My Formula 1 System

"...AS INNOCENT AS A BLANK SHEET OF PAPER! No penalty for Luca Rennick...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

The Trampos crowd erupted in celebration, shouting and chanting about how unstoppable they truly were.

The massive circuit screens began replaying the collision, this time with analytical lines and assessments that broke down Luca's innocence in the crash.

Luca's swoop into the turn failed to exhibit any real recklessness or signs of intent to collide with Miles, ultimately failing the mens rea analysis and proving his innocence.

Though, in truth, Luca was anything but innocent. But in that moment, he had executed the move so smoothly that he was innocent. After all, whatever the verdict declared was reality and was what truly mattered.

Luca was innocent.

No one could even accuse Race Control of favoring him in this decision, or in any previous rulings from this race or the last.

That theory didn't hold up.

How could Race Control possibly favor Luca when they were under the same governing body that had charged him with doping accusations? The very same body that had nearly stripped him of the chance to compete in this very Italian Mega Prix?

Definitely not possible.

But the rival fans of Squadra Corse weren't having any of it. They erupted in fury, yelling and chanting the most hostile slurs in protest of the verdict.

Yet Trampos fans, ecstatic and triumphant, drowned them out with the legendary chant—@@novelbin@@

"UNAUFHALTBAR TRAMPOS!"

"...Luca Rennick, once on the brink of a penalty, now finds himself not only absolved but in prime position to take this race by storm...!"

"...Who could've predicted this? Miles Bellingham, out of contention! The young man who seemed destined for victory is now watching from the sidelines, and the entire dynamic of this Mega Prix has shifted in just a matter of moments...!"

Trampos' garage burst into celebration the moment Luca was declared not guilty of targeting the driver instead of the turn.

After maintaining a tense calm for the past two hours, they finally let loose, not just because Luca had avoided what could have been a severe penalty, but because he was now sitting in P1 with the safety car preparing to leave!

"...La safety car sta per rientrare ai box..."

"... misfortune have struck Miles Bellingham and Squadra Corse Jnr, but the race will resume regardless as the safety car prepares to leave the track..."

[Determining Sync Buff duration....]

[Processing: ▓▓▓▓1:10▓░░4:35░░░ 50%]

[Processing: ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░ 80%]

[Finalizing Sync Buff Time...]

[...Sync Buff duration determined!]

[Sync Buff Duration: 2 Minutes, 17 Seconds]

"Two minutes, seventeen seconds," Luca repeated softly after the system.

This duration was shorter than the last and far shorter than the original five minutes. This Sync Buff duration could only last him for two laps, maybe with some extra minutes into the final lap.

With that being said, Luca was confident that it'd be enough to help him finish the race in P1 once he resumed the pack's pace.

Four laps left, with two laps of certainty in driving perfection. With these two laps, he'd definitely widen the gap between himself and Max, who was currently in P2, so much so that the remaining two laps wouldn't be enough for anyone to catch up.

Luca couldn't believe he was about to claim a definite victory! No close calls, no photo finish, no last-minute duels?! Just him, rolling through the curves of the last section alone, then flying down the home straight to the finish line.

**Alright, Luca** Mr. Ruben's voice emerged, breathing heavily as if he could taste the victory already. **Safety car's left. Make it to the grid and make a burst**

"Copy," Luca responded, keeping his pace steady as he eyed the pit lane.

Up ahead, Squadra Corse Jnr's garage loomed in the distance, shrouded in something heavier than just their signature black.

It was a darkness of disappointment, frustration, and disbelief. Their arms were folded, their gazes locked onto his car as it rolled past into Turn 1, their silence louder than any protest.

Luca refocused on the track, leading the pack on the long haul back to the grid.

Max's grip on the wheel was so tight he could feel the texture pressing into his skin, his pulse hammering. Watching Luca hold P1—after all that—sent a raw wave of frustration through him.

He had done everything right. Driven as perfectly as he could. Calculated every move. And yet, here he was, trailing behind a man—a boy—who, in his mind, shouldn't even be in this position.

His breathing turned shallow.

He had four laps. Four laps to change everything.

Aaronson's frustration was no less fierce. He loathed the fact that the illustrative description of Luca leading the pack to resume the race felt as if he was actually dragging them forward. As if he was their conqueror, marching at the front lines, forcing the rest of them to trail behind in his wake.

