F1: The Speed Legend

”P1.”

”Kai, that’s P1.”

Borreipaire’s voice was calm. To be honest, after Lap 2, the race had entered ”garbage time.” No one could even get close to Kai.

There was no tension.

It all felt perfectly natural. And yet, Borreipaire could still feel his blood boiling, an indescribable excitement surging through him.

It was precisely because it was ”boring,” because there were no waves, no surprises, that Kai’s ability was so starkly highlighted. He had completely controlled the race, strangling every last bit of suspense.

Before this weekend, Borreipaire had been a wreck of anxiety, imagining a thousand ways things could go wrong. Now, all that worry was gone.

This sense of security... Kai had given it to him.

For a race team, this was the dream: a clean race, clock out, go home.

Kai’s calm voice came over the radio. ”Received.”

Borreipaire: ???

”Received?” What kind of response was that?

Stunned, Borreipaire tried again, wanting to remind his driver that this was his first ever official race. ”Excellent race, Kai. You controlled it from Lap 1. Your rhythm and tire management were top-tier. That was a dominant performance. Congratulations, Kai. Your first GP3 win.”

Then, a low chuckle came through the headset. ”Baby, baby, baby, oh...”

Borreipaire’s face fell.

”Come on, Pierre,” Kai teased. ”I’m still waiting.”

Borreipaire: ... ”Kai, I’m going offline. Radio check over.”

”Hahahaha!”

In the Sky Sports commentary booth, the radio transmission was broadcast live. Croft and Brundle exchanged confused looks.

Croft hesitated, then smiled. ”Well, it seems that’s an inside joke. Some behind-the-scenes banter we’re not privy to. But you can tell Kai and Pierre Borreipaire are off to a great start. The season has just begun, and they already have inside jokes.”

Clearly, this was a bit different from the rumors of a disjointed team.

Croft glanced at his partner. ”Martin, do you want to give it a try? ’Baby, baby, baby, oh...’?”

Brundle looked at the humming Croft like he’d seen a ghost, choking on his words. ”Let’s... let’s look at the rest of the classification...”

Croft roared with laughter. ”Hahaha!”

If you only focused on Kai, this year’s GP3 Barcelona race was boring.

In the 22-lap feature race, Kai crossed the finish line a full 11.807 seconds ahead of second place.

He hadn’t just pulled a gap on the first lap; over the next 20 laps, even while managing his pace, he had continued to extend his lead.

If the race had been a few laps longer, he would have started lapping the backmarkers. In a spec series like GP3, that is incredibly rare.

Dominance. Pure dominance.

But if you looked away from Kai, the race was a completely different story. The chaotic first lap and Kai’s runaway pace had lit a fire under the other drivers. They dug deep, fighting tooth and nail, turning the usually processional Barcelona race into a thriller.

2nd Place: Leonardo Pulcini (Arden).

3rd Place: Alessio Lorandi (Jenzer).

The two Italians crossed the line separated by less than 0.4 seconds, their knife-edge battle continuing to the very last meter.

4th Place: George Russell (ART).

5th Place: Antoine Hubert (ART).

6th Place: Dorian Boccolacci (Trident).

These three were slightly more spread out, but the gaps were still only around a second. The pressure was constant until the final lap; one small mistake would have changed the order instantly.

Further back, Trident’s Alesi, who had qualified 7th but started 10th due to a 3-place grid penalty for his dangerous driving in qualifying, had a nightmare race. His aggressive, reckless style cost him dearly again, and he finished a lowly 17th.

And then there was ART’s Jack Aitken. After his nightmare first lap, he had shown his class, fighting his way back up the field. Despite the difficulty of overtaking at Barcelona, he climbed position after position. But he pushed too hard. His tires were shot by the second half of the race, and on Lap 16, he lost the rear in Turn 10. He didn’t hit the wall, but he damaged his front wing and had to limp back to the pits to retire.

Looking at the final classification, only Kai and Russell had held their qualifying positions. The top eight had been completely reshuffled.

On the ”boring” Barcelona circuit, this was truly rare.

The cool-down lap complete, Kai slowly drove his car into the parc fermé area under the podium. He removed his helmet and HANS device and climbed out of the cockpit.

In that moment, the joy and happiness he had been suppressing came rushing back. His focus finally broke from the car and returned to reality. Gravity pulled him back to earth, and as he saw Borreipaire and the team running toward him, the adrenaline and dopamine exploded.

”Victory!”

Kai stood on the car, raising both arms high, shouting to the sky. His smile was wide and unrestrained, his heart swelling like a balloon, soaring up to embrace the sun.

The feeling was different. Truly different. It was victory, it was speed, but more than that, it was the feeling of becoming one with the machine and challenging the limit.

It was a happiness that words couldn’t describe.

In the crowd, Borreipaire cheered along with the team. Watching the figure bathed in sunlight, looking like Apollo descending, the brilliant gold dazzling his eyes, he felt his own heart skip a beat.

After the brief podium ceremony, where Kai, Pulcini, and Lorandi collected their trophies, hugged, and congratulated each other, Kai turned away.

The real celebration was with his team.

ART was jubilant. They had come into the weekend confident of sweeping the podium, but the race had been a wild ride, with three different teams taking the top three spots.

Before the season, everyone thought ART would dominate. But the first weekend had proven that prediction wrong.

Against this backdrop, the dominant victory of the outsider, Kai, was even more precious. The team needed this confidence boost.

Who would have thought the season opener would be saved by the rookie who had popped out of a rock?

One by one, they hugged him, welcoming their conquering hero home. Hubert gave him a massive bear hug.

”Congratulations!” Kai said.

”Congratulations!” Hubert said.

They spoke at the same time, exchanged a look, and seeing the same excitement in each other’s eyes, burst out laughing.

Kai meant it.

Hubert had started P9 and fought his way up to P5. For a driver with no sponsorship, relying entirely on his own talent, this race was incredibly valuable. It could be the turning point of his career.

So Hubert, too, had won a major victory today.

But the happy atmosphere didn’t last long. A discordant voice cut through the celebration.

”What the hell were you doing in Turn 2?”

It was Russell.

~~----------------------

Patreon Advance Chapters:

[email protected] / Dreamer20