My Formula 1 System

The moment had this touch of humour and panic at the same time.

Yes, everyone was seeing Max's car drifting like a skateboard over soaked grass, his trajectory a straight-line that cut from the exit of the Drop toward the exit of Turn 8. But no one really expected Max to veer back on track.

Whether Max was able to maneuver or it was sheer luck, the immediate problem was that a contact with Luca's Dallara was inevitable.

Ms. Vallotton muttered a curse when she saw Luca's rear tires drift farther than necessary, bringing him closer to the edge than Luca wanted.

"WOOOOHH!"

[Traction Lost]

"I'm fucked," Luca whispered as he caught Max's glare behind his visor.

A second later, Max's car jolted against the curb, momentarily stuck, but Luca wasn't as lucky. His tires skidded violently, scraping against Max's frame. The impact sent Luca's rear end soaring into the air for a brief moment before slamming back down onto the wet track, splashing into the water.

"... CONTACT BETWEEN ADDAMS AND RENNICK!"

"WOOOOHH!"

[Operational Status: 70 %]

"...Max got caught on the curb, but Luca's the one who got sent skidding away! This rain is turning the race into absolute chaos!"

"WOOOOHH!"

A pounding headache slammed into Luca as his car landed with a harsh jolt, but he forced it aside and tuned into Mr. Ruben's voice.

**No suspension damage. A relief—you're good! Get back on track!**

Zip!

Miles wasted no time, flashing past down the straight Luca had intended to take before the incident.

"...Miles Bellingham up into P3!"

"WOOOOHH!"

The rain continued its relentless downpour, blurring the track and demanding Luca regain his composure fast.

He took a sharp breath and checked his system's interface, scanning his car's operational status before assessing his position. Half of his single-seater clung to the curbs, the other half resting on the soaked grass.

That's when he felt it—a different source of heat, one that wasn't coming from his own Dallara or the SomberCore beneath him.

Luca turned his head to the right.

Max was in the exact same position.

His rival was already making an effort to move, but his rear tires fought against the wet grass, spinning uselessly as water splashed beneath them.

"...LUCA RENNICK AND MAX ADDDAMS—BOTH STRANDED ON THE CURB!"

"... WHILE MILES BELLINGHAM, 2ND PLACE ON THE STANDINGS TAKES P3 IN THIS FRENCH GRAND PRIX!"

"WOOOOHH!"

Luca's feet and hands sprang into action and he clutched his throttle, pushing forward to get back on track.

Just for him to suffer the same fate. His tires couldn't grip the grass as well!

"...THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE! Top two contenders in the championship—STUCK IN THE SAME SPOT!"

Luca and Max locked eyes, both fully aware that whoever escaped this mess first would seize the advantage.

Zip!

Benjamin Taubert flew past, snatching P4, with Vlad Volyinski closing in fast.

"... Benjamin Taubert in P4!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"...AND LUCA—OH, HE'S LOOKING OVER! HE KNOWS IT'S A RACE EVEN WHEN STATIONARY!"

**C'mon, Luca! Figure it out! Get in first!** Mr. Ruben's voice from the radio crackled into his ears as his tires continued to spin helplessly, kicking up nothing but water and mist.

Luca risked another glance at Max—big mistake.

Max's car had started to budge, the faintest movement turning into momentum as the rear tires finally clawed onto the curbs. Smoke billowed through the rain, rubber grinding against the slick surface, until the grip locked in.

Luca wished he could drag the car back!

No!!!!

"...AND MAX ADDAMS GETS THE GETAWAY FIRST!!!!!"

"WOOOOHH!"

Max's car jolted forward, snapping out of the grass with a vicious pull.

As if to trash Luca, Miles burnt his tires right at the spot, sending a cloud of smoke to Luca's Dallara before his machine blazed down the straight.

"...Max Addams in P5!"

"WOOOOHH!"

Zip!

"...Vlad Volyinski in P6!"

How could this be?! Luca hissed, pressing down on his throttle, yet his tires couldn't get that grip.

"...RENNICK NEEDS TO FIND TRACTION, NEEDS TO GET THAT CAR MOVING! BUT RIGHT NOW, HE'S A SITTING DUCK!"

Zip!

"...Albert Derstappen zips by in P7!"

"WOOOOHH!"

