"Well... that escalated pretty quickly," Bongani said as he stretched in his seat.
Winston leaned back and kept his eyes on the field. "It was bound to happen." He shrugged. "That's probably why Adrian waited this long before challenging Daemon." His gaze remained fixed on the two captains below. "I think they're trying to settle things the hard way."
Bongani and Hickman both turned toward him. "You really think they'd try to injure each other?" Bongani asked.
He rubbed his chin before resting an arm over the empty seat beside him. "All this... over a girl?" He shook his head in disbelief. "They're idiots. There are plenty of girls out there. Once they make it to the senior level, they'll have fans lining up to date them."
Hickman unscrewed his bottle cap and took a small sip of water. "I don't think the girl is the real issue anymore." He lowered the bottle. "I think this is just their way of settling everything that's built up between them."
He looked toward Adrian and Daemon. "They both know the risks of this match." He paused. "It's immature... but I have a feeling that after this is over, they'll finally move on."
Winston silently agreed. The confrontation reminded him of the match he had played against Maximilian back in Arlesy. The difference was that his match had carried far greater stakes. This one was simply two former friends who had stopped communicating. His gaze drifted toward the touchline. Oswin was standing between Daemon and the rest of the team, trying to calm him down before kickoff.
Bongani laughed. "Poor Oswin." He leaned forward over the seat in front of him. "He's playing the role of a referee instead of a teammate."
A chuckle escaped Winston's lips. Almost as if he had heard them, Oswin looked up toward the stands. Their eyes met—Bongani immediately raised his hand and waved enthusiastically. Hickman simply lifted his water bottle in acknowledgment before taking another sip. Winston smirked. Oswin could only shake his head helplessly.
Just then—
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The referee's whistle echoed across the field. He raised an arm and motioned for both teams to take their positions. The match was about to begin.
The match restarted with Daemon's team in possession. One of the forwards tapped the ball backward to the defenders to begin the attack. Before kickoff, Oswin had suggested to Daemon that they play with a high-tempo style. Daemon agreed immediately—he wanted to overwhelm Adrian from the very start. With that in mind, Daemon's team moved the ball at a relentless pace. Every pass was firm and crisp, the ball zipping across the turf with a sharp sound, like someone quickly pulling up a jacket zipper.
Naturally, Adrian's team noticed the sudden increase in tempo. Their midfield dropped into a compact defensive shape, while the back line held its position, refusing to leave gaps behind. Daemon's team patiently recycled possession until the ball returned to Oswin. Receiving it on the half-turn, Oswin burst forward. The first midfielder stepped in to challenge him, but Oswin slipped past with a body feint followed by a series of quick dribbling moves. As the right back closed him down, he feinted again, pivoted, and calmly passed the ball back to a teammate.
A faint smile appeared on Oswin's face as he nodded. He repeated the same sequence three more times, drawing Adrian's players toward him with each attack. On the fourth attempt, Adrian pointed toward Oswin and shouted to his teammates,
"Close him down!"
As Oswin dropped back to receive another pass, four of Adrian's players immediately converged, trying to trap him. A smirk spread across Oswin's face. With a single sharp touch, he released the ball, triggering a rapid sequence of one-touch tiki-taka passes that shifted play from the center of the field to the left flank. The movement was quick, precise, and perfectly timed.
Adrian's team was caught off guard as they scrambled to recover their defensive shape. Charging through the middle, Daemon met the pass from the left wing. His tall, lean frame allowed him to cover ground effortlessly. His long strides carried him past the midfield line as he accelerated toward goal.
He glanced to either side, searching for support, but continued driving forward. Adrian stepped out from the center. Timing his challenge perfectly, he launched into a sliding tackle, cleanly poking the ball away before crashing into Daemon. The loose ball rolled into open space. The center back beside Adrian reacted first, intercepting it before sprinting down the flank. After exchanging quick passes with a nearby midfielder, they advanced toward midfield.
