuned suspension absorbed the shock with minimal disturbance. His car straightened immediately, hurtling toward the wet straight ahead.


    Walding wasn''t so lucky.


    The contact had unsettled his vehicle and shoved it off course. He was forced to brake hard to avoid a full spin-out, his tires spraying sheets of water onto Luca''s car that just surged ahead.


    [5th Position]


    [Overtaking +1]


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


    "...P5 for Luca Rennick after a physical contact on straight 3! He didn''te out of nowhere; he''s been behind Dani Walding all this while, and once the chance opened, he just sted through without thinking twice. Just look at the aftermath for Dani Walding..."


    The cameras shifted focus from Luca zooming down the straight to Dani Walding, who had long regained control and was now entering the pitne to his team.


    **Luca, Race Control just issued a ten-second penalty for the contact with Walding. They''re calling it pletely avoidable.** Moritz''s voice cracked through the radio in a solemn tone.


    Luca frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he nced at his side mirror to see clear asphalt behind him, Walding diverting into the pitne. "How did that attract a penalty?! The gap was thin. It''s not my fault."


    **I know** Moritz responded to calm Luca down. He could only imagine what his drivers were experiencing out there. **They''re saying you were driving too aggressively and close to him, finally ending with an unsafe maneuver. We''ll have to push harder now to make up theing gap**


    Luca cussed loudly in his head but responded with a sigh. "Fine," he replied, taking a deep breath and ncing at his delta from P4.


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


    [You are 3 seconds away, host.]


    The Dara holding steady at P4 shed brightly in Luca''s line of sight, its red, white, and ck colors unmistakable. Trampos Racing. Luca had almost forgotten Ansel was the driver at P4¡ªnow, he was just behind him.


    **Currently, you''re three seconds behind Han. You''ve got to stretch the lead on P5 by at least seven seconds to offset the penalty.**


    Luca nodded softly as he began the 21stp, Ansel''s car never leaving his sight as he edged closer. "I''d have to face him... right?"


    Mr. Moritz took a moment to respond, and Luca didn''t like the silence.


    **You have seconds to cancel seconds, Luca. And for now, Han is any other driver to you. Please, face off safely¡ªno risky maneuvers**


    Luca swallowed hard as the radio went silent, leaving him alone in the cramped, stifling heat of the cockpit. His eyes flicked to the disy¡ª[4] glowed in bold green over the car ahead. The green color was a reminder it was his teammate, something he couldn''t just ignore.


    Taking a steadying breath, Luca tightened his grip on the wheel as the approaching turns loomed. He knew that if he wanted any shot at minimizing the penalty''s impact, he''d have to push forward¡ªnow.


    "I have a penalty hanging over me, man," he murmured, steadying his focus. "I can''t afford tog behind. This is simply for survival... not for position."


    His foot pressed harder on the elerator, ready to make his move.


    "...following a painfully slow pit stop, Dani Walding has rejoined the race, just managing to edge in front of Derstappen. And as for his assant, Luca Rennick¡ªhe''s got that looming 10-second penalty hanging over him, which he''ll need to serve within the next fiveps. But right now, Jon, it looks like there''s something else upying his mind, doesn''t it...?"


    "...absolutely, Mike. For the first time this F2 season, we''re seeing teammates inching closer on the leaderboard, with both Trampos Racing drivers positioned at P4 and P5. Luca Rennick is right on Ansel''s tail, and he''s looking determined, no doubt about it. He knows he has limited time to make his move..."


    [Strength +1]


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 75%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 100 km/h]


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


    [You are 0.8 seconds away, host.]


    "...Luca Rennick has made it to just a fraction of a second off Hahn''s rear wing. He''s closing in fast as they round a corner. The Trampos cars have that section all to themselves... the tension is building as Luca Rennick is lining him on the inside line!"


    **Don''t think I don''t see you**


    Luca chuckled, nodding softly. He liked that Ansel acknowledged his threat, making this a healthy challenge for P4.


    Ansel''s Dara had a fine trajectory deftly outlined by Luca''s System. He could almost guess Ansel''s intentions, and it was to squeeze him out with his rear.


    At the bottleneck of Turn 2, Ansel hadpletely blocked off any potential use of his center-right slipstream to edge past him. Luca''s System confirmed it.


    [Track Span Analysis: 0.8 meter wide (insidene unavable)] [Optimal Racing Line Calcted: 0.4 meters]


    [Car Width: 1.9 meters] [Margin for Error: 0.6 meters (0.5 meters on the left, 0.1 meters on the right)]


    "...now that is the sort of battle we''ve been waiting to see from these two. Everyone has been itching to know how they race against each other, and now we''re witnessing it..."


    "...Ansel Hahn is holding Luca off, but might that be a good idea? Luca Rennick might serve that penalty at P4, returning him to P5. But Ansel Hahn is not a fan of that oue. Either way, it puts both Trampos boys just beyond the podium, and one of them would like to remain ahead..."


    "Smart of you," Luca muttered as Ansel''s backlights shed red at him. He could see Miles''s Dara just hitting the straight up ahead, catching up to Max Addams. Luca was certain he could close the gap within twops or so¡ªif he passed Ansel and served the penalty at P4. Staying at P5 risked losing the spot entirely if he dyed for ten seconds.


    Approaching the left-hander Turn 3, Luca moved to the outsidene, giving him the freedom to attempt a heavy, brutal drift and gain the lead before the straightaway. Ansel had shifted focus, abandoning the inner track for a conventional middlene, ensuring unshaken traction and full stability through the turn.


    Luca, however, powered through the outsidene, officially matching P4 with Ansel. He aimed to execute something akin to Miles''s earlier move¡ªone that Derstappen had also attempted. Though uncertain of its exact name, Luca felt confident in performing it... without colliding.


    As Turn 3 ended, Luca found the perfect trajectory to power straight ahead.


    [Trajectory Assessment: Outsidene advantage detected. Line integrity at risk from 4th Position''s approach.]


    [Rmended Action: Enter at 90% throttle; maintain straight apex trajectory. Anticipate 4th Position''s outside pressure.]


    [Risk Factor: High (collision potential with 4th Position). Adjust for slight traction loss at exit to regain position.]


    Luca trusted Ansel to yield. He had to¡ªanything less would spell catastrophe for Trampos Racing.


    Adhering to the System''s analysis, Luca executed the maneuver, his car sliding into the lead with a perfect diagonal line. Ansel had no choice but to brake and swerve to the right as Luca emerged ahead.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    [4th Position]


    [Agility +1]


    "...and Luca Rennick finally makes the move, and it''s a sessful one! A beautifully calcted maneuver on the outsidene, pulling ahead of his teammate Ansel right at the exit of Turn 3...!"


    **Good one. Good one, press harder, mate** Mr. Moritz encouraged.


    Luca allowed himself a quick, triumphant exhale as Ansel shrank in his rearview.


    [You had made a 3.5 g drift]


    Luca''s own car staggered for traction, but managed to regain it faster than Ansel could rebuild his momentum.


    [You are picking up speed]


    "GG," Luca managed to say into Ansel''s radio.


    Explore more stories with empire


    **.....**


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 290 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 105 bpm


    -Operational Status: 80% (Very Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 42500 m


    -Time: 31 min ]


    Luca''s gaze flicked across his HUD, searching for the holographic "3" marking Miles''s position on the track. To his surprise, Miles''s ck-and-gold Dara wasn''t visible on the long straight.


    The crowd''s cheers grew louder, erratic even. Then Luca realized why¡ªMiles had just made a pit stop and was rolling out of the pitne at the required speed.


    Like his earlier encounter with Derstappen someps ago, Luca now faced another crossroads, and this time, with Miles.


    He had the speed, but Miles had the intersection. This woulde down to pure racecraft and instinct¡ªa test of who could handle the pressure, maintain traction and seize control. After all, that''s what Form 2 was all about.


    Luca could see it, P3 within his grasp. After wing his way up from P8, he wasn''t about to back down.


    [Throttle a 98% now]


    **No need to push to the max just yet; we need a clean pass. NO MORE penalties. You''ll have to judge his reaction here, Luca, but stay alert¡ªP3 is yours if you handle this smartly**


    [Trajectory Assessment: Straightaway advantage detected. Line integrity at risk from 3rd Position''s approach.]


    [Rmended Action: Enter at 90% throttle; maintain straight apex trajectory. Anticipate 3rd Position''s intersecting pressure.]


    [Risk Factor: High (collision potential with 3rd Position). Adjust for slight traction loss at exit to regain position.]

 Chapter 82 British Grand Prix 3

    Luca and Miles approached Turn 4, the sharp left-hander marking the start of the chicane. Luca knew what he had to do, his System''s calctions making the situation more coherent. Miles held the inside line on exit, but if Luca could get right alongside him, P3 would be within reach. Bold, maybe reckless¡ªmost other F2 drivers might yield here.


    There was no holding back. The intersection loomed, P3 easier to grab now than at any other point in the race.


    "... Miles Bellingham has been defending that P3 ever since Ansel Hahn fell back, but Luca Rennick is pushing down... can he make it stick...?!"


    Luca took a deep breath, flicking his wheel as his car began to slide. He caught a glimpse of Miles''s ck-and-golden car exiting the pitne. His own car drifted wide, skidding into the origin of the turn with sheer force, Miles''s car just a meter away.


    Luca resisted the urge to fully nce at Miles. His peripheral vision gave him all he needed. And all he saw was pure determination radiating off his opponent.


    [Track Span Analysis: 2.5 meters wide (outsidene avable)] [Optimal Racing Line Calcted: 1.8 meters]


    [Car Width: 1.9 meters] [Margin for Error: 2.15 meters (2 meters on the left side. 0.15 metres on the right)]


    Both cars hit the corner, neck and neck, engines screaming in their ears as tires battled against the slick, nted track.


    **Careful. You''re in his line**


    Luca adjusted to take in more of the curve to avoid wheel contact. He could feel the heat radiating from Miles'' car, and he was certain Miles could feel his. Both tires strained, especially Luca''s, as he aimed to grip well just enough to hold his line. Miles wasn''t giving him an inch, his own drift perfectly synced with Luca''s. The two cars carved twin arcs through the turn, sparks flying into the air.


    "...unbelievable! It''s a synchronized drift! Miles Bellingham noses ahead, but Luca Rennick makes his back tires level it up...!"


    [You had made a 2.5g drift]


    Turn 5 found them aligned again, Luca nosing ahead this time. They held the line through the intense bend andunched into Turn 6, a right-hander.


    Luca shifted, squeezing into the inside line while Miles''s Dara clung to its thin lead.


    [760 meters Straightaway ahead]


    **Get your angle right before the curve ends. Straight and P3 is yours**


    The track spat them out of the final corner, Luca now just a hair''s breadth ahead after sticking to the middlene. Miles, who kissed the curbs, aimed for ast second slice through, but Luca had the straight trajectory. He had definite traction, and his car could elerate without caution.


    "...and Luca Rennick takes it! He edges ahead of Miles, iming P3 with absolutely daring driving! The crowd is losing it! This is what F2 racing is all about¡ªunrelenting, fearlesspetition...!"


    [3rd Position]


    [Overtaking +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 87.5%]


    **Beautiful work, Luca. Keep it steady now. You''re clear in P3."**


    "Oh my goodness," Luca muttered, releasing a long breath. His eyes flicked to his rearview to see Miles''s Dara slipstreaming close behind.


    "Well, it''s far from over," he said, refocusing on the straight and racking up speed as he zoomed over the grid.


    [22ndp]


    **You are a few seconds from Max. Can you see that?**


    [2]


    "Yeah, I can," Luca replied, spotting Max Addams'' car ahead, its somber shade blending with the dark clouds overhead as thunder growled ominously.


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 2nd Position]


    [You are 4 seconds away, host.]


    "...and it looks like we have some serious action brewing up ahead! Sean Aaronson, the pack leader, is under intense pressure from his eternal rival, Max Addams, who''s been on his tail for the past twops, waiting for any sign of weakness. Aaronson has held his ground with remarkable defense, but Addams is now pushing him right to the edge."


    "...look at that, Jon! Addams dives down the inside¡ªhe''s trying to squeeze past Aaronson through the chicane! It''s an incredibly tight move... oh, and Aaronson isn''t backing off either! Both cars are wheel-to-wheel, exchanging lead through every twist. Addams is definitely trying to rattle him, but Aaronson is fighting to keep that P1..."


    Luca observed the battle ahead, a spectacle of pure skill. The crowd was on its feet as the two veterans shed, a rivalry that had defined seasons.


    **I want you to keep close, mate. D''yu hear?**


    "Yes," Luca replied, ncing at his side mirror as he entered the turns that Aaronson and Addams had just exited. He was catching up topped drivers from smaller teams.


    Miles loomed in his side mirror, his car clearly utilizing DRS but unable to gain ground. He disengaged, feathering his throttle and joining Luca into the corners.


    [4th Position closing in]


    Luca knew their battle wasn''t totally over, and he aimed to close the chapter soon enough.


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 2nd Position]


    [You are 5 seconds away, host.]


    [Distance increased by 1 sec]


    "They''re on a freaking straight," Luca muttered, deftly maneuvering through the bend to Turn 2 as the clouds rumbled and the crowd drummed in unison.


    [Stamina +1]


    [4th Position closing in]


    Can I just have a break from this guy...


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


    [5th Position is 3 sec away, host.]n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    [System''s prediction: that value may change¨C in your favor.]


    [2nd Position''s distance increased by 3 seconds]


    Luca held tight through Turn 3, his tires gripping the outsidene with precision. He eased off the brake bias, allowing him to carry speed onto the straight. But with every passing second, he felt the gap to Max Addams stretching just slightly, those decimeters adding up on his HUD as the lead seemed to slip farther out of reach.


    Just then, Mr. Moritz''s voice cut through the tension, announcing something that reignited Luca''s drive.


    **"Luca, listen up! Aaronson in P1 has just been handed a 5-second penalty for forcing Max wide¡ªdeliberately. He quacked him pretty hard, and Addams is losing traction**


    Luca''s eyes widened as he processed the news, his car hurtling down the straight, farther away from Miles and closer to Max Addams. The distance was certainly reduced and Max Addams seemed almost stagnant.


    **If you close in now, Luca, that''s P2 right there. Hold steady¡ªthey''re BOTH vulnerable!**

 Chapter 83 British Grand Prix 4

    [30th Lap]


    As good as Max Addams was, the Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr driver had managed to hold off Luca for a solid eightps. Even though Luca had decided to serve his penalty back onp 23, giving Addams some breathing room, it was still impressive how well Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr had executed their strategy.


    Their clever move had Max pit just as Luca served his penalty, a calcted risk designed to keep Max out of immediate danger. Meanwhile, Aaronson took his penalty onp 25, serving the 5-second sanction handed to him. With that, all three cars were now clear of penalties, perfectly aligned on the track, and sharing a single straightaway.


    Max was at a disadvantage now. Caught in the middle, he was Luca''s target. Fresh out of the pits, his tires were still cold and needed time to reach optimal temperature. Luca, on the other hand, had hot, ready tires as they approached Turn 1. With the grip advantage firmly in his favor, Luca was primed to strike.


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 2nd Position]


    [You are 1 second away, host.]


    Hehe, this is an easy one.


    Luca subtly adjusted the brake bias, moving it slightly to the rear to give himself more stability under braking. His fingers flicked the gearshift, upshifting seamlessly as he elerated, the car''s engine growling in response. His left foot danced on the clutch, blipping the throttle to bnce the revs for a precise downshift.


    A quick nce at Max''s rear tires gave him all the information he needed. Luca squeezed the brakester than usual, feeling the car''s immense grip as he steered cleanly into the corner. He shifted slightly in his seat, his focus razor-sharp, calcting the exact moment at the bottleneck tounch his attack.


    **I see you in P2 already, make it real now**


    [Track Span Analysis: 2.1 meters wide (insidene avable)] [Optimal Racing Line Calcted: 1.8 meters]


    [Car Width: 1.9 meters] [Margin for Error: 2.15 meters (2 meters on the left side. 0.15 metres on the right)]


    "...Max Addams can''t defend that P2 anymore! It''s a battle of pure skill and nerve here, folks. Luca Rennick is pushing hard, using every inch of that insidene as they charge through Turn 2...!"


    "He''s very good," Luca murmured, admiring Max Addams'' tenacity. The Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr driver had a remarkable ability to swiftly adapt, transitioning to the next optimal blocking position before Luca could fullymit to an overtake.


    The crowd knew their duel wouldn''tst much longer, especially with Straight 2 looming ahead, a long stretch that would test both drivers'' precision and nerve.


    Max realized this too. Even before they entered Turn 1, he clung to the faint hope that Luca''s inexperience might cause a mistake¡ªmaybe a miscalcted hit or a wild skid. But as they exited Turn 3, reality set in. Max knew P2 was slipping from his grasp.


    [500 meter Straightaway ahead]


    [DRS Engaged]


    "...and there goes Luca Rennick, activating DRS with no hesitation as they exit the chicane! Max Addams is fighting tooth and nail to defend, but Rennick is absolutely relentless...!"


    [Speed Differential: 0.3 seconds faster than opponent.]


    The gap between the two cars vanished in an instant. Luca''s car sliced through the air, his grip on the wheel tightening as he surged alongside Max in milliseconds. The straightaway unfolded like a runway, and with precision, Luca imed P2, deliberately staying to the right to deny Max any chance of benefiting from his slipstream.


    **That was... that was wonderful, Luca**


    A chuckle escaped Luca as he responded aloud, "I know, right? Let''s keep it going!"


    "...from P8 to P2, Luca Rennick has demonstrated exceptional skill, outpacing his teammate and two of the season''s standout drivers! Jon, you''ve got to admit¡ªthis is nothing short of spectacr!"


    "...absolutely! He''s shown masterfulposure under pressure. That climb from P8 to P2 isn''t just luck¡ªit''s raw talent and determination. Luca Rennick has solidified Trampos'' lead in the standings... unless he''s nning to widen the gap even further by going for P1."


    "...and it looks like that''s exactly what he''s aiming for..."


    "...yup, Aaronson is in his sight, no doubt..."


    [2nd Position]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [Ding!]


    [Host needs one more point toplete Track Awareness attribute]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 100%]


    [SYNC BAR COMPLETE]


    [Host, Sync Buff can now be used]


    "That''s wonderful," Luca whispered, ncing at his side mirror where Max Addams had begun gaining ground to reim P2. Judging from the energy radiating from the blue-and-ck Dara, Luca wasn''t sure if he''d survive the veteran as a defender.


    [3rd Position closing in]


    But he had Sync Buff now. He could catch up with Aaronson by zooming at high speed through the turns without having to decelerate due to maximum reflex and control. This would also spit him out of Max''s jaws.


    Wonderful.


    "Calcte Aaronson''s distance from me."


    [Host hasn''t unlocked credibility to refer to opponents by their identity.]


    "Oh I forgot. 1st Position I mean, calcte how far he is" Luca corrected himself, casting a quick look at the glowing Sync Bar for assurance.


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 1st Position]


    [You are 6 seconds away, host.]


    That''s quite far, Luca mused as he mentally retrieved the notification to activate Sync Buff.


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    Luca selected yes.


    [INFUSING....]


    [Strength: 16 ???? 50


    Stamina: 24 ???? 50


    Endurance: 22 ???? 50


    Agility: 20 ???? 50


    Intelligence: 17 ???? 50 ]


    [You can only select three skills]


    [Reflexes/ Overtaking Skill/ Track Awareness/ Pitstop Prodigy/Corner Chopping/Straightaway Chopping/Spatial Awareness]


    Luca had to ponder closely for this one as he maneuvered through the curves, Max Addams regaining asphalt slowly.


    [3rd Position closing in]


    Luca dismissed Pitstop Prodigy without a second thought; the real dilemmay between the Awareness and Chopping skills. He contemted relying on his standard Overtaking Skill value, trusting that it would be enough while focusing on skills that would provide a broader advantage.


    The rumble of thunder up in the sky infiltrated Luca''s thoughts, reminding him of the general threat all drivers faced at the moment. The track was still wet, danger still lurking albeit there was a wrong move made. Luca didn''t want to risk it, so he surely selected Track Awareness to heighten his senses of the slick track and prevent a DNF in all possible ways.


    [Track Awareness selected]


    With this skill selected, he felt more secure in navigating the treacherous Stadhaven conditions ahead. Moreover, he had only one driver in sight, and the Chopping skills would only work whenever he''s ahead.


    Luca shook his head and selected Reflexes next.


    [Reflexes selected]


    [32nd Lap]


    With Reflexes maxed, Luca knew he could instinctively correct any skid, swerve, or minor mistake, greatly enhancing his overtaking chances. Coupled with maxed Agility, he felt almost invincible, making it nearly impossible for anyone to force him into a DNF. Enjoy new adventures at empire


    For his final skill, Luca selected Spatial Awareness without hesitation. He was curious to experience the full effect of this buff on the Skill. With Spatial Awareness at its peak, he would have aprehensive sense of everything within a 4-meter radius from all angles of his Dara, giving himplete control over his immediate surroundings. Luca reasoned that opting for Spatial Awareness over one of the Chopping skills would prevent any regrets if the strategy of one Chopping Skill didn''t y out as intended.


    [Intelligence +1]


    [Sessfully Selected!]


    [Reflexes: 20 ???? 50


    Track Awareness: 19 ???? 50


    Spatial Awareness: 3 ???? 50 ]


    [INFUSION SUCCESSFUL!]


    [You have 4 min. 59 sec left for Sync Buff]


    He took a deep breath and epted the instant effect it had on him. Luca''s vision grew sharper in the musky haze of the clouds, the track as drafted and lined as never, subtle nuances of optimal lines avable to him.


    [Analyzing 1st Position''s distance from host and Dara (F2 04)...]


    [1st Position is 7 sec away, host.]


    [System''s prediction: that value will change¨C in your favor due to Sync Buff.]


    [You are picking up speed]


    Luca hurtled down the straight at insane, unsafe speed, his senses tinged as though he was on the influence of a hard drug. All he wanted to do was meet up with Aaronson''s hovering number 1 above his orange chassis.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 310 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 105 bpm


    -Operational Status: 70% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 65000 m


    -Time: 50 min ]


    "...Sean Aaronson might be heading on to im his third consecutive GP and set the record for this season. But Luca Rennick has fired up as usual, totally sting himself away from Max Addams and dangerously eating up ground to get to Aaronson...!"


    "...risky racing Luca Rennick has put on y today. Daring maneuvers, aggressive driving, and overtakes¡ªif this is what makes one win, then Steve, I guess others might learn, and we would see it more often..."


    **Go ahead. You''re free to pursue the fastestp; you need those two points too.**


    Luca zoomed through the straightaway, the roar of his engine mingling with the collective gasps of the crowd. His eyes darted to the track map disyed on his dashboard, a blur of vibrant lights indicating positions. He was closing in fast on Sean Aaronson, the car in front almost within touching distance. His tires screamed on the slick asphalt as he pushed them to the limit, his foot pressing the elerator with unyielding force.


    The track ahead twisted sharply, and Luca''s maxed Reflexes kicked in, allowing him to glide through the turn without lifting his foot from the pedal. His Spatial Awareness painted a vivid mental map of the immediate surroundings around his Dara, making his maneuvers through Turns 1, 2, and 3 wless.


    Trampos Racing fans erupted in excitement as Luca Rennick''s car shot past the cameras, hitting 300 km/h with ease. The deep rumble of thunder echoed above, barely masking the cheers from the stands, the resonatingmentary, and the growl of his engine. Luca''s heightened Spatial Awareness picked up something subtle yet urgent¡ªthe light single drop of rain on his car''s body.


    In a blink, the light droplets turned into a sudden downpour. Sheets of rain sshed across his visor and blurred the track ahead.


    Stadhaven instantly transitioned to a storm site.


    "¡­oh my goodness! Just like that, the heavens have opened up, and we''re seeing aplete game-changer here in the British Grand Prix¡­!"


    [Host hasn''t unlocked weather-adapting skills]


    Luca couldn''t fully see the track, just like every other driver, but his System still provided him with calctions on the sheet-covered Stadhaven nheless.


    [You have 2 min. left for Sync Buff]


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 1st Position]


    [You are 2 seconds away, host.]


    "...Steve, this is unbelievable! One moment it''s just overcast, and now¡ªthis! A downpour so heavy, visibility is dropping by the second!"


    **How are we doing? Too thick, heh?**


    "I can manage," Luca replied, eyes set on Aaronson''s rear, which shed red lights in the storm.


    [Fastestp attained! Good job, host]


    "...look at the drivers scrambling to keep control! This is where skill and nerves of steel separate the contenders from the pretenders. And Luca Rennick?! Still charging down to the pack leader. Luca Rennick has Sean Aaronson in his jaws...!"


    Luca couldn''t hear the crowd''s cheers again; the heavy rain had drowned them out. He wished he could hear them scream at the top of their voices as he edged past Aaronson. Pulling alongside the veteran, Luca gave himself a knowing exhale for reaching this far.


    Aaronson was surprised, no doubt, and was determined to hold up, but Luca had more momentum and was a beast with Sync Buff.


    They both hit the turn, and Luca effortlessly slipped his nose in before Aaronson, officially iming P1 in the storm.


    Frantically attempting to hold onto the position he had fought to keep, Aaronson tried cutting in before Luca could fully establish his line. But Luca''s surged speed only left Aaronson jamming his car''s front wing into Luca''s rear instead.


    **Damnit!**


    "...and it''s a contact...!"


    Luca''s rear skidded to the left, the result of Aaronson''s desperate contact. The wheel in his grasp shuddered violently as he fought to regain traction on the wet ground. Luckily for Luca, his buffed Reflexes made the situation manageable. He braked sharply, bringing his car to a stop under the heavy rain.


    Aaronson, however, wasn''t as fortunate.


    "...after a long journey, Sean Aaronson of Hatcherk Motorsport WILL NOT finish today''s race! Unbelievable. Following a brief battle with the mazerunner himself, Aaronson''s car spun out from the contact, skidding off the track and into the runoff area. He managed to avoid the barriers, but the rear suspension has taken a significant hit..."


    "Fuck!" Aaronson cursed in his cockpit, watching Luca''s Dara slowly turn with drifting tires before resuming the race. His own car had suffered critical mechanical failure in the front suspension. Getting back on track wasn''t an option.


    [1st Position]


    [Overtaking +1]


    Luca didn''t celebrate his im of P1 right away. His eyes darted to the clouded side mirror, catching a glimpse of Aaronson''s stranded car. "Am I being penalized?" he asked over the radio.


    [You have 30 seconds left for Sync Buff]


    **...**


    **...**


    **No. You''re all clear. You arepletely clear. Get an extrap before the safety car''s out. This one''s in the bag, c''mon!**


    [35thp]


    Tenps left? Luca thought, taking a deep breath as he reimed the lead after the safety car did its job.


    It was official¡ªSean Aaronson wasn''t finishing the race in Ennd. And Luca loved every second of it.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    [Sync Buff has psed!]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 0%]


    [40thp]


    The rain reduced to a drizzle as Luca nced at his 60% Operational Status. He had amanding lead and didn''t want anything to jeopardize it. He was actually going to win his first race¡ªhis first F2 Grand Prix.


    [Analyzing 2nd Position''s distance from host and Dara (F2 04)...]


    [2nd Position is 20 sec away, host.]


    That''s huge!


    **Box, they can never catch up. Would need you moving over the grid with power**


    Luca thought of speaking to Ansel about his P1 im but decided against it. He couldn''t pinpoint why; it just didn''t feel right.


    [You are reducing speed.]


    Luca barreled down the pitne, where the Trampos crew was already jubnt, preparing for his iing victory.


    Thud, wrench, pat¡ªzoom.


    [Pitstop Prodigy +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]


    [41stp]


    "¡­the forty-firstp is underway! d the rain has died down a bit¡ªthe track is clearer but still wet. At least now, everyone can see Luca Rennick im his first Form 2 Grand Prix¡­"


    "¡­he''s alone, isn''t he?"


    "¡­yes, he is! By a 15-second margin! Unbelievable! Max Addams in P2 is two sectors back. Luca Rennick has all eyes in Ennd on him¡ªhe''s on the finalp¡­!"


    [Stamina +1]


    [45thp]


    Luca couldn''t believe that his first race victory would be at the Stadhaven Circuit, located in London¡ªthe very ce where the most important moments of his life were based.


    His mother was certainly watching, and she would witness him crossing the grid.


    The checkered g waved, and every fan d in red was on their feet.


    "¡­an effortless Form 2 win for him. From P8 to P1...Luca Rennick HAS WON the British Grand Prix¡­!"


    [1st POSITION]

 Chapter 84 British Grand Prix 5: First Race Win

    [Congrattions, host! You have made a podium!]


    Mr. Grant remained rooted in his seat at the viewing post, his sharp gaze fixed on the track as Luca''s red-and-ck Dara roared across the finish line. A deafening cheer erupted from the grandstand, the energy washing over the arena like a tidal wave as the day''s victor imed his glory. Amid the roar of the crowd and the celebratory whoops from the Trampos crew, Mr. Grant found himself pping fervently, pulled into the exhrating current of the moment.


    Luca''s car now dominated every hazy, storm-gray screen, gliding effortlessly with the swagger of triumph. He raised a gloved hand from the cockpit, saluting the roaring sea of fans packed into the fogden 7th Stand. Their voices, a raucous symphony of adoration, echoed through the circuit.


    "...and Max Addams takes P2, 13 seconds behind...!"


    The announcement barely seemed to matter. All eyes remained glued to Luca Rennick as he embarked on a leisurely victoryp, his hand waving innguid acknowledgment of the crowd''s adoration.


    "...Miles Bellingham holds off Ansel Hahn again! It''s a repeat of Bahrain as they cross the line¡ªBellingham takes 3rd, Hahn finishes 4th...!"


    **You''re the man, you did it**


    Luca bit his lip behind his helmet, his joy bubbling to the surface. A simple wave wasn''t enough¡ªnot for this moment, not for his first win. His excitement surged like a dam breaking. "Come on! Come on! Yes!" he yelled, his voice trembling with tion. From the other end of the radio, Mr. Moritz caught every ounce of raw emotion.


    **We have our lead. You maintained our lead. Wonderful race, Luca.**


    Luca eased his car to a calm halt near the 7th Stand after one final, leisurelyp. As Max Addams'' car zipped past in apparent frustration, Luca couldn''t help but smirk, unbothered. With a quick shrug, he unfastened his seatbelt and hauled himself out of the sweltering cockpit.


    The biting cold greeted him instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat inside the car. A thunderous cheer from fans d in red swelled as Luca stood atop his vehicle, basking in the glory of his victory.


    [Ding!]


    [Mission Completed!]


    [Host has won his first official race]


    [Ding!]


    [System Unlocking Activity Panel...]


    [Activity Panel Unlocked]


    [System Commencement In Progress...]


    [System Activity Commenced!]


    [Do you ept Advanced Bundle?]


    [Y / N]


    Luca mentally dismissed the System''s notification, its glowing prompts confined within his helmet''s disy. That could wait. This moment¡ªhis moment¡ªdeserved undivided attention. Thementators'' excited recaps filled the air, sinking the reality of his triumph deeper into the crowd''s collective consciousness.


    I freaking did it!


    Luca hopped down from his scorching single-seater, the soles of his racing boots sshing into a shallow puddle of rainwater on the slick asphalt. He felt the rush to celebrate with the crowd, but Stadhaven was nothing like George Park¨Cit was literally the opposite. Here, the grandstands were set extremely far back from the track, framed by stretches of manicured greenery and rows of ornamental nts. All he could do was wave, scanning the sea of spectators in a futile attempt to spot his mother among them. The crowd, unified in their red dress code, formed a sweeping blur of color that made finding any one''s face impossible.


    "...and this could very well be their season. Luca Rennick secures 27 points for Trampos, cementing their lead and giving them a clear advantage heading into the break. It''s a different story for Hatcherk Motorsport, though. Stadhaven is awash with disappointed fans in orange as Sean Aaronson failed to finish the British Grand Prix following a front-to-rear collision with today''s victor, Luca Rennick. Jon, this surely puts a dent in their championship hopes, wouldn''t you agree...?"


