Once all five competitors had finished their setup, the host's excited voice rang out across the venue.
"Race start!"
Five red lights lit up on the screen. As they went out, Alex Sun immediately surged forward, passing Amateur Driver No. 2, who hesitated on the grid. The difference in reaction time between a professional and a casual player was worlds apart—especially when comparing a manual launch to an automatic, TC-assisted start.
All five simulators roared to life at once, and drama unfolded almost instantly. Amateur Driver No. 1, confident enough to disable automatic launch, applied too much throttle at the start. His car spun out of control and ended up stranded sideways in the middle of the track. Alex Sun, already past No. 2, reacted instantly and swept around the outside to avoid him and complete the overtake.
Entering Imola's iconic Tamburello corner, Alex Sun anticipated the curvature perfectly. He hit the brakes at precisely the right moment, turned the wheel with flawless accuracy, and hugged the optimal racing line through the apex.
On corner exit, he fed in the throttle smoothly and progressively. The engine note rose with the revs, and by the time he cleared the next bend, he had already opened a gap of more than a second to the amateurs behind him.
From there, Alex Sun settled into his own rhythm, steadily stretching the gap.
According to the rules, the resident driver on stage only began his run ten seconds after Alex Sun and the other four competitors had started.
Unlike Alex Sun's composed, methodical driving, the resident driver's style was aggressively assertive.
The moment his 2020 Red Bull car launched, the engine was pushed straight into the high-rev range. Exploiting the Red Bull's straight-line power, he accelerated brutally, the sharp, piercing exhaust note instantly igniting the crowd.
He didn't follow conservative "safe lines." Instead, he calculated braking windows with surgical precision, pushing late braking to its absolute limit at every corner.
He hurled the car into the apex at the edge of grip, slicing sharply toward the inside. His racing line was oppressive and extreme, visibly cutting into the lap-time gap with every single corner.
Up ahead, no amateur could keep pace with Alex Sun. Amateur Driver No. 1, who had spun at the start, had barely regained control before becoming Verstappen's first target.
Without lifting, he identified the opponent's unstable rhythm and dived in with an ultra-late brake on the inside, completing the overtake effortlessly.
Ahead, several amateurs were already tangled in chaotic fighting—blocking each other, weaving constantly, completely unaware of the threat closing in from behind.
More importantly, the shrill exhaust note of the Red Bull was now screaming closer and closer. The pressure was suffocating, and the speed of the chase far exceeded their expectations.
One driver, rattled by the pressure, began swerving left and right on the straight, trying to block with erratic movements. That disorderly defense only exposed a wide opening on the outside.
The resident driver seized it instantly, sweeping around the outside at full throttle and clearing the weaving amateur with ease.
Next came another driver who fancied himself clever. He tried to imitate Verstappen's trademark aggressive defense, cutting to the inside early and relying on late braking to shut the door.
What he didn't realize was that the resident driver understood this defensive logic inside out—having used it countless times himself.
Instead of forcing the inside, he lifted slightly and adjusted his line, baiting the amateur into braking too early. The moment the opponent lost exit speed, he powered past on the outside, the Red Bull's acceleration making the pass effortless.
Only one amateur remained, trying to maintain a steady rhythm on his own. Faced with the chase, fear had already set in. His lines grew increasingly conservative, and he wouldn't even go full throttle on corner exit.
The resident driver gave him no mercy. At the end of the straight, he unleashed the car's power advantage and swept past without resistance.
The entire sequence was smooth and ruthless. From overtaking the spun car to clearing the final obstacle, it took just two laps. With all traffic dealt with, only Alex Sun's distant figure remained ahead.
With the slower cars gone, the resident driver went all out, wringing every last bit of performance from the car. His lap-time advantage became obvious, closing the gap at nearly one second per lap.
On the screen, the gap counter kept dropping—from ten seconds at the start to six seconds by the end of lap four. The atmosphere was tense to the extreme, yet the comeback was still built on that massive ten-second handicap.
Alex Sun caught the fluctuating numbers out of the corner of his eye. The near one-second-per-lap gain was staggering and spoke volumes about his opponent's level.
Yet his mind remained completely calm. The pressure from behind never disrupted his rhythm.
