The next day, word spread fast.
Not through the school board or official channels—but through the whispers.
"There's a team forming under the old gym."
"Not school-sanctioned. Totally illegal."
"That freak Vale's behind it."
Most students laughed.
A few listened.
And three showed up.
📍[Abandoned Training Hall – Beneath Academy 47]
The space was dim. Dust drifted in the air like falling ash. Broken training dummies lined the walls. A shattered scoreboard flickered occasionally, stuck on some match from years ago.
Kaien stood at the center. Nico and Lyra beside him.
Three strangers walked in—each different, each watching Kaien like he was some joke that got out of hand.
One leaned against the wall. Tall, lazy posture, bandaged wrists. "Heard you're forming a rebel squad. Got any money?"
Kaien shook his head. "No."
The second one stepped forward. Short, muscled. Buzz cut. A brawler. "Do we get to break things?"
Kaien nodded once. "Eventually."
The third said nothing. Just stared with blank eyes and an emotionless face. Mana radiated faintly from his limbs, wild and unrefined.
Kaien stepped forward.
"No formal drills. No coaches. No mana tests. You want to play? Show me."
The ball dropped.
The match was chaos.
Nico couldn't keep up. Lyra barked instructions, trying to organize something out of the madness. The short brawler just charged people like it was a fight club. The tall one skipped defense entirely, trying trick shots he could never land.
Kaien didn't play.
He watched.
Every movement. Every failure.
He didn't care who scored. He watched their reactions. Who blamed others. Who adapted. Who learned.
At the end of fifteen minutes, he clapped once.
"Stop."
Breathless. Mud-stained. Everyone turned.
Kaien walked to the middle. Pointed to the tall lazy one.
"You're not as smooth as you think. You've got speed, but no follow-through. Dribble less, cut more."
The kid opened his mouth—then shut it.
Kaien turned to the brawler. "You're not a footballer. You're a wall. That's fine. Learn to anchor. Play as a breaker."
He faced the quiet one last.
"You… have raw mana, but it's fractured. What happened?"
The boy hesitated. Then rolled up his sleeve.
Underneath—burn scars. A broken core seal.
Kaien's eyes narrowed.
"You tried to fuse your spirit lines too early."
The boy looked away. Silent.
"Can you still kick?"
A pause. Then a slow nod.
Kaien reached into his pocket, pulled out a mangled mana bead. Almost useless—but it would do.
He tossed it underfoot.
"Then do it. Charge the ball."
The boy's eyes flared gold for a split second. He struck the bead with the side of his foot.
It didn't explode.
It hummed.
The ball shimmered—then exploded forward like a cannon shot, straight into the wall. Cracks spiderwebbed across it.
Kaien grinned. "Welcome to the team."
That night, the abandoned hall echoed with footsteps.
Six players now.
Six misfits.
No budget.
No sponsor.
No approval.
But Kaien stood in front of them with a whiteboard stolen from an old classroom. He drew a circle, six dots, and then underlined a single word:
PHANTOM XI
"Why eleven?" Nico asked. "There's only six of us."
Kaien looked up, eyes glinting.
"Because we're not just building a team…"
He tapped the board once.
"We're going to tear down the system."
📍[Meanwhile – Administration Hall, Floor 9]
A group of old men in robes stared at a flickering screen showing Kaien's phantom team running drills.
"He's alive," one muttered.
"Impossible. The Kaien Vale who died ten years ago…"
"Is back," another said. "But without his mana core. Without his bloodline inheritance."
The Headmaster stepped forward, face grim.
"If he rises again… the League will collapse. We buried that generation for a reason."
They turned off the screen.
"Find him. And break him before Arcana Cup season begins."
A week passed.
The abandoned hall had changed.
Old mana coils reconnected. Junk cleared. The broken scoreboard now read: PHANTOM XI – READY.
Kaien had drilled them every evening until their legs burned and their lungs gave out. But something had clicked.
Nico was finally hitting clean strikes.
Lyra had synced her passes with the quiet boy—his name was Ash. Burn-scarred, silent, but sharp as a dagger in midfield.