    "...yes, Steve. I very much agree. And from past oues, aeback at this stage seems unlikely."


    "...let''s hope thepetition stays fierce and unpredictable. The Form 2 feeder series officially reaches its midseason break, folks! We''ll be back in June, where the intensity picks up once more with the drivers fighting for every crucial point. Until then, stay tuned for more updates and highlights as we build up to the return of racing action...!"


    Luca slowly lowered his arm, the adrenaline still racing through his veins as his gaze swept across the cheering masses. The atmosphere was electric, but Luca couldn''t tell if it was his name echoing through the stands or just the collective excitement of the crowd. He let himself be swept up in the moment, briefly savoring the victory before reality kicked in.


    Turning, his gazended on a familiar figure walking toward him. Ansel, his teammate, moved through the foggy air with purpose. The lean, athletic build was unmistakable, his sharp features framed by the glint of his helmet visor. Luca could tell by the set of Ansel''s jaw and the way his posture was a bit stiffer than usual that he wasn''t entirely pleased with his P4 finish. Thepetitive fire that burned in Ansel was never easily quenched, but Luca was relieved to see that he was heading over anyway.


    Luca knew that despite their fierce on-track battle, they were teammates at the end of the day. It was a win for Trampos, and that meant a win for both of them¡ªat least that''s how Luca hoped Ansel would see it. He just hoped the short-lived battle would remain a healthypetition on the track alone, and just that.


    "We were rivals today, heh?" Ansel''s voice, muffled but good-humored, filtered through his helmet. He spread his arms, inviting Luca for a hug.


    "Yeah, just a little one," Luca replied, pulling off his own helmet. A grin tugged at his lips as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Stepping forward, he embraced his teammate with a hearty pat on the back.


    "Congrattions."


    "Thanks man."


    They exchanged a few more words, their brief celebration full of lightheartedness, before the voice of their lead team engineer, Mr. Moritz, broke the moment. He arrived with the pit crew, their faces stered with pride and relief. "You did it, Luca! This is exactly what we needed," Mr. Moritz bellowed, pping Luca on the back.


    Luca''s helmet felt heavy in his grip as he turned to face them. Grinning wildly, he ran a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of the podium being prepped in the distance. Before he could speak, McCauley shoved a cold bottle of water into his hand. The crew crowded around him and Ansel,ughter and shouts filling the air. Water sshed around as some of the guys yfully doused each other, making Luca chuckle as droplets hit his neck.


    The noise from the grandstands settled into a rhythmic chant all through Stadhaven. Luca, Ansel, and the team returned to their garage, where their immediate celebrations continued with more water being sshed around.


    "Good job, Luca," Mr. Grant said as soon as he entered deep into the team''s garage. "This was more than a result I could ask for. You did very well."


    "Thank you, sir. I''m d I could make you proud."


    "Can Luca Rennick please make his way to the press conference area?" a federation official called out from outside their paddock.


    "Where is Luca Rennick? Where is Luca Rennick? Oh, there he is!" the Trampos crew joked in unison, pushing Luca out of the paddock.


    Luca quickly handed his helmet to a mechanic and weaved his way to the official, trying to dodge more ps on his back.


    He followed the official through the foggy but lively atmosphere of Stadhaven, passing Retona''s paddock, where the electric vibe didn''t seem to spark. Oliver Kristensen finished P7, a usual spot he always hovered around in.


    Luca entered the tunnel that led to the press area. The federation official suddenly dispatched, leaving him to face the wrath of crowded photographers and blinding camera lights.


    "Please, this way, Luca," a young assistant called out, waving him over to a quieter corner where a makeshift press area had been set up. Luca nodded, squinting against the re of camera shes as he pushed forward.


    The press area was buzzing with reporters and bright lights to highlight all his features. Luca was slowly getting used to it after Mallow had taught him how to handle press questions.


    "Congrattions on your victory before the season''s break, Luca," a female reporter said, extending her mic toward him. "You''re soaked, and not from the rain but from your team''s celebration. Was this win especially significant for you and the team?"


    Luca steadied his breath, catching a glimpse of Miles Bellingham passing by with his team principal in tow. He took a moment before answering. "This win definitely strengthened our lead on the table. It''s a big one for us," he said, keeping his tone calm.


    "We''ll wrap this up quickly, fine by you?"


    "Yeah, sure."


    "Let''s address thete-race incident with Sean Aaronson. What''s your take on his DNF? Some say you should have been penalized."


    Luca pressed his lips together. Aaronson had been at fault, and the stewards had made their decision. Why dig this up now? He nced toward the tunnel''s entrance, spotting Aaronson stepping in, his re already locked on Luca. "I had about a 20-second lead. Even if there was a penalty, it wouldn''t have changed much, would it?" Luca said.


    Aaronson''s expression darkened, and he clenched his fist as a teammate tried to pull him away from the tense moment.


    "About that lead, Luca. Uhmm, can you look at the camera?" the reporter said, pulling his focus back.


    Luca reluctantly tore his gaze from Aaronson to listen to the next question.


    "About that lead of yours¡ªzeropetition around you in those finalps. What was going through your mind?"


    Luca nodded slowly, shrugging. "It felt surreal¡ªI couldn''t believe I was about to win my first race," he replied, eyes shifting back to Aaronson, who was still rooted in ce.


    "And do you think more wins are on the horizon for Trampos Racing''s Luca Rennick?"


    "Yes," Luca said, holding Aaronson''s gaze, unblinking.


    "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" Aaronson''s voice boomed through the tunnel, halting the chaotic bustle. Heads turned as the Hatcherk Motorsport driver pointed sharply at Luca. "What the hell are you staring at, huh?!"


    Luca frowned, ying it off with a shrug and a nce over his shoulder, as if confused.


    "Don''t you fucking y dumb!" Aaronson shouted, taking a step closer.


    "Mr. Aaronson, please hold on, your interview ising up," the reporter interjected, while Aaronson''s crew struggled to hold him back.


    Luca couldn''t believe he found himself in a brawl.


    "Take it easy, mate. I wasn''t even looking at you," he said calmly as security rushed to form a barrier between him and the approaching F2 veteran.


    Aaronson red, spitting at the floor. "Get the cameras on me," he growled, thumping his chest. "He''s a menace, a pest, and if nobody deals with him, I will."


    Explore more at empire


    More security staff poured in as themotion escted, the tunnel turning into a frenzied scene. The Trampos team appeared on Luca''s side, easing him back as Aaronson was forcibly guided away.


    "What the heck happened?" Mr. Moritz asked, ncing around the crowded tunnel.


    "He''s just frustrated he didn''t finish," Luca said, exhaling slowly.


    A reporter tried pushing forward with more questions about what had just unfolded, but Moritz stepped in. "As you can see, our driver has a podium to attend," he said, steering Luca toward the 1st section where the podium awaited.


    The tunnel may have been chaotic, but it was nothingpared to the uproar in the grandstands as Luca, Max, and Miles stepped out for the podium ceremony. The crowd was a whirlwind of shouts and chants, the earlier tunnel confrontation now looping on the big screens and fueling the energy. Opinions shed in a roar, some cheering for Luca, others calling out Aaronson''s name with pointed jeers.


    Luca kept his expression neutral, though his pulse still thudded with the tension of moments earlier. He climbed the podium steps with confidence, determined to let nothing weigh down the joy of his first race win.


    "1st Position, LUCA RENNICK!"


    Luca waved enthusiastically to the crowd as Max Addams and Miles Bellingham were called up for P2 and P3 respectively. The cheers grew louder, the atmosphere electric with celebration.


    The British national anthem began to y, apanied by the raising of the UK g at the four corners of the 1st Stand. Familiar with the anthem, Luca sang along confidently


    As the anthem concluded, Luca stepped forward to receive his trophy. The crowd erupted once more, a mix of apuse, cheers, and some lingering shouts from the earlier drama. He raised the trophy high, not for himself, but for his team, his family and his supporters.


    Standing on the top step of the podium, Luca couldn''t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. He nced to his right at Miles, who had always doubted his abilities and was now below him at P3. He imagined his schoolmates watching this moment¡ªeither from their homes or possibly among the roaring crowd in the grandstands. They were witnessing history: Luca Rennick, iming the first-ever official F2 trophy in Stadhaven.


    [Congrattions, host.]n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om

 Chapter 85 Evening Progresses

    It was 4:30 pm in London, and the Stadhaven Circuit was yet to be emptied, fans still filling the muted surroundings as if waiting for the next day''s Form 1 action. Some of the teams still hadn''t rolled out either, leaving the venue crowded and buzzing with activity.


    The weather remained prolific, with a light rain shower drizzling shortly after the podium celebrations. The drizzle ceased and picked up at sporadic moments, and now it fell lightly as Trampos Racing prepared to roll out of Stadhaven, heading back to Fulham where their general temporary residencey.


    Deep within the garage, Luca sat in the changing room, undressing from his damp racing suit and into more casual attire¡ªhis custom-made Trampos tracksuit. He held his phone to his ear while slipping on his sneakers, speaking to Sara. He told Sara that he won''t be meeting up with she and Mallow that evening because the team had an indoor party. He also told her toe very early tomorrow morning to pick him up.


    When Sara acknowledged all his ns, Luca dropped his phone and focused on dressing himself appropriately. Grabbing a towel, he wiped away the lingering residue of sweat and rain from his face and neck before pulling on a fresh white T-shirt. He then reached for his gray-and-red Trampos Racing tracksuit, slipping it on and zipping it halfway. His gray sneakers followed,ced tightly for a snug fit.


    Luca took a moment to calm his nerves, arranging his damp, tangled hair into something more presentable. He paused briefly, inhaled deeply, and uttered quietly, "System disy."


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [ANALYZING DATA AND ATTRIBUTES...]


    [Wee.]


    "Cheers," Luca whispered, navigating swiftly to his recent notifications.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    [Do you ept Advanced Bundle?]


    [Y / N]


    The notification reappeared the moment Luca selected it. He paused briefly, his finger hovering before decisively pressing yes, his curiosity and ambition driving him to take this next step with his System.


    [Congrattions! The Advanced Bundle will now be embedded into your Activity!]


    "Alright. Tell me what this is all about," he said, leaning back against the bench with growing intrigue.


    [The Advanced Bundle offers a slightly more challenging Daily Routine and harder Daily Tasks. However, it maintains simr dietary requirements as the Intermediate Bundle.]


    Luca nodded cynically. "Oh¡­. okay."


    [Engine, Chassis, and Car brands can now be assessed and analyzed by an additional 5-meter distance.]


    "Nice," Luca muttered, already considering how this could give him a better edge during pre-race setups, or even in a race.


    [Sync Buff and Sync Bar requirements remain unchanged from the Intermediate Bundle.]


    [Focus Mode is now avable. A feature that minimizes all non-essential notifications and helps host maintain concentration during races.]


    Out of everything, you gimme that, Luca mused with a sigh. The Advanced Bundle didn''t seem particrly groundbreakingpared to Intermediate Bundle''s difference from Rookie Bundle. Have I ever evenined about notifications? He asked, unsure if he''d overlookedining about it sometime ago.


    [No, host. And yes, Advanced Bundle is practically an upgraded version of Intermediate. However, the Professional Bundle is an entirely new level.]


    Okay.


    [Most importantly, the Advanced Bundle unlocks two new Skills, host.]


    [Ding!]


    [You have unlocked 2 Skills:


    -Night Mastery: 2


    -Grid Launch: 2 ]


    Now, this sounds authentic! Luca boomed with joy. Care to exin?


    [Night Mastery allows host to excel in night racing conditions by enhancing host''s vision, reaction time, and supporting his Awarenesses. It helps maintain consistentp times when most drivers struggle with reduced visibility in artificial lighting.]


    [Grid Launch helps boost host''s reaction time at the starting grid, aiming for optimal throttle control and seamlessunch off the grid. It improves starting speed by 4% up to 35%, providing an advantage in gaining positions right from the beginning of the race.]


    This is much better. Wonderful, in fact. It''ll really help me out, especially now that I have a pole position.


    [REANALYZING DAILY ROUTINE...]


    [DAILY ROUTINE WOULD COMMENCE OFFICIALLY SUNDAY MORNING¡ª5 AM]


    Wow, I don''t even have time to rest, do I?


    [System is willing to grant host that. Would you like to reschedule Advanced Bundle''s new Daily Routine?]


    He bit his lip thoughtfully. "I''ll think about itter. For now, show me my status."


    [Waiting for notification....]


    [Ding!]


    [Advanced Mission has been Issued!]


    [-¡¤-WIN YOUR FIRST CHAMPIONSHIP-¡¤-]


    Luca widened his eyes. That was quite some height his System was pushing him to achieve. The F2 championship was what he would have to win to get into Professional Bundle?


    Taking a deep breath, he acknowledged the mission. It wasn''t as though winning the championship hadn''t been his goal all along, but the System had a way of amplifying everything. He had a good chance, and Luca could as well call himself a fiercepetitor for the final trophy.


    He nced at his bag, where today''s trophy was neatly packed, gleaming as a symbol of his progress and a proud smile spread across his face.


    [Hosts status generating....


    [..... Generationpleted]


    [Personal Information:


    Name: Luca Rennick


    Age: 18


    Nationality: Italian ]


    --------------------------------------


    [Physical Information:


    Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs


    Height: 6''1"


    Body Fat Percentage: 10%


    Muscle Mass: 32%


    Strength: 16


    Stamina: 24


    Endurance: 22


    Agility: 20


    Intelligence: 18 ]


    ----------------------------------------


    [Personal Stats:


    Nickname: None


    Status: 2 year contract


    Sry: $53,000


    Team: Trampos Racing


    Race Win: 1


    Podium Finishes: 3


    Pole Positions: 1]


    ------------------------------------------


    [Skills & Techniques: Total Grade - B


    Track Awareness: 19


    Pitstop Prodigy: 6


    Corner Chopping: 5


    Straightaway Chopping:3


    Spatial Awareness :3


    Night Mastery: 2


    Grid Launch: 2


    Others (Completed)


    Others (Locked) ]


    ------------------------------------------


    Luca stroked his jaw, nodding thoughtfully. "There is progress," he muttered aloud.


    The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention, and he instantly recognized the familiar, deliberate pace. Ansel appeared from the viewing post, already changed out of his suit and ready to head out. He wore a Trampos tracksuit like Luca''s, but the colors were reversed¡ªAnsel''s outfit featured more red, whereas Luca''s had dominant gray.


    Two more figures followed Ansel into the room: Haas and Victor. Haas sported a ck-and-red version of the tracksuit, while Victor''s was red-and-ck. Luca couldn''t help but appreciate the neat coordination of their attire.


    "What''s up, guys?" Luca greeted, ncing at the team drivers gathered before him.


    Haas shrugged, his bag slung over one shoulder. "Not much. Just heading to the bus with Beany," he replied, nodding toward Victor.


    "I''ll be there in a while," Ansel murmured, pulling a head warmer over his hair before digging into his bag.


    Haas nodded and nced at Luca, raising an eyebrow.


    "Oh, me? I''ll wait for Han," Luca said quickly.


    "Alright," Haas replied with a slight wave before he and Victor exited the garage, their footsteps fading into the corridor.


    Luca''s eyes drifted back to Ansel, who had settled onto a bench, absentmindedly rubbing his palms together. Luca''s brow furrowed as he noticed Ansel hadn''t taken anything out of his bag. A familiar feeling stirred in Luca''s gut, but before he could say anything, Ansel broke the silence.


    "Why didn''t you follow them, heh?" Ansel asked, his voice slightly echoing off the lockers.


    Luca burst intoughter, mming his palm on his knee. "What about you?!" he cackled. "You think I didn''t notice you waiting them out?!"


    Ansel raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, you caught me. But at least you should spend more time with them. It was okay when the bnce was nted with me beneath and them above the nk. Now, you''ve made it equal," Ansel said. "You understand?"


    "I understand."


    Ansel exhaled deeply as he stood up, gripping his bag and stretching his legs. "We need to head out soon. I can''t stand being here too long. The UK just isn''t for me," he muttered.


    Luca nced at his trophy onest time before zipping up his bag. He stood, phone in one hand, bag in the other. "Why?" he asked, tilting his head. "Is it the weather? The ents?"


    "Those are on the list."


    "If the weather keeps being bad, you might end up staying longer," Luca said with a grin. "I could use thepany. How about dinner? I''ll invite you over."


    Ansel nodded without hesitation, a casual smile tugging at his lips. "Sure, no problem."


    But just as they reached the door, Luca stopped him. "And I''ll introduce you to my family."


    Ansel''s brows furrowed in confusion, the sounds of the team''s shuffling and nking in the background adding ayer of noise to the moment. "You mean your mother and sister? The ones you''ve mentioned?"


    "Yeah, that''s right," Luca replied, his eyes locking onto Ansel''s. "Tomorrow evening, 6 p.m. I''ll send you the address."


    For Ansel, he couldn''t quite believe Luca was offering that. If he did dine with his family, then their friendship would surely be sealed andplete¡ªthat''s how it goes. He nodded slowly, suddenly curious about the kind of household a well-groomed boy like Luca had grown up in.


    "Cheers, man."


    "No problem," Ansel replied as they stepped out into the calm evening breeze, ruffling their hair.


    "Your mother cooks, right?"


    "Yeah, why?"


    "I just like home-cooked food better."

 Chapter 86 Home For A Moment

    At eight in the morning, Luca stepped out of the training facility, having justpleted his Daily Routine and an early Daily Quest notification. The sky was a canvas of dark clouds, and sheets of rainshed against the building, creating a rhythmic drumming that filled the air with a steady hum.


    Inside, the crew gathered around the breakfast table. Luca joined them briefly, savoring a warm, hearty meal while consciously limiting his intake of liquids because of the rain. The heavy rain outside amplified the cozy atmosphere, making it feel like they were wrapped in a cocoon of sound.


    He exchanged farewells with the team, ncing at Ansel to remind him of their dinner ns for the evening as he grabbed his backpack and duffel bag, dressed in the same tracksuit. With a nod of acknowledgment from Ansel, Luca turned to leave.


    Umbre in hand, he stepped out under the canopied ramp that connected the facility to the parking area. The rain pelted the metal awning, the noise sharp and rhythmic. A security guard stationed at the entrance pulled the door open for him, and Luca offered a quick nod of thanks before stepping into the downpour.


    Luca instantly spotted Sara''s car standing at the far end with its headlights glowing faintly in the mist of rain. He then navigated through the downpour until he reached the car, tossing his bags into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat.


    "Goooood morning, Mr. Champion," Sara said as Luca settled in, shaking off the cold droplets that clung to his sleeves.


    Luca managed to grin. "I don''t get called that everyday, but I''ll take it, why not?"


    "I was so proud of you," Sara continued, shifting the car into reverse. "I was the one who started the chant of your name."


    "Really?"


    "Yes," she replied, maneuvering the car out of the parking spot with a precise L-turn. "So, we''re headed to your family''s house, right?" Her eyes flicked briefly to the notepad with the address scrawled in her neat handwriting before returning to the road.


    Luca nodded as they rolled into the main street. They were indeed going to his family''s house, but not that dusty, creaky, old building they had struggled in for years. No, he had ensured that those days were behind them. As soon as he started earning, the first thing he did was order his mother to find a better ce.


    Now, they resided in a charming, modern townhouse in pham. Luca had heard about the neighborhood before, learning about its leafy streets lined with terraces, quaint cafes, and a sense ofmunity that felt safe and weing. It was still close to Sophia''s school as well, and a bus could service that.


    Luca sighed and pulled out his phone, his mind drifting back to this his racing career. He had just won the sixth round of Form 2 this season, and now they were officially in midseason which wouldst a month or so.


    The most important thing to Luca was that Trampos was still at the top. This would help him focus very well on individual effort and sess, knowing fully well that the team in general was driving to victory. To be certain, he pulled up the team''s standings of the championship to gauge the points difference.


    PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    -------------------------------------------


    1.            | Trampos Racing           |   181


    2.            | Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr.  |   148


    3.            | Squadra Corse Jnr       |   98


    4.            | Hatcherk Motorsport   |   92


    5.            | Retona Racing              |   38


    A 33-point difference from Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr was still not enough. If one race spelled disaster for Luca and Ansel, then Max Addams and Dani Walding would surely im the top.


    Squinting closely, Luca noticed a change in the table. He found out that Squadra Corse Jnr had moved up to third, dethroning HM by six points.


    No wonder Aaronson was so mad and frustrated, Luca thought with a smile, recalling Aaronson''s earlier misfortune in Stadhaven. The DNF had really slimmed his chances of winning the championship and even Luca could feel the strain just by staring at the figures.


    Wondering how much it had affected the yer standings, Luca navigated to that section.


    PROVISIONAL DRIVER''S CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    ----------------------------------------------


    1.            | Max Addams                |   109


    2.            | Ansel Hahn                   |   107


    3.            | Miles Bellingham         |   82


    4.            | Sean Aaronson             |   80


    5.            | Luca Rennick                |   72


    A lump formed in Luca''s throat as he stared at his position. His two-race absence had really taken a brutal toll on his points, widening the gap between him and his rivals. Even Aaronson, who had suffered a DNF, had surpassed him with a fair lead.


    Luca sighed and switched off his phone, determined to close that gap as quickly as possible. He nced behind at the backseat where his bag was, wishing he had pulled out his mp3 yer before entering the car.


    Taking a deep breath, he rxed into thefort of the passenger seat as the familiar streets of London rolled by in a blur of wet gray and brick facades. The rhythmic patter of rain against the windshield created a soothing backdrop, broken only by the asional swoosh of passing cars and the steady hum of the engine.


    It had been nearly a thirty-minute drive, and Luca kept himself upied by ying his simple candy-matching game on his phone and casually browsing through various apps. Despite having his phone in hand, he refrained from calling his mother. Today was Sunday, and he was confident she''d be home, most likely enjoying a peaceful day with Sophia.


    Luca preferred it this way¡ªshowing up unannounced. He wanted to catch them in their natural state, without the pressure of preparing for his arrival. If he called ahead, he knew they would tidy up the house, put on their best smiles, and act as if everything were perfect. But what Luca craved was authenticity. He wanted to see them as they truly were in their new home, rxed and living their lives. It was the only way he could genuinely assess how they were settling in and whether they were trulyfortable.


    They rolled further south toward pham, and the London scenery gradually shifted, save for the constant downpour.


    The narrow, bustling streets opened up to quieter residential areas lined with rows of Victorian terraced houses and leafy parks shrouded in mist. There were fewer pedestrians shielded under umbres as the greenery upied everywhere.


    Luca''s mind kept drifting off into a hundred thoughts, subconsciously listening to Sara''s melodic humming as she drove slowly behind another car in the quiet, residential streets. His eyes focused in between the windshield wipers as they moved back and forth, sweeping away the rain droplets.


    Slowly, he returned to full consciousness, his gaze focusing on the car before them. Luca slowly sat up straight and told Sara to follow the white car.


    Luca knew his mother and sister like aputer, their kind of clothes and even their silhouette. Despite the misty rain, Luca recognized both of them instantly. His mother was at the wheel, speaking animatedly to Sophia, who was reaching into the backseat, perhaps to keep something. Luca wondered where they had been so early on a Sunday. Church? A visit to a friend''s house? Whatever it was, seeing them so unexpectedly sent warmth through his chest.


    Sara, as smart and intelligent as ever, asked, "Is that them?"


    "Yes," Luca replied, studying his mom''s new car. "Such a coincidence."


    Sara eased off the elerator and gently followed Mrs. Rennick''s car, navigating through the quiet neighborhood. The rain softened, turning into a drizzle as they turned down a serene street shaded by old but healthy trees, their branches dripping rain onto the sidewalks.


    Luca adjusted his seating as his mother''s car slowed to approach one of the homes. His eyes darted to a charming two-story townhouse with cream-colored bricks and a navy-blue door that stood out against the wet pavement. Nice.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Mrs. Rennick''s car came to a stop at the curve, prompting Sara to quickly park a short distance away and cut the engine. They remained in silence in the car, both watching Mrs. Rennick and Sophia step out of the car, their umbres unfurling. Luca smiled as Sophiaughed at something their mother said with a bright smile. She then opened the backseat and reached inside.


    Luca was d to see his mother and sister getting along so well; the shared smile and giggle between them said everything. He reached down and grabbed his umbre from beneath the seat before pushing the door open. Sara stepped out right behind him, already popping her umbre open in one swift motion.


    How long will it even rain? Luca thought as he dodged a puddle that threatened to ssh up his pant leg. He shut the door beside him, standing still and awaiting their recognition.


    Instantly, Mrs. Rennick nced in their direction, and her gaze fell on Luca. Just as Luca expected, she stood there in a moment of shock, trying to process the figure under an umbre. Sophia''s reaction, however, was different. As soon as she brought out some grocery bags from the backseat, she ced them on the roof of the car. Noticing her mother''s distraction, she looked in that direction and caught sight of Luca.


    "Oh my God!" Sophia shrieked loud enough to silence the clouds as she threw away her umbre and began sprinting toward Luca.


    Sara burst intoughter at Sophia''s reaction, while Luca only opened one arm to embrace her. Sophia reached him in seconds, practically throwing herself into his open arm, wrapping him in a fierce hug. "You didn''t tell me you wereing!"


    "I never tell you anything. C''mon, you''re pushing me to the puddle. Let''s meet Mom," Luca said, guiding her by the shoulder.


    They walked over to Mrs. Rennick, who had already processed that Luca was really there. She locked her car and ced her hands on her hips, giving him a look that said she was ready to scold him for showing up without warning.


    "Mom, Sophia, this is Sara, my Personal Assistant," Luca said. "Sara, this is my mother and my younger sister."


    Mrs. Rennick''s expression softened as she turned to Sara. "It''s nice to meet you, Mrs. Rennick," Sara said, shaking her hand.


    "Nice to meet you too," Mrs. Rennick replied. "Are you the one keeping me from my son when I call?"


    Sara shot Luca a side re. Handling his personal line was out of her work, meaning Luca blocked any calls himself. However, sheughed it out. "It''s all work, ma''am, I''ll try and make him avable for you next time," she said.


    Luca chuckled, shifting his weight to bnce the bags in his arms. "Alright, can we head inside? The rain is picking up again," he said, noticing the droplets growing heavier. He handed Sophia her abandoned umbre while gathering the three grocery bags with ease.


    Luca took a good look at the house as they approached the doorstep. The new home had well-tendered flowerbeds and freshly painted shutters. Once they were on the balcony, they furled their umbres.


    "What''s that on your face?" Sophia asked. "When did you get a mustache?!"


    "Don''t be silly," Luca muttered, watching closely as his mother unlocked the door. He moved his gaze to his mother''s face, trying to study her expression as she ushered everyone in.


    Sara mentioned she would go park her car properly and get his bags, before she headed out into the rain again.


    "Is it your car?" Sophia asked.


    "I will answer all your questions once we settle in," Luca replied, stepping into the dark living room with the grocery bags.

 Chapter 87 Home For A Moment 2

    Luca loved how the new home exuded a weing aura. The mingling scent of cinnamon,vender, polished furniture, and freshly baked bread greeted him as he stepped inside.


    He appreciated how his mother had showcased their framed family photos, lining them neatly along the living room wall and draping the couches with cozy quilts. A ck, furry creature suddenly leaped onto the dining table, poking its nose into the grocery bags. Initially startled, Luca assumed Sophia had brought home a cat, but he quickly learned it was his mother''s new pet.


    Without even pausing to settle down, Luca instinctively patrolled the house, moving from room to room to ensure everything was secure. He was relieved to find the back door locked and most of the windows shut tight¡ªexcept for the one in Sophia''s room. Despite that, he was impressed by how tidy she had kept her space.


    The house felt more spacious inside than it appeared from the outside. It had a four-bedroomyout with a cozy living room and a functional kitchen. A hallway connected the rooms on the ground floor with those upstairs via a central staircase. There was even a pantry stocked with Fijee drinks, which brought a small smile to Luca''s face.


    Satisfied with his inspection, Luca finally settled onto one of the couches, secretly wishing he and Sophia had grown up in a home like this. The atmosphere felt warm andforting. Sara entered shortly after, carrying her bag and Luca''s, which she carefully ced to the side before sitting on a couch adjacent to him.


    Mrs. Rennick soon followed, bringing a trayden with freshly baked scones, a small dish of clotted cream, and a teapot with two cups. Her warm smile lit up the room as she served them, eager to begin a conversation.


    Luca started speaking to quench his mother''s thirst to know what was going on. He narrated how the season had unfolded so far, from Germany back to Ennd. It was a mutual conversation as Sophia and his mother kept interrupting with questions that Luca answered. He did his best to keep certain details hidden, especially the grueling training sessions he endured to stay fit enough to drive a single-seater. However, he couldn''t hide the fact that his mother and sister watched every race religiously, and were even present at the British Grand Prix the previous day.


    Mrs. Rennick didn''t waste any time voicing her concerns, particrly about the tense moments between Luca and Aaronson, especially their wheel-to-wheel contact on the track and their face-to-face contact in the tunnel. "It''s unhealthy," she insisted, shaking her head. She didn''t stop there, bringing up the harsh weather conditions during the race and how dangerous it was to drive at such speeds.


    Sara gently reminded Mrs. Rennick that the inherent risks were part of what drew people to the sport. The tension, speed, and rawpetition captivated audiences worldwide, making motorsport the thrilling spectacle it was. That exnation did very little to ease Mrs. Rennick''s worry.


    Engrossed in their adult conversation, Luca didn''t notice that his phone, set to silent mode, had been ringing for some time. The sky outside had shifted to the muted hues of early evening, signaling it was already 5 p.m. Their discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door.


    Sophia, who had been less engaged in the conversation, sprang up to answer it. Luca followed shortly after, already guessing who might be at the doorstep.


    Sophia reached the door first, opening it to reveal Ansel standing there with an umbre in hand. Behind him, rain fell in shimmering sheets, creating a silvery curtain against the dim evening light.


    Ansel''s gaze flicked between Luca and Sophia, quickly noting their strong resemnce before folding his umbre. "I took a big risk showing up with your phone ringing endlessly. What if you weren''t home?" he teased.


    "My fault. Sorry about that. Come in," Luca said, stepping aside to let him in.


    Ansel entered, shaking off his coat and slipping off his boots near the entrance as rainwater dripped from his clothing.


    "Who''s this? He looks familiar," Sophia whispered to Luca.


    "He''s my teammate," Luca replied in a low voice, taking Ansel''s coat to hang up. "Sophia, this is Mr. Ansel. Emphasis on the ''mister''¡ªhe''s engaged."


    Turning toward the living room, Luca announced, "Mom, this is Ansel, my teammate. Ansel, meet my mom and my younger sister, Sophia."


    Ansel and Mrs. Rennick exchanged warm greetings, as though they were old acquaintances. Mrs. Rennick even embraced him in a surprisingly maternal way, making Ansel feel instantly weed.


    Mrs. Rennick finally excused herself to prepare dinner, leaving Sophia to im charge of the conversation. She tried her best to drag the attention of the two young men who instead, found joy in discussing about furnitures and their exquisite brands.


    By 6 p.m., the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the house. Mrs. Rennick called everyone to the dining table, where a hearty meal awaited¡ªroast chicken, mashed potatoes, zed carrots, a fresh sd, and a loaf of warm bread,plemented by bowls of gravy and sauces.


    Conversation flowed easily at the table, with Luca and Ansel sharing lighthearted stories. Mrs. Rennick asked about Ansel''s fianc¨¦e and whether wedding preparations were underway.


    "Everything is going fine," Ansel replied, sharing a few anecdotes about his personal life.


    Everyone encouraged Sara to join in the conversation, but she preferred to stay quiet, eating while scrolling through her phone. Her silence didn''t disrupt the flow of the meal, and the dinner continued smoothly. By 7 p.m., they had finished eating and indulged in a rich chocte cake with coffee for dessert.


