The late afternoon sun glared over Eternal Era's main training ground, casting long shadows across the pitch. The senior squad had gathered for their final rehearsal before the upcoming interstellar exhibition match. Dante, as usual, stood with Team B on the adjacent field, grinding through his drills while sneaking glances at the seniors.
The whistle pierced the air. Jason's commanding voice rolled out like thunder:"Intensity! Again!"
The seniors collided in a high-speed scrimmage. Scarlet's crimson aura streaked down the wing, her boots sparking as she whipped a cross. Kenji launched upward with his trademark Thunderclaw leap, twisting mid-air for a strike. But just as his foot connected, Malik lunged with a counter, both forces colliding with a boom of raw ki.
Then it happened.
Aya, the silent assassin of the squad, darted in to intercept. A sharp twist, a mistimed step, and she landed awkwardly. The crunch echoed—her ankle buckling under the force.
The stadium hushed. Aya clutched her leg, face pale with pain. The medic team sprinted onto the field, carrying her away. Jason's eyes narrowed, calculating. Losing Aya before such a high-profile match was a devastating blow.
The seniors exchanged uneasy glances. Replacements were scarce; every member of the squad was carefully selected for synergy.
Jason's gaze swept across the two training pitches. His voice carried, cutting through murmurs:"Team B. Send me Dante Anderson."
The world seemed to stop.
Dante froze mid-stretch, heart slamming against his ribs. Team B erupted with whispers."Him? Already?""No way. He just entered the program.""Guess being flashy pays off…"
Ignoring the murmurs, Dante jogged forward. The distance between him and the seniors felt endless. His hoodie weighed heavy on his shoulders, though inside, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. This was it.
Jason stood with arms folded, his aura pulsing like a storm barely contained. "Aya's down. We need a new shape. You—" he jabbed a finger at Dante, "you're stepping in son. But understand this: you're not Aya. You're not here to show off. You're here to fit."
"Yes, coach," Dante answered, voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding him.
The seniors studied him. Lionel's expression was calm but unreadable. Scarlet smirked like she smelled a fight coming. Grim simply crossed his arms, eyes shadowed. Autumn Leaf tilted her head, curiosity hidden behind her composed smile.
Jason clapped his hands. "Form up. 4-3-3 to 3-4-3 hybrid. Dante, you're first on the left wing. Move."
The first drill began: seniors versus reserves. Dante jogged into the wide channel, his nerves tightening as Scarlet lined up opposite him.
"Don't blink, rookie," she said, her aura flaring red-hot.
The whistle blew. Scarlet exploded forward. Dante reacted, lightning flashing at his heels. For a few exchanges, he matched her stride, flicking the ball past her with a burst of speed. The reserves on the sideline gasped.
But Scarlet was merciless. She unleashed her Viper Coil, a slingshot burst that curved around him. She stripped the ball clean and hissed, "Too slow."
Jason barked, "Next! False nine!"
Dante shifted into the central pocket. Grim loomed behind him like a living void, his Shadow Zone slowing Dante's perception. Each time Dante tried to turn, Grim's aura froze him. Twice he lost the ball before even pivoting.
Jason frowned. "Again. Shadow striker role."
Now Dante hovered just behind Kenji. This time he had more freedom. A through-ball zipped his way he caught it, flicked lightning along his boots, and split into two afterimages with Vanishing Steps. The defender staggered, fooled by the double vision. Dante broke free and fired—his Jörmundgandr Shot cracking like thunder.
The ball soared, a meteor headed for the top corner—
WHAM! Lionel was there. He chested it down with casual dominance, the crowd of players gasping.
Dante gritted his teeth. Every role so far had exposed his weaknesses.
Clash With the Titans
The session shifted into high-intensity drills. Jason orchestrated duels: seniors against Dante.
Lionel stood like a wall. "Come at me."
Dante sprinted, aura flaring. He weaved through flicks, lightning dribbling at his feet. For a heartbeat, he saw a gap. He wound up Jörmundgandr again—only for Lionel to absorb the shot with Fortress Step, the ball ricocheting harmlessly.
"Raw. Predictable," Lionel muttered.
Scarlet followed, challenging him to a one-on-one sprint duel. She surged like fire. Dante countered with Vanishing Steps, his image splitting, but Scarlet twisted mid-run, her serpentine dribble cutting through his illusions. She tapped the ball away with a grin.
Finally, Autumn Leaf faced him. She didn't attack with power or speed. She flowed. Every feint Dante tried, she glided alongside, her movements like falling leaves carried by invisible wind. Frustration bubbled in Dante's chest as she gently dispossessed him without a word.
By the end of the drills, sweat soaked his shirt, crimson lightning fizzing weakly around him. The seniors looked unimpressed—except Lionel, who studied him with a hint of intrigue.
Jason's Challenge
Jason blew the whistle. "Stop. Gather up."
The squad circled, eyes on the coach.
Jason's gaze fell on Dante. "You think one flashy move is enough to win games? Aya had ten ways to score, and you've barely mastered one. Jörmundgandr is raw power, but predictable. The moment they read it, you're finished."
Dante's fists clenched. "Then I'll make more."
Jason's tone sharpened. "Not someday. Now. If you want a spot on this bench, you'll build an arsenal. A striker without options isn't a striker. He's a liability." I believe in you
Training resumed. This time, Lionel joined Dante on the attacking side.
They began experimenting. Dante launched his Jörmundgandr Shot—but instead of firing directly, Lionel intercepted mid-flight, deflecting it with a fortress header that redirected the ball at impossible angles.
"Again," Lionel ordered.
They repeated it. This time Dante added Vanishing Steps, disguising the build-up, then releasing at a delayed rhythm. Lionel adjusted, chesting the ball into Scarlet's path, creating a combo play.
Slowly, Dante felt the technique evolving. The raw destructive arc of Jörmundgandr was still there, but Lionel's adjustments gave it unpredictability—curves, fakes, sudden drops. Together, they were forging Jörmundgandr 2.0.
By the third trial, Dante ripped a shot that twisted mid-air, spiraling like a serpent changing course mid-flight. The reserves ducked as it slammed the net with a booming crack.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Better. Keep refining."
For the first time, Dante saw Lionel nod at him. A silent acknowledgment: progress.
As dusk bled across the sky, Jason blew the final whistle. The squad gathered, tired but alert.
Jason spoke, his tone sharp. "Dante stays with the seniors until Aya recovers. He'll be our wildcard substitute. Limited minutes, but his presence might unsettle opponents. Make no mistake—he's raw. But raw fire still burns."
Murmurs swept through the squad. Some rolled their eyes. Others smirked. But no one outright objected.
Dante stood tall, hiding the tremor of adrenaline running through him. His chance had come, sooner than expected.
As the squad dispersed, Lionel walked past him, speaking low: "One move won't carry you. But maybe—just maybe—you'll build enough to stand with us."
Scarlet winked, taunting: "Don't trip when the spotlight hits you, rookie."
Autumn Leaf gave him a fleeting glance, unreadable as ever, before walking away.
Dante exhaled hard, fists clenched. Tomorrow, he wouldn't just be a spectator. He would stand in their formation.
From the shadows near the gates, two figures observed the training ground. The bounty hunters.
"He's rising faster than expected," the woman whispered.The man smirked. "All the better. The higher the climb…the harder the fall."
On the pitch, Dante felt none of their presence. His world was already ablaze with a single thought:
Jörmundgandr 2.0 is just the beginning.