Recap:
The doors of the shuttle hissed shut behind them, sealing the players away from the roar of the Veridion stadium and the echo of that final whistle. The hum of the engines filled the narrow cabin, steady and low.
No one spoke at first.
They filed into their seats quietly, each carrying the weight of the defeat like something tangible lodged in their chest. The Galactic Cup final had slipped out of their fingers in the dying moments of extra time, the scoreboard still etched into their minds.
Rift Striker 3 — Titans 2.
A number small enough to fit in a child's notebook, yet too heavy for any of them to lift.
Blaze sank into a seat by the window, still in his sweat-soaked jersey. He didn't bother wiping the dried blood near his temple. He hadn't cared for it during the match; he cared even less now.
His right leg throbbed. He ignored that too.
