My Formula 1 System

[71st Lap]

Alas! After a minute and a half driving around the circuit again and back to the home straight, Luca's heightened hearing was able to catch the conversation of a pitstop from all three of them!

Aaronson, Max and Derstappen would be pitting in a single file into the 71st Lap!

Aaronson's Radio:

"Box, box. Lap 71. Let's get this done quick."

Max's Radio:

"We're coming in Lap 71. Need a clean stop, no mistakes."

Derstappen's Radio:

"Pit on Lap 71. Make sure tires are ready."

Unbeknownst to them, all three had chosen the same lap!

Smart of them. With four laps remaining, this was the perfect time for a late last pit stop. The first lap would be crucial to get heat back into the tires, while the remaining three would give them just enough time to launch one final charge for position.

[Straightaway ahead!]

Luca was now fully confident that he'd be in P2 within seconds, with Miles taking an open P1. So, he didn't bother pressuring Miles this early; instead, he drove and weaved with the pack onto the home straight, which they were now on.

BWWWWWWAAAAAHHHHH!! BWWWWAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

"...Ladies and gentlemen, we are now entering Lap 71, and the final race of the season is reaching its thrilling climax! Just four laps to go, and every second counts...!"

"...The title fight, the rivalries, the season-long drama—all of it has led to this! The final laps of the season are upon us, and nothing is certain yet...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"...Settantunesimo giro in questo Mega Gran Premio d'Italia...!"

Luca's eyes locked onto Aaronson as he veered into the pit lane first. Just a second later, Max followed, and Luca could only imagine the shock on Aaronson's face when he caught sight of Max in his mirrors.

Even with Zen Zone active, Luca's red eyes couldn't quite make out a person's full expression through their helmet—at least, not yet.

Then, half a second later, Derstappen darted into the pits as well.

The crowd erupted.

"WOOOOHH!

"...Hold on—Albert Derstappen follows! All three are pitting at the same time!"

"...Two title contenders, three final pit stops, all stacking into the pit lane! This could make or break the race...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

**This is wonderful, Luca!**

"...The tension is through the roof here, Jon! One mistake here could decide the entire championship...!"

The roar of the crowd echoed through the circuit—Lap 71 was delivering fireworks.

It was literally delivering fireworks.

Some spectators were caught up in the sheer chaos of the moment, and had started shooting them prematurely into the late 6 p.m. sky, bright streaks of red, white, and green bursting above the circuit.

Security would definitely have something to say about that later, but for now, the atmosphere was electric.

As soon as Derstappen cleared the way for Miles, he seized the opening and sliced into Turn 1.

At that exact moment, his name shot up the leaderboard, tackling Aaronson's name out of P1 and cementing his smug face there.

"...MILES BELLINGHAM IN P1!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"...Unbelievable! Miles Bellingham takes the lead for Squadra Corse Jnr as his rivals roll into the pitlane!"

[2nd Position]

"...The crowd is on its feet—Squadra Corse Jnr is leading in the final laps of the season with Trampos' Rennick behind at P2!"

"...Can Bellingham hold on? Can he make history and win his first formula 2 title in his first year?!"

"...Miles Bellingham in P1, Luca Rennick in P2 in questo gran finale...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

[Analyzing Dallara (F2 04) and host's distance from 1st Position]

[You are 0.5 seconds away, host.]

Without hesitation, Luca's instincts of Overtaking Skill kicked in rapidly as he chased Miles out of Turn 1 and into Turn 2. His front wing got so close to Miles' rear at the bottleneck of Turn 2 that they almost made contact.

The grandstands trembled under the weight of the roaring crowd because this was it. This was the peak duel of the season, the one that would determine who would lead the pack as the race was coming to an end.

"...Bellingham leads, but Rennick is right there! Inches away! Can he make the move?!"

"....This is the battle we've waited all season for! The championship hangs in the balance!"

Luca's heart rate remained steady, unnervingly calm, while Miles' pounded like a war drum. Luca could hear it.

Even the sharp, heavy breaths fogging up Miles' visor—Luca could hear those too.

**He's right on you, Miles! Stay composed**

Miles' radio chatter came through loud and clear to Luca's heightened hearing.

"I know. I see him." Miles' voice was tight and controlled, but Luca could tell that he felt the pressure.

Luca shifted to the inside line as they exited Turn 2 toward Turn 3. The announcement that he anticipated was broadcasted loudly.

"...Max Addams in P3!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"...Albert Derstappen in P4!"

"...Sean Aaronson in P5!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHH!"

"...Max Addams exits the pits first and takes P3!"

