Chapitre 30: German Grand Prix 2: Midfield Climbing

The race continued with an intensity that seemed to rise with every second. Racing was all about maintaining speed and performance consistently over long stretches, and Luca could feel it in every lap. The deafening roar of engines mixed with the continuous buzz of the crowd, lap after lap, making the race feel almost like a loop to him.

Every overtake brought an uproar from the crowd, and Luca realized it wasn't just the other drivers reacting—it was affecting him too. An odd urge tried to surface within him, compelling him to push not just for first place but to also thrill the audience, to entertain them as much as win.

He shook off the awkward feeling, refocusing on his car. The 20th lap was rounding up, and the top three were still far ahead.

[Stamina +1]

Zooming over the grid, Luca gripped the wheel tighter, his mind whirling with possibilities as he plotted a way past the sleek black-and-blue machine just ahead. 11th place is mine! he thought fiercely. "I wish I had a skill to predict where my opponent would steer next," he muttered under his breath.

[Host has not unlocked skills to assess rival's movements]

Wait, there'd be a skill like that?! Sweet.

[13th Position closing in]

[Host has not unlocked Skills to disclose an opponent]

Luca's eyes quickly darted to his side mirror, a bright black-and-violet car was coming for him, and was coming fast with determination. The roar of the crowd erupted wildly as the engine's acceleration tore through the air.

Luca cursed under his breath. There was no mistaking it—the other driver had activated DRS. The rear wing on the black-and-violet car had flipped open, allowing it to gain critical speed on the straight. Luca knew the driver had one intention and it was to blast past him before they hit the chicane. All Luca needed to do was hold him off until the sharp left-right curve came into play, where raw speed would mean nothing without finesse and precision.

Luca instinctively moved toward the center of the track to defend his 12th position, leaving zero gaps for the hurtling car to slip through. The black-and-violet car edged closer, its driver feinting a move to the left, but Luca shifted just enough to block the advance. The crowd cackled wildly as the two machines toyed with each other.

The straightaway was disappearing, and the inevitable sharp curve came into view. Luca held off braking, waiting until the driver behind him committed first. Once he sensed the tension ease, Luca gently eased off the throttle and tilted the wheel sharply, adapting to the lethal curve of the chicane.

To his surprise, the roaring, accelerating growl of the car behind remained loud—too loud. His eyes instantly shot to the mirror. Whaa– the heck is this idiot doing?

The black-and-violet car had refused to decelerate properly for the sharp chicane, clearly banking on Luca's brief slowdown to gain an edge. The crowd gasped at the audacious move as the car surged forward with reckless power. Luca couldn't believe it. He was forced to react instantly, effortlessly angling his cruising car to cover the line, not too erratic, but calculated—just enough to force that opponent to rethink.

The subtle move of Luca's chassis blocked the opponent's path perfectly, cutting off the most obvious angle. The black-and-violet car's driver slammed the brakes hard, the vehicle jerking violently as it tried to slip into another gap before the chicane closed entirely. But Luca had left nothing to chance. The space was too tight, and the only option left was a desperate squeeze through a sliver of track on the other side of the curve.

"C'mon back off, man," Luca hissed, his grip firm on the wheel, wishing the other driver could hear him.

They were now exiting the left-right curves, and Luca knew 12th position was slipping away. As soon as the straightaway emerged, the black-and-violet Dallara would no doubt unleash its speed with DRS. Just as the car behind him tried to power through, two more challengers—14th and 15th positions—closed the gap at blistering speed, arriving at the scene like predators on a kill. The fresh contenders had perfectly capitalized on the previous chicane, hungry for position.

Luca's heart rate spiked instantly as he glanced at his side mirror, now filled with three roaring machines. The deafening noise of the crowd only worsened the tension.

"...oh, Jon, let's shift our attention back to the upper midfield, shall we? It's getting tight up there! Retona Racing's driver is breathing down the neck of the Trampos rookie, and—hold on—are those two teammates closing in beside him?! Wow, Jon, Kristensen's teammate, Volyinski, got himself in a tough spot there. He's boxed in, and if he doesn't act fast, I believe he's in serious trouble...!"

