That evening, Belt was broken. His muscles screamed in pain, but his mind refused to give up. He sat in front of his super-computer, convinced that science would be his ally to fix his physical weaknesses. He searched for endurance techniques, breathing methods, military programs. Result: general theories, abstract, useless. Frustrated, he closed the screen. "If I continue like this, I will remain a prey. A simple toy for that dog."
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He replayed the film of his failures. Why did Tink, the dog, never get tired? Why was he always faster at the start? Suddenly, Uncle Jisk's sentence came back to his memory: "Before being a predator, you must be a clever prey."
Belt's eyes widened. "But yes... That's it! I don't need to run like a human. I must run like him. I must copy his source code."
He threw himself at his keyboard. This time, he didn't search for "how to run," but "canine biomechanics." He spent the whole night analyzing slow-motion videos of hunting dogs: their low center of gravity, how they use their claws for turning, their rhythmic breathing. He wasn't going to train. He was going to update his own body.
Six days later. On the field, the scene seemed usual: Tink the dog was chasing Belt. But something had changed. Belt was not running with his back straight anymore. He was leaning forward, his center of gravity very low, his arms swinging with an inhuman frequency. His changes of direction were sharp, jerky, unpredictable. He wasn't fleeing anymore. He was gliding on the field.
After the tenth lap, Belt did not collapse. He stopped dead, his breath short but controlled. Uncle Jisk, who was watching in silence, dropped his whistle. He called the boy. "What was that way of moving? It looked like... you were the dog's reflection in a mirror. It was almost scary."
Belt wiped his forehead, a satisfied smile on his lips: "I just hacked his data. I analyzed his strong points and adapted them to my morphology." "Explain yourself, kid." "It's pure biology, Tonton. When a weak organism suffers constraints imposed by a strong organism, it has two choices: die or adapt. I forced my tissues to copy Tink's rhythm to survive. The body becomes what we ask it to be."
Uncle Jisk remained silent for a moment, impressed by the boy's cold logic. "Did you give a name to this technique?" "Why give it a name? It's just logic." "Because great players have a signature. A trademark." Belt thought for a moment. "Then let's call it... Mirror Evolution."
"Perfect, kid," said Tonton with a carnivorous smile. "'Mirror Evolution'... That will be your first weapon. Bravo."
He turned to his bulldog who was arriving, tongue hanging out. "My poor Tink... He left you no chance. He stole your talent to strengthen himself." Tink barked happily, as if to validate the defeat.
Belt, still full of adrenaline, asked: "What is the final test? There is one week left before the selections, I must be ready! Do we continue? 20 laps?" Tonton stood up and put away his notebook. "No. It's over for this week." "What? But why stop now that I am progressing?" "Working is good, but knowing when to stop is vital. The body builds itself during rest, not during effort. Your physical preparation is validated." The old coach stared Belt straight in the eyes: "Your new assignment for the coming week is mental preparation. You are going to stay home and answer only one question." "Which one?" "Why do you want to be a Tiger in this jungle? Not 'to win'. Not 'for revenge'. I want the real, deep reason. Find it, and come back to see me on the day of the selections."
On these words, Uncle Jisk walked away with Tink, leaving Belt alone with his thoughts.
The next morning, Belt was still physically drained. His success during the last training had emptied him, but his mind was running at full speed. The name of his technique floated in his mind: Adaptive Mirror? Evolutionary Mirror? No, Mirror Evolution. It was simple. It was him.
Sitting at his table, he stared at the wall. He had the body, now he needed the spirit. He had to answer Tonton's question. "Why the tiger?" He didn't just want to be strong. He wanted to be a force of nature above the fray. Suddenly, an idea sprouted in his mind. He had to return to the source. To the Zoo. Where the inspiration had struck him the first time.
Just as he stepped out into the alley, his phone vibrated. A message from Quiena. "Where are you? Can we meet? I have info on the selections." Belt replied simply: "I am going to the zoo. Meet me there."
Upon his arrival, Belt was struck by the calm of the site. He waited patiently in front of the main entrance. A few moments later, Quiena appeared. She was radiant, her beauty highlighted by the light of a perfect sun, making her look like a delicate doll who had no business in such a wild place. She stopped for a moment, observing him in silence, before walking towards him: "Funny place for a strategic meeting," she said. "I am not here for a meeting. I am here to understand." "Understand what? The monkeys?" "I want to reconnect with my origins," he replied soberly. Quiena, a bit frustrated by this mysterious answer, sighed but followed him.
Once inside, Belt clarified his intentions: "We are going to split up. We meet at the exit in two hours. I need to be alone." "What? And me then? What am I supposed to do?" asked Quiena, disappointed. Belt pointed in a random direction: "You can go see the giraffes. They are sociable and like to be seen. That suits you well. Take pictures." "Nice... Alright, giraffes it is," she grumbled.
Freed from any human presence, Belt headed immediately towards the tiger enclosure. He sat in front of the glass, alone. The tiger was there. It did not seek company. Unlike lions who live in a pack for protection, the tiger lived alone. Belt then understood the essence of the animal. The tiger does not fight for glory. It fights to protect its territory. "That's it..." thought Belt, scribbling frantically in his notebook. "I don't play to be loved. I play to protect my vital space. The field is my territory, and all the others are invaders I must chase away."
He spent the rest of the week like this: in total immersion, mental and physical, merging his spirit with that of the solitary predator. He was no longer afraid. He had no more doubts.
The day of the final test finally arrived.