Feinting a weakness, luring the enemy in.
At Turn 2, a tight right-hander, Bottas in the #77 Mercedes had been waiting for this chance. Decisively, he steered right, cutting inside, squeezing into the gap between the #22 Ferrari and the apex. He claimed the position, his front left wheel overlapping Kai's rear right.
Close combat!
Kai: Exactly as planned.
He steered slightly right, not to hit Bottas, but to hug the outer arc of the corner, squeezing the racing line toward the middle.
In the intense wheel-to-wheel battle, the cautious Bottas noticed the pressure from the left immediately. Instinctively, he steered further right, hugging the apex tightly to defend his line. But this made his corner entry angle extremely acute—a sharp, compromised line.
Bottas focused entirely on controlling the car, preventing a snap of oversteer, trying to maintain dynamic balance through the severe turn to get a good exit.
However, in that split second!
The Ferrari on his left moved with agility and precision. Kai used the wider entry angle to his advantage, turning his lack of grip into a dynamic strength. He corrected his angle early, modulating throttle, brake, and steering with audacious precision.
A flick, a burst of power.
Turning into a stream of light, he shot out of the corner ahead of the Silver Arrow.
Bottas's heart tightened. He tried to follow immediately, but a slight mismatch between his steering correction and braking caused his rear to wiggle. In that fleeting moment, he lost exit momentum. By the time he chased, the gap had opened to a car length.
Damn it!
Bottas didn't have time to curse. He floored it, chasing the red car into the upcoming S-bends. Cat and mouse.
Tension, excitement. The broadcast cameras locked on, sensing a battle.
Kai tracked the chasing Bottas perfectly in his mirrors. He wasn't surprised. As Mercedes' number two, Bottas had been treated as a tool—first replacing Rosberg, then supporting Hamilton—never getting the recognition he deserved.
In reality, when Bottas had clear air, his race pace was top-tier. His speed was undeniable.
But he was too honest, lacking a killer instinct. He was polite in battles, sticking to the racing line when defending and relying on DRS when attacking. He rarely attempted risky moves in corners.
This season, Mercedes lost their engine dominance. Straight-line speed relied more on aero efficiency, requiring precise setup. Higher downforce meant better cornering but more complex handling. Bottas was fine in clean air, but in a dogfight, the complexity often overwhelmed him.
Looking at recent races, Bottas struggled in traffic, his offensive creativity limited.
Different opponents require different strategies.
That was why Kai feigned weakness at Turn 2. He knew his tires lacked grip; a brute-force defense against Bottas wouldn't last. He needed to break the deadlock and seize the initiative.
Who said defense has to be passive?
Sure enough!
In Turn 2, Bottas's honest nature played right into Kai's hands. The trap created a crucial exit speed difference.
Next, Turns 3 and 4—the S-bends. The pressure from behind was ferocious.
Inside the cockpit, Kai was soaked in sweat, like a ripe tomato. The steering wheel transmitted every bump and hop of the track. It felt like off-roading on flat ground. He held his line through the storm.
Tense! Thrilling!
Kai knew the situation was dire. Even with the initiative, the advantage lay with Bottas.
A metallic taste of blood rose in his mouth. Kai smirked slightly as he led into the S-bends.
Unlike usual, Kai deliberately widened his arc, using every inch of the kerbs. Exiting Turn 2, he hugged the track limit, sweeping from extreme left to extreme right, maximizing space within the corner.
At a glance, it looked like drunk driving. Worrying.
Closely observed, it looked like he had lost grip and control.
Behind him, Bottas saw the track open up like curtains parting. A straight path through the S-bends.
Bottas usually preferred DRS passes, avoiding the chaos of corners.
But his experience and talent were real. Such an open door couldn't be ignored.
Moreover, his tires were superior. Passing Kai meant only Vettel remained.
Opportunity!
In a flash, Bottas used his grip advantage. Instead of following the wide arc, he tightened his line, cutting through the middle of the S-bends to close the distance, planning an outside overtake on exit.
