The first person they approached was Bongani, who was training on the same football field where he and Winston usually practiced. After explaining Winston's plan, Bongani agreed with little hesitation. With one teammate secured, the group turned their attention to the rest of Group D.
Using their wristwatches, they checked the academy rankings and began approaching the higher-ranked players, starting with defenders before moving on to midfielders. Most of them declined—Undeterred, they moved on to Group C.
Their luck finally changed—they managed to recruit three more players—a left-back, a right-back, and a central midfielder.
Although several others refused, Winston and the others continued searching. Eventually, they made their way to Building B. Thanks to Lukas Hickman's reputation and connections, recruiting became much easier.
By the time they finished, Winston had assembled a full squad of eleven players. Standing outside Building B, Winston thanked both Oswin and Lukas for their help. After saying their goodbyes, he headed straight back to Building D and entered Instructor Smith's office.
"Instructor," Winston said respectfully, "I'd like to issue a one-on-one challenge against a player from Group C."
Instructor Smith looked up from his desk. "And who would that be?" He pulled out a clipboard containing the academy's rankings.
"Diego," Winston replied. "He's in Group C."
Instructor Smith flipped through the pages until he found Diego's name. He circled it with a pen before looking back at Winston.
"Have you already assembled your teammates?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then list their names, positions, and groups so I can register them."
One by one, Winston gave the names of every player, along with their positions and academy groups. Instructor Smith carefully wrote everything down before placing the clipboard aside.
"All right," he said, standing up. "Wait here while I submit your request to the main administration building."
With that, he left the office. Minutes crawled by—Winston sat alone, his foot tapping anxiously against the floor like the steady rhythm of a typewriter.
Suddenly, a sharp electronic chime echoed from his wristwatch.
A sharp electronic chime echoed from every wristwatch in the academy.
> One-on-One Challenge Initiated. Winston, Group D, has challenged Diego, Group C. Diego is to report to his instructor within ten minutes. I repeat, Diego is to report to his instructor within ten minutes. <
The announcement rang across the academy. Winston blinked in surprise. So this is how the Federation announces challenges… Before he could gather his thoughts, Instructor Smith returned to his office and sat behind his desk.
"Everything has been approved," he said. "Your match will take place immediately after today's dome training."
He glanced at the schedule on his clipboard. "Both teams will be given a ten-minute break before kickoff."
"The match will be played on Football Field E-5. It's only a short walk from the training field where you practice every morning."
Winston nodded. "Thank you, instructor."
With that, he left the offic—almost as soon as he stepped outside, the academy bell rang, signaling the start of morning training. Winston headed straight for the attacking dome. The moment he entered, he sensed the change in atmosphere.
Every conversation seemed to die down. Dozens of eyes shifted toward him. Some were filled with curiosity, others with anticipation. A few carried open ridicule. Winston quietly walked over to Oswin.
Oswin smirked. "Well..." he whispered, "you've certainly changed the mood in here."
Winston swept his gaze across the dome. Several youths were openly sizing him up, as if trying to determine whether he truly belonged on the same field as Diego. "I don't think he'll win," one player muttered, folding his arms. "Diego needs to put this kid in his place."
Another scoffed. "Seriously. Just because he did well in the mannequin drill doesn't mean he can challenge someone from Group C."
A third player shook his head. "Tsk... tsk... tsk..."
"Instead of worrying about Winston, why don't you focus on improving yourselves?" He looked around at the others.
"At least he has the courage to challenge someone stronger. That should inspire you—not make you jealous."
Silence followed—no one argued. Winston looked toward the youth who had defended him and gave him a small nod. The youth returned the gesture. At that moment, the dome doors slid open.
Diego entered—The conversations instantly stopped. Every head turned toward him. Wearing an indifferent expression, Diego walked past the other players before taking his place among them. His eyes eventually settled on Winston. A cold glare formed on his face. Why me? Out of everyone in this dome… why did he choose to challenge me?
"It's nice to see all of you in such high spirits," the bald, short instructor said, clasping his hands behind his back. "That means you're ready for today's training."