Just as they crossed the halfway line—Oswin charged in. Swinging his leg through the ball, he poked it cleanly away, sending it spinning over the touchline for a throw-in.
Adrian jogged over to the teammate preparing for the throw-in. Taking the ball from him, he raised it above his head and scanned the field for an open teammate. After a brief hesitation, he launched the throw toward the left back. The left back controlled it with one touch before quickly switching play with a long diagonal pass to the opposite flank.
The right back cushioned the ball with his chest, let it roll to his feet, and immediately stepped over it before driving down the right wing. Alternating between the inside and outside of his foot, he kept the ball glued to his stride. With a sudden stutter step, he exploded forward, leaving the first midfielder behind.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Just as the left back closed him down, the right back paused for a split second before bursting forward again with another stutter step, surging past his marker. A center back rushed across and slid in at the perfect moment, poking the ball out of play for another throw-in. The right back hurried over to take it. He quickly threw the ball to the nearby left back, who immediately laid it off to a midfielder drifting in from the far side.
Seeing Daemon's team beginning to press them into the corner, Adrian's side calmly recycled possession, moving the ball back into the center of the field. Their tempo slowed noticeably. Each player who received the ball took a moment to lift his head, scan the pitch, and patiently wait for a teammate to create space before making the next pass.
Daemon's attacking midfielder suddenly began hopping on one leg before sitting down on the field, clutching his calf. Seeing a player down, Adrian's team immediately kicked the ball out of play so the referee could stop the match. After checking on the injured midfielder, the referee spoke with him before walking over to Daemon. Apparently, the player had felt a sharp pain in his calf muscle. Not wanting to risk a serious injury, he decided to sit out the remainder of the match.
Daemon gathered his teammates. "Does anyone know a midfielder who wouldn't mind coming on as a substitute?" he asked.
The players looked at one another, but nobody answered. Oswin suddenly thought of someone. "I know someone," he said, glancing toward the stands. "I don't know if he'll agree, but it's worth asking."
Daemon nodded. "Go."
Oswin jogged toward the stands, where Winston, Bongani, and Hickman were watching the match while chatting among themselves. As soon as they saw Oswin waving them over, the three walked down the steps.
Stopping in front of them, Oswin bent over, trying to catch his breath. "Guys, I need a favor. Our attacking midfielder just injured his calf, and we need a replacement." He looked directly at Winston and Bongani. "Can one of you help us out?"
"Count me in," Winston replied immediately as he sat down to tighten the laces on the boots he had been wearing during training. "I was hoping to stretch my legs again."
Relief washed over Oswin's face. "I owe you one, Wis."
Winston smiled and shook his head. "Come on, don't say that. We're friends. I've got your back."
Standing up, he asked, "What formation is Daemon playing?"
"A 4-4-2," Oswin replied as they jogged back toward the huddle. "I'm playing on the right side of midfield, making runs in behind."
When they reached the team, Daemon walked over and offered Winston a handshake. "Thanks for accepting the invitation."
"It's nothing," Winston replied with a smile. Meanwhile, the players watching from the stands exchanged confused looks.
"Isn't that Winston?" one youth asked, folding his arms. "Didn't he just play a full ninety minutes a couple of days ago? Isn't he worried about getting injured?"
"I don't think that's why he accepted," another player replied. "What do you mean?"
"Think about what the instructors told us. Every player can only accept two one-on-one challenges per week." The first youth nodded slowly. "I think Winston accepted this invitation on purpose."
"How so?"
"If he plays two matches this week, it means he will not receive a one-on-one challenge this week." He glanced toward Winston as he jogged onto the pitch. "...if you saw him play his last match, would you want to challenge him immediately while he's still in form?"
The first youth rubbed his chin. "...That's actually smart."
"Exactly. He gets another competitive match under his belt while making himself a less attractive target for immediate challenges. He's thinking ahead."
Several nearby players silently nodded, beginning to realize Winston wasn't just improving on the field—he was also learning how to navigate the academy's challenge system.