And the others?
Kaien didn't care if they were rough. What mattered was that they listened. That they wanted to improve.
But this was all just rehearsal.
Today—they were going public.
---
📍[Courtyard Notice Board – Morning]
A paper was pinned at the center of the school bulletin:
> "We, Phantom XI, challenge Class 3's official squad. Full match. No mana limit. Tonight. East court."
By noon, the entire campus was buzzing.
"Who the hell is Phantom XI?"
"Kaien Vale's cult team. They've got no license."
"No way they win. Class 3 has full support gear!"
"They'll get destroyed."
Kaien walked through the rumors with his hands in his pockets. Calm. Focused.
Nico ran up to him, nervous. "They accepted. It's happening tonight."
"Good," Kaien said. "We don't need approval. Just impact."
---
📍[East Court – Nightfall]
The court was lit by rusting floodlights. Students ringed the fences, phones out, shouting, laughing.
At one end: Class 3's team—licensed mana boots, branded kits, smug smiles.
At the other: Phantom XI—mismatched shoes, patched jerseys, one player in sandals.
Kaien stepped up first, spinning the ball on his finger.
"First official game," he said. "No coach. No referee. Just eyes."
He pointed at the crowd.
"We lose, we vanish. We win, we prove we belong. You ready?"
The team nodded.
Lyra spoke quietly. "Even Ash said yes. That's rare."
Kaien looked to Ash. The burn-scarred boy simply raised a hand and clenched a fist. No words.
Good enough.
---
[Kickoff]
The whistle was just a student blowing into a soda can.
But the moment the ball rolled—everything shifted.
Class 3 came out strong. Fast formations. Clean touches. Their mana lines flared from polished gear. Sharp, academic-style football.
But Phantom XI?
They moved like ghosts.
Lyra controlled the tempo, weaving through space, finding angles that shouldn't exist.
Nico sprinted like his life depended on it—his movements clumsy but full of heart.
Ash intercepted everything. He didn't pass. He disrupted. Absorbed mana. Burned it off like smoke from his heels.
Kaien didn't even join the first ten minutes.
He watched.
Analyzed.
Then, the moment they lost rhythm—
He stepped in.
And everything broke apart.
---
He took a pass near midfield, let it bounce once—and backheeled it without looking.
The ball spun in a perfect arc, past defenders, into open space.
Nico blinked.
"I'M OPEN!"
He bolted—and caught the pass just before the keeper reached it.
Shot.
Goal.
1 – 0. Phantom XI.
The crowd lost it.
"Was that Kaien Vale?!"
"That pass wasn't human—!"
Class 3 reset, shaken. Their formation got tighter. Mana fields stronger. They pushed with full strength now.
But Kaien adapted faster.
When they doubled Lyra, he switched her left.
When they marked Ash, Kaien drew the aggression onto himself.
He still wasn't using mana.
But his positioning?
It was flawless.
---
[Final Minutes – Score: 2 – 2]
Breath heavy. Jerseys soaked.
Class 3's captain snarled. "You punks are nothing. No coach. No contracts. No core!"
Kaien tilted his head. "You've got all that. And still can't beat ghosts."
One last play.
Kaien motioned. "Lyra. Drop back. Nico, fake high. Ash—when I pull the center, burn right."
They didn't question him.
He dribbled slowly up the field. Let the defenders close in.
Two. Then three.
He flicked the ball forward—then stopped.
Faked his own movement.
They bit.
And Ash—silent, light, burned past on the right.
Kaien tapped the pass.
Ash caught it mid-run, planted—and shot.
The net exploded.
3 – 2. Phantom XI wins.
---
Silence.
Then chaos.
Phones recorded. Students screamed.
Kaien just stood in the center, eyes closed.
> "That's one."
---
📍[Elsewhere – Council Tower, Arcana League Subdivision]
A woman in a blazer scrolled through match clips. Her eyes narrowed as she paused on Kaien's pass.
"That technique…"
A man in black beside her leaned forward. "It's him, isn't it?"
She nodded.
"Kaien Vale has returned."