They surged forward with purpose. Every touch was crisp—and deliberate. Diego's teammates moved the ball quickly, never allowing it to linger at anyone's feet for more than a moment.
Their one- and two-touch passing steadily dismantled Winston's press. Winston's defenders scrambled to contain the attack, constantly shifting their positions to close passing lanes. Meanwhile, Diego quietly drifted between the lines. Rather than demanding the ball, he patiently timed his runs, periodically glancing over his shoulder to track both the defenders and the movement of his teammates.
The moment Winston's defensive line stepped forward—a perfectly weighted through ball split them apart. Diego burst into the gap—he leaped slightly, cushioning the pass with his knee without allowing it to bounce. Before the nearest defender could recover, he swung his right foot.
Bang!
The strike screamed past the goalkeeper. The net rippled violently.
Thwack!
Diego didn't celebrate—Instead, he calmly jogged into the goal, retrieved the ball, and carried it back toward the center circle. His expression remained composed. As if scoring had simply been part of the job.
Around the pitch, murmurs spread through the crowd. The youths lining the touchlines and the Federation instructors watched with growing interest. Many had expected one side to dominate. Instead, they were witnessing a tightly contested match between two evenly matched teams.
Some spectators smiled, and others frowned. They had come hoping to identify obvious weaknesses. Instead, both teams had shown discipline, composure, and technical ability. So far, no one looked like the weak link.
Winston glanced around at his teammates. Despite conceding the opening goal, he saw no panic in their eyes.
Only determination.
He took a deep breath before tapping the ball to the attacking midfielder to restart play. The attacking midfielder controlled it with one touch before immediately laying it off to one of the central midfielders.
Without dwelling on the ball, the midfielder switched play with a driven pass toward Bongani on the right wing. As soon as the ball reached him, two blue bibs vest closed him down. The right-back and a midfielder charged in aggressively, determined to trap him near the touchline. Caught off guard, Bongani used the outside of his boot to poke the ball inside before they could dispossess him. The defensive midfielder stepped onto the pass and, without taking an extra touch, hastened it across to Oswin.
Oswin barely held the ball for a second before returning it to Winston. Their passing sequence wasn't nearly as fluid as Diego's. Several passes were rushed under pressure, and Diego's players remained tight to every receiver, refusing to give Winston's team even a moment to settle into possession.
As soon as Winston received the ball, the familiar sensation returned. The awakenings flickered to life again. Just like before, they came in brief bursts, lasting only a minute or two before fading. His vision sharpened. Everything around him seemed to slow. With his enhanced perception, Winston instantly spotted two defenders closing him down from opposite angles. Instead of turning away, he attacked the space between them.
A quick stepover mixed in with a body feint and a drag-back followed by a sudden burst of acceleration. His free-flowing dribbling style made his next move impossible to predict. The two defenders lunged at empty space as Winston slipped between them. He drove straight through the middle. Behind him, Oswin and the other attackers immediately recognized the opening.
They curved their runs in behind Diego's back line, forcing the defenders to make a decision. Should they continue tracking Winston… or follow the runners? For a brief moment, every defender's attention was locked onto Winston. His dribbling was mesmerizing. Each touch came at an unexpected rhythm, leaving midfielders and defenders twisting their bodies in the wrong direction. He glided through them with effortless fluidity. Like a gust of wind weaving through a dense forest, Winston flowed through every gap in the defense left behind.
The spectators on the sidelines rose to their feet. A wave of astonished murmurs swept across the field. Winston's footwork had left everyone stunned. Every feint, every change of direction, every touch seemed to flow into the next with effortless precision.
It was unlike anything most of the academy's youths had ever witnessed. Just outside the penalty area, Winston's Hyperfield vision expanded across the field.
His mind became perfectly calm. Every teammate, defender, and very passing lane. They all appeared before him in an instant. At first glance, his eyes settled on Bongani. The defenders reacted immediately, shifting toward the right to cut off what they believed would be the obvious pass. That was exactly what Winston wanted. At the last possible moment, he disguised his intention and threaded a perfectly weighted pass toward Oswin, who was making a late run into the left side of the penalty area.
Oswin met the ball in stride. A quick stutter step froze the closing defender. The defender committed too early and slid harmlessly past him. With only the goalkeeper left to beat, Oswin relaxed his shoulders and opened his body. He curled a composed finesse shot toward the far-bottom corner. The ball bent gracefully beyond the goalkeeper's outstretched fingertips...
Thwack!
No one had expected Oswin to be the one to finish the attack. And that was exactly what Winston had been counting on. Since he was the one who had challenged Diego, everyone naturally assumed he would try to score himself.
But Winston had realized something. Football wasn't about proving himself alone. It was about trusting the players around him. Instead of forcing a shot, he had relied on his teammates—and they had rewarded that trust. As he played with his enhanced vision and heightened awareness, Winston discovered something he had never experienced before.
He was enjoying football more than ever. Every run, every passing lane, every movement on the pitch felt connected. It was as though he could finally see the game for what it truly was. Then he blinked. The crystal-clear awareness vanished. Winston shook his head as the Awakenings gradually faded, returning his senses to normal.