    At 7:30, Luca bid Ansel farewell. Though he offered to let Ansel stay the night, his teammate politely declined, exining it wasn''t part of his ns. An hourter, Sara also left, driving back to her hotel in Fulham.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Luca was left alone with his mother and sister. After seeing them off, he locked the door and went upstairs to one of the spare rooms. His mother, ever thoughtful, had ensured there were plenty of rooms avable should he ever decide to stay¡ªa possibility she no doubt hoped for.


    The room was sparse yet tidy, with just the basics: a white mattress, a closet, a nightstand, a table, and a chair. It reminded Luca of a typical middle schooler''s bedroom.


    Luca checked the time¡ªit was just a few minutes to nine. He took a quick, refreshing bath before sitting down to watch some past races. His scheme wasn''t over yet; Mr. Grant''s directives and the System''s requirements were still in y, so Luca immersed himself in the essence of Form 1 to stay sharp.


    When sleepiness began to take over, Luca closed hisptop and stepped out of the room. His OCD kicked in,pelling him to check every door and window in the house to ensure they were securely shut before finally retiring to bed.

 Chapter 88 Home For A Moment 3

    [SYSTEM ONLINE..]


    [Host should begin Daily Routine.]


    It felt strange getting up from a bed that wasn''t the same as the one in the TR headquarters. Luca sat upright, drank some water, and meditated. When he was done, he walked to the table, grabbed his toothbrush, and attended to his teeth.


    He had hung a new set of tracksuit before going to bed. Unhooking it from the closet, Luca got dressed as quickly as possible, sitting at the edge of his bed toce his sneakers.


    There was a soft knock on the door, but the knocker quickly realized Luca had left it open and slipped inside as quietly as possible. Luca turned sharply, his eyes catching sight of his sister stealthily entering his room. "What are you doing here, Sophia?" he asked, adjusting thece into the tucks of his joggers.


    Sophia pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh. Don''t say my name. Mom told me not to disturb you."


    Luca''s nose twitched as the smell of something cooking drifted from the kitchen. "Why''s she cooking so early?"


    "For you, of course," Sophia replied, casually wandering around the room. She caught sight of Luca''s golden trophy peeking out of his duffel bag and hurried over to it. She picked it up, examining it closely. "Is it real gold?"


    "Not really. I don''t think so."


    Sophia''s fingers traced the intricate design of the trophy. "Where will you keep it? Here, at home?"


    Luca paused for a moment, considering. He''d decided long ago that he would leave the trophy at home, even though it wasn''t the most valuable thing in the world. Winning a Grand Prix was just one of many victories he nned to have. "Yeah, I''ll leave it here. Make sure you take good care of it and polish it. Maybe put it on the shelf next to the TV," he suggested, knowing Sophia would appreciate it far more than he did.


    Sophia nodded and gently ced the trophy on the table. "So, when are you going back to Germany?" she asked.


    "A week or two," Luca replied. "Don''t worry, I''m staying here for a while, and I''ll hang out with you guys a lot."


    Sophia''s eyes softened, but she hesitated before speaking again. "That''s nice, but... you won''t be able to attend my graduation, right?"


    Luca froze, holding his MP3 yer in one hand and the earpiece in the other. He blinked, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "You''re graduating, aren''t you?"


    Sophia let out a quiet sigh. "Yes. That''s what I''m saying. It''s just... it''s sad, because, like two years ago, during yours, I never expected you to be absent from mine."


    Luca fell silent. The realization slowly hit him. He''dpletely forgotten Sophia was graduating this year, someone he was even prepping for college. He quickly asked her for the date, only to discover her graduation fell just a week before his training was scheduled to resume in Germany. He was supposed to be at the headquarters on that day¡ªDay 3 of training, not attending a graduation ceremony.


    Luca sighed. He wondered how bad Sophia might feel looking back at her pictures to see his absence in her graduation photos. As a teenager, his graduation was one of the best days of his life, and he was sure it''d be the same for Sophia, considering her character.


    A thought crossed his mind. Maybe he could ask Mr. Grant, and more importantly, Mr. Fisher, for a couple of extra days in London. After the graduation, he could fly out and get back on track with his training. It wasn''t much, but it was better than nothing.


    "Don''t worry, I''ll be there," Luca said, clipping his MP3 yer onto his tracksuit.


    "Really?!"


    "Yes," he replied, slipping his earpiece into ce.


    Sophia rushed over to him, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "That''s wonderful! Make sure you wear an all-ck suit and shades¡ªck shades, okay? And arrive in the same car you came in yesterday. Oh, and don''te early, and definitely don''tete. Just be there right on time, okay?"


    "Okay, whatever you say," Luca said, gently pushing her toward the door. "Now, if you don''t mind, my PA is waiting for me outside."


    Sophia continued talking as she walked out of the room. The smell of food from the kitchen grew stronger, wafting through the house. From the kitchen, Mrs. Rennick''s voice rang out, sharp and clear. "Did I not tell you not to disturb your brother?!"


    "Tell Mom I''m off; I''ll be back in an hour," Luca said, slipping out of the front door. Once he was on the doorstep, the cold morning air hit him sharply. The rain from the night before had left everything wet¡ªthe neatly trimmed bushes glistened, and the neighbor''s roofs were slick with water. Luca quickly spotted Sara''s car across the road and jogged toward it, his bag swinging in his hand as he made his way across the street.


    Upon arriving, Luca noticed it wasn''t Sara behind the wheel, but his agent, Mallow, wearing his usual shades and an oversized, bogus coat.


    "What... are you doing here?" Luca asked immediately.


    "I borrowed Sara''s ride for a bit," Mallow said with a shrug, looking at Luca over the top of his shades. "And where exactly do you think you''re going, young man?"


    "I gym every morning."


    "Well, you''re not gymming this morning."


    "What? I don''t understand."


    Mallow rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You''re seeing your family after three months, and you want to hit the gym the very next morning?"


    "Is... there a problem with that?"


    "Have you even eaten?" Mallow asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "No, I''ll eat when I''m back. My mom''s cooking. She''s making pancakes and eggs, I think," Luca said, recalling the aroma.


    Behind his shades, Mallow''s eyes widened in disbelief. He quickly scrambled out of the car. "Do you have a screw loose,d? Your mom''s cooking that breakfast, and you want to leave the house?!"


    Luca stood dumbfounded, his eyes flicking to the top of his System interface that had just materialized, reminding him of the start time for his exercise phase. He had mere minutes left.


    "Back inside," Mallowmanded, grabbing a file from the dashboard before locking the car with a quick press of the key.


    "Oh, c''mon. This is not fair."


    "You can spare today!" Mallow said, waving the file as he strode casually across the street. "Besides, we need to go over this."


    Luca sighed, ncing both ways twice before crossing the road before him.


    [Ding!]


    [Daily Routine abandoned]


    Before Mallow could reach the front door, it swung open to reveal Mrs. Rennick, apron-d and looking like an older version of Sophia. Her sharp eyesnded on Mallow, and she quickly recognized him.


    "Good morning, madam. I just stopped your son from sneaking out to avoid your cooking," Mallow said, gesturing toward Luca, who had just stepped onto the porch.


    "Lukey?!"


    "Mom, don''t listen to him. Let''s get inside," Luca said quickly, nudging Mallow through the doorway.


    Once they settled in the living room, Mrs. Rennick returned with a trayden with breakfast, enough to satisfy even the hungriest guest. Mallow''s eyes lit up, already savoring the sight. As Luca predicted, the meal included stacks of fluffy pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and golden scrambled eggs topped with chives. There were crispy bacon strips and buttery croissants on the side, apanied by tall sses of orange juice.


    As soon as Mrs. Rennick left them to eat, Luca quickly turned his attention to the file Mallow had brought.


    "Remember Mrs. Hawthorne?" Mallow asked, sliding the file across the table.


    "Yes."


    Mallow leaned back, watching as Luca picked up the file, taking a bite of eggs and bacon as he flipped it open. Removing his shades to focus, Mallow continued, "That''s everything about her establishments across the country¡ªher public shares, investments, and assets. I wanted you to know all this before we agree on terms and sign anything."


    Luca skimmed through the documents, his interest growing with every line his eyes covered. The woman was a formidable figure with an extensivework of establishments across Ennd. Widowed for over a decade, she had transformed herte husband''s modest ranch in Norfolk into a thriving equestrian center. The file detailed her ownership of luxury hotel and restaurant chains in Birmingham and Liverpool. Her investments spanned boutique fashion stores, live shows, and painting galleries.


    To Luca, it was no surprise that a businesswoman like Mrs. Hawthorne, with her sharp eye for opportunities, hadtched onto a sport like Form 1, which was steadily bing the world''s number one. It made sense, especially considering she was intent on backing an F2 driver, just in case things didn''t go as nned.


    "Impressive, right?" Mallow asked, swallowing another bite of food.


    "€520 million in worth? Impressive doesn''t even begin to cover it," Luca replied, tucking the file back into the bag. He took a sip of his orange juice, leaning back in his chair to rx. "So, when do we meet her in an official atmosphere?"N?v(el)B\\jnn


    "She''s eager to wrap this up by the end of the week, so I''m thinking we head to Birmingham tomorrow," Mallow said, finishing his meal.


    "Birmingham? Tomorrow?" Luca raised an eyebrow, caught off guard.


    "Yeah, her head office is there. And tomorrow''s the best day to finalize things before your schedule gets any busier," Mallow exined. "The midseason might be called a break, but you and I know it''s far from that."


    "I just got here. I can''t travel a dayter."


    "Exactly why I told you not to go to the gym this morning. Come on! Spend time with your family. Chat with your mother! y Barbie dolls with your sister¡ªdoes she even have school today?"


    Luca frowned, taking a moment to process Mallow''s absurd suggestion. "My sister''s sixteen, and no, she doesn''t have school today. Graduation''sing up soon," he muttered.


    "Even better!" Mallow said with a grin. "Help her pick out a prom outfit! Everything can be done in under 24 hours, mate."


    Luca stared, unimpressed.


    Mallow wiped his mouth clean, plucked a strawberry from the table, and grabbed the file. "Now, go call your mom, let me thank her, and then I''ll take my leave. You, me, and Sara are heading to Birmingham by 2 tomorrow."

 Chapter 89 Home For A Moment 4

    Around 2 p.m., Luca left home and took a cab to the team''s facility. He felt restless staying at home and wanted to check in with the team to see how they were spending their break.


    The atmosphere at the Trampos facility was lively. Some team members had ventured out to enjoy the city, with Victor and Haas among them. Others stayed back, taking advantage of the recreational activities offered on-site. To Luca''s relief, he spotted Ansel in the courtyard, engaged in a spirited tennis match with McCauley.


    Themon area buzzed with energy as crew members, dressed in rxed attire, shared stories andughter. The backdrop of booming hip-hop music added to the cheerful mood. Luca, who considered himself a decent table tennis yer, grabbed a paddle and joined the lineup, waiting for his turn to y. He spent the next few hours immersed in conversations, unwinding with the team until the sun began to set.


    Before he could even offer, Ansel asked if he could have dinner at his home again, and this time, sleep over. Luca readily agreed, calling his mother to let her know to prepare food for four. They left the facility together, stepping out into the crisp evening air as the sky hinted at rain. They gged down a cab to pham, the ride filled with conversation about Luca''s new potential endorser, Mrs. Hawthorne. Ansel listened, wide-eyed. Though he lived in the Deutd, he had heard of the powerful businesswoman''s empire. To see Luca getting such attention was remarkable.


    When they arrived, a light drizzle began to fall. Mrs. Rennick greeted them warmly, her face lighting up as she weed her son and his friend. She embraced them and took Ansel''s duffel bag with a smile.


    "Be careful with that, ma''am. There''s something valuable in there," Ansel said.


    "Don''t worry, dear, I''ve got it," she replied, guiding them into the living room where Sophia was sitting cross-legged on the couch, half-watching the TV while scrolling on her phone. Luca was d she was at home by this time and not somewhere unknown.


    Luca waved her off, and she moved to the dining table without protest. A few minutester, Mrs. Rennick returned, carrying a lighter but hearty dinner spread. tes of grilled chicken, fresh garden sd, and warm rolls wereid out,plemented by a bowl of seasoned rice and a pitcher of lemonade.


    When dinner was done, Ansel revealed why his bag was so precious.


    "Wait. You brought the yStation?"


    "Of course I did. Now connect it, it''s your house this time," Ansel said with a grin.


    Luca chuckled and quickly connected the console to the living room TV. Within moments, the room came alive with animated sounds and theme music.


    After an hour of gaming, the post-dinner drowsiness set in. Thebination of a full stomach and friendlypetition left them both stifling yawns. Sensing this, Mrs. Rennick swiftly prepared the guest room for Ansel, ensuring he wasfortable. By 9 p.m., everyone retired for the night, the house settling into a peaceful silence.


    The following morning, Luca''s System chimed, signaling the start of a new day.


    [SYSTEM ONLINE]


    [Host should begin Daily Routine]


    There was no stopping Luca this time. He was ustomed to this for three months now, and he wasn''t sure he would feel confident before Mrs. Hawthorne and herwyers if he didn''t hit the gym and exercise like he did everyday. The gym had be more than a physical routine for him¡ªit was a mental anchor. The rush of endorphins and the structured intensity of his workout infused him with a sense of control and readiness.


    Just as Luca had nned, he and Ansel would be hitting the gym together in case Mr. Mallow decided to swoop in and prevent him from going. With Ansel, it''d be two to one and Mallow would be able to do nothing.


    Smiling, Luca woke up Ansel and they got dressed, leaving the house unnoticed and back to the facility.


    On arriving at the facility''s gym, Luca shifted to a personal space, strapped a headband and awaited his System''s new rmendation of Advanced Bundle daily exercise.


    [Retrieving...]


    [... Sessfully Retrieved]


    [5:30 HYDRATION & MEDITATION: Host will get out of bed and stretch to loosen his muscles. Taking a full ss of water will kickstart your metabolism. Afterwards, you will sit quietly for a few moments. By breathing deeply, you will help release all forms of stress.]


    [6:00 WORKOUT & GROOMING: Your daily workout includes Power Burpees, HIIT with Plyometric Push-Ups, Jump Squats, advanced core work (Hanging Leg Raises, Oblique V-Ups), Bulgarian Split Squats, and weighted Lunges. Flexibility training features full yoga sequences and deep stretches. Afterward, you''ll take a shower to refresh yourself.]


    [7:00 BREAKFAST & NUTRITION: A nutritious meal and more water to stay hydrated.]


    "This is close to Intermediate Bundle''s," Luca noted, getting ready to begin.


    [Yes, host.]


    In a jiffy he began the string of exercises that he would maintain until he levels up to Professional Bundle. Luca wondered what that had in store for him.


    Rising from the burpees, Luca transitioned seamlessly into HIIT with plyometric push-ups, exploding his muscles. Without pausing, he dropped to the floor again, now into nks, holding steady as his core trembled before shifting into Russian twists. The intensity heightened with jump squats and Bulgarian split squats, his muscles burning with effort. He gave himself two minutes of rest before he powered through lunges, focusing on form and bnce. Finally, he eased into yoga poses, stretching deeply to rx tension.


    [Workoutpleted]


    [Would host like to focus on Attributes?]


    [Y / N]


    Luca drank half a bottle of water. "I''ve forgotten the values. Let me see them again," he said.


    [Generating...]


    [... Generationspleted.]


    [Strength: 16


    Stamina: 24N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Endurance: 22


    Agility: 20


    Intelligence: 18 ]


    "You had said something about a new skill when taking all to 20?" Luca asked.


    [Yes, host. Host unlocks a new skill when all Attributes reach 20, 30, 40 and 50 marks]


    Luca hummed to himself, his eyes settling on Strength and Intelligence, honing 16 and 18 respectively. He wondered why Intelligence hadn''t reached 20 up till now, when it had the highest value when he began. "System, can you calcte their rate of progress?"


    [Calcting...]


    [Strength¡ª 1.16% progress per session/race


    Stamina¡ª 1.91% progress per session/race


    Endurance¡ª 1.41% progress per session/race


    Agility¡ª 1.5% progress per session/race


    Intelligence¡ª 1.08% progress per session/race ]


    So, it''s obvious I grow Strength and Intelligence less, Luca thought as the yes and no query popped up again. What are the activities you''d likely assign for Intelligence? That quiz again?!


    [There are several host, System would collect data needed ording to requirement]


    [Cognitive Speed Training is highly possible to be picked.]


    What about Strength? Luca asked, realizing he had never picked to focus on that Attribute.


    [Assessing...]


    "You know what?" Luca said, interrupting the System''s process. He had the rest of the day in mind, plus preparing to go to Birmingham with Mallow and Sara, he decided he''d have to do these activitiester. "Just draft them out, and let me knowter."


    [System will notify host once training activities have been sessfully generated.]


    Luca left the gym area to go greet Ansel and the team. He left the facility some minutester, literally dragging himself away from an intriguing discussion everyone had.


    When he arrived home, breakfast was already waiting for him. After a quick shower, he sat down and enjoyed his mother''s cooking. Between bites, he mentioned his uing trip to Birmingham that afternoon, exining that he might be back in two or three days¡ªMallow had been vague about the timeline.


    Mrs. Rennick tried to appear supportive and understanding, but Luca could tell she was unsettled. He expressed his gratitude for the meal and headed to his room to pack just a few essentials. At 1 p.m. sharp, Mallow and Sara showed up, d in their usual all-ck attire, now paired with coats.

 Chapter 90 July Dreams For Luca

    The encounter with Mrs. Hawthorne and her team unfolded seamlessly. Luca, along with Sara and Mallow, arrived at an imposing, manor-like building nestled in the tranquil countryside of Birmingham. There, discussions with the vibrant, ageddy and her representatives took ce. Mrs. Hawthorne outlined her ambitions with precision. She intended to introduce the Hawthorne name into Form racing, beginning with the F2 series and expanding swiftly. The n was to make calcted inroads that would bolster and spread her brand''s influence gradually yet radically. And if Luca ascended to F1, it would only amplify her chances of sess.


    The offer she presented was exceptional, eclipsing even that of established sponsors like Fijee. For each podium finish, Luca would receive a $50,000 bonus, while a race victory would him an additional $100,000. Finishing within the top five would secure him $500,000, and winning the championship would bring in a staggering $800,000. These bonuses alone surpassed what most firms could offer, making her proposal hard to refuse.


    However, the deal was structured as a one-year contract¡ªa calcted move on Mrs. Hawthorne''s part to safeguard her investment. She had no intention of risking her capital without guarantees, and the short-term nature of the agreement was designed to test Luca''s potential. Mallow, unfazed by these terms, was brimming with enthusiasm. The prospect of securing such a lucrative deal had him practically vibrating with energy, and he made it clear through subtle gestures to Luca that he had no choice but to sign.


    In return for these generous terms, Mrs. Hawthorne demanded that Luca build his entire career profile around the Hawthorne brand. This went beyond merely cing logos on his car or race suit. It meant full alignment with her vision¡ªendorsements, exclusive interviews, and public appearances that would tether his rising stardom directly to the Hawthorne name. It was more than a sponsorship, but more like an alliance that required Luca to align his image with Hawthorne''s vision.


    Even minor details, like exclusively using the Airphone¡ªa phone brand in which Hawthorne held a significant stake¡ªwere part of the agreement. It was a bold move on Mrs. Hawthorne''s part, and one that she was determined to make work to her advantage.


    Luca, understanding the stakes and the opportunity before him, agreed to the terms.


    The first phase of the contract was presented on the second day, and Luca signed without hesitation. The second phase, however, was to be revealed at ater date, pending thorough reviews of each use and condition by all parties involved. The agreement''splexity¡ªespecially the specifics surrounding race finishes and associated bonuses¡ªdemanded transparency. To ensurepliance and prevent futureplications, Mrs. Hawthorne''s team would also need to formally inform the Federation about the deal with one of their feeder series drivers.


    Though Mrs. Hawthorne hadn''t offered a base sry, Luca couldn''t help but calcte the potential earnings if he managed to win all six remaining Featured Race Grands Prix. He would be swimming in millions.


    After the first day of meetings, while on transit through Birmingham, something caught Luca''s eye. Through the car window, he caught a glimpse of the Grey-Husson Academy. His curiosity piqued, he turned to Mallow.


    "How''s the ce doing now?" Luca asked, wondering if Mallow knew anything about the academy''s current state or if there had been any new intakes.


    Mallow''s response came with a smug chuckle, as though he relished the news. "Oh, you haven''t heard? They''re shutting it down," he replied with another chuckle, clearly proud of himself for being the perpetuator behind that.


    Luca blinked in surprise. "Shutting down?"


    "Yeah. The ce is a joke¡ªE-level facilities, subpar activities. The Federation pulled their license. And old man Schafer? He''s done with running any academy, or any Federation establishment for that matter," Mallow exined.


    "What?!" Luca eximed, stunned by the revtion about the turn of events.


    "Oh, yeah," Mallow said with a casual shrug. "They''re even investigating embezzlement of funds. Who thinks he''s guilty?" He raised a hand. "I do."


    Luca fell silent, his mind racing. That''s bad, he thought, recalling his experiences there. For all its ws, the academy had been a part of his journey. To see it fall like this left him unsettled.


    It was these cacophony of thoughts that led Luca to hail a cab the second day and head to the grandeur facility. He instructed the cab driver to stop at the beginning of the long, tree-lined road leading up to the academy. The air was crisp and tinged with a faint earthy scent, and Luca, caught in a mix of nostalgia and unease, chose to walk the rest of the way.


    As he approached the entrance, he realized the gate was wide open, an unusual sight for a ce that had once been tightly secured. Quickening his pace, he stepped into the grandeur academy. To his surprise, it wasn''t as eerily quiet as it had been in his memory. While the astonishing greenery and architectural exquisiteness remained, the serene atmosphere had been reced by a flurry of activity. People in navy blue bustled about, moving with purpose, and their movements created a sense of urgency as if they were tearing the ce down.


    Luca stood near the open fountain, unnoticed amidst themotion. He stared in awe at the trucks and vans stationed around the property as equipments and boxes were loaded into them.


    Conversations ovepped the scene Luca was witnessing, furniture, stacks of files andputer systems being carried out. The Federation''s signage and ques were removed. Two men even passed him with an extremely longdder. Luca''s best guess was that they were removing the G banner outside.


    Wow. So, it is true.


    Amidst the chaos, his gaze locked onto someone stepping out of the main building, weaving through workers and casting sharp, hateful looks. As she stepped into the open, her eyes instantlynded on Luca standing by the fountain, and they widened in surprise.


    Wow. Isabe? What''s she doing here? Straightening up instinctively, he noticed her nce around quickly. Without hesitation, she began making her way toward him.


    Without preamble, Isabe demanded to know why he was there. "And you''ve been ignoring my messages," she added, her tone barely masking her frustration.


    Luca''s mind raced. He was certain he''d sent thest message, but now he wondered if he had missed her reply. ording to her, he hadn''t. "It''s just been work. I''ll respond when I get home."


    "Don''t bother," she said, her gaze flicking around the chaotic scene. "Since you''re here, I might as well tell you everything in person."


    Feigning ignorance about the situation, Luca let her exin the full story of what was happening at Grey-Husson''s. He wanted every detail, just in case Mallow had left anything out. Isabe also revealed that she hadn''t made it to the college she had aimed for and had found herself back in Ennd tofort her grieving father, who had recently lost his license.


    With nothing to say, Luca only put in a "sorry." His mind churned with ideas about what to do next as she stood there, arms folded, looking around while still facing him. All his ideas yed out in his mind and resulted in horrible oues.


    He cursed inwardly, deciding to push past his hesitation.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "I could take you out on a date if that would cheer you up," he blurted, biting his tongue.


    Isabe''s lips pressed together as she tried to suppress a smile, her cheeks flushing red. Unlike Luca, she couldn''t mask her emotions so easily. "I can''t believe YOU are asking me out," she said slowly, drawing out the words.


    Luca waited patiently for a real reply.


    "I''d love to."


    "That''s great."


    "But my father won''t approve."


    Luca frowned, swallowing hard. He wondered why there''d have to be ''buts''. "Why?" he asked calmly.


    "He''s made it clear that I can''t date until I''m 17, maybe even 18," Isabe admitted, avoiding his gaze as she looked toward the dismantled academy.


    Luca''s insides twisted with sudden confusion and disbelief. What kind of¡ª


    "I''ll be 17 in July," she added.


    This is mid-May. Two months away. Luca''s shoulders eased as the realization set in, and he nodded. "I''ll wait then," he said, his gaze shifting just in time to catch an unpleased Mr. Schafer emerging from the same building Isabe hade out of.


    Just as Isabe had met Luca''s gaze earlier, Mr. Schafer''s eyes immediately locked onto him. After a brief pause, they shifted to Isabe''s back, his expression unreadable but clearly not weing.


    Luca instinctively thought about raising a hand in greeting but hesitated, sensing it might only aggravate the man further. Instead, he quickly wrapped up the conversation, telling Isabe to send his regards to the man. Afterwards, he turned to leave, strolling out of the facility momentster. He nced back a few times at her and the swirling chaos around the academy as the dismantling continued while he retraced his steps.


    Walking the same long road, Luca gged down a cab and headed back to the hotel where he, Mallow, and Sara had been staying in Birmingham.

 Chapter 91 Grinding Through It All

    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    They returned to London as swiftly as they had left for Birmingham.


    By the end of the week, it became evident to everyone in Trampos that their time in the city was nearing its conclusion, as the remainder of the midseason would unfold in Berlin.


    Fortune favored Luca when Mr. Fisher, Mrs. Doyle, and Mr. Grant approved his request for an additional four-day stay in London, allowing him to attend his sister''s graduation. He nned to take the first avable public flight back to Berlin the morning after the ceremony.


    While the rest of the team prepared for their imminent departure at week''s end, Luca turned his attention to the regimen outlined by his System, zeroing in on activities designed to enhance his strength attribute.


    [Strength is crucial for you, as it provides the physical power needed to endure the intense demands of an F1 car over long races.]


    [Enhanced Strength ensures better control of the vehicle, supports sustained performance during high G-force conditions, and helps maintain optimal posture and stability under pressure.]


    [Today''s session will focus on Deadlifts, Squats and Overhead Press.]


    Alright, let''s go.


    [EXERCISE: DEADLIFTS]


    [EQUIPMENT: BARBELL AND WEIGHT PLATES]


    [Host is required to perform deadlifts with controlled, powerful movements, focusing on proper form to maximize strength gains and prevent injury.]


    [This exercise will be done for 4 sets of 8-10 reps, with gradual weight increases to build overall body strength, targeting the lower back, glutes, and hamstrings.]


    Luca scrambled to the other side of the gym area to grab the barbell and weight tes, eager to begin his session. He hurried back to his mat, sliding the weight tes onto each side with good focus. Wrapping his fingers tightly around the bar, he adjusted his stance carefully, preparing for the task ahead.


    With his feet shoulder-width apart and knees slightly bent, he took a deep breath, engaging his core as he lifted the barbell off the floor in one fluid motion. He paused when the barbell reached his hip level, because he could feel the strain ripple through his muscles before he lowered it with effective control. Lowering it slowly, Luca then repeated the motion, his mind locked on the System''s rmendations for achieving optimal progress this session.


    By the 4th and final set, Luca had added an extra 10kg weight te to push himself further. He lifted with every ounce of strength he could summon, his muscles trembling under the strain. With a sharp exhale, he let the bar drop back onto the rack.


    [Good job, host. Moving on to the next]


    [EXERCISE: SQUATS]


    [EQUIPMENT: BARBELL AND SQUAT RACK]


    [Host will position the barbell across the shoulders and perform squats, focusing on depth and controlled movements to maximize lower body strength and core stability.]


    [This will be done for 4 sets of 12 reps, with short rests in between to maintain intensity and allow muscle recovery.]


    Luca took a deep breath, hoisted the barbell onto his shoulders, and stepped back. He lowered into a squat, his legs straining as he pushed through each rep. With controlled power, he drove himself upward, exhaling sharply. There was no hesitation in his rhythm, his focus fixed onpleting the set and pushing his strength to its limit.


    At some point, Luca felt he couldn''t continue, his muscles ached and his face had turned red. The tension in his quad and glutens intensified to almost an unbearable level, while his thighs burned with power.


    With only two reps remaining, Luca made the tough call to gently lower the barbell, knowing a gym injury wasn''t worth the gamble. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath as his body trembled from the exertion.


    [Squats upleted; 2 Repetitions to go]


    [Proceed to the next?]


    [Y / N]


    Panting heavily, Luca dropped to his knees, allowing himself a brief moment of recovery. After a gulp of air, he selected "Yes."


    [Moving on to the next]


    [EXERCISE: OVERHEAD PRESS]


    [EQUIPMENT: BARBELL]


    [Host will position the barbell at shoulder height, then press it overhead in a controlled motion, focusing on full extension and core engagement to build upper body strength.]


    [This will be done for 4 sets of 10 reps, with short rests in between to maintain intensity and allow muscle recovery.]


    Oh my goodness, that''s wild!


    [Should System rece the activity?]


    "No, don''t worry," Luca replied, though part of him wished he''d said otherwise. With a deep breath, he grabbed the cold barbell once more, positioning it at shoulder height. He steadied himself, then pushed upward.


    Surprisingly, as he pushed through the reps, it wasn''t as difficult as he''d expected, though his muscles still strained with each movement. Midway through, that familiar chime of his System echoed, and a notification shed in front of him.


    [Strength +1]


    That''s great, Luca mused, still pressing on. He focused on his breathing, locking in on his form as every push sent a jolt through his shoulders and arms. After the final repetition, he slowly lowered the barbell, his sweat pores yielding as he was drenched in sweat.


    "Don''t break your back!" McCauley yelled as he strolled past the gym area.


    [Good job, host. All activities assigned have beenpleted.]n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Luca nodded in acknowledgment, grabbing a towel to wipe away the evidence of his hard work. He knew he was locked into daily sessions with his System until his return to Berlin, and this was just the beginning.


    Luca took out his phone to answer messages, going straight to Isabe''s chat to reply. He noticed Sara had sent him a few pictures of buildings, telling him to choose the kind he''d like for his home.


    They weren''t bad at all, all of them were good, wonderful infact in Luca''s opinion. The first was a modern, sleek ss building with clean lines and a minimalistic design, set against a city skyline. The second was a more ssic style, with stone facades and elegant arches, giving off a timeless, almost regal feel.


    Luca checked the price tags that were attached, and his mouth fell open. $6 million dors?! $4.2 million dors?! What is she thinking?!


    He quickly wiped the shock off his face and typed a message to Sara, exining there was no way he could afford such expensive houses¡ªnot even close. While he wasn''t sure about his bank bnce, he knew the numbers would never add up to buying or maintaining a property at that price.


    Hearingughter and loud voicesing from themon area, Luca shut off his phone and wiped his face. Ignoring the strain in his muscles, he pushed himself to his feet and sprinted out of the gym, eager to join the team and catch up on whatever fun they were having.

 Chapter 92 Graduation Day

    Staying with the team in the facility until their day of departure, Luca returned home to pham, keeping in regr contact with Ansel and McCauley. He begged them to cut out any fun in his absence, staying updated on all progress and activities through frequent calls.


    During this time, he also helped his mother prepare for Sophia''s graduation, ensuring everything was in order and more. On the fateful day, Mrs. Rennick and Sophia left for her school early in the morning. With the house quiet, Luca took the opportunity to pack up all his belongings, neatly rolling them to the side of the room for easy esse daybreak.


    Afterwards, Luca took a nice shower, got dressed in clean underwear and the all-ck suit Sophia had requested, putting on shades as well to finalize his look. He applied a hint of cologne,bed his hair into ce, and paused briefly to check his reflection in the mirror.


    Once ready, he stepped outside, locking the door behind him. On the curb, Sara was already waiting in her car. True to her punctual nature, she had arrived early. Luca slid into the passenger seat, buckled his seatbelt, and greeted her with a casual smile.


    Sara started the engine, guiding the car out of the neighborhood and onto the main road, heading toward Sophia''s school.


    "I gave you three options for a house, and you said they were too expensive," Sara remarked, breaking the silence as they merged into traffic.


    Lucaughed. "And they weren''t? If they''re so reasonable, why aren''t you living in one yourself?"


