The roar of the Eternal Era Stadium was already shaking the walls by the time Dante arrived at the players' tunnel.
He wasn't supposed to be here. Not yet. Not this soon.
But Aya Nakamura, the senior squad's brilliant attacking midfielder, had been stretchered off during training the previous evening ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. The medical team declared she'd be sidelined for weeks. And with an exhibition match against the Orion Blades—one of the top-ranked interstellar clubs—looming, Eternal Era needed a replacement.
Jason Lockwood had made the decision quickly. "Bring up Dante Anderson from Team B."
The Rising Stars striker. The wildcard.
Now, standing in the dim corridor, Dante could hear the heartbeat of the crowd beyond the concrete walls. Tens of thousands of voices, chanting, stomping, waiting. Their energy pressed against him like a physical force.
He adjusted his hoodie, pulling it lower over his brow, even though the senior squad players around him had already stripped down into their sleek black-and-silver kits.
He wasn't one of them. Not yet.
And they knew it.
The locker room smelled of antiseptic and sweat, an odd mix of new polish and old battles. Benches circled the room, each seat marked with a nameplate. Dante's name wasn't on any of them, so he sat quietly on the end of a bench, a ghost among titans.
The seniors were already buzzing with pre-match rituals.
Scarlet leaned back against her locker, one leg crossed over the other, fiery hair spilling over her shoulders as she twirled her shin guards in her hands. She smirked when her eyes fell on Dante.
"So, this is the substitute?" Her voice carried just enough to cut through the chatter. "The Rising Stars project boy? Hope you don't trip over your shoelaces when the cameras are on."
A couple of players chuckled, the sound low and sharp.
Anastasia Lockwood, seated across the room, said nothing. She was lacing her boots with precise care, her gaze calm but unreadable. When Scarlet's smirk lingered, Anastasia's eyes flicked up. Just once. Enough to make Scarlet click her tongue and look away.
Lionel "Stronghold" sat a few lockers down from Dante, rolling tape around his wrists. His massive frame radiated a quiet calm. He noticed Dante's tense shoulders and leaned slightly closer.
Across the room, Grim, the captain, rose to his feet. His presence sucked the air out of the space. His voice, deep and deliberate, cut through the noise.
"We know what's at stake tonight. Orion Blades aren't coming here for a show. They're coming to measure us. To test our strength before the Galaxy Cup."
He scanned the room, eyes like twin blades. "There is no room for weakness. Every tackle, every sprint, every strike—it all speaks of Eternal Era. Fail yourself, and you fail us all."
His gaze lingered on Dante for half a second. Long enough to make the message clear.
Jason's Tactical Briefing
The door swung open, and Jason Lockwood entered with his staff, a digital board flickering to life behind him. He didn't waste time.
"The Blades are ranked fourth in the Orion Sector. Fast, technical, ruthless. Their captain—Armand Sorel—is one of the best midfield generals in the galaxy. He'll pick apart anyone who leaves space."
The board displayed holographic figures of the opposing players, stats scrolling beside them.
"We're going with a 4-3-3," Jason continued, his voice clipped. "Scarlet, you'll play wide left. Kenji takes the right. Malik in center. Autumn Leaf and Lionel will anchor the backline. Grim in goal, as always. Our midfield is light without Aya, so I've called up Dante."
The holograms shifted. Dante's name appeared faintly in the forward rotation, next to Scarlet and Kenji.
A murmur spread through the locker room. A few players frowned. One muttered, "Risky."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "I know what you're thinking. He's inexperienced. Unpolished. But he's got something you don't—unpredictability. And unpredictability is exactly what the Blades don't want to face."
Scarlet snorted. "Or exactly what we don't want to face."
Jason ignored her, turning his gaze to Dante. "You won't start. You'll observe the first half. Use your eyes. Use your… abilities." His tone hardened slightly at that word. "When I say the word, you go in. Not before. Not after. Understood?"
Dante swallowed, then nodded. "Understood."
The Flashback – Aya's Fall
For a moment, Dante's thoughts drifted back to the previous night. Aya had been darting across the training pitch, her Moonblade Dribble cutting through defenders like light itself. She was unstoppable, until the moment her foot caught wrong on the turf.
The crack echoed louder than the whistles. She collapsed, clutching her ankle, agony carved across her face.
Jason's voice had been iron. "Pull her off. She's out."
And then his eyes had found Dante across the pitch. "Anderson. Your time just came early."
The memory made Dante's stomach tighten. Aya wasn't just a star. She was the reason some opponents feared Eternal Era. Now he had to step into that void.
The minutes ticked down. The room grew quieter. Some players whispered last-minute prayers. Others shadow-boxed or stretched, the thump of their muscles echoing in the still air.
Dante kept his head lowered, listening to the thunder of the crowd beyond the walls. His Cosmic Telepathy brushed faintly against the roar, catching stray emotions—anticipation, hunger, doubt, faith. It was overwhelming, like standing in the middle of a storm.
Then Lionel's hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him.
"Don't try to be Aya," Lionel said simply. "Be Dante."
For some reason, those words hit harder than all the lectures combined.
The Walkout
At last, the call came: "Eternal Era, to the tunnel."
The players rose in unison, their black-and-silver kits gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Dante followed at the back, his legs heavy but his chest burning with fire.
The tunnel stretched ahead, a dim corridor that funneled into a wall of light. The sound of the crowd swelled, chanting names, Titan Names, legends.
Scarlet cracked her neck, muttering, "Showtime."Anastasia's Autumn Leaf aura shimmered faintly around her as she adjusted her gloves.Grim walked at the front, shadowy energy curling around his boots.
Dante clenched his fists, his own crimson lightning twitching at the edges of his skin. Not unleashed just a reminder that it was there, waiting.
The players emerged into the stadium.
The crowd's roar became a hurricane. Banners waved. Sparks and fireworks lit the air. Across the pitch, the Orion Blades lined up in gleaming white armor-trimmed kits, their captain Armand standing tall, eyes already locked on Grim.
The announcer's voice thundered through the speakers:
"Eternal Era… versus Orion Blades!"
The stadium shook.
And for the first time, Dante stood on the touchline not as a spectator, not as a Rising Star, but as part of the Eternal Era squad.
His debut was no longer a dream. It was here.
And the galaxy was watching.