Line, strategy, method—all clear. Bottas knew what to do.
Next second, he saw Kai sweep from extreme right back to extreme left. Expected—Turn 3 right to Turn 4 left.
But the detail was key. Kai used the full curvature, outer tires riding the kerb, almost crossing the white line. His dance on the tightrope turned geometry into visual art.
Light, agile, fluid.
His tires lacked grip; the car should have been shaking violently. But Kai made the turbulence his dance partner.
A waltz with the wind!
It looked effortless, but inside, Kai was at the limit. Steering vibration, G-forces—he controlled it all with delicate inputs. Muscles tense, breath held, sweat dripping. But his eyes burned with determination, one with the car.
Dangerous, thrilling. He skimmed past the nose of the #77 silver car by millimeters, shooting out of the corner smoothly.
Miraculously holding off the aggressive Bottas, the Ferrari's rear—which should have been unstable—obeyed perfectly. Throttle down, speeding away, leaving Bottas behind again.
Extreme defense, squeezed to the absolute limit!
Gasp!
Stunned silence.
Even seeing it, people didn't understand. How did Kai hold off Bottas? Wasn't his grip gone? Shouldn't Bottas have passed easily?
So, that was it?
In the commentary booth, Brundle was mesmerized. Kai had brought many surprises this season, but this displayed his extreme defensive capability, reading the race and opponent perfectly, using every weapon he had.
From any angle, Bottas passing seemed inevitable. But Kai held on.
Brilliant! Unspeakably brilliant!
However, it wasn't over.
Buzz, buzz. The roar in his veins, the pounding heart. Palms and feet soaked. But Kai's focus didn't waver.
He wouldn't underestimate Bottas. The war continued.
But the next trap was ready. Borreipaire played a key role: Traffic.
They were approaching backmarkers. Lapping cars.
Usually, traffic hurts the defending car (Kai), preventing him from dictating pace, while the attacker waits for a mistake. But Kai knew Bottas struggled in traffic.
Step 1: Turn 2. Step 2: Turns 3/4. These were setups. Step 3 was the hammer blow.
Entering Turn 5 (Parabolika), Kai saw the traffic: Magnussen, Grosjean, and a pink Force India (Perez) ahead.
Calm, lucid. Scanning the situation. Kai floored it immediately, unleashing speed.
Sacrificing grip for stiff suspension was for this moment—straight-line speed.
Bottas followed, preparing to attack, but saw the #22 car surge forward recklessly.
Bottas was confused. Didn't Kai see the Haas and Force India cars fighting ahead? Diving into that mix would confuse the race order and create chaos.
Young blood, rushing in regardless of consequences.
But if Kai destroyed himself, Bottas could profit.
Should he follow to not lose the gap, or stay back for safety?
While Bottas hesitated, Kai was gone. Hugging the outside of Parabolika... Vroom!
Speed soaring.
Magnussen felt a murderous aura from behind: ??? Which maniac?
Instinctively, Magnussen wanted to chop across and block the line, teaching the guy a lesson: Don't mess with K-Mag!
Then he realized they were in a long parabolic corner. If he chopped, he'd be the one spinning. He'd be the joke of the paddock.
Reason prevailed. He held his line, refusing to yield.
Then, visibly, the Ferrari closed the gap, pulled alongside the Haas, wheel to wheel, and then pulled ahead.
The car difference was clear. Even with the same Ferrari engine, the aero efficiency in high-speed corners was different.
The gap wasn't huge, but Kai led by a nose. Transitioning from Turn 5 (left) to Turn 6 (hairpin right), he naturally took the inside line.
Then, at that moment!
"Perez spins at Turn 6! Oh no! The track is still damp there!"
Chaos instantly.
Perez went off into the grass. He refused to give up, trying to drive out, but the wet grass caused his tires to spin, spraying mud.
Grosjean navigated Turn 6 cautiously. Then came Kai and Magnussen.
Look!
