Luca tried to shake off the frustration as he entered the 40th lap, Kristensen's rear distant enough to crush any last hope of reclaiming position. Now, he was left to defend P6 with Walding pressing persistently from behind.
The weight of his recent setback hung over him, clouding his focus. The problem wasn't just losing ground—it was the sudden sense of vulnerability that came with it. Luca felt the control slipping, like he was no longer in command. Now, it seemed he was just driving not for victory, but for redemption.
Breaking the news to Ansel about his fall from position was out of the question. With just two laps left, Luca figured Ansel would be in a tightly focused state, and the last thing he wanted was to distract him with his own dismay. Instead, he kept his line precise through George Park, minimizing any room for error, while Mr. Moritz calmly discussed the situation over the radio.
[41st Lap]
[DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL-TIME:
-Car Speed: 280 km/h
-Heart Rate: 117 bpm
-Operational Status: 65% (Fair)
-Breathing: Slightly Elevated
-Distance covered: 170000 m
-Time: 1 hr 3min. ]
[Stamina +1]
[Endurance +1]
[Tire condition: adequate but degrading. Fuel level: 65%. DRS is now available for deployment. Engine temperature: stable. Brake wear: 22%.]
[Telemetry indicates satisfactory handling but monitor for any degradation. Aerodynamic efficiency is slightly compromised. Advise maintaining optimal pace and executing clean exits to deter 7th Position's advance.]
"Thank you," Luca responded automatically, half-amused at his System's calm tone, as though it wouldn't hold him accountable once the race concluded.
[42nd Lap]
Dani Walding kept probing for an opening, hoping for any slip-up from the Trampos Racing driver, but Luca's line stayed flawless, and the leaderboard remained static as the race neared its end.
A fresh wave of yellow flags came up, urging Luca to heighten his caution through the corners. He was determined to visit George Park Circuit once again in this his motorsport journey, and deal with its track structure one more time.
As the drivers entered the 43rd lap, the crowd's roar intensified, their anticipation buzzing in the stands. Excitement charged the air, with fans leaning forward, hoping for one final burst of action before the checkered flag fell.
---------------------------------
"That doesn't look good for him, does it?" Mr. Schafer commented to Mallow with a hint of irony. "The time's up for their decision, and as I told you, clinging to hope was pointless. Miles won't be penalized—it was unintentional."
Mallow grumbled, shaking his head. The instant he'd heard the scrape of tires, he knew Luca was in trouble. Dropping from third to sixth had put their lucrative bonuses from Fijee's contract at serious risk.
"Word of advice: don't rely too much on people," Schafer continued, clearly enjoying the sight of Miles holding third. "Funny enough, even I didn't bet on Miles. Care to guess who I picked?"
Mallow shrugged, unimpressed.
"Luca's teammate, the ever-ready Ansel Hahn. And lucky me, he's leading," Schafer said with a sharp clap of his hands before rising slowly. "Only two laps left. It's tradition to be on your feet for the finish."
-----------------------
To Luca, it felt as though the crowd's cheers and roars were meant for a different race entirely. His body didn't pulse with the usual adrenaline that every driver felt during the final laps. Instead, he hummed softly to himself, focusing on getting through the track while his System notifications pinged when necessary.
The world blurred past him each time he engaged DRS on the straights, his hands almost seeming to guide the wheel on autopilot while his mind drifted back to what occurred some laps ago.
[45th Lap]
Everyone was on their feet in George Park as the checkered flag was ready to begin its wave of finality. The Saturday's race would eventually come to an end, F1 would take over the next day. George Park tomorrow, and Australia's Grand Prix would be one to remember.
The final laps were calm, a stark contrast to the riotous energy in the crowd. Luca noticed a flag with Addams' face being waved above, making him wonder if Addams held the lead.
[46th Lap]
The track stretched ahead as Luca raced, somber but steady. His Dallara pushed confidently through the last few corners, with Kristensen's rear barely visible in the distance. Luca focused only on maintaining his pace to hold P6, knowing there was no hope of catching up with the leaders but feeling a measure of relief in securing the points. At least 6th place came with eight.
Up front, the checkered flag began its slow, triumphant wave, sparking excitement as each driver crossed the finish line in a flash of electrifying motion.
"...Addams is pushing hard, right on Hahn's tail! Could this be it? Could Addams steal the lead in the final moments...?"
