"No, Kai, don't do this to me!"
Ricciardo wailed over the radio, dramatic as ever, but his hands were busy squeezing Kai's racing line. He forced Kai, who was on the outside, to take an even wider arc through the hairpin, trying to use the Red Bull's mid-corner grip to hold off the attack at Turn 3.
Ricciardo was calm and composed.
Stuck to Ricciardo's rear left tire, Kai had no choice. Ricciardo watched the red car in his mirrors like a hawk. Just when everyone—including Ricciardo—thought Kai would try to out-brake him, he suddenly noticed... Kai was gone!
What happened? Ricciardo searched for Kai's position, but his peripheral vision caught only a blur of red in his left mirror, burning against the green run-off.
A second later, he saw the red flash in his right mirror, surging forward like a flame.
Shit!
Ricciardo realized he'd been played. He thought he had the initiative, but his defensive move was exactly what Kai had predicted.
Kai's feint to the left was a trap. He knew Ricciardo would squeeze the line and brake late to defend the inside, parking the car across the apex to force Kai wide.
Since it was a trap, Kai came prepared.
He didn't try to out-brake Ricciardo. Instead, he braked earlier. With millimeter precision, he separated their braking points. The longitudinal gap opened up instantly.
Previously, Kai's front right was blocked by Ricciardo's rear left. But now, with space created, Kai followed the natural arc of the hairpin. With perfect steering and brake modulation, he cut underneath Ricciardo's rear.
From left to right. From outside to inside. The classic switchback!
Not only did he switch lines, but his fluid control allowed him to hit the apex first.
Ricciardo's extreme late braking missed the ideal line, leaving the inside wide open. In a flash, the cars crossed paths. The momentum, the advantage, the aura—everything flipped.
Ricciardo's jaw dropped. It was too late to adjust. He could only watch helplessly as the red car sliced into the gap, using superior traction to power out of the corner.
He was helpless.
"KAI!"
In the commentary booth, Croft slammed the desk.
"Beautiful setup! Brilliant execution! Perfect overtake!"
"Clean, direct, no loose ends. More importantly, Kai's judgment of the car's grip was astounding. He completed the pass with minimal tire wear. A calculated strike! Now, only Verstappen stands in his way!"
Praise and gasps filled the air.
"Verstappen vs. Kai" was coming!
Although they had battled before, this was the first time the two young prodigies would fight directly for a race win.
From Shanghai to Monaco, Kai and Ricciardo had delivered classics. Now, it was Max's turn.
The crowd erupted!
However, it wasn't that simple. Verstappen was way down the road, in a rhythm of his own. With Ricciardo holding Kai up, the gap was over eight seconds.
The Ferrari setup was generally weaker than the Red Bull's on long runs today. Both Max and Kai were on Soft tires that were nearly 20 laps old. The "cliff" was approaching. With over 30 laps to go, Kai had to chase while saving tires for a potential end-of-race battle.
Hard. Almost impossible.
The initiative lay entirely with Verstappen. Unless Max made a mistake and binned it, catching and passing him seemed like a fantasy. The "Duel of Prodigies" might just be wishful thinking.
Most likely outcome? The gap would stabilize or grow, and Max would cruise to victory.
The pit wall felt the pressure too. It was all on Kai's shoulders.
Greenwood's throat was dry. "Kai, you have 33 laps to close 8 seconds. We need 33 qualifying laps from you."
He paused. "But P2 is already excellent. Bringing it home is a great result." Greenwood was conservative.
Kai's voice came back over the radio, relaxed and smiling. "Copy. Thanks, David."
33 qualifying laps? Without destroying the tires? And passing a car at the end?
This was more exciting than Monaco.
Kai felt a thrill.
Then, the race turned again. Lap 39, Ricciardo's tires gave up. He pitted for a second time, losing track position.
The one-stop strategy failed for him. Attention shifted to Max and Kai, whose tires were in similar condition.