He strode to the front of the assembled youths, raised the whistle to his lips, and blew a sharp blast. Moments later, a convoy of utility carts rolled into the dome. Each cart pulled a trailer loaded with enormous mining tires. The drivers parked in a straight line behind the instructor before climbing down.
"Everyone, stand behind a tire," the instructor ordered.
The youths exchanged puzzled glances but obeyed without complaint. As soon as each player took his position, the workers moved in. Thick harnesses were fastened around the youths' chests and waists before being securely attached to the massive tires. Confused murmurs spread through the dome. The youths looked from one another to the instructor, silently wondering what brutal exercise he had prepared for them this time.
"Give me twenty laps from here to the end of the field," the bald, short instructor barked. "Straight line only. Anyone who quits doesn't get to watch the one-on-one match."
Before the youths could complain, he blew the whistle and clasped his hands behind his back. Winston leaned forward and drove with his legs. The massive tire lurched across the turf behind him. All around the field, players strained against the harnesses. Some managed only a few steps before their pace collapsed.
The bald, short instructor walked to the center of the field and watched in silence as the youths fought to drag the heavy mining tires, each weighing between 55 and 81 kilograms. The first player to stand out was Sebastian. He pulled his tire with surprising ease, maintaining a steady sprint while the others struggled. By the time most players were halfway through their second lap, Sebastian had already started his fourth.
Winston narrowed his eyes. He focused on the Nethen Essence circulating through his body and slowed his breathing. With each inhale and exhale, the essence flowed into his legs. Half of it gathered around the Voltage Core, tightening his thighs and calves with a sharp, electric sensation.
His next pull felt lighter, then the next—the tire still weighed the same, but his body moved more efficiently, and the remaining essence helped suppress the exhaustion building in his muscles. By the end of the first lap, Winston had found a rhythm.
He accelerated—Soon he was the only player keeping pace with Sebastian. Behind them, Oswin and the others continued fighting through the drill, moving steadily but nowhere near the speed of the leading pair. When Winston finally completed the twentieth lap, he collapsed onto the grass, clutching his chest.
His head spun as the Nethen Essence reserves neared depletion. The bald, short instructor tossed a bottle of water toward him. Winston caught it, unscrewed the cap, and drained it in several desperate gulps.
Ding!
[Nethen Essence: Level 1]
Physical
Physical: 73
Jumping: 73
Stamina: 73
Strength: 73
Aggression: 73
[Voltage Core: Level 1]
Pace
Acceleration: 73
Sprint Speed: 73
Sitting upright, Winston took another sip of water before raising his wrist and opening the Core System. He quickly read through the notification before closing it again.
His attention shifted back to the field.
Several youths were still struggling to drag their tires. Some had stopped to catch their breath, while others grit their teeth and continued pulling without paying attention to anyone around them. Sweeping his gaze across the field, Winston was surprised to see that Darwin had already completed all twenty laps.
One after another, more players crossed the finish line.
"Damn... that was brutal," Oswin groaned as he collapsed onto the grass beside Winston.
He turned his head and looked at him. "Aren't you tired? You should save your energy for your match against Diego."
Winston finished the last of his water before replying. "Don't worry. We'll have ten minutes to recover before kickoff."
Oswin lay flat on the grass and raised a lazy thumbs-up. "Good, because I definitely need those ten minutes just to start breathing normally again."
After a brief silence, he asked, "So... what formation are we using?"
"Have you decided yet?" Winston paused to think.
He barely knew the abilities of most of the players he'd recruited. All he knew were their preferred positions.
"I'm thinking of a 4-3-3," he replied.
Oswin nodded thoughtfully. "That's a flexible formation."
"It gives us options in both attack and defense, which is probably our safest choice since we don't really know everyone's strengths yet."
He twisted the cap back onto his water bottle. "We should focus on quick build-up play and stay compact defensively. Hickman can anchor the back line—he's a beast in defense. As for Bongani, I'd play him as our defensive midfielder.
When we trained with him, his marking was excellent, and he wasn't bad going forward either. He can protect the defense while helping us transition into attack."