    "Urrgh. You said you wanted somewhere quiet and convenient. I was just narrowing down the choices after you couldn''t decide from the gallery I sent you."


    "Fine. But isn''t there anything cheaper?" Luca asked.


    "It''s an investment," Sara reasoned. "We don''t have millions to drop on a house, so we take it step by step, see how the race season goes with your bonuses, and reassess by year''s end." She bit her lower lip. "Honestly, I''m even starting to second-guess this whole house thing."


    "Really? Why?" Luca questioned.


    Sara briefly took one hand off the wheel to gesture as she spoke. "What if you make it into the first division after this season and your new team isn''t based in Germany? That house would be a burden. The goal is to make it to F1, right?"


    Luca rubbed his chin thoughtfully as they drove into North Kensington. He remembered there was really no popr German F1 team. "You''ve got a point," he admitted. "So, what''s it going to be?"


    Sara shrugged. "Let''s just buy you a house. You can''t be homeless, Luca. And if the timees, we can always sell it. Besides, it wouldn''t hurt to have property overseas."


    Luca nodded again as her words trailed off, his gaze drifting to the familiar streets around them. The neighborhoods stirred a wave of nostalgia, reminding him of his family''s earlier days. They were driving through the region he used to live with his mother and sister.


    They arrived at Westborough High a few momentster, a surge of nostalgia hitting Luca as he remembered his school. The premises sure looked like a graduation event; the sight of decorations and banners with small gatherings of proud families said it all.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    As Sara pulled into the parking lot, Luca quickly called his mother to let her know he''d arrived right when Sophia wanted. The faint, indistinct voice over a microphone hinted that the event was already underway.


    Grateful for the cover his shades provided and aware that his growing mustache might make him look a bit different, Luca stepped out of the car with a confident stride. He scanned the open area filled with rows of seats facing a decorated podium. People moved around, some casually seated as if the ceremony was already over. Luca exhaled, dialing his mother again to find out their exact location. Thest thing he wanted was to run into a familiar teacher, an old ssmate, or even a junior who might recognize him. He preferred to keep his presence under the radar, though he had no doubt Sophia had already broadcasted that her brother, an F2 driver, was attending.


    Sara locked the car and followed Luca to where Mrs. Rennick had directed. Luca kept close to time as he settled in a seat in between Sara and his mother. Sure enough, he did recognize a lot of people. And he was sure they recognized him too. A lot of nces were shot his way, but no one approached, save for his mother''s own friends who were parents as well.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm round of apuse for our graduating ss as theye forward to receive their diplomas..."


    A wave of apuse swept through the crowd as parents, including Mrs. Rennick, stood up to honor the graduates. The graduating ss moved across the stage, and Luca''s eyes immediately found Sophia. Her ck and blue gownplemented her brown skin perfectly, and her radiant smile sparkled even from a distance.


    Luca got to realize that the diploma presentation was the final official act of the ceremony. Next woulde the casual parts of refreshments, photographs, and goodbyes. A happy Sophia stepped off stage and returned to her family, certificate clutched in hand.


    They headed out to a shade under the tree for light refreshments while Sophia still cheered with her mates. Exchanging pleasantries with some of his mother''s friends, Luca hurried a photographer and called Sophia to the photone.


    An hourter, Sara excused herself, needing to catch up on work that couldn''t be done from a crowded, noisy venue. Luca nodded in agreement, understanding her departure. He busied himself with his phone as the crowd thinned and the post-ceremony buzz began to wind down.


    As 5 p.m. approached, Luca felt a twinge of impatience, not wanting to deal with thete evening rush. He gathered his mother and called Sophia to regroup. Once the family was together, they made their way to Mrs. Rennick''s car and drove out of the school lot.


    Realizing that cooking dinner at this hour would be exhausting for his mother, Luca suggested they stop at a restaurant to celebrate properly. The idea was met with approval, adding to the joy of Sophia''s special day. They pulled up at St. Remy''s, a well-known spot in the area. Luca ced orders that catered to everyone''s taste while carefully selecting a dish that would align with his strict training diet. Mrs. Rennick, always mindful of waste, packed some leftovers, and Sophia, still d in her graduation gown, began to show signs of fatigue and sleep.


    They arrived home a little past 7 p.m., and within the hour, both women had retreated to their rooms for the night. Luca, however, remained awake until 9 p.m., tuned into the Motorsport channel on the TV. He searched for any updates that hadn''t yet appeared on his F1 app but found only analysis pieces discussing Marko Ignatova''s incredible overtake against Marcellus Rodnick during the British Grand Prix.


    Still restless, Luca turned to his training regimen, this time, reviewing race footage from the past three seasons. After immersing himself in the details of each race, he wrapped up his night with a shower and his usual night routine around the house. With his mind focused and ready, Luca climbed into bed, prepared to return to Berlin and continue his career, his pursuit for ultimate victory.

 Chapter 93 Back In Berlin

    [Daily Routine abandoned]


    Luca decided to skip the gym, knowing he had an early flight to catch with Sara. Before it was even 5 a.m., he was already prepared, his suitcase rolled into the living room. Sophia was still asleep, but his mother was already bustling about. When he had mentioned leaving early the other day, she had hoped to match his pace and make something nice for him to eat before he left.


    Luca gently stopped his mother from her flurry of activity, knowing she wouldn''t have time to prepare anything suitable for his diet. "I''ll go off track just for today and have cereal," he said with a smile. Relieved, Mrs. Rennick quickly filled a bowl with cereal, adding extra milk and fruit, and watched as Luca ate.


    Just as he was finishing up, Sara called to say she was only a few blocks away from the neighborhood. Luca gulped down some water, rinsed his te, and wiped his hands dry. He hugged his mother tightly for goodbye. "Take care of yourself and Sophia. She''s not a kid anymore, but still, keep an eye on her. And please, only reach out when it''s really important," he said, grabbing his duffel bag in one hand and rolling his travel bag with the other. "I''ll see you both whenever I can. I doubt there''ll be another GP here in the UK soon, and I don''t want you traveling to watch me race unless it''s a nearby country, okay?"


    Mrs. Rennick nodded, her eyes full of pride and worry. She watched as Luca stepped out of the house just as Sara''s car pulled up to the curb. Luca waved onest goodbye before hurrying to the car. He tossed his travel bag into the backseat and climbed into the front with his duffel.


    Greeting Sara, he pulled out his MP3 yer and earpiece before tossing the duffel bag to the back as well.


    Sara returned the greeting, drove to the end of the neighborhood, reversed, and passed by the house again on her way out of the street.


    The flight was scheduled for 5:30 a.m., and they arrived well on time. It took two hours to get to Berlin, the early morning sun rising bright with a warm glow as they disembarked the ne. Luca and Sara had a proper breakfast at a cozy diner before parting ways.


    Wasting no time, Luca made his way to Trampos Racing''s headquarters, situated in the bustling sub-metropolis of Berlin.


    Therge gates swung open as he approached, and Luca found himself surrounded by the familiar scene of garages, tools, and neatly stacked tires. He was back in his element¡ªthe atmosphere he needed to feel grounded.


    One of the gate security personnel patted him on the back and offered to escort him further into the property. Luca was d to see the crew again. Though it was a Saturday, there were still staff bustling about, a full testament to how the sport had be an inseparable part of their lives. Ansel and Haas were absent, but Victor was present, greeting Luca warmly.


    After catching up with Victor and engaging in a few quick discussions with the team, Luca made his way to his amodation to settle in once more.


    It was a bright day there in Berlin,pletely different from the current atmosphere in London. Luca''s room was as he had left it, the sunlight streaming through the window like always, and illuminating the neatly made bed. He sat at the edge of the mattress, unclipping his MP3 yer and carefully folding his earpiece before slipping it into the side pocket of his duffel bag.


    He paused for a moment, letting the silence settle around him like an old friend. Then, he got up and began unpacking. The clothes he brought joined the rest in the closet, his shoes tucked neatly underneath. His supplements were ced on the tabletop beside hisptop, which sat ready in front of the chair.


    With everything in ce, Luca changed into a gray Veststar T-shirt and matching joggers. He secured a red headband around his head and slid a red wristband onto his right wrist. His Catapult watch gleamed on his left wrist as he pocketed his phone.


    Following the instructions he had received back in London, Luca was to meet with Mr. Fisher as soon as he arrived. Luckily, the president was avable, and Luca felt a surge of eagerness to wrap up the meeting quickly.


    He met with Mr. Fisher, the ever-jovial entrepreneur, and their conversation flowed for an hour as if they were longtime partners. The discussion was lively, filled with insights and updates that painted a clear picture of the changes made during the brief midseason break.


    Mr. Fisher exined that he and Mrs. Doyle had worked tirelessly to bolster Trampos Racing, implementing changes and additions designed to elevate the team''s performance andpetitiveness from the inside out. One of the most significant developments was the hiring of a new strategic team to support Mr. Grant, Mr. Moritz, and their engineering crew. This initiative aimed to fortify the team''s tactical approach and enhance their overall potential for sess.


    At the helm of this new strategic team was Ms. Marthe Vallotton, a seasoned French strategist who had carved out an impressive career in Form 2. Her most recent tenure was with Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr., the junior squad of one of the most renowned Form 1 powerhouses. Despite the team''s prestige, they had recently onboarded even more acimed talent, prompting Ms. Vallotton to seek fresh challenges. Trampos Racing seized the opportunity and weed her expertise, along with her select team of specialists.


    Luca''s eyes lit up at the news, and he expressed his enthusiasm about working with the new sub-management, hopeful that these changes would propel the team toward greater sess as they tackled the remainder of the season.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    After exchanging final pleasantries, Luca departed Mr. Fisher''s office and made his way back to the base below. The garage was abuzz with activity, and though Mr. Grant was absent, Mr. Moritz was present, meticulously overseeing the engineers as they worked around the few cars Trampos had.


    Mr. Moritz quickly caught the glint of anticipation in Luca''s eyes and chuckled knowingly. "You''ll have to wait a little while, mate. We''re making adjustments to the recovery systems and testing the aero package. It''ll take some time before you can get in one today, alright?"


    "No problem," Luca replied, finding a spot in the bleachers to settle down. To pass the time while the crew worked, he turned his attention to his phone.

 Chapter 94 Audacious Changes & Strategies

    At 10 a.m. on Monday morning, Trampos Racing headquarters was filled with bustling activity. All staff members from every department and all drivers were present. Four days remained until the Hungarian Grand Prix of that season, and every session mattered as the midseason break was officially over.


    Hungarian Grand Prixn/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Location: Budapest, Hungary


    Date: Jun. 8


    Track: Hungaro Ring


    Luca was eager to race in Hungary, especially on its stunning circuit. It was one of the most depicted circuits in videogames alongside the likes of Las Vegas'' Stip, aka. Neonway, Peakburn, Mandalora, and a few others. To Luca, the Hungaroring felt like a stadium of its own. It had definite boundaries and steel walls that soared up to a hundred feet tall, obstructing any view from the surrounding cityscape. That way, only the spectators within the premises could know what was happening.


    As a 5km circuit with 62ps, the track promised tough but thrillingpetition. Featuring eight corners perp and a prominent 1.2 km straight, Luca saw plenty of opportunities to capitalize on its uniqueyout.


    Aware that he had a Pole Position at his disposal, Luca was determined to hone good defensive abilities while capitalizing on any opportunity for an extra surge and gap extension. Most of the activities carried out today in the headquarters mirrored that determination under the warm, bright sun shining over the small practice track.


    Ms. Vallotton was as no-nonsense as Mr. Grant, if not more so. Luca and Ansel believed she had be the true feldwebel of the team. Her management style was sharp and calcted, leaving little room for casual interactions or camaraderie. She relied heavily on the trusted group she had brought with her, delegating her directives to them for precise execution. It amused Luca that, despite her imposing demeanor, she still reported to Mr. Grant and was under his authority. In many ways, Ms. Vallotton embodied the role of a de facto Deputy Team Principal or Vice Principal.


    Throughout the week prior and the corresponding weekend, Ms. Vallotton and Mr. Grant had spent considerable time together as Principal and vice. Aware that the Frenchdy had profound knowledge of good strategies that was likely passed on from the F1 team Bueseno Velocit¨¤ to their junior team, Mr. Grant trusted her to offer the best rmendations and often heeded her advice. Perhaps this trust and reliance exined her domineering demeanor. She was basically a better manager than Mr. Grant after all.


    In one of their discussions, Ms. Vallotton confidently outlined her views on how the Trampos drivers should be organized for each race.


    Under Mr. Grant''s typical management structure, Denko Rutherford had always been the primary driver, which was amon setup in any motorsport team. As the main driver, the responsibility for securing race sess and crucial points rested on his shoulders. The main driver''s finishing position was paramount, reflecting their skill and the overall team standing, bolstered by their higher level of experience.


    With Denko''s permanent departure, Ansel Hahn had naturally stepped into the role of the main driver for Trampos Racing. His reliable participation in each round of the season, coupled with consistently decent results, had solidified his status as the team''s primary driver.


    However, Ms. Vallotton''s proposal sought to upend this structure. Her suggestion caught Mr. Grant off guard, as she advocated for a new strategy where Luca Rennick would be the primary driver for Trampos Racing. Ansel, while not formally relegated to a secondary position, would instead assume a supporting role, one that was slightly subordinate. The core of her argument was that Luca''s standings and race priorities should take precedence over Ansel''s.


    Ms. Vallotton''sst race in charge of Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr had been back in early April, during the Monaco Grand Prix, one of the rare night races in Ster. In that race, Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr''s Max Addams had finished 4th, and Ms. Vallotton could vividly recall the frustration that echoed through their radio in the finalps. When Max had dared to believe P3 was within reach after falling back to a tenacious Miles Bellingham, it was Luca Rennick who had seized the moment. He capitalized on every second, showcasing the very qualities Ms. Vallotton was now emphasizing to Mr. Grant.


    "In this sport, we have drivers with audacity, right? The audacity to dive into that sharp corner, pushing your limits before the nextp even begins. The audacity to drift on the edge, burning through those tires just for the thrill of it. The audacity to ignore caution, to take risks when others hesitate. It''s amon thing, especially in the first division, I''d say. But the audacity to max out your SomberCore speed while navigating corners¡ªthat''s something I rarely see, Mr. Grant. Yet Luca has made me see it more than once this season," she said.


    Mr. Grant voiced his concerns about Ms. Vallotton''s proposal for a new strategy and team structure. He had hoped for a progression that mirrored the traditional route many teams followed. His vision involved Ansel advancing to F1 first, with Luca naturally stepping into the leadership role after Ansel''s departure. However, as Ms. Vallottonid out her reasoning, Mr. Grant''s unease only deepened.


    Luca''s current program was specifically designed to mold him into an exceptional primary driver, but Mr. Grant had anticipated that this evolution would take time, allowing Ansel to continue leading in the interim. However, with Ansel''s recent dip in performance, Mr. Grant questioned whether he could still justify ranking Ansel on the same level as Luca¡ªor even slightly below.


    The situation felt wrong to him, as though it disrupted the traditional handover of leadership he had envisioned.


    Ms. Vallotton, however, was quick to remind him of the realities of the sport.


    "There''s a reason there are the Team Standings and the Driver''s Standings," Ms. Vallotton continued with a sharp, assertive tone. "We, the team, structure our drivers in whatever way best serves us¡ªthe team¡ªand our sess. The drivers, on the other hand, will do their utmost to excel within the framework and strategy we set for them, striving for their own sess in the top five. If they''re not happy with the structure, the gates are open for them to find another team. It''s happened plenty of times before, Mr. Grant. Now, that''s tradition."


    This no-nonsense rationale was precisely why Mr. Grant had brought Ms. Vallotton and her strategy group onboard. As a Team Principal, her words resonated with him, and he looked forward to further deliberating on the matter. Rated 3.7 stars as she was under the Federation ratings, they might not just be suggestions and might end up being the solution. But Mr. Grant was happy to keep his mind open.


    In the weeks and months ahead, with the results from Hungary and Spain serving as key indicators, Mr. Grant would deliver his final verdict on a new coordination and strategy to avoid future setbacks.


    For now, however, the team adhered to its existing structure, resuming drills and programs. As the assembled cars gleamed under the bright lights and the property swarmed with figures d in red, the telemetry room quietly recorded every session.

 Chapter 95 Budapests Resolve

    Byte morning, around 10 a.m., the team disembarked from their ne after touching down in Budapest. Unlike previous trips, they now carried more team members per flight and had even started considering dual passenger flights to amodate their growing numbers. Sitting at the top of the standings, life was considerably easier for Mr. Fisher''s Trampos Racing. They had managed to retain many of their sponsors who had once threatened to leave, thanks to their strong performance and a promising young driver securing valuable benefits.


    Luca noticed that Jackson Racing had arrived at roughly the same time,nding at the same airport. He had a clear view of their crew and drivers, not by chance, but because airport officials prioritized honoring the prestigious F1 team over the thriving F2 team, despite Trampos Racing havingnded first.


    Luca caught sight of Marcellus Rodnick and his young teammate, Buoso Di Rienzo. Both walked with confidence, squinting under the bright sun and waving to the small crowd of fans who had gathered to greet them.


    Luca couldn''t help but wonder if Di Rienzo was stepping into Rodnick''s shoes, just as Rodnick had once done for Marco Rossi. As reigning F1 champions, Jackson Racing had plenty to uphold and defend.


    Once Jackson Racing had departed in their seven buses and a massive truck¡ªeach vehicle gleaming in silvery ck and blue¡ªthe airport officials finally turned their attention to Trampos Racing.


    An hourter, Trampos Racing left the airfield, their passenger bus rolling into the heart of the city. The bus diverted briefly for a short sightseeing tour of Budapest, showcasing its beauty. Much like in Baku, Azerbaijan, Budapest seemed to embrace the motorsport spirit with fervor, as preparations for weekend festivals were already in full swing.


    "Wow," Luca whispered to himself, his eyes fixed on a striking monument as the bus cruised by. On Gell¨¦rt Hill stood the Liberty Statue, as their hired tour guide had described. The eye-catching bronze statue, perched on a pedestal, depicted a woman holding a palm leaf aloft. ording to their guide, it symbolized freedom and triumph¡ªa powerful reminder of the nation''s rich andplex history. To Luca, it looked strikingly simr to the greenish-blue woman featured at the start of every American movie he''d been watchingtely.


    "Damn! I wish I had a camera," Luca muttered, pulling out his phone as a substitute. He thought that with a proper camera, he could capture these moments more perfectly.


    "Ah, drop it off, mate," said McCauley, seated beside him. "You''re a driver. You know you''ll travel so often that these sights won''t mean a thing after a while, right?"


    "I guess so," Luca replied, lowering his phone. His eyes instinctively darted to Ansel, who was intently observing the cityscape that seemed to echo the grandeur of ancient Rome. The empty seat beside Ansel left Luca slightly puzzled, making him wonder why they hadn''t sat together on the bus.


    His phone buzzed once in his palm, drawing his attention.


    Turning on the screen, he navigated to his messages. A notification from Sara stood out, reminding him of an importantmitment scheduled after the results of the British Grand Prix.


    It was an uing headtable interview organized by the Federation for F2, set to take ce before the Hungarian Grand Prix. The event would feature the top five finishers from the British Grand Prix alongside Sean Aaronson, who had suffered a DNF. Steve Cole was listed as the host, and the session was designed to cover questions about their reflections on the British Grand Prix and their outlook on the uing race.


    The thought of sitting at the same table with his rising rivals unsettled Luca. As he mentally ran through the top five from thest race, he realized the lineup would include his teammate Ansel, Max Addams, Dani Walding, and Miles. Sean, as the sixth participant, would round out the group.


    Luca quickly texted Sara back, confirming he was aware of the event and would be there at the Hsz Pavilion, a venue styled with traditional Hungarian architecture, byte afternoon when the session was scheduled to begin.


    [Ding!]


    [Daily Quest has been issued!]


    No problemo. Just don''t ce it at the time I''ll be there.


    [-¡¤-COMPLETE A LONG-DISTANCE RUN ALONG THE DANUBE EMBANKMENT-¡¤-]


    [OBJECTIVE: Jog a total distance of 10 km, focusing on controlled breathing and maintaining pace.]


    [DURATION: COMPLETE BEFORE 2:30 PM]N?v(el)B\\jnn


    [This quest will improve your cardiovascr endurance, leg strength, and overall stamina, essential for optimal performance.]


    Luca sighed. After just arriving, now he''d have to jog under the warm, near-summer sun along a course in the city that was overly crowded and popted.


    [Reward for Completing Tuesday Daily Quest: (EXP)


    - Strength +1]


    [Consequence for Failing Tuesday Daily Quest: (EXP)


    - Agility -1


    Consequence for Failing Tuesday Daily Quest: Punishment


    -Nightblindness .]


    Luca chuckled inwardly. He noticed what the System was trying to do, which was to push him into not thinking about dropping the Daily Quest.


    At Rewards, he had one which was an increase in his Strength attribute. Bear in mind, Luca had been looking forward to leveling both Strength and Intelligence to 20 so he could unlock a new Skill. At 17 value now, an extra +1 would take Strength one step closer.


    Then at Consequences, there was a possible deduct of his Agility attribute. And Agility being at 20, a deduct would get it back to 19 which was an extra climb to get all Attributes to 20 or more. To add it up, Nightblindness was just an extra measure.


    Luca lifted his eyes to the road ahead, realizing that the team was approaching a tunnel. The dim entrance loomed, shadowed by the arch of stone that framed it. Beyond the tunnel, he knew it would open up to a majestic six-way turn that bordered the iconic Liberty Bridge, with its iron trusses rising with this kind of old-world elegance. The path they traveled now was remote, weaving through a secludedndscape with a road that felt slightly rocky under the tires, yet provided a rhythm that was oddly satisfying to his butt.


    Luca squinted into the distance, unable to make out where they were headed, but the driver and their hired guide had mentioned that this area was called K?sz¨¦li District, a lesser-known part in Budapest that offered both seclusion and charm. Slowly, a stone building emerged from the hazy horizon with an aged but dignified facade. Bold letters spelled out Vasliget Training Center above the entrance, carved with dignity into the weathered stone. Within moments, the bus pulled to a halt at the front gate for the routine security check.


    A slight misunderstanding broke out as the facility''s security personnel, the federation''s representatives, and the Trampos Racing staff exchanged clipped words. It turned out Mr. Grant''s convoy, along with their equipment truck and essential support vehicles, hadn''t yet arrived. This bus only carried the drivers and a few team members.


    Restless from the long journey, the team spilled out into the open, stretching their legs and basking in the quiet that enveloped the area as the towering, reinforced gate loomed over them. The members moved around, chatting among themselves while taking in their new surroundings. Luca asionally nced at his watch, mentally noting the time and keeping his Daily Quest deadline in mind.


    Luca found the outside so quiet and peaceful, making him wonder how serene the premises inside was.


    Atst, around 1 PM, the rumble of engines signaled the arrival of the main convoy. A truck lumbered into view, followed by smaller support vehicles. Once the checks werepleted, the gate creaked open, revealing the facility that would serve as their base for the next five days.


    Inside, the Vasliget Training Center was a nice blend of old-world architecture and modern design. There were surprisingly cobblestone paths that helped them weave through the gardens toward the steel-framed buildings. The air there smelt fresh, natural and earthy. Perhaps, it was the presence of the tall oaks and well-trimmed greenery.


    The team wasted no time settling in. While drills were scheduled, they were meant only for Haas and Victor, as Ms. Vallotton and Mr. Grant kept Luca and Ansel''s uing interview in mind.


    Nice track, Luca thought, peering out the window at the facility''syout while changing into a hoodie tracksuit. He recalled overhearing one of the wardens mention that the track stretched 2.5 km¡ªan impressive length for a training center.


    With approval granted, Luca hopped onto an outgoing bus that was heading to pick up supplies. He requested to be dropped off at the start of the Danube Embankment, which stretched alongside the famed river and offered panoramic views of Budapest. A few minutester, the bus stopped at the lively area bustling with locals and tourists alike. Music already humming through his earpiece, Luca stepped out.


    He took in the blend of people from all walks of life before setting his eyes on the scenic path ahead. System? How long is this thing?


    [The Danube Embankment extends approximately 15 kilometers within the Budapest section.]


    That''s one rep? You said 10km


    [Affirmative, host.]


    Alright, Luca exhaled sharply and took his first stride. Within moments, he was running through one of Budapest''s most iconic sights. The path meandered along the river, past elegant bridges, and grand historical buildings, and each step immersing him in the city''s essence as he perspired within seconds.


    [Host is attempting Tuesday''s Daily Quest]


    [ANALYSING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Speed: 3.3 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Stamina: 95% (Very Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 10m


    -Time: 3 sec ]

 Chapter 96 F2 Midseason Press Conference

    Pre-race driver press conferences were a customary thing in Motorsport, and in any sport as well. A quick 1-2 hour session that brought the top five of the standings together in onerge room with the press. This activity was smartly schemed at key times, like at the start of the season, midseason, and just before the final Grand Prix or Mega Prix as it is called. This applied to both F1 and F2, with F2 always carrying out any of their activities the day before F1''s.


    The Federation put up this conference for several different reasons. One of the most important reasons was to bring the young drivers before cameras more often. Here, they''d learn more about their experiences and thoughts so far and what they aimed to achieve for the rest of the season.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Another reason was to align with their restive rule, which was to help familiarize the drivers amongst themselves. This might help eliminate bitter or dangerous rivalry that could creep in, especially when they rarely saw each other outside the atmosphere ofpetition. However, the Federation was more than d to entertain any slight form of drama that might ur between them during this activity.


    Hsz Pavilion, a well-decorated arena-like government property just a little away from the edge of Budapest''s heart, was the venue for today, and reporters with their corresponding cameramen were already present, shuffling around the white conference room with the red high table looming ahead.


    Scott Cole, dressed smartly in a navy blue suit with a red tie and a white dress shirt beneath, was ready for today. Besides his in-race Englishmentary, this was a rare job assigned to him, and he was determined to carry it out well.


    Meanwhile, as soon as Sara and Mallow touched down in Budapest with an afternoon ne, Sara headed to pick up Luca without taking any time to rest. She was granted ess into the training center and waited a few minutes for Luca.


    Luca had just finished his Daily Quest, running the long stretch until his System notified him of the quest''spletion. He returned to the base, refreshed, and got dressed in a red Trampos team-branded polo shirt, paired with brown pants and casual sneakers. Ansel had offered to wait for him, but Luca politely refused. He had no idea exactly when Sara would arrive, and he didn''t want to keep anyone waiting.


    Surprisingly, by 3:30 pm, Sara was on the premises, and Luca softly hurried out with just his phone in his pocket. He slid into the passenger seat and offered her an innocent smile, knowing fully well she had pushed herself today.


    Arriving at the conference center, Luca noticed a small crowd of reporters gathered outside. It seemed they were either unofficial orcked the necessary credentials to enter. Regardless, Luca had been advised he wasn''t required to engage and to proceed directly into the main conference room.


    "Wee, Mr. Luca Rennick," Steve Cole greeted with an enthusiastic tone as Luca stepped into the cool, air-conditioned room. Extending his hand across the table, Steve smiled broadly, and Luca reciprocated, the camera shes capturing their handshake. "Just two more drivers to go!" Steve added, ncing briefly at his wristwatch.


    Luca''s eyes met Ansel''s, who satfortably at the center of the table, giving him a knowing nod. He then took in the sight of the other two drivers seated at the left edge: Max Addams, who wore a rxed, carefree expression, and Dani Walding, appearing younger and more focused. It was actually Luca''s first time seeing Dani up close.


    Taking the seat between Dani and Ansel, Luca was handed a microphone. He clipped it to his team-branded polo shirt as the broadcasting crew made their final adjustments, ensuring he was ready for the live session, just like the others.


    "25 minutes before we go live!"


    Ten minutester, Miles walked in, followed shortly by Sean Aaronson. Steve Cole''s face lit up as he noted theplete lineup and requested that the drivers acknowledge each other. Silent nods and brief nces were exchanged around the table. Luca avoided eye contact with Aaronson, who, in turn, didn''t greet anyone. Max Addams offered a half-hearted mumble, his gaze was distant and indifferent. Only Ansel and Miles exchanged firm nods of acknowledgment.


    Realizing there wasn''t much he could do to foster more camaraderie, Steve shifted his focus as the head broadcaster announced they would be going live in a few moments. He adjusted his posture, took a deep breath, and prepared to begin.


    "...a special F2 pre-race driver press conference today ahead of the uing Hungarian Grand Prix. Good afternoon, I''m Steve Cole, and it''s an honor to guide this conversation."


    "...let''s begin with a quick reflection on thest round. Each of you had defining moments at Stadhaven, which got you to your respective positions... or lost all. Luca, you managed a spectacrte race domination after a battle in the storm. Max, you defended fiercely in those finalps. And Dani, your fight through the midfield was electric..."


    "...I want to start by asking: what was going through your mind during those intense final moments of the race, coupled with the harsh weather, and how did that influence your approach heading into Hungary...?"


    A moment of awkward silence hung over the drivers before Miles broke it, shrugging and leaning forward to face Steve. "There''s not much to it, really. Not much to influence. My approach, and I believe theirs too, is to win¡ªregardless of what might have happened in thest race," he said quickly.


    From the far end of the table, Max Addams muttered, "He''s right," drawing the attention of everyone around.


    Steve nodded, then turned to Aaronson. "I get that, Miles," he said before shifting the focus. "But after such a dramatic race, there were some bold statements made. For example," Steve continued, fixing his eyes on Aaronson, "unfortunately, you didn''t finish, leaving your team with just two points. After the race, you said, and I quote, ''If nobody deals with him [Luca], I will.'' Those are strong words, and everyone is curious what you intend to do to back that up, especially now that you''re starting at the back of the grid after your DNF."


    A faint smile appeared on Luca''s face. Onepetitive driver down and one less concern for the uing race.


    Aaronson bit his lip as though Steve''s words had offended him. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Steve, I consider myself one of the best F2 drivers of this generation, if not the best. In every season I''ve participated in, it''s customary for the best to push the weaker drivers¡ªthe frauds¡ªout of the way. I intend to do that over time, not just in one race," he said.


    Steve raised his eyebrows, interest piqued. "So, are you implying that Luca is a weak driver, a fraud?"


    Luca, toying absentmindedly with a grain of sand he had found on the table, raised his head at the question. The tension in the room thickened as everyone''s eyes fixed on Aaronson, waiting for his response.


    Aaronson shrugged. He knew Steve was baiting him for a sparking reply, and it was wise not to take it. But Aaronson didn''t care, he stood for his word. "I don''t recognize him as a driver. I don''t recognize any of these newds, including the one sitting next to me."


    "...Mr. Aaronson, we advise courtesy and ask that you address everyone by their names," one of the organizers interjected.


    Miles shot Aaronson a disgusted look. "The name''s Bellingham, Miles Bellingham. Funny you forget, seeing as I stood third on the podium," he sneered.


    Aaronson opened his mouth to retort, but Steve interrupted. "Rx, gentlemen. Let''s keep this professional," he said, turning to Luca. "Luca, you''ve heard your opponent''s remarks. The very one you outmaneuvered at Stadhaven, seizing your first GP win after a grueling physical encounter. What''s your response?"


    He''s a big dork.


    Luca exhaled, his expression calm. "I''m not sure what kind of response he''s looking for. Yes, maybe his result in thest race was impacted by me¡ªlegally. But I''ve shown resilience with three podium finishes so far,pared to his two," he said, turning his gaze to Aaronson. "So, I don''t think ''weak'' is the right word."


    Cameras rolled and shes sparked as the conversation aired live. While F2 never garnered the colossal attention of F1, recent seasons, especially this one, had drawn significant audience interest.


    Steve Cole smiled at Luca''s response and turned to Max, who sat more rxed now, his palm resting under his cheek. "Max, I noticed you chuckled after Sean''s words. What''s amusing you?"


    Max chuckled again, his shoulders shaking slightly. "He said he''s the best F2 driver of this generation," he muttered, a smile ying on his lips as he shook his head.


    "And¡­ you find that funny?" Aaronson asked irritably.


