The simulation arena roared with noise.
Candidates crowded around the viewing screens as the match reached its final minutes.
The scoreboard hovered above the field.
Daniel 3 — Petrov 1
Petrov's earlier confidence had completely disappeared.
Daniel had dismantled his counters piece by piece.
Every defensive adjustment Petrov made only seemed to create new openings for Daniel's team.
On the sideline, Daniel stood calmly.
Across the field, Petrov looked furious.
The final whistle echoed through the arena.
MATCH END
FINAL SCORE
Daniel 3 — Petrov 1
The viewing hall erupted.
Some candidates clapped.
Others whispered among themselves.
"He figured Petrov out."
"No… he figured out the sabotage."
Fatima watched from the back with a small smile.
"Told you."
Nearby, Martins Adeyemi remained silent.
His sharp eyes followed Daniel as the match results finalized.
"…Interesting."
Behind him, one of his followers asked quietly,
"So what do you think of him?"
Martins turned slightly.
"He adapts fast."
His gaze returned to the screen.
"But adaptability alone doesn't win championships."
The screen flickered again.
GROUP E — UPDATED STANDINGS
1.Martins Adeyemi — 12 pts 2. Daniel — 10 pts 3. Mendes — 10 pts 4.Harada — 7 pts 5.Farouk — 6 pts 6.Okoye — 5 pts 7. Ibrahim Sule — 5 pts 8.Silva — 3 pts 9.Adisa — 0 pts 10.Petrov — 0 pts
The crowd slowly began dispersing.
Daniel exhaled quietly.
That was closer than it should have been.
As he turned to leave the arena, someone stepped in front of him.
Daniel stopped.
Martins Adeyemi.
The two coaches looked at each other for a moment.
Martins spoke first.
"So you're Daniel."
Daniel nodded.
"And you're the group leader."
Martins gave a faint smile.
"For now."
He studied Daniel carefully.
"You adjusted faster than I expected."
Daniel shrugged.
"I didn't like someone reading my tactics."
Martins' eyes sharpened slightly.
"So you noticed."
Daniel tilted his head.
"You didn't?"
Martins chuckled quietly.
"Oh, I noticed."
He turned and began walking away.
But before leaving, he said one last thing.
"Just remember something, Daniel."
Daniel looked at him.
"In this competition…"
Martins' voice lowered slightly.
"…not everyone plays fair."
Then he walked away with his followers.
Daniel frowned slightly.
What did he mean by that?
Later that evening…
Daniel finally returned to his dorm room.
The moment he opened the door—
"HE'S BACK!"
Tunde jumped up from his bed.
Ayo pumped his fist.
"Victory!"
Chinedu nodded approvingly.
"You handled the pressure well."
Daniel laughed tiredly.
"You guys watched the match too?"
"Of course we did!" Tunde said.
"That comeback bait you pulled was insane."
Ayo stretched.
"Alright champion, we're celebrating."
"Cafeteria time."
Daniel grinned.
"Now that sounds good."
The cafeteria was still lively.
Candidates from different groups sat around discussing matches and strategies.
Daniel and his roommates grabbed trays and found an empty table.
They had barely started eating when—
A shadow appeared beside Daniel.
Then suddenly—
Fatima sat directly on his lap.
Daniel nearly choked on his drink.
"W-WHAT?!"
His roommates froze.
Fatima smiled sweetly.
"Well well…"
She held up a spoon with food on it.
"You won your match today."
She leaned slightly closer.
"That deserves a reward."
Daniel's face turned red instantly.
"W-why are you sitting on me?!"
Her friends giggled from the nearby table.
Fatima simply shrugged.
"You should be honored."
She raised the spoon toward him.
"Now open your mouth."
Daniel muttered in embarrassment,
"This is humiliating…"
Tunde leaned over to Ayo and whispered loudly,
"Bro… our boy is winning both on and off the field."
The table burst into laughter.
Fatima only smiled wider.
"You're cute when you're flustered."
But behind her playful expression…
Her eyes were studying him carefully.
This boy…
He's going to shake this entire tournament, and I want to know how he will do it.
Deep below the facility…
Inside a secured control chamber…
Several OOTP officials stood around a massive system monitor.
Lines of code scrolled rapidly across the screens.
One technician looked worried.
"Director…"
"We've confirmed it."
The older man beside him frowned.
"Confirmed what?"
The technician swallowed.
"Someone breached part of the tactical database."
The room went silent.
Another official stepped forward.
"That's impossible."
"The system is isolated."
The technician shook his head.
"Not completely."
He pointed to the screen.
"Someone has been accessing candidate tactical boards."
The director's eyes darkened.
"…Find out who."
Meanwhile…
Petrov stormed through the facility corridors.
His footsteps echoed loudly.
His fists clenched tightly.
"Farouk…"
His voice trembled with anger.
"You used me."
Candidates moved aside as he passed.
Petrov turned a corner—
And froze.
Farouk was walking down the hallway ahead.
Petrov's eyes burned with fury.
"There you are."
Farouk entered a door at the end of the corridor.
Petrov followed immediately.
The door closed behind him.
The room inside was dark.
Petrov stepped forward.
"Farouk!"
His voice echoed across the chamber.
"You said that information would guarantee my win!"
Farouk slowly turned around.
His expression calm.
"You still lost."
Petrov stepped forward angrily.
"You gave me Daniel's tactics!"
"And he still destroyed me!"
Farouk sighed.
"You're louder than I expected."
Suddenly—
A voice spoke from the shadows.
"That's because he's incompetent."
Petrov froze.
Lights slowly activated.
Three figures were sitting around the room.
Watching.
Smiling.
Petrov's eyes widened.
"You…"
One of them stood up.
Clapping slowly.
"Petrov."
"Last place in the group."
"And yet you still managed to embarrass yourself."
Petrov gritted his teeth.
"Who the hell are you?"
The man stepped forward into the light.
Petrov's eyes widened in shock.
"Mendes…?"
The Candidate currently ranked third in Group E smiled calmly.
"Yes."
He placed his hands in his pockets.
"Surprised?"
Petrov looked between him and Farouk.
"You were behind this?"
Mendes chuckled softly.
"Behind?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"I'm simply… guiding things."
Petrov's fists trembled.
"You gave me all that information…"
"And still mocked me when I lost?!"
Mendes leaned closer.
His smile disappeared.
"You misunderstand something."
His voice became cold.
"We didn't help you to win."
Petrov froze.
Mendes' eyes glinted in the dim light.
"We helped you…"
"…to test Daniel."