At P6, Luca Rennick was racing under the attention of the cameras. The leaderboard was still a high-stakes puzzle, reshaped by pit cycles and tire phases, leaving the order a mess of differing strategies. But despite the disarray, the leading group was stretched apart rather than a train. P1 was Ailbeart, running long on his stint, and extremely consistent at every sector. Antonio Luigi had failed several times to take the lead from him since Luca surrendered it. The Renault was so rigid and aerodynamically stiff for an F1 machine that Luigi wondered if Haddock Racing had some secret formula that kept it planted.

But the thing is, Ailbeart Moireach was a racer of tire intelligence.

Many other drivers just raced, but Ailbeart raced in a way that made the tires last longer. It’s actually kind of insane because his car has so much power that it usually melts the tires in just a few laps, but he makes them last forever! Every lap he stayed out was a threat, because when he finally pitted, he would come back with fresher tires that could attack the closing stages! He was Luca’s only true competitor in this field of Tire Management, and many might say Ailbeat Moireach is the best Super Driver.

Behind sat Antonio Luigi in P2, a position he had tasted far too much this season. Everyone could see he was trying to build a gap before his stop, and trying to jump the field when the cycle completed. Fast. Emotional. Always on the edge of overdriving. That was Antonio Luigi.

Buoso Di Renzo was more or less becoming like him. In P5, he had yet to visit the pit lane, and the pit window was slowly drifting away. Instead, he was locked fiercely with Outback’s Luis Dreyer, who had already undercut the entire top five and was running on warm, perfect softs.

And unlike the top three who had some gaps between them, Dreyer and Di Renzo were nose-to-tail, lap after lap, their battle intense but controlled. Dreyer’s Red Bull was brutally powerful on the straights, the engine screaming as it blasted down Baku’s long main straight, while Di Renzo’s machine looked more nimble through the technical sections, rotating beautifully through the castle complex and the tight ninety-degree corners. Under normal circumstances, one of them would have forced a move already. But Baku’s narrow streets nerfed the fight, turning what should have been aggressive overtakes into a tense stalemate.

Luca watched them from a distance, measuring sectors instead of chasing recklessly.

P4— Luis Dreyer (+1.082)

P5— Buoso Di Renzo (+1.177)

P6— Luca Rennick (+4.051)

For some reason, the gap ahead was way too large for a direct attack.

The best move for Rennick was keeping a controlled pace and establishing dominance over drivers P7–P10. After all, Marko Ignatova was right behind him.

Up ahead, Dreyer and Di Renzo continued their fierce but calculated duel—and then, almost like teammates executing a planned maneuver, they caught Jimmy Damgaard.

After his pit stop, Jimmy Damgaard was still in that awkward phase—still managing temperatures, still balancing push and preservation. But the rivals behind him weren’t merciful at all. Dreyer struck first, using straight-line speed to slip past. Then Di Renzo followed, capitalizing immediately, passing Damgaard within the next sequence of corners. Just like that, he dropped from P3 to P5, eliciting cheers from the stands.

"...In the space of three corners, Jimmy Damgaard has tumbled from a podium spot to P5. The crowd is absolutely electric, but for Jimmy, the rhythm of this race has completely fallen into disharmony!"

"WOOOOOHHHH!"

As Luca crested the rise toward Turn 15 and accelerated onto the straight, he saw it in the distance...

A familiar rear.

A glint of the RBioL

It felt like seeing an old friend

The lead finally shifted as Ailbeart Moireach surrendered his position, diving into the pits to swap out his blistering tires. His tires had run their phase, and pushing longer would only compromise his exit. As he disappeared into the pit entry, Antonio Luigi inherited P1, the black car taking the lead of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

For the Squadra Corse supporters, it was a beautiful sight. The picture of Antonio Luigi reclaiming P1 was a moment of triumph to cheer. Their lead driver, their champion, back where he belonged—at the front of the race, controlling the pace, commanding the field.

But not everyone in black was celebrating.

Many fans knew Luigi was running a compromised strategy.

Earlier in the season, there had been races where Squadra Corse left Luigi out too long in the lead, trying to control the race from the front, only for it to backfire when rivals who had pitted earlier came back with fresher tires and took the win in the final phase. It had happened more than once, and each time the fans asked the same question:

Do they never learn?

But what many of these fans seem to forget is that their team, Squadra Corse, did not race with one driver—they raced with two.

Unlike teams like Velocità, who clearly prioritized their lead driver, or Trampos, who were beginning to lean more heavily toward Luca as their championship spearhead, Squadra Corse operated differently. The core belief is that the team’s total points—the Constructors’ Championship—is more important than which specific driver wins. It doesn’t matter who crosses the finish line first as long as both cars get a lot of points for the team. They’d rather have a 2nd and 4th place finish than one 1st place and one 10th place.

While Luigi stayed out and controlled the front, Marko Ignatova had already pitted earlier for the undercut. Clean air, fresh tires, aggressive laps—he would gain time while the others were stuck in traffic or managing worn rubber. By splitting their pit windows wide apart, Squadra Corse ensured that at least one car was always dictating the pace of the lead pack while the other worked a high-speed recovery. This dual-threat approach was designed to keep both drivers firmly within the top five, regardless of individual race wins. Because while Luigi’s grip on the Drivers’ Championship was beginning to slip slightly this season, the Constructors’ Championship was still very much in Squadra Corse’s hands.

Their current position at the top of the Constructors’ standings was proof that the system worked.

Back on track, Luca focused on his own race, the city walls flashing past in tight grey blurs as he accelerated onto the long home straight. The car felt alive now, the earlier issues fading into the background, the tires in their window, the balance sharp.

Then he felt a prickle of <Spatial Awareness>

Luca’s <Spatial Awareness> skill had become incredibly powerful over the season. It helped him predict incidents perfectly and also anticipate precisely. Now, he could even sense a rival leaving the pit lane while he was on the home straight.

Mapping the delta on his dash and cross-referencing the timing loops, Luca didn’t need the radio to tell him who it was.

Emerging from the pit exit, the bronze machine of The Hammer, Ailbeart Moireach, was rejoining the fray ahead of him.