He knew that worrying about his opponent's speed was pointless. What mattered was holding his own pace. As long as he executed each lap cleanly and without mistakes, the ten-second advantage over five laps was an unbreakable wall.
So he focused entirely on his lines, braking points, and throttle control, maintaining absolute precision. He made no errors at all—setting even his own fastest lap and giving his pursuer no opening.
In the end, Alex Sun crossed the finish line first. Six seconds later, the resident driver followed.
Despite the astonishing closing speed, the initial ten-second delay proved insurmountable.
"Let's congratulate Challenger No. 3 on the victory!" the host shouted, brimming with excitement.
Alex Sun let out a long breath, removed the lightweight helmet he'd worn for the occasion, and wiped the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. Just as he was about to stand, the mysterious driver on stage slowly removed his own helmet.
Beneath short blond hair was a face instantly recognizable on the F1 grid—Max Verstappen.
The crowd froze for a split second before erupting into thunderous cheers. Camera shutters fired nonstop.
That eyebrow-raising challenge before the race now had a clear answer.
Ignoring the commotion, Verstappen walked straight up to Alex Sun, his expression serious. The casual off-track ease was gone, replaced by a competitor's intensity.
Before Alex Sun could speak, Verstappen broke the silence, his tone competitive yet appreciative.
"From that race, it's obvious you're not an ordinary amateur. Your pace control and cornering were very professional."
Alex Sun nodded in acknowledgment. As he was about to respond, Verstappen pulled a signed Red Bull team commemorative helmet from his bag and held it out.
"As your opponent in this race, this helmet is yours. That's your mystery prize."
Alex Sun gently shook his head, meeting Verstappen's gaze.
"Thanks for the recognition, but I'd rather have your contact information. We could race and exchange ideas on AC or iRacing sometime."
Verstappen paused, then put the helmet away. A spark of interest flashed in his eyes as he replied readily.
"No problem. Still, that ten-second gap at the start was a shame. Losing before we really raced doesn't feel great. So—who are you? Your driving doesn't look amateur at all."
Alex Sun answered plainly. "Alex Sun. F2 driver with Prema Racing."
"An F2 driver?" Verstappen's interest deepened. "Just exchanging contact info isn't much of a mystery prize. Name something else. I'll give it to you."
Alex Sun's eyes lit up, and he answered without hesitation.
"I want the helmet you wear in the race where you clinch this year's Drivers' Championship."
Verstappen froze for a moment, then broke into a competitive grin and extended his hand.
"Interesting. I accept. If I win this year's F1 World Drivers' Championship, the helmet from the title-deciding race is yours.
"In return, when you make it to F1, we'll race here at Imola—one on one, fair start, no handicaps."
Alex Sun clasped his hand immediately.
"Deal."
The same competitive fire burned in both their eyes.
Verstappen pulled out his phone. "Give me your WhatsApp number. We'll stay in touch and settle this properly."
Alex Sun recited his number. Their hands, still warm with competitive energy, gripped tightly. A pact—about a championship helmet and a future duel—was sealed.
After parting with Verstappen, Alex Sun didn't waste a second. Over the next three days, he used the system-granted VIP access to immerse himself in Red Bull's pit bay, observing and learning nonstop.
Watching Verstappen's line choices up close, the team's tactical coordination, and their responses to sudden on-track situations gave him immense gains.
Verstappen also noticed the quiet young man who stayed focused and never caused a stir. During breaks, he would often approach Alex Sun, offering guidance on key Imola corners—explaining rhythm, throttle application, and critical details.
These insights from a top-tier driver were far more valuable than blind trial and error.
Alex Sun listened with full concentration, breaking down the techniques on the spot and rapidly writing adjustment plans tailored to an F2 car. Within half an hour, he had filled pages of notes.
As his understanding deepened, his driving attributes steadily increased by three points, and his grasp of racing logic rose to a new level.
The three-day observation period ended with Verstappen's dominant victory. Alex Sun congratulated him immediately, then rushed back to the Prema Racing base without delay.
He knew that if what he learned wasn't quickly turned into real performance, it would mean nothing. His next priority was clear—fully digest and integrate everything he had gained over these three days into his own driving system.
...
(20 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser