My Formula 1 System

[Congratulations, host! You have made a podium!]

Mr. Grant remained rooted in his seat at the viewing post, his sharp gaze fixed on the track as Luca's red-and-black Dallara roared across the finish line. A deafening cheer erupted from the grandstand, the energy washing over the arena like a tidal wave as the day's victor claimed his glory. Amid the roar of the crowd and the celebratory whoops from the Trampos crew, Mr. Grant found himself clapping fervently, pulled into the exhilarating current of the moment.

Luca's car now dominated every hazy, storm-gray screen, gliding effortlessly with the swagger of triumph. He raised a gloved hand from the cockpit, saluting the roaring sea of fans packed into the fog-laden 7th Stand. Their voices, a raucous symphony of adoration, echoed through the circuit.

"...and Max Addams takes P2, 13 seconds behind...!"

The announcement barely seemed to matter. All eyes remained glued to Luca Rennick as he embarked on a leisurely victory lap, his hand waving in languid acknowledgment of the crowd's adoration.

"...Miles Bellingham holds off Ansel Hahn again! It's a repeat of Bahrain as they cross the line—Bellingham takes 3rd, Hahn finishes 4th...!"

**You're the man, you did it**

Luca bit his lip behind his helmet, his joy bubbling to the surface. A simple wave wasn't enough—not for this moment, not for his first win. His excitement surged like a dam breaking. "Come on! Come on! Yes!" he yelled, his voice trembling with elation. From the other end of the radio, Mr. Moritz caught every ounce of raw emotion.

**We have our lead. You maintained our lead. Wonderful race, Luca.**

Luca eased his car to a calm halt near the 7th Stand after one final, leisurely lap. As Max Addams' car zipped past in apparent frustration, Luca couldn't help but smirk, unbothered. With a quick shrug, he unfastened his seatbelt and hauled himself out of the sweltering cockpit.

The biting cold greeted him instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat inside the car. A thunderous cheer from fans clad in red swelled as Luca stood atop his vehicle, basking in the glory of his victory.

[Ding!]

[Mission Completed!]

[Host has won his first official race]

[Ding!]

[System Unlocking Activity Panel...]

[Activity Panel Unlocked]

[System Commencement In Progress...]

[System Activity Commenced!]

[Do you accept Advanced Bundle?]

[Y / N]

Luca mentally dismissed the System's notification, its glowing prompts confined within his helmet's display. That could wait. This moment—his moment—deserved undivided attention. The commentators' excited recaps filled the air, sinking the reality of his triumph deeper into the crowd's collective consciousness.

I freaking did it!

Luca hopped down from his scorching single-seater, the soles of his racing boots splashing into a shallow puddle of rainwater on the slick asphalt. He felt the rush to celebrate with the crowd, but Stadhaven was nothing like George Park–it was literally the opposite. Here, the grandstands were set extremely far back from the track, framed by stretches of manicured greenery and rows of ornamental plants. All he could do was wave, scanning the sea of spectators in a futile attempt to spot his mother among them. The crowd, unified in their red dress code, formed a sweeping blur of color that made finding any one's face impossible.

"...and this could very well be their season. Luca Rennick secures 27 points for Trampos, cementing their lead and giving them a clear advantage heading into the break. It's a different story for Hatcherk Motorsport, though. Stadhaven is awash with disappointed fans in orange as Sean Aaronson failed to finish the British Grand Prix following a front-to-rear collision with today's victor, Luca Rennick. Jon, this surely puts a dent in their championship hopes, wouldn't you agree...?"

"...yes, Steve. I very much agree. And from past outcomes, a comeback at this stage seems unlikely."

"...let's hope the competition stays fierce and unpredictable. The Formula 2 feeder series officially reaches its midseason break, folks! We'll be back in June, where the intensity picks up once more with the drivers fighting for every crucial point. Until then, stay tuned for more updates and highlights as we build up to the return of racing action...!"

Luca slowly lowered his arm, the adrenaline still racing through his veins as his gaze swept across the cheering masses. The atmosphere was electric, but Luca couldn't tell if it was his name echoing through the stands or just the collective excitement of the crowd. He let himself be swept up in the moment, briefly savoring the victory before reality kicked in.

Turning, his gaze landed on a familiar figure walking toward him. Ansel, his teammate, moved through the foggy air with purpose. The lean, athletic build was unmistakable, his sharp features framed by the glint of his helmet visor. Luca could tell by the set of Ansel's jaw and the way his posture was a bit stiffer than usual that he wasn't entirely pleased with his P4 finish. The competitive fire that burned in Ansel was never easily quenched, but Luca was relieved to see that he was heading over anyway.

Luca knew that despite their fierce on-track battle, they were teammates at the end of the day. It was a win for Trampos, and that meant a win for both of them—at least that's how Luca hoped Ansel would see it. He just hoped the short-lived battle would remain a healthy competition on the track alone, and just that.

"We were rivals today, heh?" Ansel's voice, muffled but good-humored, filtered through his helmet. He spread his arms, inviting Luca for a hug.

"Yeah, just a little one," Luca replied, pulling off his own helmet. A grin tugged at his lips as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Stepping forward, he embraced his teammate with a hearty pat on the back.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks man."

They exchanged a few more words, their brief celebration full of lightheartedness, before the voice of their lead team engineer, Mr. Moritz, broke the moment. He arrived with the pit crew, their faces plastered with pride and relief. "You did it, Luca! This is exactly what we needed," Mr. Moritz bellowed, clapping Luca on the back.

Luca's helmet felt heavy in his grip as he turned to face them. Grinning wildly, he ran a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of the podium being prepped in the distance. Before he could speak, McCauley shoved a cold bottle of water into his hand. The crew crowded around him and Ansel, laughter and shouts filling the air. Water splashed around as some of the guys playfully doused each other, making Luca chuckle as droplets hit his neck.

