A bright, sharp morning sun cut across the pitch, throwing long stripes of light over the dew.
The rest of the squad had gathered for a full-intensity session, their voices echoing as Harrison barked warm-up orders.
Axel stood a few yards apart, his focus locked on Shark.
The night's memory still lingered, the cold air, the perfect shots, and the whisper that had guided every strike.
Even now, a thin shadow seemed to cling faintly to his form when the light hit at certain angles.
"Alright!" Harrison's voice snapped through the morning. "Two-touch possession. Axel, Shark, same group."
The players exchanged quick glances. Everyone knew those two had been silently competing since the start of the season.
The whistle blew.
With the ball in motion.
Axel closed space quickly, his footwork tight, his eyes fixed on Shark.
Shark received a pass from Leon, chest-controlled, quick flick around Ness,smooth, precise,easy.
It only made Axel's pulse spike.
He lunged, harder than needed shoulder first, boots grinding into the turf.
Thud!
Shark staggered but stayed on his feet, somehow keeping balance.
Harrison's whistle cut through the air.
"Easy, Axel! It's training, not a derby!"
Axel straightened, breath short. "He moved into me, coach."
But in the corner of his vision, the faint shimmer of that presence pulsed again a whisper curling through his thoughts:
"Don't let him glide past you. Make him feel your strength."
He clenched his jaw.
Another pass came to Shark and again, Axel pressed fast, cutting off his angle, his movements sharper than usual.
He swept in for the ball, almost colliding, this time Shark sidestepped effortlessly, letting Axel's momentum carry him forward.
The play ended with Shark tapping the ball back and flashing a quiet, disarming smile.
"Easy, brother," he said softly. "We're on the same side."
Something about that calmness, that refusal to react, hit harder than any tackle.
Axel froze for a second. The whisper hissed inside his mind:
"Don't you see Axel,He mocks you."
But he didn't answer it aloud. He just exhaled, wiped the sweat from his brow, and took position again.
Harrison watched him closely, brow furrowed. "Axel," he called. "You good?"
"Fine, coach," Axel said quickly.
Yet as play resumed, that faint darkness lingered at the edges of his shadow, waiting, patient, feeding quietly on his need to prove himself.
---
The session had moved from tight possession to full-pitch scrimmage. The pace was sharp, the players pushing to impress after the Northin Way loss.
Coach Harrison stood on the touchline, stopwatch in hand.
"Tempo up! I want real-match intensity!"
The whistle blew.
Blue bibs versus red. Axel was leading the red line; Shark captained the blues.
A cross-field pass spun through the air from Dierckx Matthias, Devertary's young playmaker.
"Axel!" he called.
Axel stepped into it perfectly, cushioning the ball with his chest before it even touched the turf. He turned, eyes narrowing, Shark was already closing the space.
They met near the top of the box.
A faint shimmer of memory last night's whisper flickered behind Axel's eyes.
He feinted right, snapped the ball left, drew Shark in, then rolled the ball past him with blistering speed.
As Shark tried to recover his footing, Axel's left arm came up, firm, forceful a striker's shield more than a shove, but powerful enough to throw Shark slightly off balance.
Shark stumbled, hit the grass on his side, palms breaking his fall.
The ball stayed glued to Axel's boots. One step, two then a curling shot toward goal.
The sound echoed across the pitch.
Axel slowed, breathing hard, watching the ball settle. For a heartbeat he felt that same rush of dominance from the night before.
Then he heard Shark behind him the thud of boots, the soft laugh.
"Nice move," Shark said as he rose, brushing dirt from his sleeve. "Finally hit one clean."
No anger. No complaint.
Just that calm, almost forgiving grin again.
Axel turned away quickly, masking the twitch of irritation in his jaw.
Harrison's voice cut through: "Good play, both of you. That's the energy I want!"
As the drill reset, Axel jogged back to position. The whisper that used to echo in his head was quiet now but its presence still felt near, coiled and waiting.
He muttered under his breath, half to himself, half to the shadow he thought he'd left behind:
"Next time, he won't walk past so easily."
The blinds were half drawn, streaks of gold sunlight slanting across the room. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence as Coach Harrison stood across from Vincent Greenwood, Devertary United's general manager.
On the wall behind Greenwood hung framed photos of the team's golden moments, trophies, captain armbands, and the proud crest of Devertary United gleaming in the center.
Harrison leaned forward, voice low and thoughtful.
"Vincent, I've been observing Axel's training sessions. His style's shifting, he's more forceful, too intense for his usual control. He's not reckless yet, but something's changing in him."
Greenwood smiled faintly, folding his hands on the desk.
"Intensity isn't always bad, Harrison. Sometimes it means a player is hungry."
"Maybe," Harrison said. "But it's the why that worries me. It feels like he's chasing Shark, not the goal."
A small silence followed. Greenwood leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with calm calculation.
"And perhaps," he said slowly, "that's exactly what we need, A player who can Antagonize the Protagonist and keep him going"
Harrison frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Greenwood's smile widened, subtle but confident.
>"Shark's been the center of everything, the media, tactics, morale. He's become the pulse of the squad. But if we're to solidify his foundation, he must learn to thrive without being the constant spotlight. Let the attention drift for a bit, let Axel's rise balance the focus."
The idea sank in. Then, unexpectedly, Harrison chuckled.
