The mist parted.
Julian's lips twisted into a scowl. "Really? Again?"
The figure—his reflection in crimson and black—tilted his head back and laughed, the sound echoing across the clouds like broken glass.
"Hahaha… come on. Let's say my first entrance was… clumsy. I didn't quite know the rules of this world then." His grin sharpened. "But I've been inside you long enough now. I've learned. So no more old-man duels with swords and fists."
A ball shimmered into existence at his feet, spinning with unnatural light. He tapped it up, juggling casually, every motion crisp, fluid, professional.
"Football, Julian," he said, smirking. "Let's play football."
The sea of clouds shuddered. Lines of white fire carved themselves across the void, shaping into walls, nets, and seats. The ground hardened, black glass turning to painted wood. In seconds, the endless sky transformed—into a small stadium.
Futsal-sized. Close. Trapping. No room to breathe.
