The Training Stadium Alpha no longer looked like a stadium. Overnight, it had been transformed into something closer to a warzone.
Metal walls rotated with slow, ominous rhythm. Laser gates shimmered faint red, flickering open and closed like the jaws of predators. Mannequin dummies spun in jagged arcs, each armed with retractable rods that could smack the ball from careless players. And patrolling the entire field were the shadows: humanoid AI defenders with glowing white eyes and the faint hiss of hydraulics every time they stepped forward.
The air tasted metallic, humming with the energy fields.
Students packed the stands, roaring with excitement. First-years leaned over rails, some betting their leftover meal credits on teams. Nobles from Class A sat smugly, whispering predictions. Class D kids cheered the loudest, hungry for an upset. The girls' division was on the other side of the dome, running a mirrored gauntlet. Their progress flashed periodically across the giant holo-board above.
Bram tightened his grip on his cleats as he stood with his teammates in the waiting area. His chest thudded like a drum.
Team 7.Bram Ashcroft.Callen Ward.Jory Tanners.Felix Dane.Daren Holt.
He glanced at them, trying to size up what kind of disaster (or miracle) this mix could become.
Callen spun the ball lazily on his finger, smirk plastered across his face. "Easy. Just passing. We'll be through in five." His arrogance practically leaked into the floor.
Jory was bouncing on his toes, muttering jokes to himself. "If I die in there, tell my mother it was because of Callen's ego."
Felix adjusted his band quietly, eyes narrowed, already analyzing the course like it was a math problem.
Daren cracked his knuckles, built like a wall of stone. He didn't say much—he didn't need to. His job was obvious: shield, absorb, survive.
Bram exhaled slowly. "We can do this," he muttered more to himself than anyone else.
The System pulsed in his mind, sly and smug:[ Questline Active: Passing Drill Gauntlet ][ Bonus Objective: Deliver 3 Successful Assists ][ Reward: +2 Vision, Skill Unlock Chance ]
Callen snorted when Bram clenched his fists. "Relax, Ashcroft. Just try not to trip over the ball, yeah?"
Bram ignored him. His heart pounded too loud to waste breath on insults.
The Whistle
Coach Marrow's voice thundered through the dome."Team 7 — begin."
The starting whistle cut the air like a blade.
Five boys jogged onto the shifting turf. The ball appeared in a glowing pedestal at the starting line. Bram's stomach flipped—like holding a live grenade.
Daren lumbered forward first, shielding with his body. "I'll take first touch," he grunted.
"No way," Callen snapped, already stepping in. "Leave it to me—"
But Bram darted forward. He didn't even think. His foot connected with the ball, gentle but firm, nudging it toward Felix on the wing.
Felix caught it cleanly with one touch."Smart," Felix muttered, eyes still scanning ahead. "Starting calm."
Callen scowled. "Cowards. Where's the flair?"
Jory chuckled nervously. "Flair gets you killed in there, genius."
The first zone was a nightmare corridor: six walls rotated in alternating directions, leaving only narrow gaps that opened for seconds before slamming shut again.
"Passing only," Bram reminded. "No dribbling more than three touches."
Felix gave a sharp nod, slid the ball across to Bram just as the first gap opened.
Bram's pulse spiked. He let the ball roll past his left foot, then tapped it forward through the narrowing gap. For a terrifying instant, the wall groaned, threatening to close—
—but Daren shoved his bulk through like a battering ram, deflecting the ball with the side of his boot just enough to keep it alive.
The crowd roared.
"YES! Holt the Tank!" someone shouted.
Callen smirked, finally taking his chance. With a flashy backheel, he flicked the ball through the second wall. The timing was perfect—too perfect. For a heartbeat, the stands actually gasped.
Then the ball ricocheted slightly off the edge of the wall and spun dangerously toward the sideline.
"Idiot!" Felix barked, diving to hook it back in. His studs scraped sparks against the turf, but he kept it alive.
Jory muttered, "And we almost died in Zone One. Great sign."
Bram's chest tightened. If they were already this messy, what about later?
From the stands, seniors laughed."Team 7's doomed. Look at that chaos.""Callen's showboating already.""I'll give them three zones before elimination."
But in the Class A section, a noble boy leaned forward, watching Bram specifically. His eyes narrowed. "Ashcroft… isn't he from that family?"
