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Chapter 19 - Mental Warfare

The academy lights buzzed softly above, casting long shadows across the glossy floor of the indoor pitch. The air still held the chill of early morning, but the heat of competition was already rising.

Leon adjusted his sleeves and stepped onto the turf with measured calm.

"Is your heart racing?" he'd asked Byon outside the gates, almost teasing.

Byon had laughed, a nervous chuckle that didn't hide much. "Totally… but I'm trying to act cool."

Leon could tell. But he respected that about Byon—the honesty, the effort to stand tall even when nerves scratched at the edges.

"Relax," Leon had said. "They're just kids. We're the best here."

And now, inside, that belief held firm.

They were early. Coach had looked up from his clipboard with a rare smile.

"Huh! First time anyone shows up fifteen minutes early! Well done, Leon and Byon!"

The other boys snickered, some good-natured, some competitive. But no one could hide their unease. The match was less than twenty-four hours away, and the stakes had settled into every shoulder, every glance, every footstep.

They began warmups, one group jogging, the other passing sharp, clean balls through cones.

Leon stood at the back of the line, scanning quietly.

As always, the system hovered in his view. Ghostly numbers shimmered just above each player's head:

Player: Reece McAllen — Potential: 78 / Ability: 40

Player: Niko Javid — Potential: 72 / Ability: 38

Player: Brandon Lo — Potential: 89 / Ability: 44

Leon narrowed his eyes at Brandon.

"Hmm. That one's good. Tall, moves well. Smart positioning too. He'll be a threat if we let him roam."

He shifted his gaze again.

Player: Zev Carlin — Potential: 91 / Ability: 41

Leon didn't show it on his face, but inside, a quiet thrill sparked.

"Alright… things are getting interesting."

He watched Zev for another few minutes. Lean, wiry, focused. The kind of kid who didn't waste motion. There was hunger in the way he moved—quiet, dangerous.

"Scanning again?" Byon had crept up beside him mid-drill, breathing slightly hard from the sprint circuits.

Leon didn't turn, just smirked. "Yeah. Most are average. Three or four might stand out."

Byon leaned in, whispering. "We need to be on the same team, Leon. Seriously."

Leon finally turned to meet his eyes.

"If we're together," he said "they'll be talking about us for days."

Byon smiled—half-excited, half-nervous. "Then let's make sure we don't get split."

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