Kai didn't dive for the apex immediately. He drifted slightly to the middle, blocking Magnussen's attack line, forcing the Haas wide.
Then, from the middle, he cut to the apex—
Slippery. Shaking. Turbulent.
The car's instability transmitted clearly to his hands.
Kai abandoned the perfect line. He hit the apex and stabbed the car straight out of the corner. Right front, right rear—both hit the exit kerb.
But!
Limit!
The car was truly at the limit. Not just the right tires—the whole car almost left the track. Right tires in the grass, left tires on the white line. Behind him, Perez was less than five meters away, spinning in a cloud of dust.
Bottas: Jaw dropped! He couldn't believe Kai overtook a backmarker with such an extreme move, putting a car between them!
Could you even do that?
Magnussen: Track limits! Damn it! Give the position back! Wait, I'm a backmarker... ah, never mind! But—
Shock and panic. Changes in an instant.
More thrilling than a rollercoaster. Before the scream could leave his throat, the #22 Ferrari stream of light roared down the straight. The broadcast room let out a strangled noise; Croft's voice cracked.
"Kai is going to pass Grosjean too!"
God!
In Turn 6, Grosjean slowed significantly to avoid spinning like Perez, losing all exit speed.
Kai, running on the high wire, looked teetering but used momentum to maintain exit speed. Running wild, faster and faster. Like a skeleton about to fall apart held together by speed alone.
Turn 7. Inside line. Late brake. Hug apex.
Clean, decisive.
Knife drop. Kai passed Grosjean. Grosjean, focused on looking behind, didn't fight.
"Kai! The rear wing!"
Kai locked up; the rear wing shook violently. The extreme maneuvers in such short time were too much. The car protested.
Heart stopped beating.
Unexpectedly, Kai fed the throttle gently, calming the shake amidst the bumps. Miraculously regaining balance. A potential storm was tamed in his palm. He left Grosjean behind, speeding toward the next corner.
Unbelievable! Incredible!
But before the breath could leave his chest, Croft's brain exploded.
"VETTEL IS OFF!"
Buzz.
Croft's scalp tingled. He froze, looking at Brundle for answers, but saw only blank eyes.
Just now, all attention was on Kai.
Tense! Thrilling!
Waves of climax, overwhelming. The dance on the blade executed with such flow.
Bottas, Magnussen, Perez, Grosjean. So much happened in Sector 1.
Now, Kai was two cars ahead of Bottas.
Next second, the camera cut. A Ferrari deep in the gravel, nose in the barrier, smoke rising. The crowd was bewildered.
Sebastian Vettel, out!
"Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?"
Wasn't Vettel leading comfortably?
What happened?!
Replay. Croft and Brundle regained composure amidst the shock. This changed everything.
"God!"
"Sebastian Vettel off at the Sachs Curve (Turn 12)!"
"No contact. No collision. No pressure from behind. The race leader just drove straight off the track, ending his weekend."
Unbelievable, inexplicable, but true.
Vettel, leading comfortably, perhaps wanted to prove himself too much. The victory was too close. The urgency backfired. He couldn't withstand his own pressure. A fatal driving error—missing the braking point, understeering off into the gravel.
A four-time World Champion making such a mistake!
Even watching the replay, the shock remained. No answers. The commentary booth drowned in impact and dismay. Croft's voice trembled.
One second, marveling at Kai's defense; the next, engulfed by the tsunami of Vettel's fatal error.
Like a joke from God.
Fuck!
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!
Vettel fell into deep despair, smashing his steering wheel. The heavy pressure suffocated him, unable to be released.
The track ignited instantly—
Mercedes fans in the grandstand went wild with joy, jumping and celebrating.
Nearby, Vettel fans in Ferrari red couldn't believe their eyes. They looked at the cheering figures in shock—That's Sebastian Vettel! The best German driver! How can you betray our own like this!
But their stares were useless.
Ahhhhhhh! Mercedes fans went crazy. The perfect chance to flip the championship.
Chaos! Noise! Surge!
The world spun.