While Ricciardo pitted, Vettel and Hamilton engaged in a fierce battle. Vettel pulled off a beautiful inside move to take P3.
Two four-time champions going wheel-to-wheel! The crowd went wild!
Unexpectedly, Ferrari was fighting back. Kai and Vettel were both in podium positions, while Mercedes and Red Bull faltered. The momentum shifted again.
The Ferrari garage was ecstatic. Their neighbors were frozen. Heaven and hell, separated by a thin wall.
And it wasn't over.
Lap 54: Ricciardo retired.
Lap 56: Hartley retired.
Lap 64: Hamilton retired.
All due to Power Unit failures!
Silence fell over the Mercedes garage. Wolff stared in disbelief. The dream of a 1-2 finish had turned into a nightmare. Their most reliable component had failed them.
Red Bull was no better. Ricciardo's retirement put all the pressure on Verstappen. The garage prayed his engine would hold.
Suddenly, the mood on the Ferrari pit wall changed.
Maybe they didn't need to risk everything for the win. Maybe securing a double podium finish was the priority.
Greenwood warned Kai: "Stay calm. Don't rush."
Radio silence.
No response.
At Ferrari, Vettel was Number 1. Kai was Number 2. Arrivabene had made that clear when signing him.
Kai didn't forget. But Arrivabene kept reminding him with actions.
Just moments ago, they wanted him to chase the win. Now, they wanted him to play it safe.
Theoretically, it made sense for the team. But reality?
When Vettel passed Hamilton, he was 7 seconds behind Kai. Now, the gap was 2 seconds. Vettel was pushing.
Ferrari's advantage in hot conditions applied to both cars.
Was Arrivabene telling Vettel to play it safe too? And even if he did, would Vettel listen?
So, what was next?
Team orders for Kai to let Vettel pass so he could chase Verstappen? Even though Kai was ahead in the championship?
Hehe.
Kai ignored the radio.
His focus wasn't behind him. It was ahead. His target was always one thing: Verstappen.
Since passing Ricciardo, Kai had been calculating. Adjusting every lap.
Just like Monaco, he found a way through the chaos.
His advantage over Monaco? Time. He had 30+ laps to execute.
First half: Boiling the frog. Increasing pace incrementally, closing in on Max without alarming Red Bull. Saving tires.
Ricciardo's retirement was a turning point. Not because of the VSC (there wasn't one), but because of Red Bull's caution.
Track temps were rising. Red Bull struggled; Ricciardo blistered his tires and then blew his engine. Max faced the same risk.
Ferrari, conversely, loved the heat. Tires worked perfectly. This gave Kai room to change strategy.
Horner's distrust of Renault engines peaked. That anxiety played into Kai's hands.
Second half: Kai entered "Push Mode." He set four fastest laps in seven laps.
Actually, analyzing the data, his pace wasn't that much faster. He was running at Q2 pace, not fully maxing out. But the visual of purple sectors pressured Max.
Against a veteran like Hamilton, this might not work. But against the fiery Verstappen? Max would respond.
When Max sped up, his tire wear accelerated in the heat.
But Kai held his Q2 pace, keeping his tires in the window while pressuring Max into burning his.
First 15 laps: Kai gained 2 seconds.
Next 10 laps (after Max sped up): Kai gained 4 seconds.
Gap: under 2 seconds. The net was cast. Time to haul it in.
Would Kai abandon a 30-minute setup just because the team got nervous about Vettel?
No. Vettel didn't matter. Max was the prey.
The crowd held its breath. The three leaders were now in the same camera shot. Just like France, the suspense returned at the end!
Verstappen felt the pressure. It was suffocating.
"Fuck! Tires are blistering! I'm losing grip!"
"These brakes are a joke! Are they from 1969?"
Horner felt it too. "Copy, Max. Hang in there. 6 laps to go."
Red Bull had lost one car. They couldn't lose the win.
