My Formula 1 System-Chapter 646: S3 German Grand Prix. 3

They say that the person who laughs last laughs the best, and at the German Grand Prix, the Trampos Racing were laughing really, really loud. They didn’t even care if it looked like they were showing off—because they were.

They had to wait five whole races for this moment. For five rounds, they were subdued and unnerved by their rivals, but now they were enjoying every single bit of it. The stands were totally covered in red and black colors. About 40% of the crowd were locals, so loud with drums and chants, they drowned out everything else.

Flags blew hard in the wind, and their choruses sounded like thunder, while rival fans of teams like Squadra and Velocita looked super small and lost in the middle of the German pride.

The intimidation didn’t begin at the circuit; it started miles away on the roads. All the streets leading to the race were covered in Trampos colors, and there were giant banners declaring the nation’s dominance in this event. There were huge billboards of Luca Rennick looking like a hero from a movie, with his helmet on, visor lowered, and a dead, frigid look in his eyes. Even the hotels and train stations had Trampos signs on them. It was like the whole country had teamed up just for this one race!

It was a suffocating show of unity, designed to remind every visiting fan and rival exactly where they were—and who ruled here.

It wasn’t entirely clear how much this affected drivers like Luigi psychologically, but watching Luca command the race while the whole country cheered, it was hard not to feel like you were the little guy on German soil.

Position | Team | Points

-----------------------------------

1. | Luca Rennick | 265

2. | Jimmy Damgaard | 225

3. | Ailbeart Moireach | 206

4. | Antonio Luigi | 202

5. | Luis Dreyer | 146

Whenever Luigi thought about the championship points, it felt like a heavy rock sitting in his stomach. He wasn’t the titan of the track like he was last year. Now, he actually felt like the little guy in the top four, and his throne was slipping away.

The gap was 63 points.

The number stuck in his head, feeling like someone was making fun of him.

There weren’t many races left, and it felt embarrassing for the reigning champion to be so far behind Luca Rennick, who was leading everything and looked like he couldn’t be caught.

If only Luigi hadn’t gone eight straight races this year without winning once. If only he had stamped his authority early, Rennick would never have built this avalanche of momentum, nor would Jimmy Damgaard have grown so emboldened.

Luigi’s jaw tightened.

Perhaps finesse was no longer enough. Maybe this new era demanded something different to stand out. If he raced as the OGs did in the 90s, where risk, intimidation, and aggression decided champions, there could be a change.

Desperate to keep his crown, Luigi made a dangerous resolution: he would fight fire with fire.

Meanwhile, Victor was already fighting his own fire—whether he liked it or not.

Jimmy Damgaard had finally reached escape velocity. At this stage of the race, he was a landslide with a steering wheel, the eye of a kinetic storm, with the momentum of a falling moon.

It was expected. A car that steady and fast wasn’t supposed to linger at the back with the slower chassis. With the tires at a blistering, white-hot peak and the engine screaming at the redline, the RBioL seemed to wake up more with every lap as the race began boiling over.

Yūichirō felt Jimmy coming even before he saw blue in his mirrors. Alpine engineers on the pit wall didn’t even bother feeding him an elaborate defensive plan. There was no point. Any desperate block, any late weave, would have risked destabilizing the car and inviting chaos. Instead, they told him to just stay on his line, keep it clean, and not get into a fight he couldn’t win. It felt bad to just give up the spot, but it was the smart thing to do.

When Damgaard finally zoomed past, it didn’t even look like a normal pass—it was like he just pushed the air out of the way. A blur of silver and blue that left the car behind shaking in the wind.

Yūichirō shuddered as the Red Bull missile thundered by.

P14– Jimmy Damgaard ↑

P15– Yokouchi Yūichirō ↓

Seconds later, when he realized Jimmy was moving on and was now stuck to the rear of Victor’s car, he felt some relief knowing that someone else was going to face that problem, too.

But unlike Yokouchi Yūichirō, Victor was not about to acquiesce because the car behind him had a faster engine and a louder reputation.

This was the very same Jimmy Damgaard who had boxed him out of the track at Interlagos. That crash ended Victor’s race in Brazil on a day when he actually felt like he was doing great. Thinking about it now made him feel really determined, like a fire was lit inside him.

Jimmy, on the other hand, was clearly fighting back, and the normally unflappable Velocità driver looked faintly irritated to find a rookie refusing to move aside.

From Lap 15 into Lap 17, the two cars became a single, stretched chain across the track. On the straights, Jimmy loomed in Victor’s mirrors, pulling slightly, only for Victor to brake later and carry more mid-corner speed through the flowing corner.

Into Turn 6, Damgaard tried to shove the nose of his car inside for a quick pass, but he changed his mind at the last millisecond to avoid a contact that risked him more than Victor. Victor responded by widening his exit just enough to protect the inside of the next turn.

Jimmy was better at getting power out of the corners and supreme traction, but Victor was being braver when turning in, using his lead to his advantage.

Down the back straight on Lap 16, Damgaard eventually tucked into the slipstream, DRS flap whispering open, but moved over early, forcing a longer line to make him take the long way around.

Tense—yet smart and careful. Jimmy had the faster car, but Victor was being super stubborn. For two whole laps, that never-give-up attitude turned Jimmy’s speed into a real struggle.

But what happens when Jimmy Damgaard finally loses his cool?

The twelve-time Grand Prix winner had had enough of trading millimetres with a driver who had only tasted the top ten twice and still drove like he was trying to prove he belonged.

Flicking through his pad with precision, Jimmy increased his lock-in on entry, stiffened the rear anti-roll balance, and trimmed engine mapping to a more aggressive mode that delivered sharper throttle response. He was making the car tougher, like he was ready to survive a crash if he had to.

He chose his moment at the early hairpin, the very place Victor often struggled with the swirling crosswinds. As they both feathered their brakes, Jimmy went a little faster than he should have, his front nose edging alongside the scarlet Ferrari, wheels almost brushing as the track rotated.

Suddenly, the nice rhythm they had broke apart, turning into a messy swerving. Both cars were sliding, and you could hear the tires screaming as they fought for the same spot on the track.

SHreesshh!

**Keep it easy on the tires, Vic...**

Victor didn’t have Luca’s <Spatial Awareness>, but he could still feel that things were about to go wrong. Instead of being just as mean back, he played smart, slowing down his movements and braking much earlier to give his rival some room, even if it meant him finally getting past. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"You’ll crash, mister, be careful," Victor muttered backhandedly.

GRAAAM! —

ScReeeCH!

CHUTCHK!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"

"..SECTOR 1..."

Everything happened all at once, so fast, no one could register.

Victor’s heart rate spiked as he drove out of T4 and turned into T5. The cockpit seemed to narrow, the steering wheel suddenly heavier, the world sharpened into a razor edge of sight and sound.

Quickly, he looked in his mirrors. There sat a Red Bull beyond the track, shrouded by a thick cloud of tire smoke. It looked like a giant storm cloud made of burnt rubber and dirt.

When the crash finally settled halfway, the RBioL was just sitting there, stalled, and pointing the completely wrong way off the track.

**Victor, confirm status—are you okay? Any contact? Damage?**

Victor’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. His breathing was fast and shallow like he’d just finished a sprint.

What... just... happened?

Just moments ago, he was in the most intense, adult, knife-edge duel of his career, going wheel-to-wheel with JIMMY DAMGAARD. Heat in every corner. Inches of space. Zero contact. Pure combat.

And then—boom—nothing but smoke and a spinning car. Not him, but Jimmy?

Jimmy Damgaard actually spun out and crashed from a duel with Victor?