"Pierre, Safety Car?" Kai's calm voice cut through the radio.
Even at maximum tension, even amidst the chaos, Kai remained focused and rational. He grasped the key.
If the Safety Car came out, this was the perfect pit window.
Borreipaire was in sync. "Box. Box. Box. Kai, Ultrasofts?"
Kai: "Yes."
Mercedes was busy too.
Horner wanted to fish in troubled waters, but Verstappen was a minute behind Hamilton. Red Bull couldn't profit. Their earlier weather misjudgment killed their chances.
Now, Horner was a spectator, watching the front two teams.
Vettel out. Shocking and sudden.
Safety Car deployed. The leaders were in Sector 3. Only about 20 seconds to decide.
Rarely, the Ferrari #22 garage was ready immediately. Mercedes was scrambling.
Kai's tires were dead anyway. The extreme defense against Bottas was a miracle. He would take any chance to pit.
But Mercedes was different. Bottas's tires were fine. Hamilton planned a one-stop. Now the window opened suddenly. Should they seize it or stick to the plan? How to handle Ferrari? Difficult questions led to panic.
Box! Box! Everyone box!
Horner saw it clearly. Kai, Bottas, Hamilton crews all ready. Wolff feared Kai's tire advantage in the final stage, so Mercedes had to match it. Bottas and Hamilton preparing to double stack?
Would Wolff order a swap? Hamilton attacking Kai? Especially after Kai's defense against Bottas.
Kai pitted. Smooth.
Bottas pitted—"Box, box! Lewis, watch the gap." Bono monitored the pit lane.
But unbelievably, the dominant Mercedes crew... made a mistake.
They prepared Softs for Bottas. But given the situation, he should be on Ultrasofts.
Scrambling in the pit lane. Bottas stuck, unable to move. Time flew.
Hamilton was entering the pit lane—
Entering, he saw the Mercedes box. He saw Bottas trapped, surrounded by chaos.
In a split second, Hamilton made a decision. He steered left, driving over the grass between the pit entry and the track, rejoining the circuit!
"I'm staying out." Hamilton said.
Bono: ? "IN IN IN IN IN IN IN!"
Hamilton sighed. "Hey, man!"
Bono turned to see the mess behind him, closed his eyes. "Sorry, mate. Go. You, go. Just like that."
Chaos!
Total mess. A complete disaster.
For Mercedes, Red Bull, and Ferrari, Hockenheim had too many accidents. Experience didn't help.
But when Kai returned to the track, he saw Hamilton ahead.
"Pierre, what happened? Hamilton didn't pit?" Kai thought it was a tactic—Bottas covers him, Hamilton stays out.
Borreipaire facepalmed. "Mercedes pit confusion. Hamilton aborted the stop."
"Hahaha." Kai's laughter rang out.
Borreipaire shook his head helplessly. "Kai—"
Kai: "Come on, Pierre. Mercedes in chaos? How rare."
Borreipaire chuckled but was still frustrated. "But now we are behind. Fuck."
Kai noticed the curse and laughed. "Relax, Pierre. Looks like it's cat and mouse time again. Don't you miss the old Sprint Race days?"
Confident, calm, audacious.
Classic Kai. Borreipaire felt a surge of pride. The frustration vanished, replaced by boiling blood.
Safety Car led the pack. Order restored.
However, wave after wave of accidents built layers of climax. Viewers were dizzy. The suspense of the duel ignited Hockenheim.
Before they knew it, Hamilton (started P14) was leading the 2018 German Grand Prix!
In the booth, Croft's passionate voice pierced the engine noise like a storm.
"No! God!"
"Hamilton turns decay into magic again! The qualifying disaster becomes a strategic gamble! The reigning champion controls the race with godlike skill!"
"After accident after accident... Hamilton leads! Not Red Bull, not Ferrari, but Mercedes!"
"Who could have predicted this?"
"Wow, Hamilton plunges the Ferrari pit wall into despair! Like a Dementor's Kiss—one kiss, and the price is your soul!"