    "No. I find it hrious," Max replied, still shaking his head. "Big words for someone with zero championships."


    Steve, sensing the tension veering off course, quickly intervened. "Gentlemen, we''re here to discuss ns for sess, not debate it. Before we move to the reporters'' Q&A session, I''d like to hear from Ansel and the rest regarding their approach for the Hungarian Grand Prix," he said. "Ansel? You and your teammate, Luca, had a brief battle in the London rain shower. He won, securing P1. What''s your mindset going into this race? Do you n to climb up and take P1 or whatever position he''s holding?"


    Ansel paused for a moment before answering. "Yes. It''spetition, and I''m sure he understands. So, yes."


    "Oh, straightforward. Anyone else want to share a remark? Dani? Luca? Miles?"


    Just like Luca had guessed, Miles would like to put in some words.


    "Believe it or not, I know Luca more than anyone in this room. And I can tell you, his highs are as wonderful as his lows," Miles said, looking to the side where Luca was just a seat beyond Ansel. He wanted Luca''s gaze, but Luca wasn''t giving it to him, Luca had his eyes on the reporters and maybe that his grain of sand. "And just like before, I''m always ready to be the cause of the lows andpetitively make them permanent."


    "Thank you for those words, Miles," Steve continued, looking at Luca. "Would you like to¡ª"


    "No, not at all," Luca replied.


    "Alright," Steve said, turning to the cameras. "Let''s proceed to the next segment. First question goes to Max Addams."


    A reporter in the front row raised a hand.


    This went on for about thirty minutes more as the reporters started asking individual questions to each of them. They inquired about their personal strategies for navigating the standard track of Hungaro Ring while maintaining theirpetitive edge.


    Max Addams was pressed on his recent performances and how he intended to reim his dominance in the series. Miles entertained the room with sharp-witted answers, making Luca feel uneasy, worried he might face some trouble from him on Saturday.


    Ansel was once again asked to share insights about his dynamic with his teammate, Luca. He simply emphasized that there was mutual respect between them and that they would work together for a team victory¡ªsave for any 1v1 situations.


    Luca downyed any questions that came his way, carefully ensuring he avoided any traps that might provoke the wrong response. Luckily, the session concluded just in time, as he felt he was about to lose hisposure.


    The air in the conference room was palpable as the murmur of the media grew stronger. All drivers were required to shake hands with one another upon thepletion of the session, and with the host, Steve, once more.


    "Mr. Ansel, Mr. Luca? Pleasee this way," a man in ck gestured toward them in the room that had grown into a frenzy. All drivers were led out through different exits that guided them to the open area where fans eagerly awaited their presence.


    Trampos'' fanbase was smallerpared to the likes of Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr and Squadra Corse Jnr. Even so, their supporters exuded loud energy and excitement upon the emergence of their two drivers from the building.

 Chapter 97 Hungary GP Awaits

    "Mr. Grant and Ms. Val would like us to repeat Stadhaven''s strategy, Ms. Val in particr. She said it worked well for you guys then, and it might do the same on a standard track like Hungaro," Colt, the head of the engineering department team that came with Ms. Val, said to Luca and Ansel.


    Luca and Ansel were in the locker room, suiting up in their training Veststars for the day''s drills and sessions. Colt stood between them as Luca adjusted his gloves, while Ansel sat tightening his racing boots.


    Ansel''s mind was racing, mulling over their proposed strategy. It''s not like he disliked the Dual Advance Strategy, where the driver at midfield tends to be more aggressive than the one at the lead so as to create a stablepetitive atmosphere. The problem for Ansel was that the positions were reversed, and unlike before where Luca was usually the one who fended off rivals for him, it''d be the opposite on Saturday. And now, they''d need to train for it.


    He sighed, grabbing his bva. While head socks weren''t necessary for training, wearing one always helped him sharpen his focus and maintain control. "No words on secondaries? Alts?" he asked Colt.


    "Nope, not at all," Colt replied. "Luca starts at pole, you at P4. The delta''s not much whenpared to two other positions with a three margin difference. But stakes get higher as you move upfront, so we can''t really rely on substrats for formations and all that. Hope you get it?"


    Luca picked up his helmet with his right hand, flexing his left as he nced at Ansel. He wasn''t sure if Ansel chose not to respond or if the bva muffled his words. "Sure, we''ll try our best to adapt well," Luca said, taking a deep breath.


    Colt nodded, staying rooted to the spot with Luca as they waited for Ansel to finish suiting up. Once Ansel rose to his feet and grabbed his helmet, they turned toward the door. Colt resumed speaking.


    "Don''t sweat it, fam. At least now, we have thefort of strategizing before the race, thanks to the grid being set by Stadhaven''s results," he said, leading the way through the door. "For the rest of the season, we''ll have qualifying sessions."


    Colt was right. Throughout the first half of the season¡ªprimarily from the 2nd to 6th rounds¡ªall grid positions were determined by the results of thest featured race. This included the uing 7th round. However, the 1st round and the remaining 8th to 12th rounds would use qualifying sessions, like the Sprint Race or simr activities, to set the grid positions.


    Luca studied Colt as he spoke, noticing his constant use of the word "we." Usually, it would be McCauley giving him and Ansel this briefing, but Luca sensed Colt had been directed to do it, likely to foster a closer rtionship with Ms. Vallotton''s group. After all, they were all Trampos Racing now.


    The three of them stepped out of the main building, passing the training center''s wardens seated by the side as they emerged. Individuals d in red upied a section of the track, engaged in animated conversations, with McCauley at the center of the discussion.


    The cars were parked at the edge, positioned over the striped curbs near the telemetry room. Luca, Colt, and Ansel navigated through the well-maintained greenery to approach the machines, where Mr. Moritz stood alongside Ms. Vallotton.


    As Luca and Ansel neared the cars, the team caught sight of them and moved closer. "Good noon, gentlemen," Moritz eximed in his typical upbeat demeanor. "I trust Mr. Colt here has briefed you on what we''ll be focusing on?"


    "He sure has," Ansel replied.


    Without saying a word, Ms. Vallotton turned and walked toward the telemetry room, where Mr. Grant stood looking down from the viewing post. Her arms were folded, and her posture remainedposed and authoritative.


    "Metricps wille first for good measure," Colt exined, his sses giving him a more professional look that made Moritz''s seem almost casual. "We''ll gather data on driving patterns and car performance. From here, we''ll analyze strengths and areas for improvement before moving into the main activity. How long shall this take?"


    "Twenty minutes," Moritz replied swiftly.


    Luca and Ansel nodded in agreement. The timeframe seemed reasonable.


    Colt acknowledged this with a mutter, flipping through the stack of papers he held. "And then," he continued, "we''ll have DA drills with Haas and Victor, incorporating some timed pit stops to keep us sharp."


    Ansel frowned behind his bva. "No cornering practices? No formation runs?" he asked, impatience creeping into his tone.


    Colt shook his head slowly, scanning the file again. "Hungaro doesn''t feature sharp chicanes or bottlenecks. The turns are rtively navigable. And with Luca at the pole, practicing formations isn''t a priority since you both might not be close during the race. We need to dedicate more time to training Luca on maintaining P1 and refining your aggressive passing. We''ll have mock drills to polish defensive and offensive coordination."


    "It''s nice to have someone who can exin things so well for y''all," Moritz sneered, pping his hands. He gestured to the team crew behind Luca, pointing toward the two single-seaters where Haas and Victor were hanging out. "You heard em. Go make final checks. Let''s begin."


    Luca and Ansel donned their helmets, securing the straps tightly as they headed toward the cars.


    [Vehicle Specifications:


    Brand: Dara


    Model: F2 04


    Engine Type: Mercedes-AMG M239 Hybrid Power Unit (SomberCore)


    Weight: 740 kg ]


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 300 km/h (0 km/h)


    eleration: 3.5 sec


    Max Power: 620 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 1.5 ]


    [Operational Status:


    Fuel Level: 70%


    Tire Condition: Used


    Telemetry Status: Active


    DRS Avability: Not Engaged ]


    "Get two more out here before they''re done in 20!" Moritz shouted from the telemetry room he had just entered.


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synched with Dara (F2 04)]


    The insides of his helmet had never smelled better. Luca took a deep breath, steadying himself as he brought the SomberCore engine to life. He was so ustomed to this B-level engine now that he often wondered how he''d adapt to the more demanding ones in F1.


    Luca nced in his rearview mirror. Ansel''s car was just behind, positioned neatly.


    Them crackled to life, snapping Luca out of his brief reverie. **This track is quite long for a training center, folks. Which is a good thing. We can imitate high-pressure race conditions like we''re really in one**


    The radio went silent for a second, likely due to Moritz switching transmitters. Then, another voice came through. **Alright, Luca**


    Luca''s brows arched instantly. That wasn''t Moritz''s voice¡ªit was Ms. Vallotton.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    **Clean exits, good patterns, optimal performance. We keep making such results, it bes permanent. You understand?**


    "Yes, I do," Luca replied confidently.


    **Let''s begin**

 Chapter 98 Seated, Support And Then... Speed

    Race Day: June 2, Hungaro Ring, Budapest, Hungary


    Saturday had finally arrived, and the vast, stadium-like circuit of the Hungaro Ring was buzzing with energy, ready to host the Form 2 Hungarian Grand Prix. The Featured Race was scheduled for thete afternoon at 4 p.m., expected to stretch into the evening, possibly concluding around 5 or even 6. At the moment, however, it was just a few minutes past 2 p.m., and the Sprint Race was underway.


    The sky above was an intery of clouds and light, creating a soft brightness that hinted at perfect racing conditions. Despite the forecast of overcast skies, no rain seemed imminent¡ªa reassuring sign for both drivers and fans. The Hungaro Ring, with its 4.381 kilometers of winding asphalt, was no stranger to delivering intense battles, and today was no exception. The grandstands, towering and modern, were packed to capacity with enthusiastic fans waving Hungarian gs, chanting names, and creating an electrifying atmosphere.


    Luca felt optimistic. From the perfect weather to the palpable excitement in the air, everything seemed to be aligning just right. Spending time in the Trampos Racing garage, he had been analyzing aerial images of the circuit. Every curve, every straight, every potential overtaking zone seemed etched into his mind. Meanwhile, Ansel and Haas had wrapped up the Sprint Race with solid performances¡ªAnsel clinching a strong second ce, and Haas close behind in fourth. Their finishes were respectable, though it wasn''t yet confirmed if these results would y a role in setting the grid for the eighth round''s Featured Race.


    "Maybe it''ll be the next Sprint Race," Luca mused as he folded up the aerial photos and set them aside. He spent about 20 minutes unwinding with his ylist, letting the music drown out the faint sounds of engines roaring in the distance.


    When he finally decided to step out of the garage and join the team in the paddock, the spectacle of the Hungaro Ring hit him anew. Unlike Bahrain''s desert surroundings, the Hungaro Ring was nestled amidst lush greenery and rolling hills, giving the modern track a timeless, picturesque backdrop. The circuit''s contemporary design was awe-inspiring. Esctors carried spectators and personnel across its multi-level facilities, and the paddock area buzzed with activity as engineers fine-tuned cars, media crews set up interviews, and fans vied for glimpses of their favorite drivers.


    Luca took an esctor himself, descending to the ground level where the team''s fluorescent-lit garage awaited. The unmistakable scent of fuel, rubber, and heated metal filled the air, blending with the distant cheers of the crowd. Both of Trampos Racing''s cars rested inside¡ªone still streaked with grime from the Sprint Race, while Luca''s remained spotless, awaiting its turn on the track.


    "¡­And we extend a special wee to our esteemed guest today, Ms. ¨¦va Nagy, Hungary''s Minister of Innovation and Technology, here to experience the thrill of the Form 2 Hungarian Grand Prix¡­!" The announcement echoed through the paddock speakers, eliciting a fresh wave of apuse from the stands.


    As Luca stood there, taking it all in, a crew member hurried into the garage. Spotting Luca, he paused just long enough to deliver an update. "Oh, Luca. It''s fifty minutes till lights out," he informed before darting up the short staircase, likely to ry the same message to Ansel.


    Luca nced at his watch¡ªthe digital disy read a few minutes past 3 p.m. With less than an hour to go before the Featured Race began, the anticipation in the air was palpable. He inhaled deeply, letting the charged atmosphere fuel his focus. Though he should have headed to the cool-off room for the pre-race briefing with Mr. Grant, Mr. Moritz, Mr. Colt, and Ms. Vallotton, he couldn''t resist venturing out into the paddock.


    Stepping outside, Luca was immediately enveloped by the roar of the crowd. The grandstands, shimmering under the muted daylight, were alive with waving gs and a cacophony of cheers. The collective energy of thousands seemed to ripple across the circuit. The Hungaro Ring''syout¡ªknown for its tight corners and limited overtaking opportunities¡ªstretched out before him, and it was a demanding 4.5 kilometers that would soon challenge every driver on the grid.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    As Luca moved further into the paddock, his presence caught the attention of the cameras. Unbeknownst to him, his form was being broadcasted across all screens around the circuit. It wasn''t until Victor, seated quietly in the paddock, pointed it out that Luca realized the sudden uproar of cheers was because of him.


    Unsure how to respond, he simply waved to the crowd, focusing on areas where Trampos'' signature red stood out among the sea of colors.


    "...And there he is... Luca Rennick, 18. The pole belongs to that young man today, and he''ll be starting just ahead of Max Addams. There''s a lot of spection about whether he can convert another victory. Let''s see how Trampos has set things up for him..."


    Luca made his way to one of the paddock''s designated seating areas, where Trampos'' male crew members were gathered. The team had strategically ced themselves just behind their pit box. To the right was Hatcherk''s box, and to the left, a smaller team''s. The pitne, cutting right from Straight 4 and intersecting just before Turn 11, was a flurry of activity.


    As men and boys gathered in the paddock, their conversation flowed seamlessly, as though they knew each other''s minds. Dennis, crew member 2, in charge of the pit, had one hand on his waist as he adjusted his cap, ring at the neat track where marshals were running drills. "Clean race earlier. Erik might''ve pushed harder for third, though. A bit too cautious into thest turn, don''t you think?" he remarked to no one in particr.


    McCauley, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, overheard and approached. "Better cautious than in the barriers, mate. Fourth isn''t bad for a Sprint..." He moved toward Luca, his gaze briefly shifting to the young driver. "After all, the Featured Races give us the real points, and him right there will get them for us."


    "If he nails the start."


    Luca rolled his eyes. He had Grid Launch skill now¡ªa bad start was the least of his concerns.


    "You sound like an armchair expert, mate," McCauley quipped, sinking into the chair beside Luca. "What''d you say after Bahrain? That Luca can''t keep a lead past tenps? Remind me again who crossed the finish line first the next race?"


    Victor chuckled in his puffed sweater. McCauley took that as support and spread his arms wide, nearly spilling coffee onto Luca in the process. "I saw Max in the Sprint today. We have to admit, he''s hungry," Victor said with a shrug.


    "Everyone is hungry, folks!" McCauley hollered, loud enough for Hatcherk''s garage to hear. "But it''s Luca''s job here to feed ''em dust!" He nudged Luca with his elbow. "Am I right, mate?"


    Luca, who had been quietly fading from the chatter, was visualizing himself in the race. The faint strains of the season''s theme song echoed through the circuit in the background. Snapping back to reality, he replied, "I''ll try my best, like always," he said to McCauley.  "You sound too confident."


    "It''s just support."


    A younger crew member, Sam, who had been listening intently, jumped in with excitement. "Did you see the crowd when Luca waved? I swear, a quarter of Hungary''s here just for him. That kind of support has to count for something."


    "Support doesn''t keep my car on the track," Luca said dryly.


    "But it''s good for morale," Dennis countered. "Speaking of which, can someone here please tell him to quit looking so stiff when he''s on camera?! He looked like a deer in headlights up there."


    Luca received a heavy p to his back from McCauley as the crew burst intoughter, his mind still ying out the race.


    "... Bueseno Velocit¨¤, 13, Max Addams, 67, Daniel Walding...!"


    "... Trampos Racing, 43, Ansel Hahn, 21, Luca Rennick...!"


    "... Squadra Corse, 66, Albert Derstappen, 75, Miles Bellingham...!"


    The voice of the announcer calling out names and numbers rang in the air.


    "Thirty minutes till lights out," someone informed the team. With a sigh, Luca stood, cutting short his time in the paddock to return to the cool-off room, his focus sharpening with every step.

 Chapter 99 Hungarian Grand Prix

    "...P5, Dani Walding...!"


    "...P4, Ansel Hahn...!''


    "...P3, Miles Bellingham...!"


    "WOOOOH!"


    "...P2, Max Addams...!"


    "WOOOOH!"


    "...Pole Position, Luca Rennick...!"


    "WOOOOH!"


    Luca picked up his innerwear first, slipping it onto his form. The fabric was said to be fire-resistant and designed to fit tightly to the wearer''s body.


    Next came the main gear, neatly arranged on the bench just as he always insisted. He held it up for a moment, tracing the embroidered Trampos logo on the chest with his thumb before stepping into it. The fabric hissed softly as he pulled it over his legs and zipped it up. A few crew members passed by, offering short greetings as they moved to the other room to carry out their tasks.


    From that same room, Ansel emerged, already dressed up save for his headsock. As usual, he muttered some words to Luca before settling onto one of the benches, staring endlessly at a random spot.


    Luca swallowed his iing words and decided to grant him his peace and quiet. He reached for his gloves and pulled each one on tightly. Taking asional nces at Ansel, he flexed his fingers to test the grip of the gloves, ensuring zero difort.


    Ansel remained seated, his bva tightly gripped in his palms as he performed his ritual of recollecting his thoughts before the race. When he felt he was ready, he quickly slid the headsock over his head and adjusted it carefully. Luca noticed the glimmer in his bright eyes, a look that radiated pure determination and nothing else.


    Animatedly, Luca imitated Ansel, pulling his own head into the ck bva. He made sure the ends were tuckedfortably under his suit''s thick cors. For good measure, he gave himself a nce in the mirror. Sure enough, he looked like a seasoned driver.


    A set of footsteps entered the room. Luca instantly recognized the purpose behind their brisk pace and knew it was more than just crew members. Spinning around, he could see Ms. Vallotton and Colt.


    "Anything else to tell?" Luca asked.


    "Nothing at all," Ms. Vallotton replied, studying Luca and Ansel briefly. "Lights out in fifteen. Get to the garage," she said, leaving as quickly as she hade.


    Luca let out a deep, warm breath before grabbing his helmet to leave. Stopping at the door, he looked back at Ansel. "Han? It''s fifteen minutes till lights out. C''mon."


    For Ansel, there was still a minute left in his ritual of silence. Luca stood there patiently, waiting until his teammate finally rose to his feet and grabbed his #43-brandished helmet. "Let''s go," Ansel muttered, motioning toward the door.


    The two pushed through and made a turn toward the esctor. After a short ride down, they arrived at the garage, which was bustling with activity as always before the starting grid.


    As the two drivers approached the center of attention, Luca''s eyes moved to his #21 Trampos Racing machine. It looked ready, and his System confirmed it was in optimal condition for a win.


    "...This is a reminder: all non-essential personnel must vacate the pitne in the next three minutes..."


    Luca and Ansel donned their helmets, epting handshakes and pats from the team. Mr. Grant and Mr. Moritz didn''t need to repeat their instructions¡ªevery word could easily rey in Luca''s mind as he focused on victory.


    With him starting on pole, he knew he might as well define the race''s oue if he just started well and watched for the first corner right after the grid.


    "...Reminder to drivers: maintain your speed limit in the pitne during grid setup..."


    After ensuring all straps were tightly secured and every button was in ce, the team crew guided their drivers into their single-seaters.


    "Grid time!" Ms. Vallotton announced the obvious, signaling that the day''s job in the garage, pitne, telemetry room, and paddock had officially begun.


    [SYNCHRONIZING HOST....]


    [SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]


    [Host is now synched with Dara (F2 04)]


    Alright, I''m at pole. I AM AT POLE. Luca repeated it three more times to let it sink in. He had no option but to secure a second consecutive F2 victory.


    The Hungaroring was stunning. The view from the asphalt, with the far grandstands arcing toward the sky, was surreal. They looked like walls closing in, stacked with gs from different nations. From his vantage point, he could see the sun slowly setting into the horizon, casting an ethereal orange glow through the gloomy evening sky.


    "...the marshals are waving them to ce. Pole Position. The target. No safety. That''s Luca Rennick today..."


    Luca exhaled as his car stopped at the front-most grid box and he was waved in affirmation. The golden rays of the setting sun caught his visors, making him wonder if the Hungaro Ring wanted to test him today. He steadied his hands on the wheel as his SomberCore hummed to life, ready for action.


    "...P10, Renaud Bozo...!"


    "...P9, Peter De Klerk...!''


    "...P8, d Volyinski...!"


    "...P7, Oliver Kristensen...!"


    "...P6, Albert Derstappen...!"


    Once all the cars were in ce, it took a moment before the first red light came on. Before then, Luca took the time to assess his surroundings and the atmosphere of starting on pole.


    First, he caught glimpses of the cars lining up behind him through his side mirrors. They were his predators now, and he was the prey every one of them had their eyes on.


    Second, the track ahead stretched like a nk te¡ªthe perfect racing line he''d visualized during countless hours of simtion and study nowy waiting for him to bring it to life. He would lead these hungry engines into the firstp.


    **We''re set for a clean getaway. 10 seconds to lights. This is your moment. Eyes forward, full focus**


    "10-4, let''s go," Luca replied just as the first light came on.


    "...thirty elite drivers battling for points. Fifth light on... and it''s lights out for the F2 Hungarian Grand Prix!"


    [Grid Launch +1]


    "...Luca Rennick gets a decent start, but Max Addams is right there with him! Trampos hammers into the lead into Turn 1 with an impressive start, but Velocit¨¤''s Addams is trying again..."


    [Host is participating in an Official Race]


    [ANALYZING AND COLLECTING TRACKING DATA...]


    [DATA COLLECTED]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 120 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 90% (Good)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 350m


    -Time: 9 sec ]


    As soon as the lights went out, Luca''s engine was pushed to elerate up to 200 km/h in order to escape the snapping jaws of Max Addams. Before hitting the first turn, he deftly valued his figures to meet the system''s rmendation, Max Addams rounding the first bend with him.


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 12.5%]


    Luca tilted his wheel as the track transitioned to the second right turn. Max Addams cut in to his side, forcing him to drive over the curbs. Luca was able to keep traction, the track transitioning back to the left to give him the advantage.


    [2nd Position closing in]


    [3rd Position closing in]


    [Host has unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent]


    Well, this is not what I expected from a pole, Luca thought as he managed to stay ahead. Max Addams attempted once again from Turn 4. He had to weave like crazy over the turns because Addams would be faster with his slipstream, and Miles, behind, even faster.


    [Straightaway ahead]


    [2nd Position closing in]


    [3rd Position closing in]


    The Straightaway was 800 meters, and Luca knew that. Max Addams would surely attempt DRS, and it was his job to fend that off. The crowd roared in approval as thest set of the early turns were exhausted by the pack leaders, all cars grazing off the sand at the track''s edge in an attempt for a clean exit.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    "...and Luca Rennick doesn''t look strong ahead as they go into the straight!"


    "...Max Addams moving faster... and look at that, they almost touched!"


    Luca swerved to the edge enough to avoid that. His car lost a certain momentum, but it was better than losing a tire and getting a DNF. However, he was d Max corrected his line too, both not risking points for just an early lead.


    Miles, rather, had a clean outerne on the straight. With his rear opened, Miles Bellingham zipped beside Max Addams, iming P2. His speed was enough to take P1 from Luca, but the next set of turns approached. And with Luca at that edge he took earlier, Luca made the first turn, maintaining P1.


    "...wonderful openingp! Squadra Corse Jnr has pushed themselves one-up the leaderboard!"


    [2nd Position closing in]


    Luca''s heart kept pounding. He hadn''t experienced such a start to a race before. Heposed himself, took a very deep breath as he made Turn 6. He imagined the setting sun as his destination of victory. It was an endless voyage, yes. That would make him keep pushing.


    There was a short straight, and Luca took good advantage of it. He emerged out of Turn 7 early, just before Miles, and racked up that speed as fast as he could. Luca wasn''t sure if he''d executed Corner Chopping on Miles; only a notification would tell.


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 80%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 180 km/h]


    [2nd Position closing in]


    Luca navigated his chassis into the next turns, unting his red-and-ck Dara to the massive Hungaro Ring crowd. His tires grazed the dust again in an attempt to get a good outside curve. Miles took the conventionalne, snatching P1 for half a second before Lucapleted his trajectory and the leaderboard reversed.


    [2nd Position]


    [1st Position]


    [2nd Position closing in]


    "...Luca Rennick and Miles Bellingham are battling it out again! Turn 10 almost had them in contact, but Luca Rennick expertly cut out of Bellingham''s rear, back in P1 in this Hungarian Grand Prix!"


    [Corner Chopping +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 25%]


    That was enough to give Luca a second breathing space. In return, it deducted a second breathing space from Miles. Before he knew it, Max had countered on his slipstream and was alongside him. As the final turn approached, Max Addams surprisingly edged ahead with ease and took back P2 from Miles, leaving him to Ansel''s fangs.


    "...these are critical, important corners for this Grand Prix, Rennick and Addams throwing Bellingham back of the line..."


    "...it might be over for him, Steve. Ansel Hahn is gaining on his slipstream, and he''s attempting at Turn 11 on the inside, but Bellingham is not giving it to him...!"


    Luca was just about turning off his brake bias to gain as much power as possible before he barreled down the straight, made a turn, and sealed what was a thrilling openingp. His ears perked when he heard a loud skra! A screech and sudden, sickening thud into the barricades.


    **Shit!** Mr. Moritz cursed from them.


    The crowd went wild.


    "...and that is a BIG CRASH for Ansel Hahn! Miles Bellingham continues on after a bad touch with their tires. Bellingham loses none, but the Trampos driver loses one, and into the barricade he goes...!"


    Luca, who couldn''t hear thementary over the sound of the SomberCores, kept asking Moritz what had happened.


    **Just focus on your race. Han''s out. He took a daring move, too tight, and the other guy had to squeeze in too**


    Luca bit the inside of his lip as he barreled down the straight. That was definitely not supposed to happen. How can Ansel be out?! No, no.


    **Safety car''s out. Maintain delta time. Watch your gap to Addams**


    Luca''s heart was still pounding, adrenaline surging through him as he tried to process what had just happened. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles pale against the leather.


    "...a heavy blow to Trampos Racing. But with a driver at P1, they can manage something here. Safety car''s out, and marshals are on the track. The driver is fine, thankfully..."


    Luca sighed deeply, easing off the throttle and allowing the car to coast as he checked his delta. His disy shed a bright yellow bar, urging him to slow further to meet the required pace. All the cars and drivers bunched together in a single line, weaving slightly to keep tire temperatures¡ªand that tension¡ªup.


    "Just tell me what''s happening," Luca persisted.


    **It was too much to im P3. He''s fine, but the car is done**


    Damnit! Luca cursed inwardly, knowing this would cost their chances at the team championship. His eyes moved to the biggest TV disy, his hands steadily keeping his car within the safety car''s regtions. There, on the screen, Ansel was just leaving the crashed red single-seater. He wasn''t screaming or kicking his tires, but Luca could tell the frustration was deeper than that¡ªthe kind where one decides to do nothing but remain silent. After all, getting a DNF on the firstp was enough to prompt such a reaction.

 Chapter 100 Hungarian Grand Prix 2: Lone Trampos Man

    Ansel took one backward nce at his wrecked car before grumpily letting the marshals guide him off the track to safety. His right elbow ached after the sickening hit into the barricade, but it didn''t hurt as much as the pain in his heart.


    Murmurs filled the crowd, though there were distinct chants from Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr and Squadra Corse Jnr fans. After all, traveling all the way to Hungary and witnessing a rival''s Dara crash was more than a thrill.


    Luca was still right behind the safety car, weaving slightly to maintain tire temperatures and alternating brake applications to keep the brakes warm. He couldn''t shake the image of the collision, reyed on the big screen for everyone to see.


    It was obvious Ansel aimed high at that moment, and Miles had no choice but to keep driving forward into the path where Ansel''s trajectory was meant to cut through. The screech and thud followed.


    The safety car led the pack through the circuit at a controlled pace while the track marshals worked swiftly. The barricade was deeply dented, and it took some time to detach the car, clear the shattered carbon fiber, and reset the barriers.


    **Safety caring in thisp** Moritz announced to Luca, his gaze moving to Ansel, who was approaching their garage with the medical wardens. **Get ready for the restart. You''ll control the pace until the line**


    Luca nodded silently, his focus sharpening as he noticed the subtle shift in the safety car''s movements. He took a quick nce at his car''s Operational Status and overall data. Everything was good to go, considering this was still just the firstp.


    With Ansel''s DNF, Trampos'' strategy was out the window, and it was now down to Luca to defend and maintain P1 for the next 61ps¡ªif that was even possible.


    Luca had one less ally on the field and was left to fend off every rival behind him. The only driver in red and ck, his chassis screamed insecurity, and even the most mediocre drivers would be eager to exploit that.


    "...and the safety car is slowly peeling away into the pitne. Luca Rennick will now take over the field and guide the drivers through the finish line. Let''s resume this Grand Prix, shall we?"


    "...most certainly. With a good driver like Hahn out of this race, we can expect more faces battling for that top five, and I think that''s what we might enjoy the most here..."n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Luca was now in control, dictating the speed of the pack. Behind him, Max Addams calcted his attack, ready to pounce once the grid cleared. Miles wasn''t far behind either, poised for any opportunity to reim lost ground.


    Meanwhile, the Trampos team crew rushed to meet Ansel as he neared the paddock. One of them offered him a seat, and though his first instinct was to kick it aside in sheer frustration, he clenched his jaw, swallowed his irritation, and dropped heavily into it.


    His hands trembled slightly as he fumbled with his gloves, tugging them off before tearing his helmet free. Without a second thought, he hurled the helmet to the side. The loud thud it made on the concrete echoed through the quiet paddock.


    That didn''t stop the medical wardens from carrying out their job as they attended to his elbow meticulously and gave him some glucose solution. After applying abrasions, they cleaned the area with antiseptic, administered more glucose solution, and provided instructions to Trampos'' medical crew on what to do afterwards, before they quickly took over.


    "...and we''ve resumed here in Hungary...!" The Englishmentary broke through the silence, followed by other excitedmentary in othernguages, snapping Ansel''s attention to the screens. "...a begrudging firstp; let''s hope for a much safer race..."


    [2nd Lap]


    [Track Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 37.5%]


    Luca had just realized that his Sync Bar was already nearing the halfway mark, and it was only the secondp. While things weren''t looking great for Trampos as a whole, his own prospects in Hungary were shaping up well.


    The next notification from his system made his heart leap with joy.


    [Ding!]


    [Host has maxed Track Awareness Skill!]


    [Ding!]


    [You have unlocked a Skill:


    -Slipstream Mastery: 2 ]


    Luca''s eyes widened in excitement. Oooooh, that sounds effective.


    [Slipstream Mastery is a skill that enhances your ability to utilize the slipstream effect more efficiently, allowing you to close the gap between yourself and the car ahead with minimal drag. It increases drafting efficiency by 10¨C50%, enabling higher eleration and speed gains while in the slipstream.]


    [Additionally, it reduces ERS consumption during by 5¨C15%, preserving power for overtakes, and enhances your ability to unsettle the opponent ahead by 5¨C15%, pressuring them into defensive errors orpromising their racing line.]


    Wow. This is quite a great skill, Luca thought aloud. The higher the value of Slipstream Mastery, the more efficiently he could use the air resistance¡ªorck thereof¡ªcreated by the car ahead. With it, Luca could tuck in behind a rival, shaving off drag and gaining speed without wasting extra energy. It wasn''t just about being faster, though. The skill also meant he''d use less ERS while in the slipstream, saving valuable power for important overtakester on.


    "Any special steps on how to execute it?" Luca asked.


    [Retrieving Data on Slipstream Mastery...]