The name rippled quietly among them.
Meanwhile, on the giant holo-screen, the girls' division flashed. Class A team glided through the same rotating walls with surgical precision. Each pass landed like they'd rehearsed for years. The crowd murmured in awe.
Bram caught a glimpse as he jogged forward, breath tight. They make it look effortless.
The second zone hummed with red beams crisscrossing the field. The gates flickered, opening and closing in unpredictable intervals.
Felix took command. "Follow my callouts! Left… now!"
He zipped the ball low to Jory, who squeaked as the gate above him blinked red. He barely managed to push the ball back before the beam sizzled down.
The smell of ozone singed Bram's nose. He swallowed hard.
"Next—Ashcroft!" Felix barked.
The ball rolled fast. Bram planted his foot—timed it—slipped the ball clean through just as a gate closed behind him.
Too close. Too damn close. His heart nearly stopped.
Daren barreled after the pass, sweat gleaming on his temple. "This one's mine!"
A beam dropped suddenly. Daren didn't stop—he dove, sliding like a batter stealing base. The crowd exploded as his body skidded under the beam, boot barely nudging the ball forward.
Bram's stomach twisted. That could have sliced him in half if it was real.
"Madman!" Jory yelped.
But they were through. Two zones cleared.
On the sideline, Silva scribbled into his pad. "Reckless teamwork. No coordination."
Marrow's scarred face stayed stone. "And yet… they're adapting. Chaos has teeth."
Obstacle Three – Shadow Defenders
The next zone was alive. Five AI defenders waited, white eyes glowing.
"They read passes," Felix warned. "Don't telegraph."
Callen grinned. "Watch me smoke them."
He zipped forward, demanded the ball. Against his better judgment, Bram passed it—quick, sharp.
Callen tapped twice, then tried a flashy nutmeg through the nearest shadow.
The AI read it instantly. A hydraulic leg snapped out—intercepted—ball gone.
Alarm blared.[-1 Point Deduction]
The crowd groaned.
"IDIOT!" Jory shouted, voice cracking.
The shadow launched the ball back at them like a cannon. Bram's instincts screamed—he dove forward, chesting it down before it could roll out. Pain thudded through his ribs.
He staggered, sucking air. That was close.
Callen muttered, red-faced, "Shut up. Just bad luck."
But the stands were merciless."Ward's all flash, no brains!""Team 7's done for!"
Something in Bram snapped. He pushed up, teeth gritted. "Enough. We do this my way."
Felix met his eyes, calm. "Fine. Your call."
Even Daren nodded silently.
Bram inhaled, chest burning, mind racing. His Replay Vision flickered alive:[ Potential Trajectory – 4 Options ]
In his head, he saw it. The sequence.
"Jory left. Daren screen middle. Felix diagonal cut. Now!"
The ball zipped from Bram to Jory, who nearly tripped but managed the pass. Daren swung his body like a shield, blocking the shadow's intercept. Felix darted wide, silent as a ghost.
Bram's heart thundered. He angled his body—slipped the perfect weighted pass through two defenders.
Felix received clean, tapped it across the final line.
Zone cleared.
The crowd erupted.
"What the hell was that pass?!""That Ashcroft kid—did you see the vision?"
Even Coach Marrow's lips twitched. Almost a smile.
System Ping
[ Bonus Objective Progress: 1/3 Successful Assists ][ Micro-Reward: +1 Composure ]
Bram nearly collapsed from relief. Sweat stung his eyes. Two more to go.
The next gate loomed. Unlike the others, it was massive, black, and unmoving. A solid wall. No gaps.
Students in the stands murmured in confusion.
Then the wall shimmered—and faces appeared on its surface. Not AI defenders. Not shadows.
Their own reflections.
The wall whispered, in a hundred voices:"Passing isn't survival. Passing is trust. Show us trust… or fail."
Bram's stomach dropped. Callen's smirk finally faltered.
"What the hell is this?" Jory whispered.
The wall's surface rippled. A ball materialized in front of them, glowing faintly red.
the school holographic system pulse:[ Hidden Challenge Detected: The Mirror Test ][ Rule: each player must pass. None may hesitate. ][ Failure = Team Wipe. ]
Bram's hands trembled as the crowd went silent.
This… wasn't on the schematics.
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