At the canteen
"I know it won't be easy… but I'll give it my best," Arsh said, smiling with quiet confidence. "And if anything goes wrong, I've got the whole council to back me up."
He turned to Luna with a soft grin. "By the way, Ainz has a big practice match with another college today. He invited me to watch. Wanna come with me?"
Luna stretched her arms with a relaxed sigh. "Hmm… nothing to do for now. Sure, let's go."
They made their way to the college's main court, where the football field had been repurposed for a massive basketball showdown. The place was packed—students, teachers, and locals alike filled the stands, their cheers echoing across the stadium.
The host stepped up, voice booming through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, So, Today, I am hosting our city's best rivalry Team's football match, So please welcome our school's pride, the third-best team in the city—The Furies! And leading them, their captain—Ainz Frost!"
Ainz strode onto the court with fire in his eyes. He scanned the crowd until he spotted Arsh, and with a wave, lifted his hand. Arsh smiled and waved back, proud.
"And now, the reigning champions of our city—who is representing Sitler in the nationals for the past three years—The Cobras!.... And their captain and the best player of our city, Alex Bort!"
The Cobras entered with a thunder of applause, their confidence unshaken. This wasn't just a practice match—it was a clash of reputations.
The host grinned. "You both know the rules?"
"Yes, sir!" both teams shouted in unison.
"Then let the battle begin!"
The whistle blew.
Alex took the ball with practiced ease, dancing around defenders. Ainz pressed forward, eyes locked in.
I know Alex is better than me… but I'm not who I was before. Since I met Arsh, I've grown—physically, mentally, in every way. I won't lose—not anymore, Ainz muttered under his breath.
Alex blinked, misstepping for just a second—and that was all Ainz needed. He dashed in, snatched the ball, leapt high, and swish—the first goal of the match.
The crowd erupted.
The Cobras looked shaken. They quickly shifted tactics, adjusting their positions.
Arsh leaned back with a smirk. "Is this really the best team in the city? Ainz is handling them all alone."
Luna crossed her arms. "They're called Cobras for a reason and yeah this is the only team who can be our no. 1. I admit, Ainz has improved a lot, but one player alone…? That's not enough to beat them."
"Really?" Arsh raised an eyebrow.
"Last year, The Furies faced them eight times. Wanna guess how many they won?"
"…How many?"
"Zero."
As if on cue, the Cobras scored, leveling the scoreboard. 1–1.
Round three began. Ainz took the ball, ran and went for a jump shot, but Alex was lightning-fast—he intercepted, sending the ball flying out of bounds. The referee's whistle blew.
Scoreboard is still 1:1.
Ainz clenched his fists.
"Sir," OSAI's voice buzzed in Arsh's earpiece, "Ainz's emotional state is unstable. Risk of escalation is high. He might lose control."
"Send him a warning message. If that doesn't help… I'll step in myself."
Ainz glanced at his device, nodded slightly, and gave a thumbs-up toward Arsh.
Play resumed.
A Cobra dashed forward, aiming for the basket. But something flickered in his eyes—hesitation? A blink—and he lost control of the ball.
Ainz intercepted, passed, but Alex leapt, grabbed mid-air, and with an elegant spin-shot—scored. 1–2.
Ainz's frustration grew. The whistle blew again.
He charged, leapt for a goal—but a Cobra met him in the air. Ainz tipped the ball mid-jump. Chaos erupted. Players collided. Ainz, hyped and overwhelmed, pushed an opponent too hard.
The whistle shrieked.
The referee rushed to the scene. The injured player had only minor scratches—but enough for a yellow card. Ainz was warned.
Half time.
Breathing heavily, Ainz moved away from the noise, searching for solitude. He tapped his device to call Arsh.
Arsh's screen lit up with OSAI's alert, Ainz want some words. He turned to Luna. "I need some water. Be right back—keep my seat warm."
"Sure," Luna said with a shrug.
Arsh found a quiet spot and answered the call.
