Screeeech—
The tires shrieked on the edge of the track. The steering wheel vibrated violently in Kai's hands. The car was on a knife's edge, like the last withered leaf of autumn clinging desperately to a branch.
In the next second, it would spin. It would go off-track. The session would be over.
But inside the simulator, Kai was utterly focused. At this moment of extreme crisis, he became impossibly calm.
He knew he had made a mistake, a rookie mistake. He had turned in too aggressively on a cold start, hitting 110 km/h with no front-end grip. He was no longer in control.
Understeer.
The most classic, most dangerous corner-entry error.
Any other rookie would have already reflexively yanked the wheel and slammed the brakes, their nerves shot, and ended up either in the gravel or spinning like a top.
But Kai was not any other rookie.
Everything that happened next was pure instinct. His feel for the car, his innate sense of speed and direction, was a vivid, detailed picture in his mind. It wasn't just in his hands and feet; his back, his thighs, his very skin could feel every vibration, including the changes in the road surface.
He and the simulator had become one.
Brake!
His left foot stabbed the brake pedal with precision—it was light, fast, and sharp. But he had learned his lesson. This wasn't the gentle tap of a street car; he applied significantly more force, a decisive transfer of the axle load.
It was like giving the front axle a firm kick.
Instantly, the front wheels seemed to bite down. The speed dropped to around eighty-five kilometers per hour, and the steering wheel finally started to respond. Kai immediately released the brake, dialed a small amount of steering back toward the apex, and followed it with a touch of throttle.
The entire sequence was a single, fluid motion.
For a split second, with the front end now gripping, the car's nose miraculously tucked into the corner. But the rear wheels, still carried by their momentum, swung out, the tail of the car on the verge of sliding completely off the track.
A drift?
No, that wasn't what he wanted. A drift at this point would cost him tire grip and power; it wasn't the right move. But he knew this momentary slide was still an opportunity—a chance to turn a disadvantage into an advantage.
His actions were clean and decisive.
Kai instinctively felt the critical point of the slide. He applied a flick of counter-steer to catch the tail and simultaneously fed in a second burst of throttle. It was like correcting a spinning top, yanking the car back from the abyss and onto the proper line.
The car, teetering on the absolute limit as if on a high wire, impossibly stabilized itself and completed the corner exit in one smooth motion.
Speed, power, a high-speed exit. From chaos to correction to control, and finally, back on track. Before anyone could even blink, the rear of the car was gone.
Standing behind him, Monfardini held his breath, his pupils dilating.
Beautiful!
"Holy hell—"
Leclerc's eyes were glued to the screen, as if he wanted to climb right inside. The wild thumping of his heart was a roar in his ears.
His blood was on fire!
On the screen, the virtual car, which had been sliding right along the red-and-white kerb, had, in the thousandth of a second before flying off the track, bitten down hard and clawed its way back. It was like a wild stallion at the edge of a cliff, digging its hooves into the loose gravel to find its footing before executing a perfect, powerful flick of its tail.
"This guy!" Leclerc's eyes were shining with admiration. "He actually saved it!"
That split-second, instinctive reaction offered a stunning glimpse into the baby-faced kid's raw talent.
Inside the simulator, Kai's expression remained focused, as if the near-disaster had never happened. His hands made minute adjustments to the wheel, his eyes were locked on the track ahead, and his ears were tuned to the subtle whispers of the engine.
He wasn't recklessly chasing speed or trying to show off. He kept the car between 150 and 170 km/h, settling into a steady, exploratory rhythm.
He was feeling it.
The rhythm, the breathing, the throttle, the brakes, the tires, the chassis, even the vibrations of the air flowing over the car. It was as if he was the car.
Because he wasn't rushing, his control of the simulator started to become more fluid.
At the second corner, he corrected his braking point early, easing off the throttle and hitting the apex on the ideal line, entering and exiting in one clean motion.
The third corner was more complex, a tricky double-apex. He initiated the turn early, loading up the outside of the car, then used its stability to naturally transition and clip the second apex, sliding right along the edge of the track.
But it wasn't that simple. A Formula car was a different beast.
The slightest error, and the clumsiness was hard to hide.
Theoretically, the top speeds weren't worlds apart. An F4 car maxed out at around 230 km/h. Matteo's modified Shelby from last night had an even higher top speed on paper.
But that was just a number.
On the narrow, wet streets of Rome, the Shelby had only briefly touched 160 km/h. But this simulator had no streets, no manhole covers, no gravel, no streetlights. It was unleashing the full, unadulterated performance of an F4 car.
Street racing was a test of courage and experience. Formula racing was a comprehensive test of precision, patience, and technique.
Right now, Kai wasn't pushing to the absolute limit, but his speed was already easily surpassing the 120 km/h limit of the Rome ring road. Even his exit speed on a medium-speed corner was breaking 150 km/h.
The faster you go, the smaller the margin for error.
In this simulator, every millimeter of throttle input had to be carefully controlled. Every application of the brakes required anticipating the load shift between the front and rear wheels. A moment's hesitation could lead to a locked tire, a slide, a total loss of control.
Moreover, the fundamental logic of driving a Formula car was different.
There was no ABS, no traction control. Steering, braking, acceleration—it was all in the driver's hands. The slightest deviation in steering angle, or a braking point that was half a second too late, could send the car into a spin, off the track, or into a wall.
It was more than just a difference in speed.
He had to learn everything, slowly.
To make matters worse, after a short while, the G-force began to set in.
In F1, G-force is the incredible load a driver experiences during high-speed acceleration, braking, and cornering. Measured in Gs, where 1G is the force of Earth's gravity, an F1 driver can experience up to 5Gs in a fast corner, meaning they feel a force equivalent to five times their own body weight.
This puts immense physical pressure on the body. The most direct effect is on the neck muscles, but the internal organs are also compressed, requiring superhuman physical strength and endurance. The rapid changes in direction can cause dizziness, and the cardiovascular system is put under strain as the heart has to work harder to pump blood. Prolonged exposure leads to fatigue, affecting reaction time and decision-making.
Of course, in a simulator, the G-force was a pale imitation of the real thing, probably only 20% to 50% as strong. And Kai was in an F4 simulation, a world away from F1. At most, the pressure on his neck was equivalent to a thirty-pound weight.
But he felt its effects quickly nonetheless.
The g-load during cornering, braking, and accelerating was like an invisible hand pressing on his shoulders, squeezing his neck, and making his ears ring. The seat tilted to simulate cornering pressure, the seatbelts tightened, and his blood circulation seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. Even as a simulation, the physical feedback was enough to make his wrists ache and his vision blur.
And yet, in the midst of that growing dizziness, Kai felt something else… a strange sense of excitement.
The door to a whole new world was slowly swinging open before him.
So, this was… the feeling of a fish taking to water?