Aaronson gritted his teeth. He was in P4 now, and he refused to be just another name in Luca's story.

"....And here we go, ladies and gentlemen! The pack is making its way back to the grid, and you can feel the tension thick enough to cut with a knife...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"....The dust has settled, the verdict is out, and Luca Rennick still holds P1. But don't be fooled because this race is far from over..."

"...Max Addams in P2, Squadra Corse Jnr's Derstappen in P3, Aaronson in P4, and behind them, the rest of the hungry pack, all eyeing top spots. The restart is about to be chaos...."

It was almost comical how three of the top teams this season lost one driver in this race—Trampos, Velocità Jnr and Squadra Jnr.

Now everything was on an equal level and the victory of the winner would be unchallenged.

Luca wanted to time his Sync Buff with perfection so he could kick off the 72nd Lap with it.

[Straightaway ahead]

This was it.

[ACTIVATE SYNC BUFF?]

[Y / N]

"Yes."

[INFUSING....]

[Strength: 29 »»»» 50

Stamina: 32 »»»» 50

Endurance: 30 »»»» 50

Agility: 28 »»»» 50

Intelligence: 29 »»»» 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/ Side-by-Side King/ Slipsense & Rainborne]

This actually turned out to be a tough dilemma for Luca. Sitting at P1, he didn't need skills that would support overtaking because he was already at top. He needed something that would improve his pace and push him even further ahead.

His mind drifted back to the Spanish Grand Prix, to those final laps when he had activated Sync Buff while leading the race.

~"Choose any goddamn skill, I don't care!!!!"~"Yes!!!!"~

"Damn... I really asked the system to do that?"

After some thought, Luca realized that most of his uncompleted Skills weren't designed to help a driver extend a lead. They were more suited for aggressive recoveries like the comeback he had pulled off in France.

With that in mind, he made his decision. He would boost Reflexes, a completed Skill, along with Track Awareness, another completed one. And just in case anyone surprisingly managed to close the gap in Serpeggiare's treacherous corners, he'd throw in Corner Chopping as well.

[Successfully Selected!]

[Reflexes: 20 (+4) »»»» 50

Track Awareness: 20 (+6) »»»» 50

Corner Chopping: 14 »»»» 50 ]

[INFUSION SUCCESSFUL!]

[You have 2 min. 16 sec left for Sync Buff]

"Alright. Zen Zone and Sync Buff must be a lethal combination, right?"

[71st Lap (R)]

"...and we are back racing in the Italian Mega Prix! The 71st lap is officially underway...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"...Luca Rennick leads them off the line, controlling the restart from P1! The pack is bunched up, engines roaring as they charge toward Turn 1...!"

"...The tension is sky-high as we enter the final laps of this finale...!"

Luca wasted three seconds of his Sync Buff timer as he decided to see the lengths Max would go to snatch P1.

Ruthless, tenacious, relentless.

At this rate of competition and aggression, Luca doubted there wouldn't be another safety car in just four laps. Someone was definitely going to crash if he didn't give them some space.

Moreover, when he increased the gap to an inevitable victory, it'd definitely make them lessen their aggression because they'd realize the battle for P1 was already lost.

The more Luca would extend his lead, the more their desperation would wane, shifting their focus to securing the best position behind him rather than recklessly chasing an unattainable win.

Luca gripped the wheel tighter, channeling the full force of his Sync Buff as he launched into Turn 2. His tires bit into the asphalt, every micro-adjustment of the wheel guided by Reflexes and Track Awareness.

He could feel his Dallara responding to him, more alive than ever! If this was the last time he'd drive an F2 04, then he should make it count!

[Analyzing 2nd Position's distance from host and Dallara (F2 04)...]

[2nd Position is 2 sec away, host.]

[Reanalyzing...]

[2nd Position is 3 sec away, host.]

[Reanalyzing...]

[2nd Position is 4 sec away, host.]

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[72nd Lap]

"WOOOOHH!"

"...Settantesimo secondo giro di questo Italian Mega Prix, Luca Rennick mantiene ancora la P1...!"

"...Luca Rennick is flying! That Dallara is dialed in, and at this rate, Max, Derstappen and Aaronson are fighting for scraps...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

**Three laps, Luca, three laps! Don't let them breathe!**

Luca didn't need the encouragement. He was already on it. Through the circuit's treacherous curves, he used his Reflexes and Agility to perfection, slicing through the apexes, widening the gap.