    [...Data Retrieved]


    [Execution of Slipstream Mastery:


    ¨CPosition your car directly behind a rival to reduce drag


    ¨CMaintain a consistent gap to maximize speed gain


    ¨CMonitor energy usage to conserve ERS while drafting


    ¨CPrepare for an overtake by timing your exit from the slipstream


    ¨CUse aerodynamic advantage on straights and long curves


    ¨CAvoid turbulence when exiting the slipstream to maintain control]


    [10th Lap]


    Luca nodded, taking in the information. He had managed to hold onto P1 for as long as he could after Ansel''s crash, managing to even unlock a new skill.


    [2nd Position closing in]


    Luca''s defense in Hungary was just getting started. As they hit the first short-lengthed straight, Max Addams capitalized on his slipstream and even boosted himself with DRS. Upon the next curve, their cars intertwined, Luca losing P1 but reiming it easily within the same turn as they exited.

 Chapter 101 Hungarian Grand Prix 3: Collision

    [15th Lap]


    [Strength +1]


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 240 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 107 bpm


    -Operational Status: 70% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 75000m


    -Time: 27 min ]


    "It feels like I''m losing grip through corners. Rear''s sliding way too much. I''m not getting the downforce I need," Lucained to Moritz.


    **That''s noted here. Lemme guess, the car''s light, like it''s floating?**


    "Yes. It''s costing me time. And Max is impatient."


    **It could be tire degradation too. How''s your front grip?**


    "All good," Luca replied, repeating the same when Moritz asked again for assurance.


    **Alright, mate. I know we nned for a pit by the 25th. Let''s cut it to the 20th. Han''s out, and we don''t need a bad vehicle out there, okay?**


    "Roger."


    Luca shifted his focus back to Max Addams, narrowing his thoughts on the intricacies of their duel. He couldn''t help but wonder if the challenges his car was facing were unique to him or shared across the grid. After all, every team used the same mandated engine, chassis, and tire supplier.


    But then again, the rules didn''t prevent a team from having an edge in the paddock. Better engineering crews meant superior fine-tuning, faster repairs, and clever adjustments. That''s your advantage, isn''t it? Luca thought, his eyes narrowing as he studied Max''s movements.


    As they approached the next bend, Luca marveled at Max''s tenacity. The 20thp had begun, and Max was dangerously close¡ªso close that a small misstep could result in contact. Luca wouldn''t let ite to that. He veered slightly, giving Max a free racing line while ensuring his own trajectory allowed for an optimal exit.


    [Tire Traction: 60%]


    The warning shed on his HUD, a cold reminder that his tires were wearing thin. It became painfully apparent as he rounded Turn 2''s bottleneck. The car''s rear squirmed under braking, threatening to slide out, but Luca instinctively countered with minute adjustments to the wheel.


    Max took advantage of the momentary instability, diving closer into Luca''s slipstream. The pressure mounted as Luca fought to maintain control, every ounce of his skill tested. His car jittered over the curbs as he pushed through the apex, barely keeping the predator behind him at bay.


    The pine loomed ahead, and Luca knew he had no choice but to give up P1 in order to keep his car in good condition. Max, sensing this, didn''t bother edging to his side. He simply remained behind Luca as the Trampos Dara dragged itself off the track.


    "...fourth driver pitting today¡ªLuca Rennick..."


    "...yes. Maintaining the lead is a very difficult path. And as he goes straight into the box, Max Addams now leads the F2 Hungarian Grand Prix..."


    Stay updated through empire


    [2nd Position]


    Luca was lifted up and dropped within seconds, his Operational Status trickling back up.


    **Get in there, Luca, before Bellinghames**


    [Pitstop Prodigy +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 50%]


    [Trajectory Assessment: Pine disadvantage detected. Line integrity at risk from 3rd Position''s approach.]


    [Rmended Action: Enter at 60% throttle; maintain straight intersection trajectory. Anticipate 3rd Position''s outside pressure.]


    [Risk Factor: High (collision potential with 3rd Position). Adjust for slight traction loss at exit to regain position.]


    The crowd''s roar intensified as everyone anticipated what was about to transpire in the next few seconds. It was always a cinematic moment when a pitted driver tried to squeeze back into the race with a high-speed challenger approaching on the racing line. In this scenario, Luca had just pitted, and 3rd Position, Miles Bellingham, was determined to secure P2 by all means.


    As little as their rivalry had grown since Australia, the Hungarian crowd was eager to see who would pull off a better exit at the apex.


    "...a lightning-fast stop for Luca Rennick, and now a charging Miles Bellingham down Straight 1..."


    The gap closed rapidly in mere seconds. Luca knew he was at a disadvantage, bound by the required speed when leaving the pine. But he trusted his instincts to veer perfectly as Miles'' car appeared as a bluring from the side.


    A scorching rug of smoke billowed from Miles'' tires as he screeched ahead, fighting to regain control after a monstrous charge down the straight.


    [3rd Position]n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "WOOOOOHH!"


    Miles'' car fishtailed into Turn 5, and Luca seized the chance, edging back ahead of him.


    [2nd Position]


    [Analyzing optimal entry speed based on current velocity, tire traction, and curvature of the bend...]


    [Tire traction: 80%]


    [Rmended speed for maneuver: 170 km/h]


    Luca''s tires rattled over the curb while Miles took the outsidene. Neither had time to nce at the other as Turn 7 cut sharply, forcing Luca to the outsidene while Miles gripped the inner curb.


    [3rd Position]


    "Fuck!"


    "WOOOOOHH!"


    [Agility +1]


    Miles'' hands trembled on the wheel. He had almost lost control of his car not once, but twice. ncing back at Luca, he wondered how Luca was so skilled, especially through corners. Unlike Luca, Miles had been in single-seaters long before even bing an F2 driver.


    Luca''s car nosed ahead, forcing Miles deep into the curb. It was an illegal move, but with no immediate consequences, Luca was safe for now. Still, he couldn''t rx, as Miles held P2 by mere nanoseconds. Luca swiftly approached Turn 9, slipping behind Miles to im the innerne.


    [2nd Position]


    **Too tight, mate. Ease off, don''t make contact**


    [Spatial Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 62.5%]


    Luca had been riding the edge all race. If not, he wouldn''t have gained a point in Spatial Awareness. He cursed as his 2nd Position changed back to 3rd as they reached the bottleneck of Turn 11. Miles took the innerne while Luca rounded out, attempting a drift.


    [Calcting host drift exit...]


    [.... calction failed]


    What?


    Luca''s eyes widened as his rear tires lost traction mid-drift. Miles had cut tighter than expected, and their lines dangerously converged at the apex.


    "...CONTACT BETWEEN LUCA RENNICK AND MILES BELLINGHAM...!" thementator''s voice boomed as the two cars collided.


    "WOOOOOHH!"


    Luca''s car jolted violently as Miles'' left front wheel clipped his rear. The impact sent a shudder through both machines, vibrating through Luca''s hands as his car swerved sideways.


    The Squadra Corse Jnr paddock erupted into chaos, voices shouting and cursing as they watched Miles'' Dara spin uncontrobly, its left tire bouncing off the track.


    "...OH MY! He''s lost it..!"


    [Strength +1]


    Miles'' car pirouetted down the track, spinning wildly as rubber screeched against asphalt. Luca caught a glimpse of the chaos in his mirrors but stayed focused on survival. Instinctively, he corrected his steering, feeling his tires bite back into the track. He had survived.


    Miles had not.


    [Traction Detected.]


    [2nd Position]


    Miles'' car veered off-course, skidding out of the track and into the gravel, where the tires dug deep into the soil, finallying to a halt. The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps as Squadra Corse Jnr found themselves a driver down.


    **Are you alright, there?**


    Luca gulped, picking up speed as he maneuvered through Turn 12 to meet thest straightaway. "Yeah, I am," he replied, quickly ncing at his car''s status. He was fine. Somehow, he was still in this race.


    "...MILES BELLINGHAM IS OUT! INCREDIBLE SCENES THERE AT TURN 11...!"


    "...badly timed exits for both drivers, and both equally deserve to be in such a situation. However, Miles Bellingham might have had the poorer power approach..."


    "...unharmed, Luca Rennick moves down the straight. Unfortunate there for Miles Bellingham. The gs are waved for him, and it''s another Safety Car here in Hungary! Two drivers down for two top teams! Max Addams holds P1 as the track is cleared...!"


    "Bloody hell¡­" Luca muttered, shaking his head. The crowd''s deafening roar followed him as he pushed forward, leaving behind the wreckage caused by his and Miles'' miscalction.


    Mr. Grant bit his lip as he watched the rey of Luca''s car nearly colliding with the rival''s. The slow-motion footage showed how easily the incident could have been disastrous for both drivers.


    Miles, furious and unlucky, kicked up gravel as he stormed off, refusing help and stomping his way back to his team''s garage. Squadra Corse Jnr was left with Albert Derstappen as their sole contender. With Albert now at P5, a high points tally was slipping out of sight for the team.


    The Safety Car rolled out as Max took position behind it. Miles'' DNF wasn''t overly messy, and it wouldn''t take long to clear up the track.


    Still, Luca felt bad. He hadn''t intended to make contact with Miles and would have preferred a clean overtake for P2.


    Then he remembered that Miles had been the cause of Ansel''s crash earlier in the race. Luca scoffed. Serves you right, mate.


    [25th Lap]


    Max Addams resumed the race at a blistering pace as soon as the Safety Car peeled off the track. He darted away immediately, the gap between him and the trailing pack widening. Luca now had to recover the seconds lost during his battle with Miles if he hoped to catch Max.


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 2nd Position]


    [You are 4.5 seconds away, host.]

 Chapter 102 Hungarian Grand Prix 4: Ansels Accountability

    By the 30thp, Luca had received three consecutive system warnings about an approaching rival. The advisory urged him to disclose their identity.


    [3rd Position closing in]


    A fourth warning shed on his HUD, finally forcing Luca to tear his gaze away from Max''s rear wing and check his side mirrors. For severalps, he had been positioning himself directly behind Max, trying to gain an edge from his slipstream. However, the gap between them was just slightly too wide, and Max''s defensive weaving disrupted Luca''s stability.


    It was only now that he realized another driver had been using his slipstream the entire time, stealthily closing the distance. Intrigued, Luca''s grip tightened on the wheel. With Ansel and Miles out of the race, the pool of top contenders had significantly narrowed. Moreover, Aaronson had started at the back of the grid, so he must be still in the midfield. Could it be someone he had underestimated?


    He expected to spot the familiar blue-and-white colors of Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr in his mirror, assuming it was Walding. But as he nced over, a flicker of violet caught his eye. Luca''s brows furrowed as recognition dawned¡ªit wasn''t Walding after all.


    Oliver Kristensen had made his move, overtaking Walding during the long straightaway of the previousp. Now, the violet Dara was squarely in contention, creeping closer to Luca''s position.


    [Analyzing 3rd Position''s distance from host and Dara (F2 04)...]


    [3rd Position is 3 sec away, host.]


    [System''s prediction: that value might remain constant or increase in your favor.]n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    --------------------------------------------


    Ansel stood up and left the paddock as the safety car was deployed. Some team members, especially the older ones, patted his back in quiet support as he passed through the garage and toward the esctor. The younger crew, however, avoided even offering a word of encouragement, their gazes firmly elsewhere.


    He moved through the maze of corridors before entering the cool-off room. Unbeknownst to him, Ms. Vallotton had been watching from the viewing post. The moment he exited the paddock, she stood abruptly and followed, the sharp clicks of her heels echoing on the polished floor as she trailed him.


    Ansel entered the cool-off area and headed straight for the dressing room. He slumped onto a bench, his shoulders sagging. A few cleaners in the room exchanged nces, surprised to see a participating driver back so early. One look at his expression told them all they needed to know, and they quietly resumed their tasks.


    Momentster, Ms. Vallotton appeared in the doorway, her presencemanding attention. Ansel''s gaze flicked toward her.


    "May I ask what you''re doing here?" she said sharply, her arms crossed. "The team is still out there, and the Featured Race is ongoing."


    Ansel shrugged as he bent down to remove his race boots. "I''m not part of the race anymore, am I?"


    "I knew you''d say something so flimsy," she snapped, her re drilling into him as he unzipped his suit. Her words stung more than he cared to admit, but he refused to let it show.


    "And why," she pressed, stepping closer, "are you no longer part of the race? What did you do?"


    Ansel''s head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing. ''Where is she headed with this?'' he wondered. Was she ying ignorant just to force him to admit fault?


    "I''ll answer that for you, Han," she continued, her tone colder than ice. "You messed up. That''s what you did."


    "I¡­ messed up?" Ansel echoed, her usation hitting like a hammer driving a nail.


    "Yes," she replied bluntly.


    Ansel opened his mouth to retort but quickly realized he had no words to defend himself.


    Val rubbed her temple and sighed in exasperation. "We''re thirty-three points above my former team, Velocit¨¤. Right now, Max is holding onto 25 points, and Walding, sitting at 4th, is set to im another 12. If this keeps up, we can kiss the Constructors'' Championship goodbye before the final GPs even begin."


    Ansel swallowed hard, his chest tightening as Val''s words cut through him. When she finished, he finally found his voice. "You gave us this strategy. My job is¡ªwas¡ªto be a threat in the upper midfield, wasn''t it?"


    "Threats don''t make reckless, dumb moves, Han! They make smart ones," Val snapped, her voice rising. "That was the first freakingp! There was no need to attempt overtaking Bellingham. You had straights for that¡ªnot a tight bottleneck!"


    Her words hung in the air like a p and Ansel fell silent. It hurt Ansel because she was indeed telling the truth. Right at that moment he made for a slot through Miles'' side, he was really ambitious for position. Most drivers would have held back, staying in the slipstream to deploy DRS on the straight. But not Ansel. He''d gambled, hoping the turns would favor him. Of course, he had witnessed it happen many times, that''s why he pushed his car for that upper edge. Miles, however, was a no-nonsense opponent, and maintained his line instead of giving Ansel some space.


    "Now we can only imagine how difficult things will get for Luca," Val continued, sighing as she ced her hands on her hips. "He''s the only one left in red out there¡ªa bright, easy target. We''ll discuss this more after the race and in theing days. For now, Grant and I don''t want you brooding. As you can see, your assant also crashed out."


    "I''m not brooding," Ansel shot back, his voice sharper than he intended.


    "Good." Val''s eyes narrowed. "Then grab a Trampos cap and head back to the paddock. How do you think Luca will feel if he charges into the box for a pit and doesn''t see you there?"


    Ansel exhaled heavily, running his fingers through his hair. He nced at the cleaners nearby, who had paused to listen intently to their exchange. Their sudden interest annoyed him, but he let it slide.


    "Fine," he said. "I''ll be there in two. I just need a moment."


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    "Thank you," Val said curtly, spinning on her heel. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she strode out without another word.


    The distant roar of the crowd erupted momentster, thundering through the corridors.


    "WOOOOOHH!"


    Ansel froze, the deafening cheers cutting through his thoughts. The energetic cadence of thementators'' voices filtered through, their excitement unmistakable. Something major had just unfolded on track.


    He sighed, dragging his focus back to his own reality. The sh with Miles reyed in his mind like a haunting loop. Shaking it off, he pulled the Trampos crew uniform over his shoulders, forcing himself to move forward.

 Chapter 103 Hungarian Grand Prix 5

    The cause of the uproar at Hungaro Ring was yet another crash. An Avidavis Motorsport driver had lost control and plunged straight through the barricade¡ªno contact, just an outright miscalction. The crash was severe enough for the rear of his Dara to catch a wisp of blue me. The fire crew swiftly intervened, though the mes barely lingered on the wings.


    Luca was in the midst of executing an important move when Moritz announced the call for the safety car¡ªthe third time this race. He groaned in frustration, his momentum forcibly stalled as he fell in line behind Max while the track was cleared.


    As they lined up, Luca noted that Max Addams'' car was within the proximity needed for the Advanced Bundle to analyze. He initiated the System''s scan, grinning as the performance metrics popted.


    [Performance Metrics:


    Top Speed: 300 km/h (100 km/h) (300 km/h¡ª100km/h in thest five seconds) (20km/h each millisecond)


    eleration: 3.5 sec (0¡ª100km/h) (28.57 km/h per second)


    Max Power: 620 HP


    Aerodynamic Efficiency: 1.5 ]


    [Operational Status:


    Fuel Level: 52%


    Tire Condition: Worn


    Telemetry Status: Active


    DRS Avability: Not Engaged ]


    Luca''s grin widened. The fuel level, the worn tire condition, and the overall operational status told him everything he needed to know that Max Addams would have no choice but to pit soon. With Luca trailing so closely, only a wless, one-second pit stop could save Max from losing the lead.


    "...and we''re back to green! Hungaro Ring cleared, race resumes...!"


    [3rd Position closing in]


    "...The safety car is in, and the field is unleashed once more! Max Addams controls the pace as they barrel down the main straight..."


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 1st Position]


    [You are 3 seconds away, host.]


    **Keep close. Get ready to seize the chance¡ªI can almost feel the burn of his tires. Trust me**


    Luca held his line tight behind Max''s as they tore down the main straight. With time, he felt the whoosh provided by Max''s rear wing whip to the side of his own Dara. There was no drag at his front wings, prompting 100% effectiveness of his SomberCore''s power on his speed.


    [Slipstream Mastery +1]


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


    [Speed Boosted!]


    [You are 2 seconds away, host.]


    "... Rennick is within DRS range now. One mistake from Addams and he''ll take the position one with ease..."


    "...I don''t think he''d be making a mistake, Steve. Max Addams is tearing away from the track, his car needs many changes and surely, Luca Rennick will im P1 in this Grand Prix..."


    [You are 0.8 seconds away, host.]


    **Confirmation from Velocit¨¤, he''s heading into the pits**


    The cameras cut to Addams as his car veered off the main straight and peeled into the pitne. His crew scrambled into action, but before Max had fullymitted to the pit stop, Luca shot past him and headed into the turns.


    [1st Position]


    [Overtaking Skill +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 87.5%]


    "...Luca Rennick leads the Hungarian Grand Prix!"


    **You own P1 again. Good Job. Excellent job. Stay steady**


    Luca exhaled deeply as he powered through Turns 5, 6, and 7. The sun had sunk below the horizon now, and its orange glow was being reced by a bluish-gray sky that loomed over the circuit. He had reimed his position, and Oliver Kristensen had seized P2, relegating Max to P3 just ahead of his teammate, Dani Walding. Max managed to exit the pits quickly enough to avoid slipping further to P4.


    Settling his nerves, Luca drove fast but steady, weaving deftly through curves and bends. His focus shifted momentarily to his most critical disy.


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:


    -Car Speed: 285 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 107 bpm


    -Operational Status: 75% (Fair)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 190000m


    -Time: 55 min ]


    [40th Lap]


    Luca activated the radio, his thoughts now fixated on the necessity of another pitstop. As the F2 standard chassis, Daras often relied on soft tires, typically requiring two or three stops per race depending on the number ofps.


    "Tires still have life, but we''re on softs, and I don''t want to gamble too long."


    **Copy, Luca. We''re aiming for a stop at Lap 45. Tire degradation is on target¡ªat least, you''re managing them well. We''ll box for another set of softs unless conditions demand otherwise**


    [Current Lap: 41]


    [Tire Degradation: 43%]


    [Estimated Wear by Lap 50: 72%]


    Luca bit his lip, his focus shifting between the track ahead and the subtle drag he felt from his car''s handling. The contact with Miles earlier had clipped his front wing¡ªnot visibly damaged, but enough to spark doubt. He could already feel a slight imbnce, particrly in the high-speed corners where aerodynamic precision mattered most.


    Would it worsen over time? Who knew? But the thought of losing precious seconds to a front wing recement at the pitstop made him hesitate.


    Meanwhile, Kristensen had wed his way into contention, sitting solidly in P2. For the first time this season, the usually mid-pack driver looked like a genuine threat, clearly eager to push harder and im P1. Luca couldn''t me him, let alone underestimate him.


    At least Pitstop Prodigy would help, Luca thought, toggling the radio again to speak.


    [42nd Lap]


    "How long will a front wing change cost us?"


    **We aren''t an F1 team crew, Luca. Maybe 8-10 seconds. I know there''s a slight issue with the downforce¡ªwe''ve noticed. It was the bump, right?**


    "Yes."


    **You can''t manage?**


    "It might be a problem. We won''t know untilter."


    Moritz hesitated. **We''ll try to be quick, then**


    [Analyzing 2nd Position''s distance from host and Dara (F2 04)...]


    [2nd Position is 4 sec away, host.]


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


    Luca began calcting. An 8-10 second pitstop¡ªreduced somewhat by Pitstop Prodigy¡ªplus another 1.5-2 seconds leaving the pine, and perhaps 0.5 seconds stabilizing back on the track.


    He needed more of a gap to Kristensen to cover the deficit.


    ncing at the side mirror, Luca tried to study Kristensen''s car. Unfortunately, the violet chassis was too far to analyze, though the confidence with which it approached suggested its Operational Status was strong.


    Sighing as he led the drivers out of Turn 12 and onto the straight, Luca muttered under his breath. "Who would''ve known, Oliver? Who would''ve known."


    [45th Lap]


    **Your call**


    "Yes."


    **Roger. Box, then. Telemetry shows reduced downforce on the front wing affecting your cornering. It''s good you suggested it¡ªit''s not catastrophic yet, but in a fewps¡­**


    Luca already knew. He had a deep connection with any single-seater he synchronized with. shing his lights to signal the team, he braced himself as the pit entry loomed ahead. His tires peeled into the pine as the milliseconds delta between him and Kristensen began to shrink.


    The crew moved with choreographed precision as Luca boxed. Wheels popped off and fresh tires were fixed into ce, while the new front wing waited.


    It took long even with Pitstop Prodigy. "Come on,e on," Luca muttered under his breath as the crew finished the wing change. He caught a glimpse of Ansel seated at the paddock. He wanted to ponder on his teammate, but the tires clicked on, and the green light shed above him.


    Luca hit the throttle once the car dropped from the jack, feeling the familiar power surge of his SomberCore beneath him. He shot out of the pit box, the red-and-ck Dara roaring into the pine, both the crowd and thementary cheering through Hungaro Ring.


    Luca hoped he was fast enough to slip back in, maybe miliseconds before Kristensen, who even had Max Addams glued to his tail. But Kristensen was taking none of it, he had his Retona car move with a surge of momentum, letting Luca have the small gap behind him.


    [2nd Position]


    "...for the first time ever in the championship, Oliver Kristensen of Retona Racing is leading the race! He now holds the top spot, weaving like a maniac! And if he defends well, he might grab those points...!"


    "...Kristensen has yed his cards perfectly today, positioning his F2 04 at strategic points after Hahn and Bellingham''s crash... He will have to hold on now, the relentless pursuit of the two giants¨CRennick and Addams¨Cis wing up to him..."


    **You can still take it back, don''t worry, mate**


    "I know," Luca replied, positioning himself right behind Kristensen''s Dara. He also had in mind Max Addams was right behind him. A threat he was? Yes.


    [Analyzing 3rd Position''s distance from host and Dara (F2 04)...]


    [3rd Position is 3 sec away, host.]


    [System''s prediction: that value might change and decrease, not in your favor]


    "I know."


    [Analyzing Dara (F2 04) and host''s distance from 2nd Position]


    [You are 2 seconds away, host.]


    [Speed Boosted!]


    [You are 0.7 seconds away, host.]


    "...oh, and Luca Rennick is going to try to snatch back P1 once again, going for the outside line...!


    [Calcting host drift exit...]


    [.... sessfully calcted]


    Luca''s car weaved into P1 smoothly at Turn 10, but a brief loss of traction unsettled his rhythm. Kristensen capitalized instantly, seizing the lead with a sharp inside maneuver.


    "... Kristensen is holding steady at the bottleneck of Turn 11, but Rennick is relentless! They are inches apart and engines are screaming in effort!"


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    Luca found himself behind Kristensen again, but he wasn''t willing to stay there for long. His System announced:


    [Straightaway ahead]n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Luca''s instincts sharpened, as he knew that would be a perfect chance to create a gap after overtaking. His eye moved about through the apex of Turn 12. He needed a good, nearly perfect exit as Kristensen was executing a surprisingly good defensive broadening.


    [Track Span Analysis: 3.2 meters wide (insidene avable)] [Optimal Racing Line Calcted: 2.4 meters]


    [Car Width: 1.9 meters] [Margin for Error: 0.6 meters (0.3 meters on each side)]


    [Possibility of Overtake: 84% sess rate] [Risk of Wheel Contact with Rival: 10%]


    "I''ll take it!"


    "...there, Jon, Luca Rennick is trying again.... going through the inside line before the main straight!"


    Kristensen did very well to defend, but that''s all he could do if he wanted to avoid a possible 10-second penalty. He had taken the middle, most conventionalne, while Luca nosed his chassis through the rmended space provided by his System. He deftly tilted his wheel, his tires grazing the curbs as the track signs signalled the apex of thest turn.


    Luca slipped in before Kristensen, keeping a good traction as he emerged into the straight first.


    [1st Position]


    "...and Luca Rennick is back in the lead of the Hungarian Grand Prix! What a masterful cut through Turn 12! Kristensen is now chasing as Rennick surges forward!"


    "Yes! Let''s go!" Luca muttered, pumping himself up.


    **Good job**


    [You are gathering speed]


    [Spatial Awareness +1]


    [SYNC BAR: [][][][] 100%]


    [Reflexes +1]


    [Ding!]


    [Power-up failed!]


    [Sync Bar is currently full]


    [46th Lap]


    [SYNC BAR COMPLETE]


    [Host, Sync Buff can now be used]


    "That''s what I''m talking about," Luca whispered, ncing at the fully charged Sync Bar. There was no better feeling than filling it up, knowing he could deploy it when the moment was right.


    [2nd Position closing in]


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    "How far is 2nd Position from me?"


    [Analyzing 2nd Position''s distance from host and Dara (F2 04)...]


    [2nd Position is 2 sec away, host.]


    [System''s prediction: that value would increase in your favor due to Sync Buff]


    "And what if I don''t use Sync Buff?"


    [Analyzing 2nd Position''s distance from host and Dara (F2 04)...]


    [2nd Position is 2 sec away, host.]


    [System''s prediction: that value might remain constant in your favor]


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    The prompt reappeared, but Luca hesitated. At Lap 46, there were still sixteenps to go. A Sync Buff typicallysted only 5 to 7ps, which meant exhausting it before Lap 53 might leave him vulnerable in the race''s closing moments.


    Luca wasn''t willing to risk it. Who knows? Anything could happen within those fewps left till 62nd, stripping away his second straight Grand Prix win he already had in the bag. With quick mental calctions, he decided he''d hold off until Lap 55 to activate the Sync Buff for maximum impact.


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    Luca dismissed the notification and focused on his driving.


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 Chapter 104 Hungarian Grand Prix 6

    [50th Lap]


    The more theps progressed, the clearer it became that Luca was poised to im his second consecutive Grand Prix victory. Sensing this, the Trampos Racing paddock and garage came alive, and became a sea of energy and anticipation. Crew members were on their feet, rallying the Trampos fans in the stands next to their garage to cheer Luca''s Dara through the remaining twelveps.


    Mr. Grant exchanged a knowing smile with Ms. Vallotton, while Moritz maintained a calm demeanor, speaking methodically over the team radio. They all knew this was just the beginning¡ªa taste of the glory Trampos Racing had been working towards. Luca was shaping up to be the driver they had been waiting for.


    "HOOH...HOOOH" chanted Trampos through Hungaro Ring as Luca began the 51st Lap. The sun had gone down, and evening enveloped the venue.


    Ansel sat quietly in the paddock, unmoved by the jubnt atmosphere around him. He could feel the electric energy crackling through the air, yet it failed to spark any emotion within. The creeping chill of the evening was the only sensation he acknowledged.


    Zip! Luca''s car streaked past before the pine.


    Zip! Three secondster, another car followed.


    Zip! A third whizzed by.


    "HOOH...HOOOH!"


    Ansel leaned forward slightly. He assumed the race had settled into its final rhythm until the checkered g, but the sudden roar of the crowd told him otherwise. Something was happening at the head of the pack.


    He nced at the screen, half expecting Luca to be in a heated battle to defend P1. But the disy told a different story. Luca was secure in the lead. The drama instead centered on Kristensen, who was struggling to fend off Max Addams'' relentless pursuit for P2.


    [52nd Lap]


    [Stamina +1]


    Luca noticed the shift in his side mirror. Max, an F2 master of calcted aggression, had outmaneuvered Kristensen over time, putting him in a precarious position, where Dani Walding had the chance to counter on his momentum loss.


    And judging by the speed and drive Max Addams was using during turns, Luca could tell he aimed for ast minute overtake on him, iming P1 just before the final grid.


    Ansel couldn''t deny it now, the buzzing atmosphere that came with the gradual end of a Grand Prix seemed to vibrate through the asphalt, the concrete and up his legs. Now, he was eager to see how the podium would be set. Right now, it seemed Kristensen was just falling into the prey of Dani Walding.


    "HOOH...HOOOH!" the Trampos crowd erupted as Luca surged ahead into Lap 53, still holding amanding lead.


    "...we''re on Lap 53 here at the Hungarian Grand Prix, and the battle for P3 is heating up! Kristensen is struggling to hold his line as Dani Walding closes in with tremendous speed through Sector 2!"


    "¡­look at Kristensen''s car! It''s losing grip¡ªthere''s a slight wobble heading into Turn 5! Walding is right there, ready to pounce!"


    It was very difficult for Oliver Kristensen to manage, and he wasn''t able to defend against Dani Walding just like how Max easily outpaced him. At the exit of Turn 6, the short straightaway opened, giving Dani Walding a clear view and picture of P3 a hand. Max''s car was a sector and a turn ahead, and Luca, four turns ahead.


    "...Heading into Turn 6, Walding dives down the inside for the straight! A perfectly timed move¡ªKristensen tries to defend, but it''s no use! Walding''s car slips through with perfect precision!"


    **We have two Velocit¨¤ drivers at P2 and P3 now. It doesn''t look good for our points**


    "...and Dani Walding moves into P3! Kristensen is relegated to P4, clearly struggling to match the pace of the Velocit¨¤ drivers. What a disy of patience and execution from Walding!"


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 300 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 80 % (Good)


    -Breathing: Calm & Steady


    -Distance covered: 268000m


    -Time: 1hr 20 min ]


    **No need to worry, though. They can''t get close enough to execute a team formation. Just focus on finishing¡ªthis is in the bag**


    "Roger," Luca replied, tilting his car expertly through thest set of turns. Moritz was right. Congrattions to Dani Walding for securing P3, but if he had any ns to help Max advance further, he better drop them.


    Luca''s mind shed back to telemetry data he''d poured over and countless hours of studying Velocit¨¤ team strategies from past races. Two Velocit¨¤ drivers together was a nightmare for any F2petitor. He was well aware of the dangers, and Aaronson''s infamous defeat at their hands served as a brutal reminder.


    If you can''t keep up now, you definitely won''t see meter, hehe.


    [54th Lap]


    "Time to use that Sync Buff. Can''t let it just glow there for me," Luca muttered, his gaze flicking to the System interface oveying his vision. He could hear varying chants from the Hungaro Ring crowd, horns ring and even colorful smoke billowing into the evening sky.


    From Ennd to Hungary, Luca felt unstoppable. Another victory was within his grasp. 25 more points, and he''d be one step closer to iming the F2 championship title.


    He called up the Sync Buff notification again.


    [ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]


    [Y / N]


    With no hesitation, Luca selected Yes.


    [INFUSING....]


    [Strength: 19 ???? 50


    Stamina: 25 ???? 50


    Endurance: 22 ???? 50


    Agility: 21 ???? 50


    Intelligence: 18 ???? 50 ]


    [You can only select three skills]


    [Reflexes/ Overtaking Skill/ Track Awareness/ Pitstop Prodigy/Corner Chopping/Straightaway Chopping/Spatial Awareness/ Night Mastery/ Grid Launch/ Slipstream Mastery]


    This is a no-brainer, Luca thought. There were skills that he obviously did not need to buff now, considering he was already leading the race by a firm margin. All he needed to do now was to select Skills that would enhance his driving and reduce the possibility of a crash due to the wild effects of Sync Buff.


