Chapter 357: 357: Setting the Benchmark

Steering slightly to the left, Kai made a smooth, subtle correction, allowing the car to sweep naturally toward the right side of the track along the corner's arc.

Overwhelming G-forces slammed into him, pressing his body firmly into the seat. Layer upon layer of pressure threatened to crush his chest, tightening every muscle from his toes to his brow as he exerted all his strength to resist the immense force. Yet, his concentration remained completely unshaken.

Absolute focus.

Muscles, nerves, and vision merged seamlessly with the race car.

Despite the continuous high-load forces tearing at his body, his throttle control stayed rock solid. His nervous system remained pulled taut under the immense pressure, while the upgraded suspension and braking systems operated in their ideal window, providing extra stability that weathered the storm through Blanchimont.

Hugging the asphalt tightly as its tires bit into the track, the SF90 displayed a level of stability rarely seen all season. It felt completely transformed, with only a slight flutter from the rear wing hinting at the sheer strain on the chassis, revealing that the car was pushing its absolute limits on the edge of breaking down.

Yet those subtle hints of instability were neutralized by microscopic inputs at his fingertips. Through a dense sequence of rapid adjustments made in under a second, he kept his driving smooth, carving a high-speed arc along the outer right edge of Blanchimont. The chassis sliced through the air like a blade as the drumbeat of rubber against tarmac matched his pounding heartbeat and the engine's roar. Exiting the high-speed bend in one fluid motion, he pinned the throttle and upshifted continuously, letting the car transform into a tidal wave of momentum.

Velocity soared.

At the end of the second-fastest straight on the circuit, the SF90 showcased the full power of the Ferrari engine without holding anything back.

Allegations? Investigations? Surrounded on all sides by rival teams trying to corner them?

Ferrari wasn't afraid, nor were they about to retreat in hesitation. With complete transparency, they continued to attack Spa, wringing out every ounce of performance.

That crimson silhouette was swift, fierce, and brilliant, eclipsing even the golden sunlight as the track caught fire in Ferrari red.

Then came the famous Bus Stop chicane, the final barrier at Spa.

The car had to decelerate sharply from high speed into an uphill entry, navigating the corner while climbing under heavy braking. Weight shifted heavily to the rear, where a single misstep could bleed off vital speed and ruin the exit speed onto the front straight, destroying the hard work of the entire lap in an instant.

It required maximum mental focus rather than relaxation.

Kai was the exception, maintaining relaxed composure while keeping his concentration sharp as a complete three-dimensional model of the circuit unfolded in his mind.

Neither early nor late, Kai's right foot found the precise threshold on the brake pedal. The integration between braking and steering was flawless. Fighting centrifugal forces along a clean arc, he prevented the rear end from stepping out too far, using a subtle touch of throttle to point the car cleanly toward the main straight.

The machine responded like an extension of his own body.

Through the tight, steep confines of the Bus Stop, the SF90 glided like a fish through water, making perfect use of every inch of track space. Aerodynamic drag, tire degradation, and track surface feedback knitted into a seamless network that Kai navigated with effortless grace, leaving the final hurdle far behind.

The moment he exited the corner, he buried the throttle. The downforce generated by the upgraded rear wing kept the SF90 stable on the uphill incline as speed burst forth like a cheetah breaking free from its restraints. Before he could even finish a full breath, the car was charging straight down the main pit straight.

With one final push, the SF90's engine roared at its peak as the red chassis swept across the timing line in a wave of heat.

With complete control and composure, he dissolved all the challenges of Sector 3, making them look trivial in his hands. Bono was in the middle of communicating with Wolff, but before their conversation could unfold, a crimson flash caught his eye from the left.

Gasp.

Bono froze, putting Wolff on hold as his eyes locked onto the bright splash of color, holding his breath as the atmosphere shifted around him.

A heavy silence descended over the track. Wolff's voice faded, the noise from the main grandstands and pit lane evaporated, and even the engine roar seemed to vanish into the background. Car 22 glided past like a submarine cutting silently through deep waters, parting the waves in a sudden, overwhelming rush before slipping past his field of vision.

It was gone in a flash.

A beat later, the sonic boom of the car breaking through the air shattered the silence around his ears.