"So, you're saying… let the competition breathe a little?"
"Exactly." Greenwood stood, walking to the window. "Pressure reveals strength, both for Shark and Axel. Let's see who handles it best."
Harrison smiled back, shaking his head lightly. "You always find a way to turn problems into plans."
Both men shared a laugh the kind of knowing laughter that belonged to veterans of the game who understood that every decision, even the quiet ones, could shape a season.
The team bus rolled through the stadium gates under a sky painted in orange and violet hues.
The Zeriot Malin Stadium was already alive drums, chants, and the roaring crowd turning the air electric.
Outside, supporters waved massive banners and posters:
— Shark, arm raised in victory.
— Lucius, focused mid-stride.
— Axel, captured mid-kick.
— Deo, roaring after a goal.
And in the center of it all, the Devertary United crest blazing proudly.
Fans crowded near the barricades, shouting names as the bus doors hissed open.
One by one, the players stepped out greeted by flashes of cameras and thunderous cheers.
Shark adjusted his tracksuit collar, eyes scanning the faces, the banners, the endless red and black that filled the stands.
He smiled faintly to himself.
"Today," he murmured, "I'll make the difference."
He walked in beside Lucius and Axel, the trio framed against the glowing lights of their home ground.
Inside the home locker room, the familiar smell of turf and leather filled the air. Jerseys hung neatly. Boots lined the benches.
The walls pulsed with the echo of fans chanting from above.
As Shark sat to lace his boots, he could feel it the weight of expectation, the calm before the roar.
Whatever Greenwood's plans were, whatever tension brewed beneath the surface, tonight… it was about football.
---
The locker room had grown quiet. The others had already filed out toward the tunnel, their chatter fading down the corridor. Only Ryan Shark and Delbris Axel remained the faint hum of the stadium above them pulsing like a heartbeat.
Shark sat calmly on the bench, tightening his gloves, while Axel stood before his locker, staring at his reflection in the metal door.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
Axel broke the silence first, his tone sharp, deliberate.
"Shark… in this game, I'll triumph. You'll see."
Shark didn't flinch. He smiled faintly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"If you do," he said softly, "then we all do, right?"
Axel's jaw tightened. He didn't reply. He turned sharply, slamming his locker door shut. His boots clattered against the tile floor as he stomped away toward the exit.
As he reached the doorway, the faint outline of a dark shadow shimmered behind him — its edges twisting like smoke.
The voice whispered low, almost snake-like.
"Soon, Axel… soon he'll lose that calm smile. His confidence will crumble… and you'll rise."
Axel paused, his hands curling into fists, before walking out into the corridor. The shadow followed, blending into the dim light of the tunnel.
The tunnel glowed bright red under the floodlights. Both teams stood side by side, the air thick with anticipation.
Devertary United in their deep blue and white stripes; Nixon Pool in their sharp blue and purple away stripes.
The players straightened as the referee signaled. The heavy stadium doors slid open and a thunderous roar swallowed the tunnel.
Fans rose to their feet, flags waving, chants echoing through the stands.
The players marched out in two neat lines before spreading into a straight horizontal formation across the pitch.
Their faces were lit by the flash of cameras, the sound of the two team anthems swelling in the cool evening air.
The stadium vibrated Devertary United, determined to redeem their 1–0 loss to Northin Way FC.
Nixon Pool, smarting from a 5–1 defeat to Maraford, desperate to reclaim respect.
Tonight, both teams had something to prove.
---
High above the pitch, Vincent Greenwood stood before a panoramic glass window, hands clasped behind his back.
At his side stood Chloe, his composed assistant, holding a tablet that streamed live match data.
The distant hum of the crowd reached them even through the glass. On a small monitor beside Greenwood, the lineups glowed in crisp digital text:
Nixon Pool (Away) — Formation: 4–1–3–2
GK: Alexander Daniel
LB: Klein Helmut
CB: Cavalcanti Hugo
CB: Stefan Björk
RB: Cedric Benoit
LM: Matheus Reis
DM: Samuel Taylor
CM: Kim Austin (Captain)
RM: Girard Roux
ST: Vincent Maes
ST: Lake Cory
Devertary United (Home) — Formation: 4–1–3–2
GK: Shawn Lucius
LB: Simon Keller
CB: Daniel Chris
CB: Cole Isaac
RB: Guwen Ramon
LM: Dierckx Matthias
DM: Ruyne Ness
CM: Floxx Leon
RM: Wolf Deo (Captain)
ST: Ryan Shark
ST: Delbris Axel
Chloe glanced at the screen.
"Both teams under pressure, sir. A loss here could shift the standings."
Greenwood smiled faintly, eyes fixed on the players emerging below.
"That's what makes it beautiful, Chloe. Football doesn't forgive weakness, rather it reveals it."
---
At midfield, Kim Austin, Nixon Pool's captain, stood face-to-face with Wolf Deo, captain of Devertary United.
The referee held up the coin, flipped it high into the air the metallic glint vanishing briefly under the lights before landing in his palm.
A brief nod, a handshake.
Kickoff was awarded to Nixon Pool.
Austin stepped back, glancing at his teammates. The whistle blew.
With a sharp touch, Austin passed the ball sideways to Girard Roux, Nixon Pool's right midfielder.
The game and the battle for redemption soon began.