    After little consideration, Luca decided to go with Reflexes, Track Awareness and Spatial Awareness. With these, he could know the wits around his car and the track. And if anything might swerve wrong, the heightened Reflexes woulde to y.


    [Sessfully Selected!]


    [Reflexes: 20 (+1) ???? 50


    Track Awareness: 20 ???? 50


    Spatial Awareness: 4 ???? 50 ]


    [INFUSION SUCCESSFUL!]


    [You have 4 min. 59 sec left for Sync Buff]


    Luca suddenly realized this was indeed thest set of Skills he selected in Stadhaven. He chuckled as the system deftly increased his stats.


    Once the infusionpleted, Luca felt a wave of sharp rity rush through him, as if the world around him had snapped into perfect focus. His mind and body felt lighter, yet hyper-attuned to every detail. The subtle vibrations of the SomberCore under him, the faint shifts in the air as the wind danced along the track, even the precise angles of each curve and incline ahead¡ªeverything was suddenly amplified in his perception.


    [55th Lap]


    "...and P1 is looking grim for Max Addams. Luca Rennick is getting as far away as possible. Look at that speed!"


    **Keep going, mate. Keep going**


    The cheer from the crowd suddenly blurred once he reached the peak of his Sync Buffed effects. His SomberCore felt louder now, and his surroundings blended with the evening atmosphere as he navigated through all turns and sped down all straights.


    [Fastest Lap Attained!]


    [1:21.119]


    [57th Lap]


    [You are moving at 310 km/h]


    [58th Lap]


    "Alright, folks! EVERYONE should be on their feet!" McCauley hollered, standing at the edge of the pit box as Luca zoomed past thene, Addams zipping through eleven secondster. Such a gap!


    [59th Lap]


    [You have 2 min. 57 sec left for Sync Buff]


    "... there were a lot of talks about Luca Rennick starting at pole today. Could he convert it to another victory, or would he fall short? Here in Hungary, Luca Rennick is leading the pack at a terrifying speed through the turns, widening the gap between him and Addams..."


    "...Max Addams in P2, Dani Walding in P3. It''s quite a good result for Velocit¨¤. Perhaps, this is why Rennick is a beast up front. Twenty-five points is all he could get for Trampos after Hahn had fallen off. And even two more points¨CLuca Rennick is our fastestpper today!"


    Luca zoomed past twopped drivers, drivers still in the 59th Lap while others were in the 60th. He had half expected his System to count that as an overtake, but he was wrong. After all, they weren''t advanced opponents with no holographic number above their chassis.


    [You have 1 min. 40 sec left for Sync Buff]


    [61st Lap]


    **Twops to go!**


    "...twops to go in this Hungarian GP! Set up the podium, stewards! Cheer through the circuit. Luca Rennick is on the verge of winning his second consecutive Grand Prix!"


    Ansel''s eyes were glued to Luca''s Dara as it danced through the circuit, a masterpiece in motion under the influence of the Sync Buff. With precision and ir, Lucamanded the car, extracting every ounce of speed and grip.


    He watched as Luca brakedte into Turn 1 of the 61stp with minimal loss of momentum. He exited the chicane after gliding seamlessly into Turn 3. He entered the middle section, a spark leaving his car''s rear signaling DRS engagement. His speed even became more disastrous through the short straight.


    "It''s like he''s plugged into the damn circuit," Ansel muttered, watching as the gap to Addams extended by three more seconds before thep ended.


    [62nd Lap]


    **Finalp, Luca.**


    Luca grinned, his ears reddening as he repeated Hungaro Ring again, passing three morepped drivers. "Tell Mama I made it," he said with a shortugh.


    **Oh no. You have to cross that finish line first. You''re good as zero points now, you know that?**


    "Ahh, no problem. No problem."


    [You have 40 seconds left for Sync Buff]


    My calctions were right. I''ll finish with it. Let''s go!


    [DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:


    -Car Speed: 300 km/h


    -Heart Rate: 110 bpm


    -Operational Status: 65 % (Fair)


    -Breathing: Slightly Elevated


    -Distance covered: 302000m


    -Time: 1hr 30 min ]


    "... dominant driving, exceptional driving. The crowd roars their approval for this as Luca Rennick enters the final sector..."


    Ah, there it is, Luca thought as the checkered g unfurled in the distance, waving gently at him for his approach.


    "...contact with Bellingham wasn''t enough to bring him down. Two reims of P1, solo man on the field. Max Addams can''t keep up, Dani Walding can''t keep up... it''s a wonderful race in Hungary here, and Luca Rennick... he has crossed the grid. Luca Rennick has won the Hungarian Grand Prix!"


    "WOOOOOHH!"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Luca''s car zipped past the finish line with Sync Buff effects still active, though only for a few seconds longer.


    He heaved a sigh of relief, reducing speed as the noise from the crowd crept into his cockpit.


    **You are an absolute beast, my man! Incredible work out there!** Moritz''s synthetic voice was nearly drowned out by the apuse and roars of the crowd.


    [Sync Buff psed!]


    [1ST POSITION]


    Luca''s grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly as his car roared in victory. "I DID IT! YES!" he yelled, punching the air inside the cockpit as his Trampos crew erupted into cheers over the radio.


    [Congrattions, host! You have made a podium!]


    "Yup! I made the freaking podium," Luca whispered, slowing his car and weaving side to side in a serpentine motion, letting the cold air cool his brakes. Beginning his celebrationp at Hungaro Ring, he raised his gloved hand out of the cockpit, saluting the ecstatic Trampos fans lining the third section of the circuit.


    "Second....Max Addams!"


    "WOOOOOHH!"


    "Third... Dani Walding!"


    A round of apuse spread through the grandstands as Dani Walding was cheered for making his first podium. After that, the cameras focused on Luca as he maneuvered through Turn 12, still waving to the crowd.


    When he finally entered the cool-down zone, Luca exhaled deeply, his heartbeat steadying. His System deftly went offline, granting him a satisfying dark peace in his helmet. "We did it, Luca. Let''s go," he murmured before unstrapping the cockpit belts and pushing his body out.


    "1st Position, 21, Luca Rennick!"

 Chapter 105 Hungarian Grand Prix 7: Turmoil In Triumph

    The podium was mounted for the seventh time this season as the seventh round of the F2 championship concluded, with one Trampos driver and two Velocit¨¤ drivers dominating the Hungarian GP leaderboard.


    Luca rushed to his team in the paddock as soon as he climbed out of his car, leaping into their waiting arms. They erupted into cheers, hoisting him high as champagne burst prematurely from several bottles. McCauley led the charge, spraying anyone within range. The celebration was electric, with the Trampos paddock roaring in triumph over Luca''s second consecutive Grand Prix win.


    Laughing, Luca finally extricated himself from the throng and headed deeper into the garage, where Mr. Grant and Ms. Vallotton awaited him. The transition from the chaos outside to the rtively quieter interior struck Luca as surreal. Evening had fallen over the circuit, and the bright floodlights cast sharp shadows, amplifying the lingering energy of the day.


    "You did well. Are you alright?" Ms. Vallotton asked, her sharp eyes scanning him for any signs of strain.


    "I definitely am!" Luca grinned, his excitement undimmed.


    "Good. Wonderful race, wonderful driving. Get a towel around your neck and head to cool off," Mr. Grant added, trying to keep his tone even, though his pride was evident. In truth, when Ansel''s car had crashed earlier, he feared the day would end disastrously for Trampos.


    Luca greeted more of the team on his way to the cool-down room, swept up in the joy of victory and the warmth of his colleagues'' congrattions. He peeled off his gloves, his fingers finally rxing after gripping the steering wheel with unrelenting focus for over an hour.


    Entering the cool-down room, Luca felt the roar of the crowd shake the walls. It was a strange contrast to the stark white of the room, designed to offer a moment of respite. Mr. Moritz greeted him with a yful but firm p on the back.


    "You showed that scruffy bloke that the podium is for the big guns!" Moritz joked, referring to Luca reiming P1 from Kristensen, who held the position only briefly.


    Luca chuckled, epting a towel handed to him. He sank into a seat, letting his muscles rx for the first time since the race began. On the screens before him, race highlights reyed¡ªthe overtakes, the breathtaking pace, and the critical moments that defined the event. Watching the rey was almost surreal, like experiencing the race for the first time. The tension in the crowd was palpable even through the footage.


    As the screen transitioned to a clip of a crash, Luca''s stomach dropped. He watched as Ansel''s car veered off at Turn 6, the rear end losing grip before mming into the barriers. The force of the impact made him wince, the slow-motion rey capturing every devastating detail. Thementators'' voices ovepped, describing the chaos and confirming Ansel''s early retirement from the race.


    Luca sat bolt upright. He hadpletely forgotten Ansel and his DNF.


    Ansel''s crash had been a pivotal moment in the race, and Luca had been so consumed by his own battle for the podium that he hadn''t even checked on his teammate.


    Heart pounding, Luca grabbed his water bottle and stood. "Where''s Ansel?" he asked Mr. Moritz, who nced up from the rey.


    "He was just in the paddock. You didn''t see him?"


    "Nope. I''ll go check," Luca said, leaving the cool-down room without hesitation. He weaved through the garage and returned to the paddock, which was still thrumming with energy. There, he was told Ansel had gone up to the dressing room.


    Luca heaved a sigh and headed to the esctor, his footsteps quick and purposeful. Walking through the halls, he soon reached the dressing room and stepped inside. Ansel was standing near one of the benches, methodically packing his duffel bag. His movements were calm but deliberate, as though he was packing more than just belongings¡ªperhaps thoughts or frustrations that lingered. He definitely was.


    Luca''s gaze swept across the room before he stepped aside to let two crew members pass. Both were young women, and as they exited, they patted his shoulder and cheered in passing. Luca offered a soft smile but felt a twinge of disappointment because they''d inadvertently revealed his presence to Ansel.


    Ansel, however, didn''t even nce back.


    "I don''t think we''ll be leaving for another two hours," Luca began, lingering in the doorway.


    Ansel took his time before responding, his focus still on his duffel bag. "Yeah, I know. I just like to pack ahead. Makes things easierter, especially when we''re stumbling around drunk." He straightened his posture and turned, standing tall at an even six feet. Ansel had an appealing masculine frame, far better than Luca''s. He turned around, offering the nicest smile he could. "Congrattions, man. Second Grand Prix for you."


    Luca narrowed his eyes slightly, scrutinizing his teammate before shaking his head. The gesture seemed to confuse Ansel, who spread his arms in mock bewilderment. "What?"


    "That was the weakest congrattions I''ve ever heard," Luca said, stepping further into the room. "It wasn''t even remotely genuine. I know you''re bummed about your fate today. I''d be angry and sad too."N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Ansel let out a shortugh, shaking his head as he zipped his bag shut. "It''s somewhere between anger and sadness, honestly," he admitted, his voice having this touch of resignation. "But still, congrats, man. I mean it."


    "Thank you," Luca replied, aiming to sit on the bench beside the bag. Before he could, someone entered the room in a rush, face flushed. "Luca? Media wants a word."


    Luca sighed, running a hand through his hair before rising to his feet. "First-ce responsibilities," he muttered under his breath.


    "First ce responsibilities, indeed," Ansel replied with a faint smile. "Don''t worry about me. Go on, handle your moment. I''ll be out of here before it''s time for the podium."


    Luca nodded, offering a quick nce of reassurance before jogging out of the room to catch up with the crew member waiting in the hall. As they made their way through the winding corridors of the paddock, Luca''s thoughts churned.


    He couldn''t shake the weight of Ansel''s disappointment. A DNF on the very firstp wasn''t just frustrating¡ªit was humiliating, especially for a driver of Ansel''s caliber. Luca understood the frustration, even empathized with it.


    To him, Ansel''s sullen mood was justified as anyone in his position would feel the same. Still, Luca hoped the disappointment was rooted in the sting of the early retirement itself and not tinged with resentment over his own victory. He promised himself he''d be there to support Ansel through the slump¡ªso long as the gloom stemmed from his own setback, not bitterness over someone else''s sess. At least, Luca hoped.

 Chapter 106 Reset

    Just after the podium celebrations, Luca was surprised to see Miles approach him to congratte him on his second victory. He felt that was odd as Miles, his personal rival, was the only driver to do so. Others could only make use of the silent treatment, eyeing each other whenever and plotting how to climb to the top.


    Luca and Miles'' conversation went smoothly as both silently agreed to speak as if they didn''t know each other personally. They both cracked a few jokes within the short time they spoke and actually chuckled genuinely to their jokes before greeting each other off. Right after that, all moods reset as Luca resumed his celebration and Miles, his sulking over the crash that had ruined his race.


    Luca recalled everything they spoke about, and he couldn''t help butugh softly. That was surely the Miles Bellingham he knew, always questioning him for unnecessary details as though he needed them for anything. He had asked about Luca''s mother and sister, the questions trailing to Luca''s personal sponsors and any possible training regime he followed. Miles prodded around, aiming to difort Luca, who wasn''t buying it. Luca remembered Miles even quipped about the champagne spray on the podium, hinting that Luca was getting better at aiming it¡ªpossibly the most useless feedback he''d ever given.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Luca returned to the team, free of any obligations to the Federation, and could now focus on Trampos. This included the waiting fans, of course.


    He stepped up to the barrier with a wide grin, waving toward all those donned in red, ck, and white. His first interaction was with a young boy and his sister with their parents. The boy was holding a mini replica of Luca''s single-seater. He could tell because of the #21 etched on its chassis. Luca wasn''t sure if the boy really bought that or if it was custom-made. "You have my car? Wow," Luca said, crouching down. "What''s your best part about it, mm?"


    It turned out the little boy wasn''t yet good with English, so his parents helped him understand by tranting to German and vice versa for Luca. "The speed through the turns, he says," both parents said to Luca at once after the little boy blurted something out.


    "Definitely!" Luca signed the tiny car and nodded to the boy''s parents. He looked around at the crowd, all eager to get a personal interaction with him before the sky could get even darker. Luca double-clicked the pen, knowing he had a long time ahead of him.


    --------------------------


    [SYSTEM ONLINE...]


    [Host should begin his Daily Routine]


    Luca rubbed his eyes, heavy with sleep, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room was a void of silence, its darkness wrapping around him like a cocoon. He sighed softly and leaned forward, his hand searching for the switch of the sidmp. He found it within seconds and dragged it down, producing a soft click. A golden glow spread across the room, chasing the shadows back into corners and illuminating the space in a muted radiance.


    "June 10th, Monday," Luca said to himself as he remained seated, the light settling on his face and highlighting the angles of his jaw.


    [Certainly, host. That indeed is today''s date]


    [Host should begin his Daily Routine]


    Luca sighed again before rising to his feet. He gave a quick hop to fire energy into his body before strolling to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He switched on the lights, grabbed his toothbrush, and applied the toothpaste with a measured amount. Soon the scrubbing of his teeth followed, slightly echoing off the tiles of the bathroom.


    When he was done, he washed and dried his face with the same organized precision. The cool water did its part to clear the remnants of sleep, leaving him sharp and his facial features brighter. He exited the bathroom and stepped back into the dimly lit room.


    The faint glimmer of his trophy caught his eye as it reflected the bedsidemp''s golden light. The trophy sat prominently on the sole cab in the room, exactly where Luca had ced it. He paused, his gaze fixed on it as he couldn''t get over the sight of crafted victory.


    He walked across the room to touch it for the day, his fingers brushing its sleek surface before caressing the silver base where his name was etched alongside the GP and year. Luca smiled, knowing he had one particr trophy in his sights¡ªthe overall F2 world champion trophy. That would be the one he''d keep. Any Grand Prix trophy would go to Sophia and his mother.


    Luca got dressed in his conventional tracksuit and sneakers. He decided to have an empty mind today, free of music and words, as he strapped his wrist with a Catapult watch.


    He left his amodation secondster, closing the door behind him. He was based in the Vasliget Training Center''s amodation areas. This marked the team''s fourth day in Hungary, and within the next day, their stay in this center was set to expire. They were expected to leave for Berlin or find another amodation in Budapest or elsewhere.


    Luca walked down the dark corridor in solitude. He sneezed countless times, the sound resonating through the walls. The faint smell of chlorine lingered¡ªsomething Luca was very sensitive to. He quickly remembered the nearby indoor pool, where they had celebrated on Saturday night.


    The stillness in the training center was oddly grounding. It seemed everyone had slept in for the day, even though it was a Monday morning. Considering the extended celebrations following Form 1''s podium on Sunday, Luca understood how everyone, including them¡ªan F2 team¡ªwas tired.


    He greeted a janitor who was pushing a mop bucket around before approaching a set of broad ss doors at the end of the corridor. Pushing them open, Luca revealed himself to the gym. He stood at the doorway, observing the dimly lit space and how quiet and empty it was. The silence here was even deeper.


    Luca licked his lips as he got ready to begin. He had missed yesterday''s Daily Routine because the celebrations had disrupted his sleep, but he was determined not to miss today''s.


    Rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension from the night, he stared at the doors before deciding to close them from the inside. This tranquility was rare, and Luca was determined to turn this gym into his sanctuary.

 Chapter 107 A Morning Of Milestones

    [Good job, host. You can now proceed to the next phase of your daily routine.]


    Luca offered a positive response before settlingfortably on a bench, taking a moment to rx his muscles. He was fortunate to have the gym entirely to himself throughout his session; no one had even tried knocking on the locked ss doors. Beyond the gym, he could still make out the faint silhouettes of figures moving about, attending to their duties.


    Taking a sip of refreshing chilled water, Luca felt revitalized. He then decided to tidy up his workout area, ensuring everything was left as it should be. Once satisfied, he gave a simplemand: "System, disy attributes, including Skills."


    [Host status generating...]


    [... Generationpleted]


    [Strength: 19


    Stamina: 25


    Endurance: 22


    Agility: 21


    Intelligence: 18 ]


    [Skills & Techniques:  Total Grade - B


    Pitstop Prodigy: 7


    Corner Chopping: 6


    Straightaway Chopping:3


    Spatial Awareness : 4


    Night Mastery: 2


    Grid Launch: 3


    Slipstream Mastery: 3


    Others (Completed)


    Others (Locked) ]


    "Disypleted skills."


    [Certainly, host.]


    [... listing resumed]


    [Reflexes: 20 (+1)


    Overtaking Skill: 20 (+5)


    Track Awareness: 20 ]


    "That''s cool," Luca said. "Still not enough to grade me A. Hmm. A must be tough, then."


    [System''s analysis indicates that host is nearing a significant milestone, with Skills approaching Grade A. Based on the growth chart, host''s progression is optimized for a swift transition to the next level. However, System will terminate calctions and leveling assistance once host attains the S Grade.]


    "Oouuh. S Grade? I like the sound of that," Luca whispered as he stepped into his room. He closed the door behind him, tossing his gym towel onto a chair and slipping off his sneakers with practiced ease. Stretching his arms overhead, a soft groan escaped him as he loosened his muscles. He grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the small fridge by his bedside, taking a deep sip before sinking into the bed. Reaching for his Catapult watch, he checked his progress logs, reying the System''s words in his mind.


    "No SS or SSS, just S?" he muttered, raising an eyebrow at the digital interface.


    [Yes, host. The threshold is S Grade]


    "Alright," Luca said, sitting up right. "Hide Disy."


    The System promptly disappeared, leaving the room eerily quiet. The sudden stillness caught Luca off guard, and he found himself momentarily lost, listening to the faint hum of activity beyond his room¡ªcrew members exchanging muffled words and wardens tending to their tasks. His phone rang abruptly, startling him.


    He grabbed it from the nightstand. It was Sara on the line, informing him that she had just entered the K?sz¨¦li District and would arrive at the training center within minutes. Her words jolted Luca back to reality.


    Shoot, Luca thought. He''dpletely forgotten about today''smitment. His schedule was packed, and the day held something entirely outside the realm of single-seaters and racing circuits. As an ambassador for Fijee, the energy drink brand also sponsoring Trampos, he was obligated to attend a promotional event there in Budapest.


    The event¡ªas he was informed¡ªwas likely going to be more than a convention, an orchestrated marketing spectacle where Fijee would showcase its products to the public. Luca couldn''t understand why the management insisted so strongly on his attendance, even after Sara tried to negotiate apromise on his behalf. It''s not like he was much of a star yet. Either way, it was stated in his contract and he had to oblige.


    Realizing he only had a few minutes to prepare, Luca moved quickly. He ducked into the bathroom for a rapid shower and emerged fifteen minutester, his mind preupied with what to wear.


    Luca realized he didn''t have any of his Fijee branded polo shirts with him. He figured it might make the outing much easier with a in casual, but fitting attire. He sighed and went with a gray zer of his and dark jeans.


    Grabbing his phone, he stepped out of his room just as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows. The corridor was calm, sparsely popted with Trampos crew members beginning their routines. Luca nodded greetings to those he passed, his stride steady as he headed toward the canteen. He needed something quick to eat before Sara arrived.


    There, Luca indulged in a hearty breakfast, savoring the meal to kickstart his day on a positive note. Halfway through his meal, however, his phone buzzed. It was Sara, calling to inform him that she was waiting outside the gates. Apparently, she had no intention of dealing with the hassle of the training center''s stringent security protocols. Luca hurried through the rest of his meal and left quickly. On his way out, he managed to greet most of the crew, though some, like Ansel, opted to stay indoors. He couldn''t help but wonder why the team hadn''t simply booked a full hotel for everyone¡ªit would''ve been far more convenient.


    Exiting the Vasliget Training Center was as needlessly stern as entering it, but Luca managed to get through without much trouble. Outside, he spotted a lone vehicle in the quiet area and made his way toward it. Without hesitation, he opened the passenger door and slid into the front seat, ncing at Sara, who looked like she hadn''t gotten enough sleep.


    "New ride, huh? It''s nice," Luca remarked, letting his eyes roam appreciatively over the Ford. It had an understated sophistication, perfectly bnced between an SUV and a crossover.


    Sara yawned, waving a dismissive hand. "Company car. Nothing special."


    Luca nodded and leaned back in his seat. "So, where''s the event being held?"


    Straightening in her seat, Sara sharpened her focus. "It''s at the BDC Center. They''re hosting a brand showcase, so be ready to make an impression... I think."


    Before Luca could respond, Sara revved the alive car, shifted into gear and navigated the car onto the quiet morning road.


    It didn''t take long before they were weaving through the main streets and roads of Budapest, heading toward the BDC Center. They arrived a few minutes past nine, moving steadily in a queue of cars leading to the grand venue. Luca could see many people bustling around the entrance, some carrying banners or promotional material.


    The air was alive with the sound of chatter and vibe as event staff guided vehicles and attendees. Near the entrance, clusters of media personnel with cameras and microphones were stationed, ready to capture the day''s highlights. Business representatives, influencers, and fans sporting Fijee merchandise added to the vibrant scene.


    "Are you with your ID?" Sara asked abruptly, the Ford cruising smoothly down the path.


    "ID?"


    "Yes, your ID as a Trampos driver," Sara rified, giving him a sharp nce. "You aren''t with it...?"


    "You didn''t mention¨C"


    "Are you freaking kidding me?! How are we gonna get in?!"


    Before Luca could respond, a heavy handnded on the car''s roof, causing a slight jolt. A stern-looking security officer peered through the window.


    "Good day, ma''am. You''re heading into an official area. May I ask your purpose here?" the officer asked with a Scandinavian ent.


    Sara offered the most polite smile she could muster. "Good day. We''re here for the event. He''s one of the brand ambassadors," she said, leaning back slightly to give the security officer a clear view of Luca.


    "Do you have identification, sir?" the officer asked, his gaze shifting to Luca.


    Luca shook his head. "No, I don''t."


    "He''s an F2 driver. Trampos Racing," Sara interjected quickly. "He won thest¨C"


    The officer''s expression shifted as recognition dawned. "Oh! Luca Rennick?"


    Luca nodded. "Yes."


    The security officer''s demeanor warmed instantly. As a new and enthusiastic fan of F1 and F2, he quickly recalled seeing Luca prominently disying the Fijee logo during races. It seemed credible enough to him.


    "Wonderful race on Saturday, mate," the officer said with a grin. "I''m still torn between Trampos and Velocit¨¤, but I''m leaning toward full Trampos support by the next GP."n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    Luca could only smile. He thought of a response, but his sealed lips betrayed him.


    The officer gestured toward the far-rightne. "Proceed through Gate 3 and follow the signs to Visitor Parking. Enjoy the event!"


    "Thanks," Sara said, giving a quick wave as she eased the car forward. As they passed through the gates, she muttered, "Plus one thousand poprity points for you. But if you forget your ID again, you''ll have even cringier encounters. Believe me."

 Chapter 108 Fijee Branding & Bonds

    Once they settled deeper into the venue, Luca and Sara were promptly attended to after Luca''s official recognition. They were led into the sleek, modern building, away from the open spaces where people bustled about. Inside, their paths diverged as Sara was advised she could sit in the front row, take a spot in the backroom, or rx at one of the canopies outside.


    Preferring fresh air, Sara decided to head back out, but through an alternate route that led her to one of the Fijee-branded canopies. Meanwhile, Luca was guided further inside and informed that he needed to prepare.


    Just like he anticipated, Luca was provided with a fresh outfit tailored for the event. It included a dark blue polo shirt with a bold, deep red Fijee logo embroidered prominently on the chest. Though denim pants were suggested, the attendant assured him that his dark jeans would suffice. She then handed him a matching blue face cap toplete the look and led him deeper into the building.


    They entered a corridor behind therge conference room, where a middle-aged man stood waiting. Introducing himself as Mr. Kessler, Fijee''s regional coordinator, the man greeted Luca with a firm handshake and a warm smile. "It''s good to have you with us today, Luca," Mr. Kessler said. "Congrattions on your win at the capital. That''s one of the reasons why your presence has created so much buzz among our team and audience. Let me give you a quick rundown of what to expect and how this will work."


    Okay....


    Luca nodded attentively as Mr. Kessler outlined the schedule. And as the man spoke, the reality of his role sank in. Mr. Kessler informed his role included a short introduction and a full outdoor engagement which involved a question-and-answer session. Luca could tell his job today was to satisfy the excitement of those who genuinely attended for Fijee and those who were there because a motorsport driver was being brandished.


    "Got it," Luca responded with a confident smile.


    Mr. Kessler then ordered for the attendant to take him to the backroom for a quick touch-up to make him camera-ready. The attendant gestured for Luca to follow. He obliged, walking briskly behind her while exchanging polite greetings with the staff bustling through the hallway.


    As they neared the backroom, a booming voice suddenly pierced through the ambient noise, halting Luca in his tracks.


    "Where is he?!"


    The masculine tone carried a sense of urgency, and Luca instinctively turned toward the source of themotion. From across the bustling backroom, a young, dark-skinned man weaved his way through the crew, his eyes locked on Luca with unmistakable purpose.


    The man came to a stop in front of him, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Han''s teammate?" he blurted, his British ent crisp and genuine. "What''re you doing here, mate? And where''s Han?"


    Luca blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. The young man''s demeanor was friendly yetced with impatience, and Luca quickly pieced together that he''d been mistaken for someone else. "Ansel''s not here... is he supposed to be?" Luca asked with a steady voice.


    Yes, indeed. Just like Luca, Ansel was another brand ambassador for Fijee, and this event was one of many he was obliged to attend. However, Ansel had declined weeks ago.


    "He''s unpredictable at times," the young man said with a sigh, introducing himself as Kendall Jackson. Kendall was a sports athlete as well, though branding Fijee for a sport worlds apart from motorsport. Kendall, at 21, was the star right wing back for one of Ennd''s top ser teams, Manchester Red.


    Having spent most of his life in the heart city of ser itself, Luca was no stranger to the sport. He knew the Manchester teams were top-tier, and for Kendall to be their star wing back, he had to be exceptional.


    Luca extended his hand. "It''s nice to meet you. Full name''s Luca Rennick," he said, shaking Kendall''s hand firmly.


    "Oh, I know pretty well," Kendall replied with a wide grin. "First Position, 21, Luca Rennick!" he eximed, mimicking Hungaro Ring''s announcer from Saturday. "Man, you were on fire! Congrats!"


    Luca chuckled. Before he could respond, Kendallunched into a lively recount of the race.


    "The whole thing was insane! I barely had time to grab my popcorn, and¡ªboom! Han loses a tire," Kendall said, shaking his head. "Man, that was rough. Real bad for him."


    "Yeah," Luca agreed, the memory shing in his mind. "He had some real bad luck."


    The attendant motioned for them to keep moving, and Kendall tagged along, still chatting animatedly. "Since he''s not here, I guess you''re my new mate to talk with. So, what''s your role today?"


    Luca settled onto a stool in front of a mirror while a makeup artist touched up his face. She didn''t do anything at all¡ªjust applied a hint of concealer to even out his skin tone and a light powder to reduce shine.


    "Not much," Luca replied, ncing at himself in the mirror. "I''ll be around the canopies most of the time, talking to fans, I guess."


    The makeup artist patted his cheek, signaling she was done, and Luca stood up. He noticed how tall Kendall waspared to himself, his broad shoulders and athletic build making him look more like an American football yer than a ser star. "What about you? What''s your role today?"


    Kendall grinned, the energy in his eyes sparking. "Oh, I''ve got something bigger on my te. I''m actually unveiling Fijee''s new performance drink line today. Big stage, cameras, and all that jazz," he said, motioning dramatically as if mimicking a crowd. "Apparently, I''ve got to give this epic speech about how it helped me bag myst game-winning assist. No pressure, right?"


    Luca raised a brow, intrigued. "That''s actually cool..."


    "Plus, don''t tell anyone¡ªI''ll be on the cans in the next production, holding a ball with a bolt of lightning zipping out of my eyes. Now that''s cool," Kendall whispered conspiratorially.


    Wow. Luca wondered how much Kendall was earning from Fijee for something like that. "Sounds intense," Luca said, amused. "And you''re not nervous?"


    "Not at all," Kendall said confidently. "I''ve been in the industry for quite some time."


    They began walking again, the lively hum of the event buzzing through the halls. As they approached the main area, an organizer caught sight of Kendall and waved him over. "You''re up in five minutes, Mr. Jackson!" she called out.


    Kendall sighed. "Well, that''s my cue. Wish me luck, mate," he said, giving Luca a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading toward the stage area.


    "He''s a natural performer," his attendant said,  watching Ken disappear as if she admired him. "He influences a lot of teenagers. Come, I''ll take you to the outer post."


    Luca adjusted the cap he had briefly removed during his session with the makeup artist. Following the young woman, he exited through the far end of the backroom corridor. They navigated through the venue''s backyard, weaving past various setups until they entered a smaller building filled with Fijee staff.


    "Everyone, this is Luca, the Form 2 driver," his attendant introduced him with a bright smile. The crew, dressed in branded Fijee attire with pristine white gloves, paused briefly to acknowledge him. Some offered polite waves, while others nodded enthusiastically.


    The space was stacked high with crates of Fijee energy drinks, almost a thousand, forming a colorful mosaic of the brand''s signature design. Luca couldn''t help but wonder if they were really nning to hand them all out for free.


    ''Hey! It''s not just energy, it''s endurance. Fijee has been a game-changer for me. It fuels me and my car.''


    This was what Luca was given to say to the public when the time came. He studied and memorized the words, doing things as well as he could.


    When the time came, Luca engaged heartly and warmly with the attendees. It was a smooth, engaging performance, and even the Fijee team members nodded in approval as they carried out their role effectively too.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Sometimeter, Ken appeared in the space, a wide smile stered across his face. He said he was eager to join in on this role as it seemed more fun and engaging than his own gig. Without hesitation, he was handed a cap and white gloves, blending seamlessly into the staff¡ªaside from his hulking figure.


    Next came product sampling, just as Luca had suspected. The stacks of Fijee cans were indeed meant to be handed out for free. Luca and Ken joined in, working side by side as they distributed crates of the drink to the crowd. They also posed for countless photos with fans, making the moment unforgettable for attendees.