On screen, photographers swarmed like sharks, swallowing Vettel. Helmet off, Vettel looked devastated, lost. His soul left on the track.
Safety Car shuffled the deck. Gaps closed to DRS range. Backmarkers mixed in.
By rule, to restore order, lapped cars should unlap themselves when signaled, moving to the back.
However, Race Control didn't do it.
Arrivabene was furious. He protested to the FIA immediately. Why not let lapped cars pass?
But Wolff also protested. They wanted lapped cars to pass.
Ferrari thought the FIA favored Mercedes: backmarkers would block Kai and protect Hamilton's old tires.
Mercedes thought the FIA favored Ferrari: clearing backmarkers would extend the Safety Car, helping Hamilton save tires, but restarting now with Kai on fresh tires was dangerous.
Arguments everywhere.
However, Wolff's eyes gleamed. He saw the big picture—
He knew the FIA decision favored Hamilton. Lapped cars helped Hamilton and Bottas, interfering with Verstappen behind.
Wolff's protest was a delay tactic. Confusing the FIA. Trying to keep the Safety Car out longer.
If the FIA accepted the suggestion to reorder?
Perfect. Safety Car stays out longer. Hamilton's tires get a breather. Better chance to defend against Kai.
F1 games aren't just on track.
Outside, chaos. Inside the car, Kai felt the swords clashing—Safety Car stayed out too long. Usually 3-4 laps. Now 6 laps. No sign of coming in.
Pressure?
Kai realized the game was being played behind the pit wall.
A bit anxious.
Actually, there were no backmarkers between Kai and Hamilton. Strictly speaking, they wouldn't stop Kai's attack. But traffic affects the leaders. Just like Kai used traffic against Bottas.
Now Kai was the chaser. Hamilton could use traffic too. Kai knew how tough Hamilton was. Fewer laps meant harder passing. Traffic was an uncertainty.
"Kai, focus." Borreipaire's voice.
Kai snapped out of it. Deep breath. "Thanks for the reminder."
The anxiety burned into fuel. Mercedes playing tricks meant they feared him.
Making Wolff work this hard? An honor.
Exhale. Focus. Hamilton ahead. Bottas and Verstappen behind—
Surrounded by Mercedes and Red Bull. Great opportunity!
Lap 58. Safety Car in. 9 laps to go.
Immediately, Kai attacked. Hamilton noticed.
Outside?
After half a year, Hamilton knew Kai. Others went inside; Kai loved surprising from the outside.
So Hamilton was ready. Before the restart, he backed the pack up, slowing the rhythm.
Then, corner, straight. Hamilton accelerated instantly.
The four-time champ showed his cool, turning the Safety Car into an opportunity. Using exit speed to gap Kai. But he didn't relax. He watched the red Ferrari in his mirrors.
Decisively, Hamilton moved to the middle. Not even the outside, just squeezing Kai's line. Taking the initiative.
Entry, rhythm, exit. Fluid.
Car #22 chased Car #44 into Turn 1. Red tried to use tire advantage to brake late on the outside, forcing a pass. But Silver predicted it, blocking the position early, holding the line effortlessly. The surging red wave was dammed.
Instantly, the silver section of the stands exploded. Cheers, celebration. Heat rolling like lava.
Atmosphere ignited.
Not just the front. Bottas attacked Kai. Verstappen attacked Bottas. Everyone grabbed the window to change the game.
"Beautiful!"
"Hamilton predicts Kai's strategy perfectly! Defusing the first wave effortlessly! He won't give up easily."
"But Kai refuses to surrender either. This back-and-forth has just begun! Intensifying as the end nears!"
"Kai! Attacking again!"
"Inside!"
"Lewis Hamilton! Unbelievable! Simple, precise line control denies Kai's ambitious attempt again!"
Wave after wave—
Kai's attacks were relentless. Hamilton's defense was dense and tough.
Give and take, inch by inch!
The commentary booth screamed. But inside the car, Kai was unmoved.
Everything was going according to plan.