"....Aaronson had a slow stop, and it's cost him big time! Derstappen sneaks past—he's into P4!"

"...Unbelievable! Just two laps ago, Sean Aaronson was leading this race, and now he's all the way down in P5!"

"...Unless something drastic happens, this could be where he finishes!"

[Analyzing 3rd Position's distance from host and Dallara (F2 04)...]

[3rd Position is 4.5 sec away, host.]

Luca could now say with certainty that Max and the others were no longer his problem. Their cold tires, sluggish momentum, and ongoing battles among themselves would keep them occupied.

His entire focus, his every ounce of willpower, was now locked onto Miles. P1 was right there. The F2 Championship was within reach. And beyond that? The next step toward becoming the greatest driver motorsport had ever seen.

But Miles—Miles had the audacity to deny him the slipstream.

Luca's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening as they shot out of the steep incline of Turn 3 and into the sweeping curve of Turn 4.

The straight was ahead. And straights? Straights changed everything.

**You can take it Luca. Now or never** Mr. Ruben said softly into the radio, although his voice was filled with tension and urgency.

"He's very tough.

"...out of Turn 4 and onto the straight they go! This is where races are won and lost!"

"System, can you give me a real-time display of when I lock in the slipstream...?"

[Certainly, host]

[Slipstream Status: ENGAGING]

Car <— Approaching Slipstream (Minimal aerodynamic effect)

Car <<— Partial Lock (Drag reduction increasing)

Car <<<— LOCKED IN (Maximum slipstream advantage)

[Real-Time Speed Gain: +0.27s/lap]

[Overtake Window: Optimal]

Slipstream was locked in now, and it was all left to Luca to execute the remaining steps of Slipstream Mastery to overtake Miles with it.

The engine screamed, the chassis trembled under the sheer force as he shot down the straight, tearing through the wake of Miles' car like a missile.

Nosing in.

Nosing in.

Just a little more.

The air resistance was gone. The drag had melted away. Luca's car surged forward with terrifying momentum, his front wing inches—centimeters—from Miles' gearbox.

The tension in his arms burned. His grip on the wheel was suffocating. But his mind? His mind was very very clear.

".... ACTION TIME as Luca Rennick closes in with the slipstream! He's nosing in—pushing—forcing every ounce of power out of that car!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"..do you think Bellingham would hold off, Jon?!"

"...if the straightaway was a little bit longer then I'd confidently say no. But now, it seems Turn 5 is opening up much faster than Luca Rennick might have expected..."

[Chicane approaching]

[Turn Sequence: Three-turn chicane (Right-Left-Right)]

[Entry Width: 8.0 meters → Narrowing to Apex: 6.5 meters → Exit Width: 7.6 meters]

Luca could hear the sigh of relief from Miles as Turn 5 approached and its accompanying chicane.

Miles believed he had held Luca, especially when Luca didn't use DRS, aware of his now 60 Operational Status that needed energy conservation.

But what Miles didn't realize was that Luca's mental state was on a whole new level of focus for absolute victory and nothing else. Experience more tales on My Virtual Library Empire

The straight track began subtly bending to merge with Turn 5. It reminded Luca of his duel with Kristensen and how it ended, giving him a clue about this one.

He had his wings in Miles' peripheral vision.

"WOOOOHH!"

[Track Span Analysis: 2.5 meters wide (inside lane available)] [Optimal Racing Line Calculated: 1.8 meters]

[Car Width: 1.9 meters] [Margin for Error: 0.3 meters (0.15 meters on each side)]

[Possibility of Overtake: 31% success rate] [Risk of Car Contact with Rival: 90%]

Luca remembered his Daily Quest, the rewards, and the punishment attached.

Why win the race and end up celebrating with red sores when he could take the Formula 2 Championship trophy and a feature as great as Tuning Upgrade—great as the system described it?

In that moment, a Zen-Zoned Luca reminisced on Miles—who he had been to him all his life. For what it was worth, Luca came to one conclusion that Miles deserved to be the stepping stone to his triumph in Monza.

If he had to take P1, he had to take it now. The space was tight, but a Dallara could fit!

**GET IN THERE, LUCA!** Mr. Ruben's voice erupted through the radio.

Luca obeyed, throwing his car into Turn 5 with reckless abandon.

"WOOOOHH!"

Luca's front lunged in, the tires biting the asphalt as he swung the rear out with intent.

He heard Miles' sharp gasp just before the impact as his rear slammed into Miles like a sledgehammer, shattering carbon fiber on contact.

"... JESUS CHRIST...!"