"...Hahn's defending well... Addams is giving it everything, but—"
"...Hahn takes it! Addams pushed hard, but Hahn holds on for 1st place! ANSEL HAHN finishes first...!"
"WOOOHHHH!" The crowd erupted as Hahn surged across the line, securing a definitive victory.
"...Bellingham takes third...!"
"WOOOHHHH!"
Luca exhaled heavily as his car crossed the finish line just behind Kristensen. The roaring cheers felt distant, muted by his own reflections.
Gradually, he eased his car into the cluster of racers, his speed dropping in real-time on his display, with his Operational Status at 40%—a close call, as he'd nearly needed another pitstop. He couldn't believe he hadn't even managed to make Sync Buff.
He released the wheel, feeling the stiffness in his fingers as he flexed them to restore circulation. "At least it's over," he muttered. Damn, what kind of race was this?
[You did not make the podium, host.]
[6TH POSITION]
"C'mon, don't rub it in," Luca replied, slightly exasperated. "I can't believe you're actually going to punish me for finishing sixth. It's not that bad, is it?"
[I am not disciplining you for finishing sixth, host. I am reprimanding you for dropping to sixth in rapid succession. This is to ensure such a slip doesn't occur in more critical races, where points for you and your team (Trampos Racing) are essential.]
Luca powered down his car, the engine rumbling to a halt as he rested his hands on his lap. Outside, the roar of the crowd seeped into his otherwise silent cockpit, creating a surreal contrast as the cloudy atmosphere added a cinematic touch. Cars were parked haphazardly beyond the grid as drivers exited, but Luca remained in his cockpit a little longer, bracing himself for the Formula 1 System's reprimand.
"Alright, give it to me," he said, feigning confidence.
[Punishment:
Strength -1
Intelligence -1 ]
Luca dropped his head, exhaling. "That's harsh," he muttered. "Alright, show me my Status, physical information, and Skills."
[Hosts status generating....
[..... Generation completed]
[Physical Information:
Weight: 71kg / 154 lbs
Height: 6'1"
Body Fat Percentage: 10%
Muscle Mass: 32%
Strength: 12
Stamina: 17
Endurance: 20
Agility: 15
Intelligence: 13 ]
"I still have something to work with, at least," Luca murmured, relieved. He then navigated to his Skills & Techniques.
[Skills & Techniques: Total Grade - C
Reflexes: 17
Overtaking Skill: 19
Track Awareness: 15
Pitstop Prodigy: 4
Others (Locked) ]
Luca took a deep breath and pushed himself out of his cockpit.
"WOOHH OOH! WOOH OHH! WOOOHHHH OOH!" The crowd's cheers were deafening.
His eyes instantly landed on Miles, who looked ecstatic with his third-place finish. Luca wasn't sure he could watch him climb the podium, given his own disappointment. But when he saw the Trampos Racing crew celebrating Ansel, realization dawned that Ansel had taken first place.
A wave of joy swept over him, lifting his spirits. At least something good had come from this race; Trampos Racing had scored a solid 25 points thanks to Ansel.
Luca hurriedly jumped out of his car and ran towards Ansel to join in on the celebration. Though Ansel's smile faded slightly on learning Luca had finished sixth, they both knew the season had only just begun, and this was just one of those setbacks.
After a brief gathering, Luca and Ansel headed back to the Trampos Racing garage to await the podium ceremony. In the excitement of Ansel's win, Luca had nearly forgotten the looming hot soup he would be in with Mr. Grant.
Grant's silence was louder than words, leaving Luca wondering if a sixth-place finish was truly as disappointing as it seemed. Sure, there were over twenty drivers, so P6 wasn't the worst. But, like Luca's System, Mr. Grant was less concerned about the position than with how Luca had dropped down the ranks so quickly. He intended to address that issue before it could happen again over the course of the season.
Just before the podium, the sky finally showed some signs of precipitation as it began to drizzle slightly, small droplets of rain glistening the George Park Circuit's chicanes and straightways.
As the podium was readied, the sky began to drizzle, tiny droplets glistening over George Park Circuit's chicanes and straights.
With the Formula 2 race over, Ansel took the podium, with a disgruntled Addams on his left and a proud Miles in third. They popped the champagne, spraying it over Ansel to the roaring delight of the crowd, which continued cheering long into the afternoon as the teams finally retired.