Boom!

A roaring wave of sound washed over the pit wall, leaving Bono feeling as though he had just been caught in a summer downpour. His skin felt hot while a cold chill settled deep into his bones, a sharp contrast that made his heart sink into a bottomless void.

A continuous, falling weight.

Bono's immediate instinct was to glance at his timing screen.

Disaster.

"1:42.519—"

Crofty stared intently at the numbers, his heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst while his mind went completely blank, leaving him temporarily speechless.

Just when everyone was marveling at Hamilton's 1:43.282 and Mercedes-Benz was applying relentless pressure through rapid improvements across all three qualifying sessions to force errors from their rivals, including Verstappen and Leclerc, Kai had already elevated himself to an entirely different league. He delivered a flawless lap with apparent ease, leaving the entire field far behind.

A league of his own!

Fastest in Sector 1.

Fastest in Sector 2.

Fastest in Sector 3 as well.

Brundle's instincts had been proven right. Kai didn't just set purple sectors; he completely distanced himself from Hamilton, building a commanding advantage across every segment of the track to forge an insurmountable gap.

Much like Mercedes-Benz's dominant margin at Albert Park earlier in the year, Kai was now leading the way by an astounding 0.763 seconds, setting an untouchable benchmark that dismantled the advantage Mercedes-Benz had worked so hard to build.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

"Kai. Lu."

"In Q2, Kai became the first driver all weekend to break into the 1:42s, shattering barriers and leaving his rivals in the dust."

"In Q3, he rose to the occasion once again, proving that Q2 was no fluke or coincidence. Not only does he have the capability to run in the 1:42s, but he also possesses the ability to raise the ceiling even further, cutting another four-tenths off his time and driving his rivals to despair."

"A massive lead! Completely untouchable! Kai stands alone at the top!"

"My word—"

A wave of goosebumps ran up Crofty's neck as he turned to his co-commentator. "Martin?"

Brundle took a deep breath, his heart racing as his voice trembled slightly. "We all knew Kai was capable of delivering legendary performances at Spa. He proved that back in 2017 during his very first practice session here, the first time he ever drove an F1 car in an official session."

"However, today—"

"Today is different. Kai showed incredible composure, maturity, and focus, keeping his concentration sharp to deliver a staggering lap in a single run. I believe this represents the absolute limit of the SF90 right now, yet Kai made it look like a walk in the park."

"Wow—"

Brundle couldn't hold back his admiration as goosebumps spread up his spine, leaving him utterly awestruck.

"Provisional pole!"

"Kai holds provisional pole, just one step away from securing Ferrari's second pole position of the 2019 season!"

"Now, the pressure is entirely on Mercedes-Benz. Hamilton and Bottas will need a miracle to stand any chance of fighting back!"

Watching the timing screens with intense concentration, Beauregard sat at the pit wall with every muscle tense, unable to tear his eyes away.

After the turbulence and chaos of the summer break, it would be a lie to say the Ferrari garage had remained untroubled.

Their development plans had suffered a major shock, coinciding with a massive aerodynamic upgrade package and severe scrutiny surrounding their power unit. With so many questions unresolved, everyone from top to bottom had been caught up in the storm.

Although Kai had quickly found his footing to unite the team and push forward through the crossfire, a subtle layer of anxiety had lingered beneath the surface.

Upon arriving at Spa, they were still gathering data and tweaking setups right up to the final minutes of Practice 3.

In theory, they knew the SF90 was capable of reaching the 1:42s, but until the car actually hit the track, what lap time it could deliver, whether it could extract its full potential, and where it stood against rival teams remained completely unknown.

This was the first time in the 2019 season that Ferrari was going all-out in qualifying with the explicit goal of building a decisive advantage from Saturday.

Yet, you never truly knew until the cars ran on track, especially given the continuous mind games played by Mercedes-Benz and Red Bull.

Until now.

The clouds parted to reveal clear skies, bringing a profound sense of relief that swept through the garage. Beauregard quietly clenched his fist.

"P1. Kai, P1!"

"Brilliant lap, incredible driving! Legendary! Absolute legend!"

