The pit lane buzzed with energy as the Rookie Bambino class lined up for qualification. Parents and coaches leaned over fences. Engines coughed, whined, and finally roared. The smell of fuel and tire rubber hung in the humid Philippine air.
Coasta sat strapped into his kart—#5—his gloved hands resting on the wheel. Around him, the other kids jostled slightly in their karts, nervous, excited, and loud. But Coasta was silent.
Then it pulsed again.
[Racing God System Activated]
— Track Analysis: Optimal Grip Zones Highlighted
— Instinct Boost: +3% Corner Entry Precision
— Wind Direction: Slight Tailwind on Back Straight
His vision sharpened subtly—not superhuman, but focused. Lines on the track became clearer. He could feel the turn-in points without thinking.
Julian gave a thumbs-up from the barrier, eyes narrowed as if trying to read his son's thoughts. He couldn't see the system's silent guidance, but he could see the shift in Coasta's posture. He looked... calm. Unnaturally calm for a seven-year-old.
The green flag dropped.
Each driver was given three flying laps to set their fastest time. It was a solo run—no overtaking, no blocking. Just kart, driver, and time.
Coasta's kart jolted forward, tires squealing briefly before biting into the asphalt. The first corner approached, and he lifted gently—not braking, just trusting the grip. The system didn't scream; it whispered.
[Corner Entry: On Point]
[Exit: Traction Maximized]
Around the sweeping left-hander, Coasta leaned with the kart, his body acting like a pendulum to stabilize it. Down the back straight, he dipped his head for aero, catching the slight tailwind. A boy watching from the fence whispered to his dad:
"He's so... smooth."
The Elbow came. Coasta braked earlier than most—then released early and coasted in. The kart rotated perfectly. Julian, watching from afar, couldn't help but exhale.
"That's how I taught him... but better."
Lap one: 49.81 seconds.
Lap two: 48.76 seconds.
Final lap: 48.02 seconds.
The announcer's voice crackled overhead.
"Number 5, Coasta Fernandez—current provisional P1!"
A few mechanics clapped politely. One coach raised an eyebrow. His own driver, #22, had just clocked 48.93.
Back in the pit, Coasta stepped out and handed his helmet to his father.
"The kart felt light on exit. Rear traction's loose."
Julian blinked. Light on exit? That was driver lingo far beyond his age.
"Alright," Julian replied with a grin. "We'll check the rear camber before tomorrow."
Just then, the boy in white-and-blue—#22—approached. He was older, maybe nine. He held out his hand.
"Nice lap," he said. "I'm Aaron. I think I'll be chasing you tomorrow."
Coasta looked at the hand. Then he took it.
"We'll see. The Elbow's tricky. Don't overcook it."
Aaron smirked. A small rivalry was born—not hostile, but sharp.
Back in the tent, as the sun dipped low, the Racing God System pulsed one last time.
[Qualification Complete]
— Final Grid Position: P1
— Race Strategy Suggestion: Defend Inside Line Turn 1
— System Dormant Until Race Start
Coasta sipped from his water bottle, staring at the track.
He didn't feel lucky.
He felt ready.
The engines quieted. The smell of burnt rubber and warm oil hung in the air as Group A drivers returned to the paddock. Coasta pulled off his helmet, hair soaked with sweat. His chest still rose and fell rapidly, adrenaline refusing to fade.
Julian gave him a solid pat on the shoulder. "Clean lines. Tight exit on Turn 4. You lost some time on the second lap, but made up for it in the third."
Coasta didn't speak. His eyes were locked on the digital leaderboard.
It flashed to life.
Group A – Qualifying Results (Top 5)
#5 – Coasta Fernandez – 54.297s
#27 – Angelo Reyes – 54.482s
#11 – Brian Tan – 54.760s
#10 – Hiroshi Nakamura – 54.812s
#18 – Miguel Santos – 54.850s
He had pole position—by less than two-tenths of a second.
"Wooo! You did it, man!" Miguel cheered, grabbing Coasta's shoulders.
Hiroshi clapped beside him. "Fast but smooth. I don't know how you always pull it off at the last second."
"I was lucky," Coasta replied modestly, but he couldn't hide the little smirk forming on his face.
Across the paddock, Angelo Reyes, kart #27, stood quietly next to his coach. His eyes, sharp and calculating, met Coasta's for the first time.
It wasn't a glare of hatred—but of challenge.
A reminder: this was only the beginning.
Later that evening, at the hotel with his family, the energy shifted from racing to quiet pride.
Lucas and Javier sat by the window, watching footage of Coasta's qualifying run on Julian's laptop.
"Look at that outside pass into Turn 5," Lucas commented. "That takes guts."
Javier leaned forward. "I bet he brakes two meters earlier than the rest. That's the secret."
Samantha, now 2 years old, ran around the hotel room giggling with a toy wheel in her hand, pretending to drive. Their mother smiled warmly.
Julian looked over at Coasta. "You ready for tomorrow?"
Coasta nodded. "More than ever."