Silence.
Absolute, suffocating silence.
The air in the SAP Performance Center felt like it had been sucked out by a massive vacuum. Dozens of fully geared NFL giants stood with their jaws hanging loose, their eyes darting back and forth between the two men.
On the ground was Nick "The Beast" Boss, the locker room alpha, rolling in agony. Standing perfectly still above him was Levi, looking as relaxed as if he was waiting in line at the DMV.
Their brains were short-circuiting. What just happened? A heavy tank crashed into a bicycle, and the tank totaled itself while the bicycle didn't even get a scratch on the paint?
"F**k... my shoulder..."
Boss clutched his right arm, his face twisted into a knot. The pain was blinding. It didn't feel like he had hit a human being. It felt like he ran full speed into a concrete support pillar.
"Medic! Dr. Vance!" Coach Shannon was the first to snap out of the trance. His face was pale. If Boss was injured too, the Gold Rush might as well dissolve the franchise today.
Dr. Sophie Vance rushed onto the field, her ponytail swinging as she dropped to one knee beside Boss. Her hands moved fast, expertly checking the joint. Her brow furrowed immediately. As a top-tier sports medicine specialist, she knew bodies. Boss's deltoid muscle was rock hard—spasming violently. That was the physiological reaction to severe blunt force trauma.
"No fracture... but a severe contusion," Sophie announced, looking up. Her beautiful eyes were wide with disbelief as she locked onto Levi. "You... what are you wearing under your jersey?"
That question woke everyone up.
"Cheater! The kid is cheating!"
A defensive lineman jumped forward, pointing a shaking finger at Levi. "He's got steel plates in his pads! There is no way Boss bounces off a human like that!"
"Search him! That's illegal equipment!"
"I knew it! How does a skinny benchwarmer stop The Beast? He's strapped!"
The locker room exploded with accusations. It was the only logical explanation. It wasn't that they were weak; it was that Levi was dirty. That thought made them feel safe again.
Boss groaned, stumbling to his feet with the help of two teammates. The pain was fading to a dull throb, replaced by a tidal wave of humiliation. Knocked backward by a backup fullback? An Asian kid? If this got out, his reputation as the Defensive Player of the Year was toast.
"Shut up!"
Boss shoved the medic away, his eyes bloodshot with rage. He stared at Levi, teeth gritted.
"It was an accident! The turf is slick! I lost my footing right at the impact point. All my power vented into the ground!"
He needed an excuse. Even a lame one.
Levi stood there, casually adjusting his cuff. He looked at the fuming superstar and said calmly, "Slipped? Cool. Change your shoes then. We can go again."
Disrespect.
Level 100 Disrespect.
"You have a death wish!!"
Boss felt his lungs about to burst from anger. He shoved his teammates aside, grabbed his helmet, and slammed the chinstrap buckle shut.
"Coach! Run it back! If I 'slip' again this time, I'll retire on the spot!"
Coach Shannon looked at the unhinged defensive star, then at the eerily calm Levi. Shannon wasn't an idiot. He was a tactical genius. He saw the replay in his head. Boss didn't slip. That impact was pure physics—a collision of unequal hardness.
"Fine," Shannon stepped back, his voice cold. "Run it back. Levi, if you have illegal padding, take it out now. If I find it later, you're banned and sued."
Levi spread his arms. He even lifted the hem of his jersey, flashing his abs. Defined, yes. But no metal. No carbon fiber.
"Search me whenever you want, Coach. But I suggest you have the ambulance ready for Boss. I can't promise I'll hold back this time."
"ARROGANT!!"
Boss roared. This time, he was serious. No more straight-line speed. He dropped his hips low.
The Bull Rush.
It was his signature move. Using leverage and a low center of gravity to uproot offensive linemen who outweighed him by 50 pounds. He was going to flip this kid over like a table.
"DIE!!"
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Boss's heavy footsteps sounded like war drums. He was faster this time. Sharper. Angrier.
Ten yards!
Five yards!
One yard!
Just before the collision, Levi moved. But he didn't dodge. He leaned into it. No fancy footwork. Just a slight dip of the shoulder, tensing his body like a drawn bowstring, ready to snap.
[Skill Triggered: Indestructible Body]
[Effect: Recoil Force +100%]
CRACK—!!!!
The sound was worse than before. It was sharper. Crisper. It set everyone's teeth on edge. It sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a watermelon.
Time froze for a split second. Then, horror took over.
The 265lb monster, the NFL's strength ceiling, Nick Boss, left the ground.
Both feet.
Levi's simple shoulder check turned Boss's own momentum against him, launching the giant into the air. He flew in a clumsy, humiliating arc.
CRASH!
Boss landed five meters away. His helmet popped off and rolled across the turf. This time, he didn't get up immediately. He didn't scream. He couldn't. The wind had been knocked out of him so hard his diaphragm was paralyzed. He lay there, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land, desperate for oxygen.
Silence again. Deeper than before. Someone gulped loud enough to be heard.
If the first time was a "slip." What was this?
This was pure, unadulterated physical domination.
Levi stood in place. He looked at his shoulder, brushed it off, then lifted his head. His eyes swept over the huddle of teammates who were now shrinking back like frightened quails. Wherever he looked, the giants who yelled "Cheater!" and "Search him!" took a step back.
Fear.
Primal fear of the unknown.
Levi walked slowly toward Boss, who was still twitching on the ground. The surrounding players parted like the Red Sea. Nobody wanted to be near him.
Levi bent down, picked up Boss's helmet, and set it gently next to the gasping star. Then, in a voice only the two of them could hear, he smiled.
"Looks like your shoes still have no grip, Mr. Defensive Player of the Year."
Boss finally sucked in a ragged breath. He looked up at the smiling Asian face. The anger was gone. In its place? Terror. Deep, soul-shaking terror. In that split second of impact, he felt like he hadn't hit a person. He hit a moving train.
"That... that's impossible..." Boss wheezed.
"Nothing is impossible."
Levi straightened up and turned to Coach Shannon on the sideline. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the facility.
"Coach. Is the warmup over? Can I start now?"
Coach Shannon's hands were trembling. Not from fear. From excitement. Pure, manic excitement.
As an offensive genius, his brain was already drawing up plays. A fullback who can't be tackled? A runner who sends defenders flying? That's not a Running Back. That's a Siege Ram. That's a cheat code to destroy defensive lines.
"Start..." Shannon took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to laugh like a maniac. He tried to sound authoritative. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Dr. Vance!"
"Here!" Sophie snapped out of her daze.
"Take Levi to the medical bay. Full workup," Shannon ordered, his eyes burning with intensity. "I want bone density, muscle fiber tensile strength, body fat percentage... everything! If he's not on drugs and not wearing steel..."
Shannon paused, a cruel grin spreading across his face.
"Then this Sunday, we're going to show the LA Horns what 'Eastern Mysticism' really looks like."
Levi shrugged. He looked at Dr. Sophie, whose face was flushed red, and whistled.
"Let's go, Doc. Hope your machines are durable. Don't blame me if I break them."
Sophie glared at him, but her heart was pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. She had a sinking feeling that her strict medical worldview was about to be shattered into a million pieces.