My Formula 1 System

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 more laps at least, I'll overcome this hurdle."

**We have 38 Laps ahead of us, that's more than enough**

Luca's Dallara 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—he 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 some lanes and sections brought Luca dangerously close to Aaronson sometimes, separating them by inches, mere fractions of a second.

Aaronson hit the throttle coming 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 accelerator 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–I 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 glance 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 flashed 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 accelerator 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 plan 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 (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)]

"I don't like what I'm seeing," Luca muttered, glancing briefly at Aaronson, who he sensed was about to hit that throttle and check out.

However, the System flashed an advisory in front of Luca's eyes.

[Possibility of Overtake: 72% success 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—he trusted his System's calculations 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 stayed composed 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 balance, was caught by surprise. Luca's precision driving placed 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 accelerator to avoid a collision—any contact would guarantee a penalty. "Bastard!" Aaronson snarled, slamming 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 successfully claimed 3rd Position.]

[3rd Position]

[Track Awareness +1]

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

[10th Lap]

**That is my boy. You did well** Mr. Moritz congratulated.

Luca took a long, deep breath, savoring the moment as a well-deserved congratulation 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.