At the first straight of the 72nd Lap, Max emerged out of Turn 4, hoping to get a glimpse of Luca and possibly execute DRS—use his slipstream or something.

But Luca wasn't in sight.

"...INCREDIBILE DA LUCA! LA VELOCITÀ! LA POTENZA! FORZA PURA! LUCA RENNICK! LUCA RENNICK...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

[You have 30 seconds left for Sync Buff]

[73rd Lap]

[Sync Buff has elapsed!]

[SYNC BAR: [][][][] 0%]

Luca made an assessment on how far the Sync Buff had carried him, gauging his distance from Max and the toll it took on his car's Operational Status.

[Analyzing 2nd Position's distance from host and Dallara (F2 04)...]

[2nd Position is 7 sec away, host.]

[Operational Status: 50%]

"...Seven seconds! Seven whole seconds! Luca Rennick has obliterated the competition! This is domination at its finest! Max Addams simply has no answer—nobody does! Rennick is flying to victory with an unstoppable lead...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

----------------------

"Come on, love," Ansel said to his little niece, Emma, as he stood up. "Let's cheer Mr. Luca to the finish line." He lifted her into his arms, making sure she had a clear view as Luca blazed past Turn 9.

Emma, wearing a Trampos fan shirt with Luca's #21 engulfed in flames, looked just like any other young Trampos supporter in the crowd. Ansel hoisted her onto his shoulders, giving her the best seat in the house.

Alongside Ken, they joined the thousands of Trampos fans, clapping twice in perfect rhythm, their voices rising in unison as Luca stormed into Lap 74.

--------------------

**Luca, one more! Just one more!** Mr. Ruben was practically begging. **Bring it home!**

Luca's tires were wearing, but his rhythm was untouchable. Every sector lit up green. His Dallara was nearly depleted, but the damage had been done. The lead was his.

Max, Derstappen, and Aaronson saw this and could only swallow their words of ambition from before the restart.

Luca's Sync Buff had expired, yet he still held that gap, keeping them three sectors behind. He was practically racing alone now, with only the deafening cheers of his supporters and the bitter jeers of his detractors filling the circuit and reigning down on his car as he drove into the last lap of the season!

[75th Lap]

"...Giro finale del Mega Premio d'Italia!"

"...FINAL LAP OF THE RACE AND THE CROWD CHEERS LUCA RENNICK TO VICTORY...!"

"...MAX ADDAMS IS UNABLE TO KEEP UP TO HIM, AND LUCA RENNICK HAS HIS OWN FATE IN HIS HANDS AS HE MAKES IT TO THE LAST SECTOR!"

The marshal responsible for the checkered flag took his position, leaned forward, and began waving it through the thick atmosphere of colored smoke and the scent of fuel and rubber.

Unbeknownst to Luca, his system had deactivated Zen Zone, and he was now driving with full emotional awareness toward victory.

How was he on the final straight, about to become the F2 World Champion, leading drivers who had been in the competition for years?

He, Luca Rennick, had just blocked a powerhouse like Bueseno Velocità Jnr from turning F2 into a farmer's competition?

"...LUCA RENNICK IN TESTA! È SOLO LUI! SOLO LUI...!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"...TRAMPOS IN FESTA! GUARDATE LE BANDIERE! LUCA RENNICK È IMBATTIBILE...!"

The checkered flag waved in the distance—not the fake ones from the spectators, but the real one.

"...BANDIERA A SCACCHI IN VISTA! LUCA RENNICK, CAMPIONE DEL MEGA PREMIO D'ITALIA...!"

**Yes, yes, YES!** Mr. Ruben shouted as Luca stormed down the straight.

Luca heard the radio crackle roughly and then go silent because Mr. Ruben and all the engineers had hurriedly dashed out of the telemetry room, out of the garage, and onto the pit lane under the dark sky, ready to run down to his car as a crowd!

Luca loosened his grip on the wheel as he coasted through to victory, barely able to believe it.

"...LUCA RENNICK IS FORMULA 2 CHAMPION...!"

"....LUCA RENNICK È CAMPIONE DI F2, RENNICK È CAMPIONE A MONZA...!"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHH!"

[1ST POSITION]

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A/N: This is the end of Volume 1