The noise from the grandstands settled into a rhythmic chant all through Stadhaven. Luca, Ansel, and the team returned to their garage, where their immediate celebrations continued with more water being splashed around.

"Good job, Luca," Mr. Grant said as soon as he entered deep into the team's garage. "This was more than a result I could ask for. You did very well."

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad I could make you proud."

"Can Luca Rennick please make his way to the press conference area?" a federation official called out from outside their paddock.

"Where is Luca Rennick? Where is Luca Rennick? Oh, there he is!" the Trampos crew joked in unison, pushing Luca out of the paddock.

Luca quickly handed his helmet to a mechanic and weaved his way to the official, trying to dodge more slaps on his back.

He followed the official through the foggy but lively atmosphere of Stadhaven, passing Retona's paddock, where the electric vibe didn't seem to spark. Oliver Kristensen finished P7, a usual spot he always hovered around in.

Luca entered the tunnel that led to the press area. The federation official suddenly dispatched, leaving him to face the wrath of crowded photographers and blinding camera lights.

"Please, this way, Luca," a young assistant called out, waving him over to a quieter corner where a makeshift press area had been set up. Luca nodded, squinting against the glare of camera flashes as he pushed forward.

The press area was buzzing with reporters and bright lights to highlight all his features. Luca was slowly getting used to it after Mallow had taught him how to handle press questions.

"Congratulations on your victory before the season's break, Luca," a female reporter said, extending her mic toward him. "You're soaked, and not from the rain but from your team's celebration. Was this win especially significant for you and the team?"

Luca steadied his breath, catching a glimpse of Miles Bellingham passing by with his team principal in tow. He took a moment before answering. "This win definitely strengthened our lead on the table. It's a big one for us," he said, keeping his tone calm.

"We'll wrap this up quickly, fine by you?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Let's address the late-race incident with Sean Aaronson. What's your take on his DNF? Some say you should have been penalized."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Luca pressed his lips together. Aaronson had been at fault, and the stewards had made their decision. Why dig this up now? He glanced toward the tunnel's entrance, spotting Aaronson stepping in, his glare already locked on Luca. "I had about a 20-second lead. Even if there was a penalty, it wouldn't have changed much, would it?" Luca said.

Aaronson's expression darkened, and he clenched his fist as a teammate tried to pull him away from the tense moment.

"About that lead, Luca. Uhmm, can you look at the camera?" the reporter said, pulling his focus back.

Luca reluctantly tore his gaze from Aaronson to listen to the next question.

"About that lead of yours—zero competition around you in those final laps. What was going through your mind?"

Luca nodded slowly, shrugging. "It felt surreal—I couldn't believe I was about to win my first race," he replied, eyes shifting back to Aaronson, who was still rooted in place.

"And do you think more wins are on the horizon for Trampos Racing's Luca Rennick?"

"Yes," Luca said, holding Aaronson's gaze, unblinking.

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" Aaronson's voice boomed through the tunnel, halting the chaotic bustle. Heads turned as the Hatcherk Motorsport driver pointed sharply at Luca. "What the hell are you staring at, huh?!"

Luca frowned, playing it off with a shrug and a glance over his shoulder, as if confused.

"Don't you fucking play dumb!" Aaronson shouted, taking a step closer.

"Mr. Aaronson, please hold on, your interview is coming up," the reporter interjected, while Aaronson's crew struggled to hold him back.

Luca couldn't believe he found himself in a brawl.

"Take it easy, mate. I wasn't even looking at you," he said calmly as security rushed to form a barrier between him and the approaching F2 veteran.

Aaronson glared, spitting at the floor. "Get the cameras on me," he growled, thumping his chest. "He's a menace, a pest, and if nobody deals with him, I will."

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More security staff poured in as the commotion escalated, the tunnel turning into a frenzied scene. The Trampos team appeared on Luca's side, easing him back as Aaronson was forcibly guided away.

"What the heck happened?" Mr. Moritz asked, glancing around the crowded tunnel.

"He's just frustrated he didn't finish," Luca said, exhaling slowly.

A reporter tried pushing forward with more questions about what had just unfolded, but Moritz stepped in. "As you can see, our driver has a podium to attend," he said, steering Luca toward the 1st section where the podium awaited.

The tunnel may have been chaotic, but it was nothing compared to the uproar in the grandstands as Luca, Max, and Miles stepped out for the podium ceremony. The crowd was a whirlwind of shouts and chants, the earlier tunnel confrontation now looping on the big screens and fueling the energy. Opinions clashed in a roar, some cheering for Luca, others calling out Aaronson's name with pointed jeers.

Luca kept his expression neutral, though his pulse still thudded with the tension of moments earlier. He climbed the podium steps with confidence, determined to let nothing weigh down the joy of his first race win.

"1st Position, LUCA RENNICK!"

Luca waved enthusiastically to the crowd as Max Addams and Miles Bellingham were called up for P2 and P3 respectively. The cheers grew louder, the atmosphere electric with celebration.

The British national anthem began to play, accompanied by the raising of the UK flag at the four corners of the 1st Stand. Familiar with the anthem, Luca sang along confidently

As the anthem concluded, Luca stepped forward to receive his trophy. The crowd erupted once more, a mix of applause, cheers, and some lingering shouts from the earlier drama. He raised the trophy high, not for himself, but for his team, his family and his supporters.

Standing on the top step of the podium, Luca couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. He glanced to his right at Miles, who had always doubted his abilities and was now below him at P3. He imagined his schoolmates watching this moment—either from their homes or possibly among the roaring crowd in the grandstands. They were witnessing history: Luca Rennick, claiming the first-ever official F2 trophy in Stadhaven.

[Congratulations, host.]