My Formula 1 System

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 play—unbelievable! 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 players 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 few laps 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—top-notch performance. Even though Trampos isn't the most popular 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..."

[35th lap]

[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 had completed the 34-lap race already. Now, here he was in F2, tackling a grueling 52-lap race, where even the smallest events spanned at least 45 laps, 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 claim 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 other competitors—it would be entirely different having to face his own teammate.

Luca had this clawing feeling that one day–one race, that might happen.

His eyes darted to the Sync Bar, now sitting at 62.5%. "I'll really need you at the last minute," he muttered, gripping the wheel tighter. He began to wonder if the crowd, his team engineer, the agents, the Federation—every 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. The last 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 violations.]

Sweet. Just what I wanted to hear.

Luca sped through the 35th lap, steadily closing the gap to the driver ahead. The race was a gradual process; it was a rhythm—letting 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–thanks to the bends–Luca inched closer to the violet Dallara 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 Dallara 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 balance 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 flawless. 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 Dallara 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 black body shimmered under the sunlight, with intricate gold accents 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—it 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 glanced 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 closing laps," 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 available. Engine temperature stable. Brake wear at 20%.]

[Telemetry reports smooth handling. Aerodynamic efficiency optimal. A pitstop is not entirely recommended, host. This condition might serve through the next laps.]

"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—just early enough to maintain control, but late 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 black-and-golden Dallara, 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 glanced over. The other driver finally acknowledged his presence with a quick, irritated look—exactly 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.

[44th lap]

**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 or communicate, Luca could tell it was him, and not his teammate, Derstappen. And Miles had accepted the competition. 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—hope 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—it was strategy. He slipped in behind the black-and-gold Dallara, 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 jubilated like he had won a trophy!

"Come on!" he shouted, his voice breaking slightly. He darted a glance at his mirrors, grinning as he spotted Miles's Dallara chasing hard, desperate to reclaim the lost ground. "I did it!"

[Indeed, host.]

**Magnificent! Magnificent!**

Luca could hear the pit crew's claps through the radio.

[6th Position]

[45th lap]

[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 available.

"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 displayed before him, weighing the risks. At 50% total car life, they wouldn't be fresh for the final laps, 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—Reflexes, 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.

[Successfully 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 flawless 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—wait! 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 claim 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 black. 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 talent lay here.

[You have 3 min. left for Sync Buff]

[49th Lap]

Luca's heart raced. He wanted to complain 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 Dallara in the same lane, the two cars rhythmically zipping along with only a few car lengths between them.

**Four laps, 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 play 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 would last 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 two competing 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 middle lane 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 place, 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 the lap, igniting a spark of hope within him. He found himself on the left, while his rival occupied 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 middle lane.

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 final lap approached its end.

"Push yourself, Rennick!"

"...and it's Addams who takes first place…!"

"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 flag 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—Luca had made excellent use of the favorable lane.