"Arsh," Ainz's voice was tight, stressed, "I'm trying to hold back, but it's costing me the game. And if I stop holding back, I'll lose control… again. A second yellow card and I'm done."
Arsh's voice was calm, grounded. "Breathe in and breath out , Ainz. Think. There's always a way to use your strength—without hurting anyone. if you can push your limits forward, you can do it backward as well"
Ainz closed his eyes and exhaled. Slowly, clarity returned.
"…I get it now," he whispered. "I always thought of my power as one solid bar. But I just have to split it. Break it down, control each part… I think I can do it. Thanks, bro."
The call ended.
Arsh exhaled, glanced toward the crowd. "OSAI, where's the nearest water?"
A moment later, the second half began. Arsh slipped back into his seat, nodding to Luna.
Ainz entered with a different aura—focused, balanced.
Alex had the ball. He sprinted. Ainz sprinted too. He closed his eyes, breathed, and in a flash—snatched the ball and soared to the other end. He dodged two Cobras, jump in mid-air and Goal! 2–2.
Cheers erupted.
The match intensified. Alex tried again. Ainz was blocked by all 4 cobra members, he surrounded. He backed up, then surged forward—dodging, feinting—but Alex still got the upper hand. He launched the ball.
Ainz's eyes widened. No! He leapt with full force, catching the ball mid-air and launching it back—directly into the Cobra basket.
Goal.
3–2.
Gasps. The crowd froze by seeing this incredible, No foul. Clean move.
Final round. Time ticking.
Cobras smothered Ainz. Ainz baited them with a feint, let one take the ball—then stole it back in a flash. Alex saw it coming. He signaled the full team to close in.
The court was chaos. Time nearly up. Ainz panicked. He leapt, threw the ball with too much force. It slammed into the basket pillar—and tuned off toward the audience.
"Warning," OSAI alerted, "Projectile speed dangerous. Potential injury imminent."
Arsh sighed. "Ainz… you always put me in weird spots."
Arsh casually crushed a tiny paper turn it into a ball in his fist, flicked it with his immersive but controlled force, toward the incoming ball. It changed his direction of a few angles in mid-air, subtly altering the trajectory. The ball hit the stairs and tumbled harmlessly.
No one noticed.
BZZZZT!
The buzzer rang.
"The winners—The Furies!"
The audience exploded in celebration.
Ainz stood on the court, panting, victorious, glowing with joy.
The Cobras,
Moments later, Arsh and Luna approached.
"Did you see that?!" Ainz grinned, breathless. "I beat them. I beat the top team!"
"Congratulations," Arsh said warmly.
"That was impressive," Luna added, nodding. "You took on an entire championship team alone. Not bad at all."
Ainz beamed. "Thanks! I trained really hard."
"I'll leave you boys to celebrate," Luna smiled, stepping away. "Got something important to take care of."
As the crowd cleared and silence returned to the court, Ainz stepped closer to Arsh.
"Bro… really. Thank you. If you hadn't helped me, someone might've gotten hurt. And I could've been banned for losing control."
Arsh nodded, voice low. "It was a dangerous slip—but you caught yourself in time. That matters. You're learning. And I'm here to cover for you, as long as you need."
He glanced at the empty basket. "Say… wanna play a game?"
"With you?" Ainz laughed. "No way! I don't want broken ribs."
"I'll go easy. Use all your armor, gadgets, whatever. I'll use just a sliver of my strength. One simple challenge: score once in five minutes, and you win."
"…You're serious?"
"Dead serious. I've watched the game, studied it. And I can handle your speed."
Ainz's eyes lit up. "Alright. One match. Your first loss is coming!"
"Let's see about that."
Arsh turned to the air. "OSAI, you're the referee. Lock the place down. No interruptions. And record the match."
"Understood, sir."
Drones activated. A silent barrier masked the court from sound and vision. The illusion of a locked gate shimmered into place. The whistle blew.
And their private match began…