Speaking through tight lips with a mix of awe and excitement, the heavy weight pressing on his chest finally lifted slightly, allowing him to take a proper breath.

Yet within moments, Beauregard regained his composure.

"Point seven six three ahead of Hamilton. So, what's the plan?"

Over the radio, Kai didn't celebrate, knowing his rivals had yet to start their second flying laps. It was not time to celebrate just yet.

Kai digested the gap for a moment. "What was my lap time?"

Beauregard immediately understood that Kai was asking for his own lap time. "A 1:42.519."

Kai exhaled softly, showing no hesitation. "I'm boxing. That's the absolute maximum speed for today."

In his current physical state, he had already poured everything into that lap and extracted every drop of pace. Pushing through a second flying lap made little sense.

"Now, we pass the baton to Mercedes-Benz. Jock, fetch me a glass of whisky, let's sit in the garage together and enjoy the show."

Not just Beauregard, but Clear and Mekies broke into light chuckles as well. Maintaining such effortless charm under immense pressure was classic Kai.

Just one wall away, the Mercedes garage presented a starkly different scene.

Silent, tense, and frantic, the invisible pressure was mounting exponentially.

Wolff had calculated every move to pile pressure onto Ferrari's young driver lineup, but the strategy had backfired. Kai's frontal assault had broken through, turning the pressure right back onto Mercedes-Benz, where the burden on Hamilton and Bottas's shoulders was multiplying by the second.

Even with the paddock humming with noise outside, the air inside their garage felt almost frozen, suffocatingly quiet.

Thud!

A dull thud echoed through the garage like a thunderclap, causing several team members to flinch and pull back instinctively.

Wolff took in the scene with a flash of frustration, turning sharply toward the source of the noise. It was merely a mechanic who had accidentally bumped into a neatly stacked set of tires. It was nothing serious, yet the garage was filled with people jumping like startled birds.

Scared before the fight had even begun.

Dammit!

Wolff swore under his breath, though he kept his composure on the surface, standing firm like an anchor to keep the team grounded.

On track, activity resumed as cars filed out one after another to execute their second flying runs.

Mercedes-Benz, however, was the exception.

Both Hamilton and Bottas remained static in their garages. While their technical team communicated non-stop in a flurry of activity, neither car made a move to leave the pit lane.

They weren't the only ones; Ferrari and Red Bull were holding back as well.

It was a game of high-stakes chess. Kai's brilliant lap had shattered the balance, sending sparks flying beneath the calm surface among the top three teams.

Finally, someone made a move.

Verstappen!

Red Bull demonstrated their characteristic boldness, breaking the stalemate as Verstappen prepared to go all-in for a shot at pole position.

A moment later, Leclerc headed out.

Seeing Ferrari make a move, Mercedes-Benz reacted immediately, with Hamilton wasting no time in leaving his garage.

Finally, Bottas joined the track as well.

With all cars back out on circuit for their final Q3 push, one driver did the exact opposite, making a slow, deliberate return to the pit lane.

The driver heading against the flow immediately drew everyone's attention, sparking a wave of confusion and speculation as spectators struggled to understand Ferrari's tactics.

Even Crofty and Brundle were left wondering whether Kai needed to reset before coming back out for a second push lap.

The issue was that time in Q3 was rapidly running out. If Kai didn't get back on track soon, he risked missing the window to complete another flying lap.

Then, Kai stepped out of the cockpit. He actually... got out... of the car...

Amid absolute astonishment, Kai removed his helmet and accepted a whisky glass from Clear. The two clinked glasses, and Kai downed it in one go.

Water!

The glass was filled with plain mineral water.

Kai looked at Clear with a dramatic expression of disappointment, tapping the side of the glass.

Clear froze for a second, wondering if Kai had actually expected real whisky.

The tension in the garage dissolved into light laughter, as the team's frayed nerves relaxed under the influence of Kai's easygoing demeanor.

Kai kept his eyes on the broadcast monitor, but noticing something on screen, he walked straight past the garage toward the pit wall. Tapping Binotto on the back without standing on ceremony, he took a headset from Beauregard, exchanged a quick glance with Adami, and spoke immediately into the mic.

"Charles, it's Kai."

Leclerc paused. "You're really not going out for a second lap?"

