Sebastian, Lucas, Diago, and Diego walked into the attacking dome, chatting casually among themselves. However, the moment they entered, they sensed the tension hanging over the other players. They paid it no attention and continued toward their usual area.
Sebastian glanced at Darwin, who was already staring back at him. Sebastian hoped yesterday's incident would finally push Darwin into challenging him to a one-on-one. He smirked.
Darwin clicked his tongue.
Meanwhile, Diago's attention shifted to Winston, who was lying on his back, staring up at the overcast sky visible through the dome's glass ceiling. Diago walked over and stood beside him. Winston had his eyes closed, still lost in thought. When he sensed someone nearby, he opened his eyes. The moment he saw Diago, he rolled them and closed them again.
The players in the dome were taken aback. One moment, Darwin and Sebastian were staring each other down; the next, Diago was approaching Winston to antagonize him. They were baffled. Murmurs spread through the group as they wondered what Winston and Darwin had done to deserve such treatment.
Most players had assumed that, after Lucas injured Oswin, Winston—or one of the other players Oswin had befriended at the academy—would become Lucas's next target. They hadn't expected Diago to be the one to start trouble.
"What do you want? I'm not in the mood. If you want my attention, challenge me to a one-on-one," Winston said, keeping his anger under control.
Honestly, he wanted to punch Diago. But he kept reminding himself of the academy's rules.
"I wouldn't mind that, but it'll happen eventually. For now, I just wanted to check up on a friend. I've been seeing you moping around." Diago paused, then continued with a smirk. "I was so worried that I went to the Building D football field. Your friends were moping around too, but I didn't see you there. Did what happened to your friend affect you so much that you decided to carry his burden as well?"
Diago waited for Winston's reaction.
When he saw Winston's expression change, his smirk widened. Winston opened his eyes and glared fiercely at him. His hands tightened into fists.
The short, bald instructor's assistants noticed the tension between the players and began walking toward them. Their presence was enough to break the moment. Diago turned and walked back toward his friends, a smile still spread across his face.
The other players felt uncomfortable when they saw his expression. Their attention shifted to Winston, who remained where he was. Of course, he couldn't move. He was still feeling the pain from his morning training.
Keep thinking you've won. I'll make you pay for hurting my friend. I'll make sure you don't reach Group A, and I'll turn all that bravado into your downfall.
Winston closed his eyes again. For now, I'll let you think you've beaten me. Once I've solved this problem with my legs, I'll make sure none of the players in this academy ever think of messing with me or my friends again.
The short, bald instructor entered the dome with a cup of coffee in his hand. All the players stood and formed a line.
He took his place in front of them, "Good morning, lads. Today, we'll continue with the finishing drills. But first, you know the routine—we're starting with warm-ups."
The instructor took a sip of his coffee. Once the players entered the football field, he nodded to his assistants, who began distributing the balls.
"For this warm-up, I want the ball to circulate between all of you. The aim is to get moving and build connections with one another. None of you should be taking heavy touches."
The bald instructor placed the whistle between his lips and blew. The players began passing the ball around as they moved across the field. Winston was still in pain. As he moved, he channeled more Nethen Essence into his legs, hoping to ease the discomfort.
Diago stayed close to him, following him with every pass and movement. He didn't know Winston was in pain, but he could tell something was bothering him. He decided to use that opportunity to taunt him. In Diago's mind, Winston was still upset about what had happened to Oswin.
And he wasn't entirely wrong.
Winston was struggling with both Oswin's injury and the plan he had overheard. The knowledge that Oswin's injury had been deliberately caused—and that Winston himself had been manipulated—filled him with shame. That was why he had avoided returning to Building D and checking on his other friends.
Winston's plan was to sharpen his skills until the players in the dome no longer dared to challenge him. But the pain that had appeared out of nowhere was wearing him down, both physically and mentally.
If he couldn't solve the problem with his legs soon, he feared he wouldn't be able to perform well next week. If he failed to demonstrate his skills, Oswin's Group A position could be challenged—and Winston might lose his chance to secure it.
He was still surprised the academy had even allowed him to take Oswin's place in a one-on-one challenge. When he first heard the announcement, he had felt both excited and anxious. Now, it was imperative that he sharpen his football skills as quickly as possible.
Diago had reminded him of that when he was recuperating. Winston knew Diago would use the situation as an excuse to climb into Group A. Winston gritted his teeth and continued weaving around the other players as he passed the ball.
The short, bald instructor kept his eyes on him. This kid is going to injure himself if he keeps playing like that.
After thinking this, the instructor blew his whistle and changed the warm-up drill. Once he was satisfied, he blew it again and gestured for the players to take a few minutes' break. His assistants quickly placed cones across the middle of the field, leading toward the penalty box and crossing area. When they finished, the instructor blew his whistle and called the players into a line.
"Now, let me explain the next drill." Two assistants stepped forward to demonstrate, "This is a transition drill designed to activate your muscles while working on attacking patterns. The striker will play a diagonal pass to the winger, then make a forward run through the cones and into the box. The winger must dribble around the orange cones in the crossing area before delivering a knee-high cross to the striker. Strikers, I want you to time your runs properly and finish inside the box."
The instructor pointed toward the goal, "You'll need to score past those target-practice nets. Make sure your shots are accurate." Once he finished explaining, he blew his whistle.
Noah was the first player to take his turn. Duke prepared to play as the winger, but Lucas quickly moved into position beside the orange cones and waited.
Darwin glanced at Sebastian. Sebastian turned his attention back to the field, though a smirk remained on his face. Of course, this was what they had planned with Lucas.
Noah let out a heavy sigh. When the instructor blew his whistle, he quickly passed the ball to the assistant positioned in the middle. The assistant returned it immediately, and Noah sent a long pass toward Lucas.
Lucas dribbled around the orange cones before delivering a knee-high cross. However, it wasn't a clean delivery. The ball travelled too wide, forcing Noah to stretch to reach it.
That was intentional. Noah's injuries from the previous day hadn't fully healed. Stretching like that would aggravate the wounds and reopen them. Clenching his teeth, Noah extended his leg and struck the ball.
Pain shot through his body. He let out a short groan, then tried to stand upright, only to stumble as he put weight on his leg.