"...OH, THIS IS A DISASTER FOR LUCA RENNICK! FROM FIGHTING FOR THE LEAD TO WATCHING HIS RIVALS STREAM PAST!"

[System is unable to detect ideal grip spots for host]

Luca's tires struggled against the wet grass, unable to find the traction needed to move. Unlike asphalt, the grass wasn't part of his system's standard analysis, meaning Luca's system couldn't provide any guidance for his rear tires—it simply had no data to process. He was on his own.

At the start of the race, the Trampos garage had been bustling with energy. Now, in stark contrast, it was silent. The paddock where McCauley ruled and where shouts of support for Luca had echoed earlier was quiet. The team sat back in their black, plush seats, watching Luca struggle at Turn 8's exit.

Vrm—VRMMM—vrrrRrrRRRRRRRMMMMMMMM!

The screens in the telemetry room told the story plainly through the blue HUD display.

Luca's four-wheeler had its two front tires on the curbs, poised for grip, while the rear tires were beyond the curbs, with the telemetry clearly showing [NO] grip.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Zip!

"...James Legrasse in P11!"

[Host hasn't unlocked Skills to adapt to wet weather conditions]

[Host hasn't upgraded to Professional Bundle, so host is unable to upgrade car to battle such conditions]

In this helpless situation, the system deemed it necessary to remind Luca—and perhaps give him hope—that overcoming challenges like this would become easier as he delved deeper into his stats and unlocked another Bundle.

Luca's heart grew heavier by the moment. The rain was beating down hard on him, his tires getting cold, and there were just a few moments left for this to be considered and termed a DNF.

Not this French Grand Prix. Not now, not at this stage in the competition.

Zip!

"...Erik Haas in P13!"

Luca was so focused on his tires, trying desperately to find any semblance of traction, that he didn't even notice Haas' red Dallara darting past him. A second later, another car shot by, its engine roaring in defiance of the treacherous conditions.

Vrm—VRMMM—vrrrRrrRRRRRRRMMMMMMMM!

Mr. Ruben nodded his head enthusiastically and leaned in on the mic. **l see you got some grip there, lad! Push it!**

The grip was faint but Luca was able to tap into it, clawing at the curbs as if his rear tires were an extension of his legs.

It even felt like such.

[Traction Detected]

[Traction unstable]

Vrm—VRMMM—vrrrRrrRRRRRRRMMMMMMMM!

"... after what seemed like eternity, Luca Rennick is finally making it out of the ditch!"

"WOOOOHH!"

The red [NO] grip signal flashed to green in the telemetry room and everyone had a spark of hope!

Luca could feel the cold rain running down his helmet and his visor, but he kept his eyes locked on the track ahead as another driver just zipped past him. And another...

His rear tires kicked up a cloud of water as they made their way off the slippery grass and back onto the curbs, and for a brief moment, it felt like nothing was beneath him but a dangerous slide.

Vrm—VRMMM—vrrrRrrRRRRRRRMMMMMMMM!

"...Luca's got the grip now! You can see it—he's gradually regaining control after that terrifying slide. The car's still twitching a bit, but he's holding strong!"

"WOOOOHH!"

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Luca began to feel his car steady as the front tires gripped the wet track the best it could, his rear tires now owning the curbs. He had moved forward!

"Thank goodness," Luca muttered, easing his wheel and guiding his car back on track inch by inch.

Another driver didn't even hesitate to take a perfect turn around him, running down the straight.

"...What a recovery from Luca Rennick! LUCA RENNICK REJOINS THIS FORMULA 2 FRENCH GRAND PRIX!"

"WOOOOHH!"

**You did well. Good job** Mr. Ruben silently congratulated Luca as he pushed his Dallara forward once more, moving down the straight at a steady, growing speed.

[You are picking up speed]

[17th Position]

"...Luca Rennick in P17!"

"OOOOUUHH!"

Mr. Grant and Ms. Vallotton gave sighs of relief and disappointment.

[DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:

-Car Speed: 180 km/h

-Heart Rate: 110 bpm

-Operational Status: 60% (Fair)

-Breathing: Elevated

-Distance covered: 42000m

-Time: 10 min 5 sec.]

Luca wanted to wipe away the sweat from his forehead, but he was unable to do that. Gloves, a helmet. It was impossible, so he maintained his grip on his wheel to regain what had been lost.