Ironically, Red Bull had lost control. Horner looked at the Ferrari garage and prayed they would be stupid.
"Come on, Seb," Horner whispered. If Vettel caught Kai and attacked, it would save Max.
But instead of Vettel catching Kai, Kai caught Max.
1.7s!
1.4s!
0.9s!
Gasps filled the air. Kai found another gear. Two fastest laps in three laps.
He was in DRS range. Vettel had fallen back to 2.5s.
Silence!
The heat at the Red Bull Ring seemed to freeze time.
Max was within reach. But Kai remained calm.
Remembering France, he knew Max's talent. Even with no grip and bad brakes, Max could extract speed.
Kai respected Max. That meant he prepared for a fight to the death.
He had spent the whole race setting this up. A rash move now would ruin everything.
Patience. Focus. The final duel.
Lap 69: Turn 1. Kai looked inside. Max slammed the door. The crowd gasped, fearing a Baku repeat.
"God! Millimeters! They almost touched!"
Lap 70: Turn 3. Kai looked outside. Max braked impossibly late, holding the apex and using exit speed to stay ahead. The tension was unbearable.
"Incredible defense!"
Lap 71: Final lap. Nose to tail across the line.
Win or lose. Right here.
Tension!
Both prodigies were giving 100%. Tires were dead, grip was gone, but they pushed. They left Vettel in the dust.
All eyes on the front two.
Turn 1: Max covered the inside aggressively. No gap. He exited first.
Turn 3: DRS zone. Max saw Kai's nose dip inside. He reacted instantly, cutting to the inside line to defend. Muscle memory from the last three laps kicked in.
Late brake. Hold the line.
But this time... "The Dummy."
Kai didn't dive. He didn't brake late.
Max couldn't pull back.
It was a trap.
Max realized it instantly. Kai had conditioned him for three laps. He didn't have time to admire the strategy; survival instinct took over.
Max's style: The Torpedo.
Hard, sharp, risky. Walking the razor's edge.
Since Monaco, he had matured, finding the line between brave and reckless. But it was still blurry. Kai blurred it further, forcing an error.
Kai's patience paid off. The previous attacks were probes. Now, the trap was sprung.
Turn 3 was the killing ground. Kai was at his peak.
Max realized the trap. He didn't retreat. He committed to the late brake, drifting wide to squeeze Kai's exit.
Then he saw Kai brake early, cutting underneath his rear wing to the apex.
Gotcha!
Max's eyes lit up. Kai had used this move on Ricciardo. Max had asked about it over the radio.
If Kai set a trap, why not use it against him?
Seeing Kai cut inside, Max managed the throttle and steering on the limit. Despite zero grip, his car control kept him parallel. He used superior exit momentum to stay ahead!
Thrilling!
"Side by side on exit!"
Max didn't celebrate. He floored it. The run to Turn 4 is the fastest part of the track. 320 km/h.
Horner sweated bullets, praying the Renault engine wouldn't blow. He hadn't expected Kai to be this threatening at the end.
Was the tire struggle a bluff?
But looking at Vettel dropping back, no. This was pure driver skill.
But Horner knew Kai hadn't played his ace yet.
Turn 4. Max used his momentum to stay ahead. The Ferrari engine power helped Kai, but the straight wasn't long enough. Max entered first.
Max chopped inside, braking late to hug the apex. But his tires were screaming. The rear stepped out. The rhythm broke.
Kai, seemingly committed to the inside, switched to the outside line. He abandoned the fight for the apex to focus on the exit.
Entry: Kai behind.
Exit: Kai ahead.
Then, the S-curves (Turns 5-6, 7-8). Where Max passed Kai on Lap 1. Red Bull had the grip advantage then.
Now, it was reversed.
Max fought the car, sliding. Kai was smooth. Ferrari grip > Red Bull grip (at this stage).
Wheel to wheel!
Shoulder to shoulder!
Sweating, gritting teeth. But the #22 Ferrari found better traction. It pulled ahead inch by inch.
