The next day, the academy felt colder.
Not because of the weather.
Because of what had been said.
Because of what had been exposed.
Because now, everyone knew exactly where they stood…
And how far they still had to go.
Lamii arrived earlier than usual.
The field was still quiet, the morning light barely touching the grass. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.
But the moment other players began arriving
The tension returned.
Stronger.
Sharper.
No greetings.
No jokes.
Only focus.
Across the pitch, Papii was already warming up.
Shots.
Powerful.
Precise.
Relentless.
Each strike hitting the net with a sound that felt like a statement.
I'm still ahead.
Lamii watched for a second.
Then turned away.
On the other side—
Enzo.
Calm.
Passing drills.
Simple touches.
Nothing flashy.
But perfect.
Every time.
I'm already there.
Lamii clenched his jaw slightly.
Then stepped onto the field.
And I'm… behind.
The Whistle
Coach Salva didn't wait long.
"Positions."
No speech.
No explanation.
Training started immediately.
Which meant one thing:
Yesterday wasn't over.
It Happens Again
The ball came to Lamii.
Central.
Space opening.
He turned—
And Enzo was already there.
Again.
Perfect timing.
Perfect positioning.
Lamii tried to accelerate the play.
Pass.
Too late.
Intercepted.
Clean.
No wasted movement.
Enzo didn't even look at him.
Just moved the ball forward like it was routine.
Like it was expected.
Next play—
Lamii received again.
This time he didn't hesitate.
One touch.
Pass.
Move.
Faster.
Better.
But still—
Not enough.
The flow broke.
The rhythm wasn't his.
He wasn't controlling the game.
He was reacting to it.
And that was the difference.
Papii's World
"Give it!"
Papii's voice cut through.
Lamii looked up.
Saw the run.
But also saw the defender.
Too close.
Too obvious.
He didn't pass.
Instead—
He played safe.
Reset.
Papii stopped.
Turned.
"What are you doing?"
Lamii didn't answer.
Play continued.
Next time—
Papii got the ball.
Didn't pass.
Didn't look.
Shot.
Missed.
Again.
Shot.
Goal.
He raised his hand slightly.
Like it was enough.
Like that proved everything.
The next moment—
Lamii had the ball.
Papii made the run.
Perfect.
Clear.
Lamii waited.
Half a second.
Too long.
Enzo stepped in.
Intercepted.
Gone.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"
Papii stormed toward him.
"You saw me!"
Lamii met his gaze.
"You were covered."
"I WAS OPEN!"
"You would've been stopped!"
Papii stepped closer.
"You think too much!"
Lamii didn't move.
"And you don't think at all!"
Silence.
Players stopped.
Watching.
This wasn't just frustration anymore.
This was rivalry.
Real.
Raw.
Unavoidable.
The Line
Papii smirked.
But there was no humor.
"Maybe that's why they're watching me first."
The words hit.
Direct.
Precise.
Lamii didn't react outwardly.
But inside—
Something shifted.
Again
Play resumed.
Harder.
Faster.
Angrier.
Lamii forced himself to move quicker.
No hesitation.
No delay.
But still—
Enzo.
Again.
Intercept.
Control.
Dominate.
Like he was one step ahead of everything.
Every time.
The Stop
"Enough."
The whistle cut through everything.
Coach Salva stepped forward.
Slow.
Calm.
But his presence alone silenced the field.
He looked at all of them.
Then stopped on Lamii.
"You're all rushing."
No one spoke.
"Afraid."
A pause.
"Of not being enough."
Truth.
Unavoidable.
Then—
His eyes locked onto Lamii.
"Talent is useless…"
A step closer.
"If it doesn't evolve."
Lamii didn't look away.
Didn't argue.
Couldn't.
"Right now…"
Salva's voice lowered slightly.
"You're predictable."
The Weight Returns
Training ended soon after.
But the silence stayed.
Players left one by one.
No laughter.
No energy.
Just thoughts.
Heavy ones.
The Walk
Lamii walked home again.
Same streets.
Same path.
But everything felt different.
Slower.
Darker.
The words replayed.
Predictable.
Too slow.
Not enough.
The Room
He entered his room quietly.
Dropped his bag.
Sat.
Still.
Then reached for his phone.
The screen lit up.
Lionel.
Number 10.
Perfect.
Untouchable.
Lamii stared.
Long.
Then whispered—
"…how?"
No answer.
He stood.
Walked to the shelf.
Picked up the photo.
The one from when he was a baby.
Lionel holding him.
Smiling.
For years—
This was motivation.
Now—
It felt like pressure.
Lamii looked at it.
Then at himself in the mirror.
"Am I really going to make it?"
Silence.
The Truth
This wasn't a game anymore.
It wasn't just talent.
Or dreams.
Or potential.
It was survival.
And right now—
He was losing.
The Decision
Lamii closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
Opened them again.
Different.
Clear.
Focused.
"No."
He stood up.
Placed the photo back.
Firm.
Not gently.
"I'm not staying like this."
Night Returns
The academy field was empty.
Dark.
Silent.
Lamii stepped onto it alone.
No pressure.
No noise.
Just him.
And the ball.
The Change Begins
He dropped it.
Stepped back.
Then moved.
Pass against the wall.
Control.
Again.
Faster.
Again.
Quicker.
No pause.
No thinking.
Just instinct.
Just speed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
His legs burned.
His lungs tightened.
But he didn't stop.
Because now—
He understood.
Under the quiet night sky, with no one watching—
Lamii trained until his body screamed.
Until his mind stopped overthinking.
Until only movement remained.
Because if vision wasn't enough…
Then he would become faster than the game itself.