As the echo of sneakers faded and the court finally quieted, Kumstrim raised the microphone to his lips once more. His voice rang out across the arena, cutting through the still air.
"That concludes the lane agility drill. Now, we move on to our final test for this session the Three Quarter Sprint."
Murmurs rippled through the players like a breeze across calm water. Some stretched. Others drank water. Nikola, however, stood still, quietly listening.
"Once this drill is complete," Kumstrim continued, "you will all have a one hour break. After that, we begin the shooting series. Please form a line again."
The athletes shuffled into formation once more, sneakers squeaking against the floor. Nikola found his place mid line. The sweat on his back had cooled into a clingy chill, but his eyes burned with new purpose.
This time, he wasn't just going through the motions.
This time, he was hunting something.
Jamie.
His gaze scanned the line like a hawk until it landed on the now familiar figure relaxed, smiling faintly, chatting with someone two spots ahead. Jamie didn't seem tense at all. He never did. That natural confidence wrapped around him like armor.
Nikola's jaw tightened.
"I have to beat him. Just once… just in one thing before this day ends."
As the line moved forward, Nikola felt his heartbeat pick up.
One by one, each player sprinted down the court, their steps pounding against the hardwood like distant thunder. But none of it registered in Nikola's ears not until Jamie stepped forward.
The court suddenly felt quieter. Not because the noise had faded, but because everyone's attention subtly shifted toward him.
Jamie rolled his shoulders with ease, the muscles in his back shifting under his skin like coiled springs. He looked calm too calm. Like this was just another warm up for him, not an evaluation.
Kumstrim glanced at the stopwatch and nodded.
"When you're ready."
Jamie took his stance at the starting line. For a brief moment, his eyes sharpened, focused purely on the end of the lane.
Then
Boom.
He exploded forward like a cannonball, each step light but powerful. His feet kissed the floor and disappeared in a blur. His long strides devoured the distance, and even from the side, Nikola could see the sheer efficiency in his movement controlled chaos, speed packed into precision.
By the time he crossed the finish marker, it felt like barely a second had passed.
Kumstrim checked the stopwatch and raised his voice.
"Jamie: 2.90 seconds."
A small stir of impressed whispers floated through the players.
Nikola exhaled, slow and quiet.
"Of course… even in sprinting, he's a machine."
His fists clenched slightly.
As the line slowly shrank, Nikola's heartbeat pounded louder than the footsteps echoing across the court.
Each second that passed brought him closer to his final shot the last physical drill before the shooting evaluations began. This was it. His last chance to prove maybe not to the coaches, not even to Jamie but to himself, that he still had something to offer.
"Come on," he whispered under his breath, clenching his fists. "This is it. You can beat him. Just this once…"
He kept repeating those words, like a mantra, trying to drown out the noise of his doubts. Trying to silence the nagging voice inside that reminded him of the results so far how Jamie had topped every metric, every time.
"He's not untouchable. You're fast. You've trained. Just go all out."
But the moment he remembered Jamie's time 2.90 seconds, something cold and ugly began to twist inside his chest. It wasn't admiration. It wasn't awe.
It was jealousy pure, sharp, and undeniable.
A storm of envy and frustration swirled within him. How could one guy be this good at everything? How could someone who acted so casually… still be better without even seeming to try?
"Tch…"
Nikola gritted his teeth. His breath felt heavier. His muscles were tense. Not with excitement, but with pressure. The kind that builds not from competition but from comparison.
There were only a few people left ahead of him now. His turn was almost here.
He exhaled sharply.
"I don't need to beat him at everything… just this one. Just give me this one."
But whether that was a demand to the universe or a desperate plea to himself… even Nikola wasn't sure anymore.
Finally, it was time.
"Nikola!" Kumstrim's voice echoed through the gym as he glanced down at his stopwatch.
Nikola stepped forward, the soles of his sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished hardwood. His legs felt heavy like they were wading through water and his chest tightened with the weight of expectation he had placed on himself. His gaze flicked to the cone lined track ahead of him. Short, simple, straight.
Just run. That's all.
"This is it. Last one. Just run."
He bent into position, one foot behind the other, hands ready to launch himself forward.
"Go when ready," Kumstrim said.
Nikola launched off.
But the moment he moved, he knew. His steps weren't sharp. His reaction wasn't clean. There was no burst. No wind under his feet. Only effort. Hard, grinding effort.
By the time he reached the finish line, his lungs burned and his arms ached not from the sprint, but from everything else that weighed on him.
Kumstrim glanced at the stopwatch and called it out without emotion.
"3.12 seconds."
It echoed in Nikola's mind like a death knell.
He slowed to a walk, heart pounding, but not with adrenaline with the sting of defeat. That number meant one thing:
He hadn't beaten Jamie.
Not in one. Single. Drill.
He clenched his jaw as he walked back toward the group, wiping the sweat from his brow, though it felt more like wiping away the last of his pride.
"Must be nice…" he thought bitterly, eyes flickering toward Jamie, who stood relaxed and smiling like he didn't even care.
"Must be nice to be born that talented… to have a body that just wins without trying."
Jealousy coiled in his chest like a serpent, hissing louder with every breath. It didn't matter how hard he trained. He wasn't enough. Not today. Not here.
And that truth?
It broke him a little more.