Kai replied smoothly, "I'm handing the heavy lifting over to you, Prince of Ferrari."

Though he couldn't see Leclerc's face, Kai could easily imagine his expression. "Charles, I'm serious. Mercedes-Benz is banking everything on your shoulders right now. Keep an eye out, the Number 44 car behind you is setting up to tow off your slipstream."

Leclerc blinked in surprise. "...No way, Lewis?"

Kai wasn't surprised in the slightest. "When victory is on the line, people will use any tactic available. Doing something like grabbing a tow in qualifying is nothing to them. If he takes pole position, nobody is going to care how he got it. A pole is a pole."

Leclerc asked, "But why isn't he using Valtteri for a tow? I mean—" He cut himself off before finishing the thought.

Mercedes-Benz could manage their drivers as they pleased, and Bottas certainly wouldn't refuse a team order.

Kai gave a subtle shrug. "Because our slipstream tastes better."

Slipstream tactics weren't exclusive to races; they were just as potent in qualifying.

In fact, tow effects yielded even greater advantages during qualifying runs.

Especially on high-speed circuits like Spa or Monza, a tow could be the ultimate game-changer in qualifying. The more powerful the lead car's engine, the stronger the slipstream effect.

It was no exaggeration to say that maximizing a tow down the long straight could easily shake up the grid order, or even steal pole position outright.

Looking at it rationally, a tow was a completely legal way to gain a massive advantage, serving as a key factor in both race conditions and qualifying sessions.

Teammates towing each other, rival teams forming temporary alliances, or drivers offering a friendly tow when they had nothing to lose were all common occurrences.

Clearly, Mercedes-Benz was adapting their strategy to fit the unique demands of Q3 at Spa.

This was the contingency plan Wolff and Bono had devised on the fly when they felt the pressure mounting during Kai's flying lap earlier.

Wolff had calculated his moves carefully. Hamilton's delay in leaving the garage wasn't about finding clean air; it was about locking onto Leclerc.

The tactic was entirely within the rules, even if it looked a bit desperate for a four-time World Champion like Hamilton.

At this point, however, Wolff and Hamilton cared little for appearances. To beat Ferrari, any strategy was on the table!

Leclerc still found it hard to believe. Not that he doubted Kai, but the idea of Hamilton shamelessly stealing a tow seemed surreal.

The flying laps began.

His doubts were quickly addressed as Leclerc started his push lap, watching the silver car in his mirrors drop back slightly.

Leclerc felt a moment of relief, but he had no time to lose focus, channeling his full concentration into his own lap. The pressure from Mercedes-Benz was very real, and while his first run in Q3 had been disappointing, Kai's performance had helped him regain his focus.

He was ready, determined not to fall too far behind Kai's standard.

La Source and Eau Rouge flowed seamlessly as the Ferrari power unit unleashed its full potential onto the Kemmel Straight.

Right at that moment, the dark cloud in his mirrors reappeared, surging forward to lock onto his slipstream.

"Down the Kemmel Straight! Hamilton is tucked right into Leclerc's slipstream! Leclerc has effectively offered a tow to the enemy, helping Hamilton in his pursuit of Kai!"

Leclerc thought bitterly, I didn't! I never offered anything! What the hell!

It had all happened in a flash. Hamilton was nowhere to be seen through Eau Rouge, yet within a single breath, he had latched onto his rear wing.

The Kemmel Straight marked the ultimate speed section at Spa, an elongated straight where drivers could unleash every horse power from their engines.

In this department, Ferrari stood unrivaled across the paddock.

Mercedes-Benz was lodging protests against Ferrari's power unit on one hand, while ruthlessly exploiting the slipstream of that very same power unit on the track with the other.

True tacticians, criticizing the engine while taking full advantage of its wake. They made use of every resource without waste.

Leclerc felt a sharp tightening in his chest. It was frustrating to fall into the trap after Kai's warning, but he maintained his focus, pinning the throttle through the sector.

The turbulent air trails were practically visible as Ferrari showcased its engine muscle once again, with Hamilton clinging tightly to the slipstream.

"Leclerc! Goes purple!"

Sector 1 saw the record Kai had just set get broken once more, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.

