The stadium buzzed with nervous anticipation as the Eternal Era Rising Stars lined up for the second half. Jason stood with arms crossed, his eyes narrowing at the tactical display flickering across his wristband. The first half hadn't gone disastrously, but it hadn't been convincing either. The opposing academy's team—brutal, disciplined, and faster than expected—had managed to squeeze through Eternal Era's defenses and strike first.

Now, Eternal Era trailed by a single goal.

Jason's jaw tightened. He had tested different lineups in training, tried shifting players around, but this wasn't practice anymore. The enemy wasn't giving them an inch. His players had spirit, but they lacked the cutting edge to truly dominate.

And then someone from the stand shouted.

"Put in the new kid!"

It started from one corner of the stands, loud and sharp like a thrown spear. Soon, other voices picked it up, echoing, swelling until the entire east side of the stadium seemed to roar the same words.

"We need a better striker! