Lap 4.
The tension on the track was suffocating.
Dominik Corvinus held P5, but he was the cork in the bottle. Behind him, a train of cars—Russell, Alonso, Ocon, Bottas—were nose-to-tail, separated by mere meters.
His pace management had bunched the field up so tightly that one mistake would cause a multi-car pileup. But it had also helped Alex Albon and Lando Norris behind the train to gain track position on the strategy delta.
"Watch your mirrors," Gaëtan Jego warned over the radio. "Russell is at 0.5. He is in the window."
In Budapest, the M4 Sport commentators were analyzing the battle.
"Dominik is playing a dangerous game. If Russell gets a run into the final sector, the Williams won't have the grip to defend."
"He won't pass," Dominik muttered to himself, adjusting his differential for the high-speed sweeps.
He decided to stop managing. It was time to push.
"What is George's pace?"
"Mid 34s," Gaëtan replied.
Dominik unleashed the FW44. The blue car surged forward, breaking the rhythm of the train. He pushed through the high-speed Sector 1, using the clean air to gap the Mercedes.
But the Williams had an Achilles' heel: Turn 27. The final hairpin.
As they approached the end of the lap, Dominik checked his mirrors. The silver Mercedes W13 was bouncing violently over the bumps, sparks showering from its floor, but it was close.
Russell had timed it perfectly. He stayed just behind the DRS detection point entering the corner, ensuring he would have the advantage on the next straight.
Dominik braked for the hairpin. The rear end of the Williams squirmed, the tires overheating from the high-speed pushing. He missed the apex by a fraction.
That was all Russell needed.
The Mercedes dove down the inside. The move was clinical. Russell took the line, forcing Dominik wide on the exit.
"He's through!" Gaëtan shouted.
They hit the main straight. Because Russell had been behind at the detection line, his rear wing snapped open. DRS Active.
Dominik slammed his own throttle, chasing the silver car. He switched to Overtake Mode (SOC 3), draining the battery to stay in the fight.
He pulled out of Russell's slipstream, feinting a move to the inside for Turn 1.
Russell didn't even flinch. He knew the Williams didn't have the brakes or the low-speed grip to make it stick around the outside of the chicane. He claimed the racing line, shutting the door firmly.
Dominik slotted back in. P6.
"Damn it!" Dominik shouted, hitting the steering wheel.
"Calm down, Dominik," Gaëtan's voice was soothing but firm. "Save the tires. Recharge the battery. Switch to SOC 7."
"I had him," Dominik seethed.
"Forget him. Focus behind. Alonso is coming. He is 0.4 seconds faster per lap."
Dominik took a deep breath. He checked his mirrors. The silver Mercedes was gone, replaced by a menacing flash of pink and blue.
Fernando Alonso. The double World Champion. The "Old Fox" of the grid.
It was the youngest driver on the grid vs the oldest. The Rookie vs The Matador.
Lap 6.
Dominik gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He had lost one position. He refused to lose another.
"Alonso is in DRS range," Gaëtan warned. "He is very close."
They rocketed down the main straight. The Alpine A522 was a missile in a straight line, and with DRS open, it was closing at a terrifying rate.
In the mirrors, Dominik saw the pink nose cone growing larger. And larger.
Alonso pulled out to the left, aiming for the inside line into Turn 1.
Dominik made a choice.
At 320 km/h, just as Alonso's front wing overlapped with his rear wheel, Dominik yanked the steering wheel to the left.
It was a violent, aggressive chop. A "statement" move.
The rear of the FW44 swung across the track, instantly closing the space.
Alonso reacted with the reflexes of a twenty-year-old, swerving further left to avoid a collision. His tires kicked up a cloud of dust as he was forced onto the dirty line, inches from the concrete wall.
The M4 Sport commentary booth erupted.
"Istenem! Did you see that?!"Gábor Wéber shouted. "That was brutal! He just slammed the door in Fernando Alonso's face!"
"That is on the limit!" his co-commentator gasped. "He forced a double world champion into the dust at 300 kph! The kid has no fear!"
Alonso backed out, forced to lift. Dominik claimed the apex of Turn 1, keeping P6.
"He tried to kill me!" Alonso shouted over the Alpine radio. "The Williams! Dangerous driving!"
"Nice defense," Gaëtan said, though he sounded slightly shaken. "But... keep it clean, Dominik. That was very late."
"I'm not losing this position," Dominik hissed through gritted teeth. "Not to him. Not to anyone."