Exiting the complex, Kai was half a car length up.
Gasp!
Opportunity!
Kai had waited for this moment. He straightened the wheel and mashed the throttle.
Like an arrow leaving the bow.
He surged ahead. Max tried to follow, but Kai had the line for Turn 9 (Rindt).
"Late brake!"
"Hit the apex!"
"Kai clears Verstappen! Oh my god! Unbelievable! The leader changes again!"
"Kai enters Turn 10 first!"
"Final corner!"
Silence. Stunned silence.
Light, agile, fluid. The #22 car showed its fangs. One strike, fatal.
He flowed out of Turn 10. Perfect line. Perfect speed.
The rear wiggled—grip was gone—but he managed the throttle gently. A calm hand in the storm.
A red streak roaring down the main straight.
The sound slammed into the grandstands.
Through the heart. Across the line.
Winner: KAI!
Silence. The Red Bull Ring was a morgue.
From hell to heaven and back to hell. Too much stimulation.
Max was so close. A home win... stolen in the final sector.
Fans slumped in their seats.
Vettel fans despaired. Their hope for "justice" via Max was crushed.
But one man stood up. Lorenzo Moretti.
Fists clenched, screaming at the track, releasing all the tension.
"KAI!"
"GOD! KAI!"
"Calm, sharp, wise, determined! The Baby Driver showed the cunning of a veteran! He created a lifeline in an impossible situation and grabbed it!"
"Verstappen didn't make a mistake; he was just a tiny bit too anxious. That tiny difference decided the race."
"Unbelievable!"
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Constructors' Championship has changed! Ferrari takes the lead!"
"And in the Drivers', Kai closes the gap to Hamilton to 5 points! One race changed everything!"
"He joins Hamilton as the only 3-time winner this season!"
"Before the season, we expected Hamilton vs. Vettel. Instead, a young man named Kai crashed the party and stole the spotlight. For the second time, he closes on the championship lead. 2018 is not what anyone expected!"
Jock Clear roared, red-faced, screaming at the garage. The mechanics screamed back.
Mekies was startled but understood.
They were fighting not just the car, but their own team's bias.
Today, Kai conquered everything.
The #22 side of the garage went berserk. Tears flowed.
Even the pit wall smiled. A 1-3 finish (Vettel P3)! Championship lead!
Greenwood was shaking. "Kai, P1." Pause. "Magnificent race."
"Hahaha!" Kai's laughter filled the radio. "I can't believe we did it!"
Pure joy.
Only now did he feel the pain in his knuckles. He was soaked in sweat. More exhausted than Monaco.
But happy.
"David, work to do. Rear wing data for the second half, tire temps for the first..." Even now, his mind was working.
Greenwood blinked, glancing at Arrivabene. Hard to read the boss.
"Copy. Enjoy the win. This is your moment."
Cool-down lap. Kai didn't go straight to the pits. He did an extra lap, slowing down past the main grandstand, waving.
He needed to thank them.
If not for their "encouragement," he might not have kept his fighting spirit so high.
This win belonged to the Red Bull fans and the Vettel fans.
Grandstand: Dead silence.
They watched the waving red car in despair.
Continue abusing him?
Look at the monster they created. P6 Canada, P3 France, P1 Austria. Their hate fueled his rise.
If they kept going, would he win the World Championship?
Please no.
So, cheer for him?
Admit the Baby Driver conquered them? Watch him get arrogant and fall?
No, that's disgusting.
Dilemma. The Vettel ultras were paralyzed.
"Ruuuuuuuuu..." Someone couldn't help it.
But then, Max's car passed. Red Bull fans cheered.
Boos and cheers mixed. Joy and anger intertwined. Was it a welcome or a protest? For Kai or Max?
No one knew. It was a surreal scene.
Lorenzo laughed until his stomach hurt. Only Kai could do this.
A once-in-a-lifetime spectacle!