The two cars that had brutally arrived at the scene were indeed teammates, and they deliberately boxed in the Retona car—one attacking from the left, the other from the right.

"No way," Luca muttered, watching the chaos unfold in his mirror.

It became an all-out battle behind him. The three cars screamed down the straight, their sleek Dallara frames inches from each other, tires so close they could almost kiss. Sandwiched between the aggressive pursuers, the black-and-violet car struggled to stay on the line. Volyinski fought desperately, jerking his wheel to regain control, but the pressure was too much.

The car skidded violently, tires screeching as it spiraled out of control. The sleek frame twisted in a blur of purple, veering helplessly off the track. With a gut-wrenching thud, it slammed into the barrier to the left, sparks flying as shattered debris scattered across the circuit. The crowd erupted in shock, their gasps filling the air as the race claimed its first casualty.

"...ooh, a massive incident there, Jon! Vlad Volyinski completely lost it for his team—spun out and slammed straight into the barrier! That's a heavy, though non-lethal, hit. The crowd's on their feet with... amusement—what a shocking twist! Looks like the chase behind the Trampos's rookie just went horribly wrong! This is exactly what we came for!"

"...Stunning. And this is just the first Featured Race of the season. A crash tally has begun already—let's see how high that count climbs by August, Steve..."

The crowd roared with excitement, as if something bad hadn't just occurred.

Track marshals rushed onto the track as soon as the 30th-position car zipped past, one waving a yellow flag from the lane. While the crash wasn't catastrophic, it was enough to put the Retona driver out of the race, the cameras focusing on him as he shook his head in dismay. Behind him, the hood of his single-seater was emitting tendrils of smoke. The situation remained manageable, and a safety car was quickly dispatched. The damaged car was swiftly towed off the circuit before the next wave of racers could come barreling by.

Still, with some debris scattered across the track, a marshal stayed in place, swinging the yellow flag vigorously to caution the incoming drivers as they rounded the lap again. Once that lap was completed, the remaining debris was promptly cleared, leaving the asphalt smooth and empty once more.

The crowd, undeterred by the incident, pounded on the barricades, beating drums and chanting at the top of their lungs. The thrill of witnessing such a dramatic turn fueled their excitement, adrenaline flooding their veins as they reveled in the chaos.

**At least he's not your problem any more. Retona's drivers can be good sometimes**

[25th Lap]

[DATA DISPLAYED IN REAL TIME:

-Car Speed: 250 km/h

-Heart Rate: 140 bpm

-Operational Status: 80% (Good)

-Breathing: Hiked

-Distance covered: 125000 m

-Time: 49 min ]

[Stamina +1]

[Endurance +1]

[Agility +1]

[Strength +1]

[Intelligence +1]

Luca's mind was still reeling from what had just unfolded. It was mind-blowing—almost surreal—knowing that the driver's race had come to an abrupt end. And if there was anyone to blame, it would be him, the driver, if that were the case.

Those two teammates had executed a lethal yet completely legal maneuver, boxing him in with surgical precision. The moment the pressure mounted, the driver's inexperience or the sudden counter-momentum must have triggered panic, sending his car into chaos. Luca couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if the crash had turned out far worse.

He gave a small shrug, forcing the thought from his mind. His focus locked onto the dissected and calculated road ahead as his body lurched against the seat, the g-forces pinning him back while he floored the throttle. He felt bad for the driver, sure—but there was no place for sympathy here. There was still a chance to fight into the top 3. Enough time to make it happen.

"...Well, the Trampos rookie better watch his wheels, Jon! The APX boys are closing in fast—and look at that—it's a textbook boxing formation! They're lining him up for the same squeeze, and I doubt they'll let him off any easier...!"

Luca's eyes widened as his heart raced once he caught sight of the two APX green-and-black cars in his side mirror, their gleaming bodies closing in with relentless hunger.