The roar of engines around the Circuit de Monaco grew denser as the 42-lap dry race stood on the brink of starting. Inside the cockpit, Alex Sun rested his fingertips lightly on the steering wheel. After confirming the dashboard data was normal, Mark's voice came through the TR.
"Communications clear. Tyre preheating and fuel load are all within targets."
Immediately after, the track broadcast followed. "Attention all drivers: begin the formation lap. Mechanics, clear the grid immediately."
"Copy," Alex Sun replied tersely as he fired up the car and merged into the flow.
Following the tactical plan, he deliberately controlled his pace, repeatedly brushing the throttle and brakes to build temperature in the supersoft tyres. At the same time, he quickly checked grip levels at key corners such as Sainte Devote and Rascasse.
As the formation lap ended, Alex Sun precisely stopped back in his second-place grid slot. Sunlight filtered through his visor, reflecting off the red soft tyre markings on the rear of Pourchaire's car ahead. He took a deep breath, fingers pressing lightly against the wheel as his focus snapped into place.
From this moment on, he entered a state of complete unity between man and machine. His eyes burned with resolve. Today's race—he was aiming for the championship.
"Alex Sun, the start reaction is critical. Sainte Devote is the only overtaking window. Grip is stable—stick to the plan. Don't give Pourchaire any chances." Mark's voice returned through the TR, delivering the final instructions.
"Copy," Alex Sun answered simply. His Adam's apple moved almost imperceptibly. His senses were fully fused with the car now, the engine noise and crowd fading away until only the racing line and the car ahead remained in his vision.
Five red lights illuminated one by one. The instant they went out, the race began.
From the commentary booth, Alex Jacques' voice rang out. "Lights out! The 2021 F2 Monaco Grand Prix is underway! Pourchaire starts from pole, Alex Sun from second. Both on soft tyres—this is a duel worth watching!"
At the launch, Alex Sun's reaction was lightning-fast. His hands and the steering wheel moved as one. As he released the clutch, his foot fed in the exact throttle input needed. The drivetrain meshed perfectly, the engine unleashing controlled power as the car shot forward like an arrow.
Pourchaire's pole-sitting car leapt ahead first, but on the short straight toward Sainte Devote, Alex Sun's instinctive judgment of line and slipstream had already plotted the move. He committed decisively to the inside, the two cars' wake intertwining and kicking up fine dust, while his chassis remained rock-steady and fully under control.
"Beautiful! Alex Sun dives to the inside! The braking point is spot on!" Rob Smedley's voice surged with excitement.
"The tyres bite right along the edge at the apex—he's almost door-to-door with Pourchaire! Less than half a car length! He's faster on exit! Alex Sun completes an extreme overtake!"
Alex Sun's control of the car was absolute. Even as he clearly heard Pourchaire's engine howling beside him, he precisely managed the throttle on corner exit, holding the power until he had fully established a safe gap. Only then did he let out a small breath—not from tension, but to confirm the lead.
From second to first in a single corner, he had forcefully claimed the front position.
Chaos erupted behind the grid almost immediately. Substitute driver Aitken stalled, his engine coughing weakly a few times before falling silent. Marshals rushed in, straining to push the car back toward the pit lane.
"Aitken stalls at the start! Dead on the grid—this is disastrous," Alex Jacques said helplessly. "He's effectively a lap down already, completely out of the fight, reduced to a background figure."
Alex Sun paid no attention to the commotion behind. His focus was locked on controlling the pace at the front. With subtle fingertip inputs, he kept the car glued to the optimal racing line, every trajectory as precise as if measured with a ruler.
In the mirrors, the overtaken Pourchaire was clearly unwilling to concede. The red car stayed tightly within 1.2 seconds, while Piastri held third steadily at a safe distance. The top three order stabilized for the moment.
On the second lap in the lead, Pourchaire launched the first attack. On the short straight before Portier, he used Alex Sun's slipstream to close the gap to 0.8 seconds, clearly setting up a potential inside move at corner entry.
Alex Sun's hands felt welded to the steering wheel, his eyes calmly tracking every detail ahead. His mind was utterly still. Monaco offers almost no margin for error. As long as I hold the optimal line and don't make mistakes, no matter how fast he is, he won't get through.
Pourchaire's aggression was already within his expectations. His sense of race rhythm and opponent behavior far exceeded normal drivers. There was no need for deliberate adjustment—he simply let instinct guide the car.
Alex Sun made a subtle steering correction in advance, placing the car firmly on the ideal inside trajectory. His braking point was exact down to the finest margin, completely shutting the door on Pourchaire's inside line.
"Pourchaire is applying pressure! He's right on him!" Rob Smedley exclaimed again. "But Alex Sun's line is razor-sharp—there's absolutely no room to pass! This is total control from the leader!"
Over the next two laps, Pourchaire refused to give up, launching flat-out charges at the end of every straight. Yet each time, Alex Sun relied on his deep familiarity with the circuit, adjusting his line early and neutralizing the attack with textbook-perfect corner entry and exit.
By lap five at Rascasse, Pourchaire gambled again. He delayed his braking, trying to force an overtake around the outside.
But Alex Sun had already anticipated it. With precise throttle application on corner exit, he used acceleration to stretch the gap back out to 1.1 seconds, completely defusing the most aggressive attack so far.
Handling this pressure cost Alex Sun no effort at all. Every one of Pourchaire's attempts was read in advance, the opponent's impatience plainly visible to him. From here on, all he needed was to maintain his rhythm, gradually wearing down both Pourchaire's tyres and his resolve.
After five laps of exchanges, he had fully figured out Pourchaire's pace. Now his task was simple: keep the lead within a safe margin and protect his soft tyres, laying the groundwork for the long stint and upcoming pit strategy.
At that moment, Alex Sun spoke up over the TR, his voice calm and even. "Pourchaire's attacks aren't a threat. His tyre wear is higher than expected. As long as he doesn't pit early, we stick to the original plan."
"Copy. Current pace is perfect—maintain it," Mark replied succinctly.
The soft tyres were naturally stable in the opening phase, and combined with Alex Sun's smooth driving rhythm, both temperature and wear stayed firmly within the ideal window.
By contrast, drivers like Drugovich and Lawson, who had started on supersoft tyres, were indeed setting quicker lap times thanks to the extra grip. However, the rapid wear of the supersofts would soon become apparent—and running in the midfield, they had no chance of closing in on Alex Sun's lead anytime soon.
...
(20 Chapters Ahead)
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