A second later, everyone realized that Leclerc's purple Sector 1 had directly benefited Hamilton's tow. What did this mean for the final outcome?

Amid the shock, the tension in qualifying spiked, and all eyes turned toward Kai.

Kai hadn't gone out for a second run. Had he been overly confident? A single miscalculation could cost him everything!

Basking in the spotlight, Kai remained entirely relaxed and focused. His calm demeanor suggested he was completely unbothered by Mercedes-Benz's counterattack, prompting everyone to follow his gaze back to the track.

Leclerc and Hamilton navigated the upcoming corners in tandem. Fully alert and fueled by frustration, Leclerc raised his focus to another level, pulling away from the Number 44 car as he exited Les Combes.

The crowd erupted in noise!

Some marvelled at how Leclerc had managed to break away from Hamilton, wondering if he was now making a charge for pole position himself.

Others gasped at Hamilton's inability to hold onto Leclerc's tow, asking if this highlighted a fundamental performance gap between Ferrari and Mercedes-Benz that ruled Hamilton out of pole contention.

Thoughts raced through everyone's minds, but there was no time to ponder as spectators leaned forward, desperate to absorb every moment of raw speed. The battle for qualifying at the 2019 Belgian Grand Prix had reached its final showdown, where every driver had to lay their cards on the table.

Qualifying was always tense, thrilling, and full of drama. Yet throughout the 2019 season, Mercedes-Benz had displayed incredible dominance. Although Wolff insisted the W10 wasn't built primarily for qualifying, the results spoke otherwise.

Apart from Kai in Bahrain and Verstappen in Hungary, Mercedes-Benz had swept every pole position of the season, with Bottas taking four and Hamilton securing six.

As a result, what was usually an unpredictable session often ended in familiar fashion, leaving fans longing for genuine suspense.

Today at Spa, however, everything was different. The outcome remained entirely uncertain until the final second, bringing back that long-lost feeling of nervous excitement.

Then—

"Max crosses the line!"

"A 1:43.690! The first sub-1:44 time of the weekend for Red Bull, but it's not enough, nowhere near enough!"

"Unbelievable, Verstappen's Q3 time is actually slower than Kai's Q1 run. The Red Bull driver settles for fifth and will start from the third row!"

Groans filled the Red Bull garage as team members held their heads in disappointment.

Clearly, this wasn't the strong start to the second half of the season they had envisioned.

The atmosphere tightened as all eyes at Spa locked onto the final three cars on flying laps: one red and two silver.

The Number 16 Ferrari crossed the line first.

"Leclerc—"

Everyone held their breath.

"A 1:43.267, P2!"

"Leclerc delivers an incredible lap under immense pressure on his second run, jumping both Mercedes cars to sit second behind his teammate!"

"Ferrari is just one step away from locking out the front row!"

The cheers and engine roars seemed to fade away, replaced by the relentless ticking of the clock.

From the commentary booths to the grandstands, from Red Bull to Ferrari and Mercedes-Benz, everyone held their breath to watch the final two cars. Overwhelming pressure settled over the circuit as the quiet world hummed with anticipation.

Tick—Hamilton crossed the line.

Wolff held his breath, his heart jumping into his throat. Hamilton hadn't even improved on his initial Q3 time.

Despite benefiting from Leclerc's slipstream down the straight, impatience through the second sector had cost him valuable time, completely ruining his chances of fighting for pole.

"Bono, where did I lose time?"

"Eau Rouge. Bruxelles. Pouhon. Blanchimont." Bono took a deep breath. "Everywhere, Lewis. Everywhere."

The world remained frozen in suspense.

Wolff clenched his fists, staring intently at the track. Mercedes-Benz's final hopes now rested entirely on Bottas.

This was precisely why Wolff had positioned Bottas as the last car on track. Bottas had been in exceptional form this season, particularly in qualifying. Despite surrounding rumors during the summer break, Wolff had managed to keep him focused.

He had promised Bottas that the team would give him more opportunities.

Now, that opportunity had arrived, and it was up to Bottas to seize it.

Tick—Bottas crossed the line.

The wind settled.

The timing screen froze: 1:43.428. It wasn't enough. The dust had officially settled.