    It wasn''t untilter that Luca realized he''d skipped lunch entirely. ncing at the time, he saw it was nearing 3 PM. Sara, who had driven off earlier, returned with a meal in hand. Luca thanked her profusely and devoured the food, chatting with some of the Fijee crew as he ate. They seemed genuinely intrigued by his career, peppering him with questions about racing and his future ambitions.


    Eventually, it was a few minutes till four o''clock and the event was winding down. Everyone, staff, ambassadors and management were called back to the stage in the main building for a closing group photo. Though everyone was tired, the photo managed to capture a residue energy of the day.


    Ken wasted no time heading back to his team, who were already prepping a convoy of four SUVs for departure. Before leaving, he scanned the area for Luca, genuinely wanting to cement the connection they''d made. Spotting him chatting with Sara near one of the outer canopies, Ken jogged over with his signature wide grin.


    "Ayo, mate!" Ken called, slowing to a halt. "My team''s all set, but I didn''t wanna leave without this."


    Luca turned, curious. "What''s that?"


    Ken pulled out his phone and held it up. "Let''s exchange digits, yeah? Gotta keep in touch. We''ve got more rapport to build."


    Luca chuckled, pulling out his own phone. "Sure, why not?"


    The two quickly exchanged numbers before Ken jogged back to his team. Luca pocketed his phone, a small smile lingering on his face.


    Sara, standing beside him, crossed her arms and fixed him with a stern re.


    Before Luca could react, she kicked his shin, nearly sending him off bnce.


    "Oof! What was that for?" Luca eximed, stumbling but catching himself.


    "Let''s go," she said.

 Chapter 109 The Price Of Progress

    The team returned to Berlin the following day to wrap up the seventh round of the championship season, as all teams now had their sights set on the eighth round.


    The eighth round of the season was likely going to be special, as it held the Spanish Grand Prix. And as far as Luca could recall, Spain was a very festive nation whenever their schedule for Form driving arrived.


    Usually, the streets leading to the circuit, whether in Madrid or Barcelona, would be lined with gs and fans from all walks of life. There would be an atmosphere of celebration stretching even far from the race''s venue and throughout the country. It was because of this energy that the Federation often scheduled Spain as one of the countries to host the season''s final Grand Prix or Mega Prix in other words. This was why Luca was surprised to find out that Spain was scheduled to host the eighth round, with just four more to go right after.


    Either way, Luca was d that he would participate in the Mandalora, as everyone called the circuit instead of saying the long Circuito del Barca¨CRaval, located in Barcelona. It was a magnificent circuit, one he could confidently im to know like the back of his hand from all the descriptions he hade across over the years of his life.


    Luca took in a deep breath of the damp air as he stepped out of a private cab, the smell ofst night''s rain still lingering in the streets and roads of Mitte. He found himself standing before a quaint fast-food restaurant that had a sense of old-world grandeur. He had heard the restaurant was extremely costly and grandiose, making him wonder why Mallow had chosen it for their meetup.


    When did he start having an entric taste? Luca asked himself as he followed other visitors entering with purpose.


    Luca found a quiet, secluded table to the right in the open reception area, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of Mallow. The ce was a strange mix of luxury and convenience, and it felt odd to be here, waiting. He slid into the chair and let out a sigh, his fingers brushing against the menu resting on the table. With a quick nce, he picked it up and began reading through the offerings.


    All Luca could see were absurd figures; even a simple soda was priced at $10 for a small.


    Luca scoffed, leaned back, and dropped the menu, letting his mind wander as he waited for Mallow. His thoughts drifted to a certain Form 1 race he had managed to watch while still in the heat of his Racecraft program. The race had been held at Circuito del Barca¨CRaval as well, two years ago during the Mega Prix of the season. It was the same season Haddock Racing had clinched theirst championship title, although their driver hadn''t actually won the Mega Prix. That alone spoke volumes about the fiercelypetitive nature of the top division.


    The victory went to Hank Rice, whosemanding performance sealed Nevada''s ce in the top five. His win, famously at the Mandalora MP as the race was often called, also yed a decisive role in blocking Bueseno Velocit¨¤ from amassing the points needed to overtake Haddock Racing in the constructor standings. Ailbeart Moireach''s consistent efforts midseason for Haddock was what solidified their lead.


    However, the yers'' standings painted a different picture. Davide DiMarco of Bueseno Velocit¨¤ emerged as the drivers'' champion that season, a testament to his remarkable consistency across the calendar. Meanwhile, Hank Rice''s triumph in Mandalora propelled him to fourth ce overall, and Ailbeart Moireach secured second. Marco Rossi of Jackson Racing rounded off the season''s top three,pleting the podium standings.


    One could only imagine how tense the season was and how suffocating the rivalry amongst the drivers grew. The MP only disyed a fraction of the level ofpetition all the GPs had unveiled.


    Luca''s thoughts flickered back to the present.


    For some reason, he had a feeling Mallow would burst into the restaurant at any moment. To his surprise, the thought proved urate as Mallow appeared at the door, dressed in a dark coat¡ªas usual¡ªand was just taking off his sses. That meant he had been wearing shades outside, though the sky was cloudy. Typical Mallow, Luca thought, raising a hand to catch his agent''s attention, ensuring Mallow spotted him right away.


    Mallow approached the table, hung his coat neatly over the back of a chair, and sank into the seat opposite Luca with a sigh of relief. He leaned back slightly, looking as though he had finally found a moment to rx.


    Impatient, Luca jumped straight to the point. "Why did you pick this ce? It''s so far."


    "You''d prefer a public spot? I see you''re enjoying the attention these days," Mallow said.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    "Wha¡ª? No, I''m not," Luca shot back, realizing what Mallow meant. This restaurant''s controlled atmosphere likely ensured visitors wouldn''t react the way a crowd at a public spot would if they recognized him as Trampos'' Luca Rennick. Mallow was saying this because right after the team''s return from Budapest, there was a swarm of crowd waiting at their headquarters! Luca had no idea such many Germans were intrigued by motorsport, let alone Form 2. They had crowded their gate and the surrounding areas to cheer the team and most importantly, Luca for winning his second F2 Grand Prix with his teammate down.


    It took nearly an hour for security to disperse the crowd and allow Trampos'' convoy of buses and trucks to enter the premises. Trampos'' team officials had been adamant in advising Luca and his fellow drivers to avoid mingling with the crowd, not out of disregard but out of caution. The atmosphere, though celebratory, was unpredictable, and the sheer number of people posed safety concerns.


    Luca shrugged, folding his arms. "Now, I''m hungry, and a meal here costs a kidney," he said.


    Mallowughed. "Don''t worry, we won''t stay long. Let''s just discuss some important things that need full understanding," he replied. "First and foremost, we really need tond and finalize this deal with Hawthorne. Her team and I have scheduled the second signing after the next race in Barcelona. We might stay an extra week toplete everything. I want to know if that schedule is fine with you."


    "It is."


    Mallow nodded, silently satisfied. Truthfully, he wouldn''t have given Luca much choice, as he was determined to lock in the deal with Mrs. Hawthorne as soon as possible. "The second important thing now, which I really didn''t seeing¡ªa contract extension," Mallow said, watching Luca''s face for his reaction.


    Contract extension? Luca thought, his mind racing to understand. "You mean Trampos wants to extend my contract length?" he asked for rity and Mallow responded positively.


    Luca was shocked.


    "They''re offering something tangible, Luca," Mallow said in a near whisper, sensing Luca was already gearing up to reject the offer.


    "How many years?"


    "Four more years."


    Four years? No way. I can''t.


    Trampos had clearly recognized Luca''s exceptional driving talent and the potential heights he could reach. It was no surprise they offered a new contract ovepping his current two-year deal. However, Luca was satisfied with the original two-year arrangement, given the rarity of one-year deals in sports. He had no intention ofmitting four more years to an F2 team, especially when his sights were set on reaching Form 1 by the end of this year.


    Luca loved Trampos Racing, but no, he had a journey to keep on moving and a system that expected him to be in F1 by next year. Signing a four-year deal with Trampos was just going to jeopardize the possibility of making it into the top division. It was simple sports math in Luca''s opinion.


    "I don''t think I can do that, man," Luca said firmly. "It''s too much."


    "Luca, they''re offering to multiply your current sry by twelve. Twelve!" Mallow eximed, still keeping his voice low. "Do you even realize what that means? That''s $600k plus!"


    Luca groaned, side-eyeing Mallow with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Don''t tell me this is all about the money," he muttered, though his thoughts briefly entertained the number. It wasn''t even the amount, but the rate of increase Mr. Fisher and his board had decided to fix. $600,000 for an F2 driver was enormous, unheard of, even. It is quite high, Luca thought.


    He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I like the offer," Luca admitted, "but they''ll chain me down, and I won''t make it to F1."


    Mallow''s frown morphed into an amused smile. He rubbed his temples,ughing softly. "This is exactly why you sport athletes need an agenting team," he said with a chuckle. "It doesn''t work that way, Luca. You''re afraid of staying stuck in F2? A contract won''t decide that."


    The aroma of bacon lingered in the air, causing Luca''s stomach to growl. He cast a brief nce at a nearby table, where a magnificent meal had just been served, then turned back to Mallow. "I don''t understand."


    "Listen, Luca. It doesn''t matter if you have a ten-year deal with Trampos. If an F1 team wants you, they''ll get you. Why do you think Trampos is so eager to keep you, hmm?" Mallow exined. "And Trampos doesn''t have an F1 team, which means no rivalries toplicate things. If an F1 teames calling, it''ll be easier than you think. Plus, with this new deal, your market value will skyrocket¡ªand so will your future sry."


    Luca stared at Mallow, mulling over the exnation. He wanted himself to ept the understanding. "So, at the end of it all, it''s just about the paycheck, isn''t it?"


    Mallow chuckled, twisting the cap off the free bottled water on the table and taking a long sip. "Maybe," he said with a shrug.


    "And how sure are you that an F1 team wille buying me from Trampos?" Luca asked.


    Mallow leaned back, his expression growing sharper. "And how sure are you that an F1 team will sign you for free when your two-year deal ends?" he countered.


    The words hit Luca like a ton of bricks and that was when the understanding seeped into his brain. Oh.


    "So," Mallow continued, sensing Luca''s shift in understanding, "the best move is to follow this path. Worst case? No onees for you, but you''re still earning $600k. Best case? An F1 team signs you, and you leave Trampos with over $3M in your pocket¡ªdepending on the team¡ªplus a transfer fee that reimburses Trampos for their investment in you. Win-win," Mallow finished. "So now you understand, youngd. Would you put your signature when the papers are ready?"


    Luca bit his lip. This was a daring move of his career he was about to take. But from Mallow''s exnation, not taking this move would even demolish his career. So he epted, hoping and praying Trampos gets an offer by the end of the season. All he needed to do was drive exceptionally well.


    Mallow''s face lit up. "Good! That''s my boy." He snatched up the menu with renewed enthusiasm. "I think we''ll be able to afford everything on this menu very soon. Why not start now?"


    Luca smiled, shaking his head as Mallow gged down a waiter.

 Chapter 110 The Price Of Progress 2

    Once he finished the discussion with Mallow and their abrupt lunch, Luca returned to Trampos'' base.


    As on every free day, engineers were hard at work in the garages, while Trampos marshals lingered around the corners, exchanging casual banter. However, the core members of the team were nowhere to be seen¡ªlikely resting in the staff buildings.


    Avoiding unnecessary conversations, Luca climbed the stairs to his amodation. His stomach was full, thanks to the bacon meal he had sniffed out earlier. He didn''t want to think about the price¡ªit had been far from reasonable. Mallow, shameless as ever, insisted Luca foot the bill.


    It was only 2 p.m., but the overcast sky and the heavy atmosphere made it feel like evening. Sighing, Luca stepped into his room, pausing in the doorway to survey it. Everything was just as he''d left it¡ªtidy, orderly, but to his eyes, utterly uninspiring.


    I really need to get the hell out of here, he thought bitterly, beginning to undress. He knew this setup wasn''t fitting for someone in his position. His career was progressing steadily, yet his amodations didn''t reflect that. Even Victor, for all his reserved role, had his own house.


    If he wanted to establish a profile worthy of respect and admiration, he needed to elevate every aspect of his life. A serene, spacious environment wasn''t just a dream¡ªit was a necessity. A ce for himself, for friends, and eventually, for family. And if he ever wanted to attract and keep the kind of girlfriend he envisioned, he had to break free from this surrounding of insignificance.


    Luca decided to rx by sitting on the foot of his bed as he removed his footwear.


    [Ding!]


    [Daily Quest has been issued!]


    Oh? Something fun at least. What''s it?


    [-¡¤-JOG AROUND THE NEARBY 1000-METER TRACK TEN TIMES-¡¤-]


    [DURATION: COMPLETE BEFORE 10PM]


    [This will help enhance your cardiovascr endurance and improve your stamina.]


    "Uhm? Don''t you think you should be targeting my Strength and Intelligence so I could get them to 20 as soon as possible?"


    [Daily Quests are one of the System''s features that are randomly selected. System provides host with sessions that target Attributes.]


    "Okay."


    [Reward for Completing Tuesday Daily Quest: (EXP)


    - Endurance +1 ]


    [Consequence for Failing Tuesday Daily Quest: Punishment


    - Dehydration.]


    Luca''s gaze drifted toward the track visible through his window. He figured it might look strange if he just put on his full gear and some earpiece and began jogging deep in the afternoon. Instead, he decided to postpone the session, aiming for a morefortable time¡ªperhaps around 7 or 8 p.m., well before the 10 p.m. deadline.


    After getting a sense of his surroundings, Luca rxed on the bed, staring at the ceiling while mentally reying the significant events that were going on in his life. His thoughts drifted to the conversation he had with his mother earlier that morning. She and Sophia were traveling to Cambridgeshire, eager to secure Sophia''s admission to a prestigious university. While the odds were slim, Luca trusted in Sophia''s natural intelligence¡ªsurely some of their parents'' brilliance lingered in her.


    Thinking about Isabe, Luca realized how little they''dmunicated since their encounter in Birmingham. His mind wandered to Mr. Schafer, reflecting on how the man was handling the fallout of his title being stripped. Luca figured Miles and his agenting team must have dropped Schafer by now, which was bitterly ironic given Schafer''s instrumental role in shaping Miles Bellingham''s career.


    Luca picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages and call logs. Hesitating for a moment, he tapped the call button and dialed Isabe''s number for the first time.


    The call connected and was answered almost immediately, though to Luca it felt like an eternity.


    "You. You finally called me, mm?" Isabe''s vibrant voice emerged from the speaker, jolting Luca into a seated position on the bed.


    He was lucky to have called her at lunchtime when she was free. Isabe was now part of an unofficial innovation group for single-seaters and rted equipments, and she typically worked her mind just as much as she worked with hands too.


    Right after her engineering school ambitions didn''t go as nned, Isabe still sought for activities still in the field of motorsport instead of taking a whole different course as many advised. Now part of ''Grid Edge'', a small group of frence and contracted innovators specializing in racing-rted equipment, Isabe felt fairlyfortable while still helping her father battle with everything.


    Luca did his best to focus the conversation on her even though Isabe kept asking about him and his endeavors.


    She mentioned it has always been quite a dream for her not to repair four-wheelers, but make them, and this included all kinds of four-wheelers, single-seaters most especially. Whether it was the engine or chassis itself, Isabe seemed determined as she kept saying she''d change the nature of Form driving someday.


    Just as their conversation was growing deeper in depth, Isabe announced she was twenty minutes past her lunchtime and needed to get back to work.


    Luca responded with understanding, and they scheduled another call for the following day. After ending the call, he set his phone down and stood from the bed, surprised at how much time had passed.


    Feeling bored, Luca weighed his options: dive into theics he''d bought but never read, study more telemetry data from past races, or watch the races themselves.


    He opted for thetter, reasoning he''d have plenty of time forics after the season wrapped up. Plus, he needed something to help him pass the hours until dusk, when he nned to tackle his Daily Routine quest.


    Grabbing his headset from the desk, Luca slipped it over his ears and powered on hisptop. Once the Bluetooth connection was established, he navigated to one of his bookmarked folders filled with recordings of past races.


    Just as excited as he was after watching the Mandalora MP ofst two seasons, Luca wanted to experience the same thrill again. He opted forst season''s finale, Portim?o MP which was held in Portugal. He nned to watch both F1 and F2 and see how Max Addams lifted his F2 world champion trophy on that final evening.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

 Chapter 111 The Price Of Progress 3

    The new Vallotton¨CGrant administration could pat themselves on the back after savoring 25 points from the Hungarian Grand Prix. Now, their focus shifted to umting better numbers over the remaining course of the season.


    The team had one and a half weeks to prepare for the eighth round of the season: the Spanish Grand Prix. As Luca had reflected the other day, the Spanish Grand Prix was one of the most important and popr races on the calendar. Teams often approached it with the mindset that losing in this GP could leave asting stain, given how memorable Mandalora GPs tended to be.


    Either way, Mr. Grant and his deputy aimed for a decisive and confident win in Barcelona. They nned to make effective use of the training days before the day in July. Mr. Grant''s approach involved a series of rigorous drills, including telemetry analysis and high-pressure pit stop simtions designed to shave precious milliseconds off their stop times.


    He also focused on refining his drivers'' precision with tailored sessions to perfect their cornering speeds in high-degradation zones. These sessions simted Barcelona''s challenging Circuito del Barca¨CRavalyout, with its demanding turns, such as the infamous Turn 8 and the final chicane.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    The n for Mr. Grant and any other astute Team Principal was to leave nothing to chance, ensuring their drivers dominated the circuit while meeting Mandalora''s high standards. With Circuito del Barca¨CRaval featuring 72 Laps, it was crucial and important for drivers to endure the long period of racing rather than spend both physical and engine energy on duels and unnecessary speeding. And to aplish this, the best way was to hold amanding lead from start to finish.


    Mr. Grant and Ms. Val could''ve easily aligned the team''s training scheme ahead of the GP to a more definite andfortable strategy, just like Mr. Grant had done throughout the first half of the season. By knowing where their drivers would start on the grid a week before the race, they could effortlessly craft a beneficial strategy and basic moves to help solidify or improve performance on the track.


    But now, it was different. The grid positions would be determined by Sprint Races or any other qualifying activity the Federation decided upon. Either way, all teams'' management would be unable to discern their drivers'' positions until two or three days before the race, which was rtively little time to make significant changes.


    This posed a tough challenge for Mr. Grant and Ms. Val, but they believed they could ovee it. After all, this was the usual grid-determining routine every year.


    The problem, however, was that the stakes were higher now. Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr was so close to Trampos Racing in the standings that even a single position ahead could totally change the team''s standings, which currently looked like this:


    PROVISIONAL TEAMS'' CHAMPIONSHIP STANDINGS (TOP5) Scroll for more.


    Position | Team                             | Points


    -----------------------------------------


    1.            | Trampos Racing           |   206


    2.            | Bueseno Velocit¨¤ Jnr. |   181


    3.            | Squadra Corse Jnr       |   104


    4.            | Hatcherk Motorsport   |   94


    5.            | Retona Racing              |   45


    At the moment, the standings were shaping up to be one of those seasons that promised anything but a peaceful ending. Normally in Form 2, the leader would have a solid 70 to 100-point advantage, with second ce holding a simr gap over third. This time, though, things were much tighter.


    With both Ansel and Miles failing to finish their races, Trampos''fortable lead had shrunk significantly, and Squadra''s aggressive chase to overtake Velocit¨¤ had slowed down, leaving them at a bit of a stalemate. Retona Racing seemed unlikely topete for the top three, and it appeared that this was yet another season where they failed to be an elite team.


    Hatcherk, on the other hand, had experienced as many humiliating moments as they had moments of glory. Sean Aaronson would likely love to burn his tires for whatever qualifying activity would be set up. The fight wasn''t over for him.


    It was all these umting details that troubled Mr. Grant and Ms. Vallotton. Anyone¡ªeven an APX driver¡ªmight manage to im a podium with this new structure of the grid. At this point in the season, other drivers had the opportunity to sparkle if they yed their cards right and secured a satisfying grid position. This was precisely why Mr. Grant and other top Team Principals had wanted their drivers to amass massive points at the start of the season.


    Trampos had more personnel than ever, increasing the number of figures in the headquarters'' premises per training session. The atmosphere was lively, with everyone chatting and warming up for the day ahead. Luca found it surprising that no one mentioned a word about the new contract proposal that had been offered to him¡ªnot even Mr. Grant. Either only a few people knew, or the whole thing was strictly confidential and handled officially.


    Luca had kicked off his day with a long session with Amir, expecting to gain at least one additional point to his Strength attribute, which he had focused on. But there was none. He pushed through all exercises and activities without receiving a single system notification.


    When he was through with his private assessment, Luca nned to head out to the track where two cars were zipping through. He had expected them to be Ansel and Haas, but it was Haas and Victor, as he learned that Ansel had yet to arrive for the day.


    Luca found that odd because Ansel wasn''t one to bete. He wondered if Ansel''s tardiness had anything to do with his current mood regarding the recent results that hadn''t gone in his favor. Luca hoped his teammate could recover, shake it off, and focus on the tasks ahead. After all, Trampos was still leading, and all hope wasn''t lost.


    After suiting up in the uniform room, Luca stepped outside, stretching his arms and hopping into the air every few strides to loosen up. The crisp air hit him as he wandered toward the track, his focus momentarily distracted by the rumble of engines growing louder.


    Before he could react, Haas and Victor''s cars screamed past him on either side, roaring down the track at breakneck speed. The force of their passage nearly knocked him off bnce, leaving his ears ringing and his footing unsteady.


    Luca froze for a moment, his scattered hair falling into his eyes, before brushing it back into ce. The crew on the other side erupted into cheers andughter at his near-miss. He shook his head, half amused and half frightened, before carefully crossing the track, weaving between the lingering exhaust trails to join them.

 Chapter 112 Visiting A Spanish Cathedral

    "...this is your captain speaking. We are now beginning our descent into Barcelona-El Prat Airport. Local time is 9:23 a.m., and the weather is partly cloudy with a temperature of 23 degrees Celsius. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened, tray tables are stowed, and seats are in their upright position. We thank you for flying with us and hope you enjoy your stay in Barcelona."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Ansel tapped Luca once the announcement came on, snapping him out of his daze as he stared at the endless clouds while harsh instrumentals drummed into his ears. Startled, Luca yanked out the earpiece, adjusted his seat, andplied with the safety instructions as the ne began its descent.


    First time in Spain, Luca thought, trying to recall any popr team that hailed from the magnificent country. Haddock Racing was the giant of Spain, towering over every other team across all divisions.


    He also remembered Harry and his team, OLAC, which originated from Spain. Luca realized that the tension of the season was slowly stripping away the little bond he and Harry had managed to form during their short stay at Grey-Husson''s. He wondered if they''d have a chance to meet and hang out during their stay here, preferably after the main race.


    Determined not to forget, Luca promised himself he''d message Harry as soon as the nended. Perhaps, he could even bring Ansel along if Harry acknowledged the meetup. Luca recalled thest time the three of them hung out; Ansel had genuinely enjoyed himself, ending the day in a cheerful mood. Right now, Ansel was the opposite of that, and Luca believed this might be just what his teammate needed.


    The ne''s tires kissed the tarmac, and the cabin rattled slightly as it rolled to a gradual stop. After a brief pause, a cheerful chime sounded, followed by the captain''s voice announcing their arrival and permitting the passengers to disembark.


    Shuffling erupted as the Trampos Racing crew gathered their belongings. Filing out of the cabin, they descended the stairway to the warm wee of air wardens standing at the ready. The wardens greeted them with bright smiles and draped colorful gands of plush material and leis around their necks. It was a gesture of hospitality that hinted at the vibrant spirit of Barcelona.


    Afterward, they were led as a unit, passing through customs smoothly, granted more efficient movement through the airport than other travelers. Once through the formalities, sleek ck shuttles awaited them just outside, all engines purring softly.


    Luca sat quietly as he chatted Harry right away while the shuttles moved through the cityscape, the scent of the Mediterranean breeze unmistakable. Finishing his message to Harry, Luca switched over tomunicate with Mallow and Sara, informing them of his arrival and sending Sara the address of their destination. When he was done, he put his phone away, cast a quick nce at Ansel¡ªstill looking subdued¡ªand turned his gaze to the sunlit streets, where masterpieces of architecture peeked through the skyline.


    Just as Luca expected, it didn''t take long before asional banners and billboards promoting the uing race started to appear. The vibrant disys featured F1 racers with their intense gazes and polished helmets. It seemed Jackson Racing and Squadra Corse were locked in a fierce rivalry, as Antonio Luigi and Marcellus Rodnick dominated most of the promotional material.


    Some of the apanying text was in Spanish, which Luca couldn''t fully understand, but it was clear the advertisements were all connected to the event. Public transportation, street corners, and even public buildings were covered with racing promotions. However, as their shuttles entered a quieter, more organized part of the city, the racing paraphernalia began to dwindle.


    This area still piqued Luca''s interest. Historic architecture dominated the skyline, a signature feature of Barcelona that gave the city its unique charm. Modern structures blended seamlessly with the old, adding to the grandeur and wlessness of the surroundings. As the bus approached their destination, a smile tugged at the corner of Luca''s lips.


    The amodation also served as their training venue. It was designed to be a seamlessbination of functionality and luxury. Custom hotel buildings surrounded the training facility, with Trampos Racing''s logo prominently brandished atop theplex for the duration of the season''s eighth round alone. The sharp angles of the hotel structures contrasted with the smooth curves of the track at the center, where a slight bustle indicated preparations to wee the F2 team.


    Luca pondered how many such facilities existed in Barcelona and across Spain, capable offortably amodating both F2 and F1 teams while offering top-notch amenities and convenience. A faint smile crossed his face as he rolled his luggage toward his room. Upon opening the door, he paused to appreciate the room''s exquisite design. Cool, crisp air carrying the scent of fresh linens greeted him, whilerge windows showcased a panoramic view of the facility''s track. The modern and spacious interior featured a king-sized bed and one of the most cutting-edge TVs he''d ever seen in that year and time.


    Nice, Luca thought, rolling his bags further inside. He dropped onto the bed, letting out a soft sigh as he stared up at the expansive ceiling, briefly lost in thought. However, reality soon nudged him back, and he pushed himself up.


    He opened his bags, pulling out his clothes one by one and carefully folding them and cing them into the drawers. A pair of sneakers, hisptop, and a few toiletries went onto the small desk beside the bed.


    Once everything was in ce, he nced around with satisfaction. Despite it being morning, the weight of the day already seemed lighter. He was debating how to pass the time when a knock sounded at the door.


    "Erm, Luca," Ansel called. "The team''s heading to the circuit for the Track Walk. Are youing?"


    Luca nced at the door, stretching as he heard that energy in Ansel''s voice. The Track Walk. It was time to get a feel for theyout of the race day''s circuit, Circuito del Barca¨CRaval, study the corners, and mentally prepare for what was ahead. Although Luca knew Mandalora very well, it was still crucial to participate in this Track Walk.


    He grabbed his cap, slinging it on his head as he reached for his jacket that he had hung in the closet not so long ago. "Yeah, I''m on my way," Luca replied, already heading for the door.


    Opening the door, he met Ansel, dressed in a jean jacket and matching jean pants. They exchanged brief greetings before heading down the elegant hallway toward the elevator. The duo made their way out to the entrance of theplex where a small group of the Trampos crew were gathered. Mr. Grant, Mr. Moritz and Ms. Vallotton were currently not present, which made McCauley grant himself power, even with the presence of Mr. Colt.


    The crew boarded the shuttles again, this time bound for the renowned Mandalora. It had been Ms. Vallotton''s idea to include the visit as part of their schedule before diving into the rigorous training and drills thaty ahead of the qualifying sessions and the main race.


    Arriving at the venue ten minutester, Luca stepped off the shuttle first, squinting against thete morning sun as he took in their destination. Mandalora was indeed a jewel, standing as a pristine canvas just outside the city. Luca could see why it was often referred to as a cathedral of motorsport¡ªand for good reason. Even the rest of the crew, who had visited here a couple of times in past seasons, paused to admire its undeniable beauty.


    The venue was massive even from the outside, its scale almost overwhelming. It was eerily quiet¡ªno fans, no bustling sponsors, no families of sponsors scurrying around in search of autographs. Only the hum of the shuttles powering down and the crunch of gravel underfoot as the Trampos Racing crew disembarked, feeling the almost surreal emptiness of the scene.


    The team was granted immediate ess to the circuit, with no dys. Both F1 and F2 teams were allowed to visit the track before race weekends, and to avoid ovep, the Federation had created a strict schedule for each team''s Track Walk. This ensured teams could enter and leave without shing. Missing an allotted session meant forfeiting the opportunity altogether. Trampos typically skipped these walks in most cases, but Mandalora was different. They now had a two-hour window toplete their Track Walk before the next team would arrive.


    "Damn," McCauley muttered, cing his hands on his waist as they entered Mandalora''s Section 1. "It''s like we''ve been handed the keys to the kingdom. Not a damn soul in sight."


    One crew member yelled something down the track, the words bouncing off the deserted grandstands and echoing back. There were no banners or gs of any team on disy yet¡ªonly the g of the nation, proudly positioned where the podium would eventually stand.


    The view was striking. The circuit meandered through scenic vistas of distant hills, bordered by sleek, modern stands that stretched endlessly toward the horizon. Mr. Colt noted aloud that the terrain was uneven in ces, and a river ran nearby, adding a natural charm to the track''s design.


    They made their way to Section 2, where the grid was situated. Luca''s eyes roamed over the pitnes, envisioning the flurry of activity that would soon take ce there as their crew set up for race day. "It kind of feels like we''re intruding," he murmured, almost to himself. "This ce is pretty cool with its silence."


    "It''ll be the exact oppositee Saturday, and even crazier on Sunday," Mr. Colt responded as he tried to wrangle the team, many of whom had started wandering off. "220,000 crowd capacity. It''s one of thergest by seating numbers and the only one that maxes out every time. Now, please, can we all gather together?"


    But before Colt could fully organize them, Dennis bolted ahead with three others, heading straight for the bottleneck at Turn 1. "C''mon, Erik, Beany, Luca!" he called, crouching into a runner''s stance. "One kilometer. Winner gets a hundred bucks from each of us."


    Luca and Victor quickly shrugged off their jackets, while Haas didn''t bother to respond. Despite their casual attire, Luca and the others were ready. Lining up with Dennis, they counted down from ten. When the countdown ended, theyunched down the track, the p of their sneakers against the pavement reverberating through the empty circuit. Theypletely ignored Mr. Colt''s calls to stay together.


    Victor emerged victorious, his long legs giving him the edge. By the time they returned, the team had split into smaller groups, leaving Mr. Colt sitting resignedly in a bleacher with Ansel, Haas, and a few others who had obeyed his instructions. "Are you guys done?" Colt asked, his tone t. "Because I just got some intel about this round''s qualifying format."


    "What is it? The usual Q-rounds?" Luca asked, catching his breath.


    "Nope," Mr. Colt replied. "Triple-Lap Qualifying. Each driver gets three flyingps to set their fastest time. The average of those threeps is calcted, and your grid positions are based on who has the best average. Oh, and there''ll be mandatory pit stops."


    That sounded fair enough to Luca. Instead of relying on the previous race''s results or a Sprint Race, their starting grid would be determined by consistent performance over three timedps.


    Colt stood up, brushing off his pants. "Can we now start the walk? We''ve got about an hour and ten minutes left. Let''s reacquaint ourselves with Mandalora¡ªit''s been a while."


    McCauley, however, achieved what Colt couldn''t with a single shout, rallying the team effortlessly. He led the way to the next sections of the iconic circuit. "By the way," he said, pulling out his phone, "there''s a new app that can help us stay connected. It''s simple¡ªall you need is your phone number."


    Colt sighed, muttering under his breath, "This was my idea first."


    Unfazed, McCauley pressed on. "I''ll send everyone an invite. Once you join, we''ll have a direct line for important updates while we''re all spread out," he exined as the team moved forward, their silhouettes stretching into the horizon.


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