Ding
[Innate Terra: 13%]
[Spatial Zenith: 13%]
[Absolute: 13%]
[Nethen Essence: Level 1]
Physical
Physical: 74
Jumping: 74
Stamina: 74
Strength: 74
Aggression: 74
[Voltage Core: Level 1]
Pace
Acceleration: 74
Sprint Speed: 74
With a grin, Winston jogged over and hugged Oswin before exchanging high-fives with the rest of his teammates. The celebration was short-lived. The referee blew his whistle and pointed toward the benches outside the pitch, signaling both teams to return to their technical areas before play resumed.
As Winston walked back, he noticed Sebastian standing quietly with his arms folded. His gaze lingered on Winston for a brief moment before shifting to Darwin. Not far away, two youths watched the scene unfold.
One of them lowered his voice. "Sebastian and Darwin both look interested in Winston's skills."
The other followed their line of sight before nodding. "I'm more excited for Sebastian's match now."
He chuckled. "Looks like he might finally have some real competition. As for Darwin..."
He shrugged. "I don't know. We'll have to see how his match against Derick goes."
The first youth's eyes widened. "Wait... Derick's here?" He immediately began scanning the crowd. "Where?"
His friend subtly pointed toward the far side of the field. Standing near the fence was a tall youth with curly hair. His arms were folded across his chest as he stared at Darwin with an unmistakable look of hostility.
"Oh..." The first youth smirked. "Now that's going to be interesting."
"Which group is he in?"
"Group C, I think."
"He scored a fifty in the first trial assessment."
The first youth frowned. "What happened between those two? Last I checked, they were practically inseparable. Their chemistry on the pitch was incredible."
His friend sighed. "From what I've heard, Darwin betrayed him back in the junior league. I don't know the full story, but apparently Darwin made a decision during one of their matches that threw Derick under the bus. Derick took the blame, and it caused him a lot of trouble."
The first youth raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Now I'm even more curious about what actually happened."
At the far end of the stands, Sebastian leaned against one of the support pillars with his arms folded. His eyes remained fixed on Winston. At least you have some skill. Interesting… This one-on-one challenge might actually be worth watching. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. I only hope someone is bold enough to challenge me soon.
His gaze drifted across the lively youths gathered around the pitch before settling on Winston once more. Winston was drinking water while discussing tactics with his teammates. And you… I hope you make it to Group B. Then you can challenge me.
Footsteps echoed behind him. "How's the match going?" Lucas asked as he walked over with Diago beside him.
Without turning around, Sebastian answered, "Your friend has already scored twice."
"It's becoming an interesting match." He finally glanced at them. "How was training? Any improvements?"
Lucas scratched the back of his head. "Training went well. My footwork still needs work, though."
His attention returned to the field. Watching Oswin and Winston combine effortlessly, he smiled. "Those two really have incredible chemistry."
Diago nodded. "Their connection is impressive." He paused before adding, "But this is football."
"Even the strongest partnerships can fall apart when everyone is chasing the number one spot." His eyes shifted toward Sebastian. "Should I challenge Winston next?"
Sebastian shook his head. "No. Let him climb through Group C first." His voice remained calm. "When he reaches the top, that's when we challenge him. People reveal their true level when they believe they're at their strongest."
With that, Sebastian pushed himself away from the pillar and started walking toward the exit.
Lucas blinked. "You're leaving? The match isn't over yet."
Sebastian slipped both hands into his jacket pockets. Without looking back, he replied, "It is." Then he continued walking.
On the pitch, the referee blew his whistle and motioned for both teams to return to their positions. Before the restart, Winston gathered his teammates one last time. He pointed out where they needed to tighten their marking and reminded the defenders to stay compact whenever Diego attacked through the middle.
The whistle sounded again. The second half was underway. Winston tapped the ball to Oswin, who immediately returned it. The moment Winston received it, hyperfield vision flickered to life once more. Without hesitation, he swung his leg through the ball. A perfectly weighted long pass arced over Diego's midfield and dropped into the path of Oswin's run.
The Long Passer skill had done exactly what Winston had hoped. The ball landed perfectly in front of Oswin without forcing him to break stride. Oswin burst down the right wing. He skipped past the opposing right-back with a quick touch before cutting inside.
Seeing Bongani arriving near the edge of the six-yard box, Oswin drilled a low cross across goal. Bongani charged toward it. So did Diego's defenders. One defender threw himself into a desperate sliding interception. His outstretched boot made contact with the ball just before it reached Bongani. Even the diving goalkeeper had been beaten. The deflection sent the ball skidding loose across the crowded six-yard box.
Players from both teams lunged toward it. The ball rolled through the chaos, and arrived at Winston's feet just outside the crowd. He planted himself, preparing to unleash a first-time shot. His Spatial Zenith had already expired. The brief window of heightened awareness he'd relied on while making the long pass was gone.
This time, he would have to trust only his instincts. Just as he drew back his leg—Diego exploded across his blind side.
Bang!
He drove his shoulder firmly into Winston's. The collision knocked Winston off balance. His shot flew harmlessly wide of the post. A collective gasp echoed around the field.