The week didn't feel like a week.
It felt like a countdown.
Every day…
Every touch…
Every second on the pitch—
Meant something now.
Because everyone knew:
The Trial Match was coming.
And
The academy was no longer just a place to train.
It had become a battlefield.
Scouts were arriving earlier.
Staying longer.
Watching everything.
Not just matches—
Training.
Warm-ups.
Even how players reacted after mistakes.
One of the assistant coaches whispered to another:
"They love this place…"
"It's raw… it's real… it's the new generation."
And it was true.
This wasn't normal football anymore.
This was hungry football.
Players weren't just playing to improve.
They were playing to escape.
To rise.
To be chosen.
Lamii stood at midfield, watching everything.
The speed.
The aggression.
The selfish plays.
The desperate ones.
Even players who used to pass now forced shots.
Even defenders tried to attack.
Because everyone was thinking the same thing:
If I don't stand out… I disappear.
Lamii exhaled slowly.
This is what it takes.
On the other side—
Papii was on fire.
Shot after shot.
Goal after goal.
Even in training—
He didn't miss much anymore.
But something had changed.
He wasn't just scoring.
He was sending a message.
Every goal said:
"I'm ready."
Every movement said:
"I'm next."
He barely spoke to Lamii now.
Didn't need to.
His football was speaking for him.
And then—
There was Enzo.
Quiet.
Unshaken.
Unbothered.
While others rushed—
He slowed the game.
While others forced—
He chose.
While others reacted—
He predicted.
He wasn't trying to impress.
And somehow—
That made him even more dangerous.
One scout was overheard saying:
"That midfielder… he's already thinking like a pro."
Another replied:
"He doesn't play academy football… he controls it."
Lamii stood between them.
Between fire…
And control.
Between instinct…
And calculation.
And for a moment—
He felt it again.
That dangerous thought.
Am I behind?
The Champions League night flashed in his mind.
The lights.
The anthem.
The promise.
The words.
"Only one of us…"
Lamii tightened his jaw.
Then shook his head slightly.
"No."
He stepped forward.
Called for the ball.
"Here."
This time—
He didn't hesitate.
Didn't overthink.
Didn't wait for the perfect moment.
He created it.
One touch.
Pass.
Move.
Again.
Faster.
Sharper.
Cleaner.
The rhythm changed.
Not completely—
But enough.
Teammates started following.
The ball started moving.
The chaos started organizing.
Papii noticed.
Of course he did.
He walked closer during a pause in play.
"Finally."
Lamii looked at him.
Papii smirked.
"Thought you were going to stay slow forever."
Lamii didn't react emotionally.
He just said:
"I'm just getting started."
From a distance—
Enzo watched.
Carefully.
Quietly.
And for the first time—
He moved toward Lamii.
Not to intercept.
Not to block.
But to challenge directly.
The ball came to Lamii.
Enzo stepped in.
Not rushing.
Reading.
Waiting.
Lamii moved.
Quick touch.
Turn.
Enzo adjusted.
Closed the angle.
Lamii passed—
Instant.
Before Enzo could react.
That was new.
Enzo blinked once.
Just once.
He's faster.
Play continued.
But something had shifted.
Players felt it.
The coaches saw it.
Even the scouts—
Leaned forward.
Training paused briefly.
Players gathered near the sideline.
Water bottles opened.
Heavy breathing filled the air.
Then—
One of the scouts spoke quietly to another:
"This academy…"
"It's different."
The other nodded.
"This is where the next generation is coming from."
Papii heard it.
Of course he did.
He smirked.
"Good."
He turned toward Lamii and Enzo.
"Because I'm leading it."
Lamii looked at him.
Calm.
Focused.
"No."
Papii raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
Lamii stepped forward.
Eyes locked.
"This isn't yours."
Silence.
Players nearby stopped talking.
Watching.
Listening.
Lamii didn't raise his voice.
Didn't need to.
"I'm going to be number one."
The words landed.
Heavy.
Clear.
Final.
Papii smiled.
But this time—
It wasn't friendly.
"We'll see."
Enzo stepped between them slightly.
Not to separate.
To join.
"You're both wrong."
They looked at him.
He spoke calmly.
"Number one doesn't talk."
A pause.
"He proves it."
Training resumed.
But now—
Everything was different.
Every touch between the three of them—
Was a battle.
Every pass—
A statement.
Every movement—
A challenge.
One sequence.
Fast.
Intense.
Lamii receives.
Enzo presses.
Lamii escapes.
Pass to the wing.
Kairo crosses.
Papii intercepts.
Counterattack.
Run.
Shot—
Saved.
Everything happened in seconds.
But it felt like minutes.
Lamii stood still for a moment.
Heart racing.
Breathing heavy.
But something inside him—
Was calm.
Clear.
Certain.
I'm not behind.
Coach Salva stood on the sideline.
Arms crossed.
Eyes sharp.
Watching everything.
Then he spoke quietly to himself:
"Now it begins."
At the end of training—
He gathered them one last time.
No long speech.
No lecture.
Just one message:
"In a few days…"
A pause.
"You stop being academy players."
Silence.
"You become candidates."
As Lamii walked off the pitch, one thought burned stronger than ever:
This wasn't just about making it anymore.
This was about being the best among the chosen.
And when the match came—
He wouldn't just play.
He would take everything