Track marshals sprinted along the edge of the circuit waving yellow flags, and the entire track fell under full yellow-flag control. All drivers were required to slow down, overtaking was strictly prohibited, and everyone carefully avoided the debris scattered across the asphalt.
Alex Sun sat in the run-off area, fingertips resting lightly on the steering wheel. He slowed his breathing, forcing his heart back down from where it had leapt into his throat during the crash.
As his nerves settled, he suddenly remembered Leclerc's pre-race joke about passing Baku's bad luck onto him.
One brow lifted slightly.
Could that guy's words really be that accurate?
Lawson's hit had been vicious. Luckily, the car hadn't suffered serious damage. When this race was over, he'd drag Leclerc into extra training and work him hard—that would be enough to cancel out this scare.
Just then, the TR crackled to life. Mark's voice came through, urgent but controlled.
"Alex Sun, report car status. Deledda is stopped in the run-off area to your right and his engine is off. Wait until the pack passes before rejoining—don't rush."
"Your car is facing backward toward the track. When you rejoin, loop around along the edge of the run-off area and avoid the debris zone on the left."
Alex Sun quickly scanned the dashboard, focusing on the left rear tire data. Tire pressure was stable. Wear was even. No abnormalities.
Thankfully, that was exactly where Lawson had hit him—and it was fine. The last of the tension drained from his chest.
He gave the throttle a light tap to test it, already certain of one thing: this race was where the Guardian of the Machine would truly shine.
With a 10% reduction in overall vehicle weight and reduced tire wear, he could push harder in pursuit. The 5-pound lighter chassis meant faster lap times and sharper overtaking.
This trait was his greatest confidence in mounting a comeback from the back. He suppressed his frustration at being taken out passively and began rapidly mapping overtaking lines in his mind. In his dark eyes remained only a fierce desire to command the circuit.
Alex Jacques provided live updates, his tone tight.
"The circuit remains under Yellow flag conditions. All drivers are running at reduced speed while debris is being cleared."
"We can confirm Deledda's car has stalled in the run-off area. After contact between Lawson and Piastri, Lawson has retired. Piastri continues with a damaged front wing, though whether he can make it through the opening laps remains uncertain."
Jolyon Palmer added analysis, focusing on Alex Sun's situation.
"Alex Sun is currently stuck in the run-off area. He can only rejoin once conditions allow, and he'll likely be at the very back of the field. That's going to mean serious pressure to fight back."
"Baku's high-speed nature combined with track temperatures makes life tough on the Medium compound. Under Yellow flag or Safety Car conditions, wear is minimal—around 0.1% per lap. But once we go Green and drivers start pushing, that rises to 0.6 to 0.8%, and during consecutive overtakes it can approach the upper limit. He'll need both aggression and careful tire management across this 21-lap Sprint Race."
...
In the pit garage, Rebecca Lin sat rigidly in her chair. Her long legs in black stockings had unconsciously wrapped tightly together, ankles drawn taut, creasing the hem of her skirt.
Her eyes were fixed on the car sitting motionless in the run-off area. Her breathing was shallow, the aftershock of fear still gripping her.
The violent sound of Lawson's impact echoed in her ears. The image replayed again and again in her mind. She didn't care whether the car had hidden damage—she only worried about Alex Sun. What if that hit had injured him? What if he was forcing himself to continue? Even her breathing tightened at the thought.
At that moment, Mark's voice rang clearly over TR.
"Alex Sun, the field has cleared the run-off area. Debris on the left has been removed. You may turn around immediately and rejoin. Push to the back of the pack at full speed, maintain safe distance to the car ahead."
"Copy."
The instant he responded, Alex Sun floored the throttle. The engine roared deeply as the rear tires broke traction, white smoke billowing through the run-off area.
Not far to his right, Alessio's car sat stationary near the edge of the escape road. With a subtle flick of the wrist, Alex Sun eased in a touch of left steering input. The car carved a smooth arc tightly along Alessio's left side, laying down a crisp half-donut. In one swift motion, he completed a clean 180-degree rotation and lined up perfectly with the track.
As he straightened the wheel and stabilized the car, he caught sight of Lawson's wreck against the wall to the right—bodywork crumpled, debris scattered everywhere.
Proof of just how violent that collision had been.
A cold glint flashed in his eyes. He pressed harder on the throttle, charging toward the back of the pack. The engine's howl grew sharper, tearing through the heavy stillness of the circuit.
The livestream chat exploded:
"Holy—! That turnaround was insane! Alex Sun's car control is unreal!"
"He just got hit and he's still pushing like that? Absolute beast!"
"Starting from the back? He'll carve through them!"
"Donuts are delicious! Wait—that was only half a donut? Leaving us in suspense?"
"Wait, I get it—he spun twice in the crash, then did half a donut here. So that's two and a half laps of spinning! Alex Sun's got a dark sense of humor!"
...
At the other end of the pit garage, Mark stared at the monitor, his knuckles pressed unconsciously against his lips. His heart tightened at that razor-thin maneuver.
Watching the car skim past Alessio's by mere centimeters, he muttered under his breath, "This guy really never makes it easy."
The lingering fear was obvious in his tone. That moment had nearly sent his blood pressure through the roof.
Beside him, René Rosin remained outwardly calm, though a subtle tension flickered in his expression. Only when Alex Sun safely rejoined and accelerated toward the back did René Rosin finally relax slightly.
He stepped toward the strategy screen, steadying the still-rattled Mark as he issued instructions.
"Stay steady. He's in control. Pull data from Turns 1, 12, and 19. Once DRS is enabled, prioritize slipstream overtakes into Turn 19. Monitor his tire degradation closely—that will determine how far he can go."
Alex Sun quickly caught the back of the pack and merged smoothly into the train. He worked the tires repeatedly, building temperature into the Medium compound.
Eyes sharp, he silently noted the drivers ahead—their racing lines, braking points, rhythm—waiting for the Yellow flag to clear and the race to truly begin.
By the end of Lap 1, Piastri struggled on with a heavily damaged front wing. The aerodynamic imbalance made the car increasingly unstable, each turn accompanied by visible vibration.
He gritted his teeth to hold the line when his engineer's resigned voice came over TR.
"Piastri, the front wing damage is too severe. The aero balance is completely compromised. Continuing poses a safety risk. We have to retire."
Frustration flashed across Piastri's face as he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
Suppressing the anger, he guided the car into the nearest run-off area and brought it to a stop. After shutting down the engine, he responded quietly.
"Understood."
After a brief pause, he switched to the public channel, voice tinged with regret.
"Alex, it's all on you now. Baku hasn't exactly been kind to me."
"Leave it to me," Alex Sun replied immediately over TR.
At that moment, the Safety Car was leading the field toward the end of Lap 4.
The circuit announcement echoed:
"Piastri has retired. Track is clear. Yellow flag lifted. Safety Car in this lap."
Green flag.
Engines roared back to full fury, shredding the silence. The race surged into its true battle phase.
And from the very back of the field, Alex Sun's overtaking show was about to begin.
...
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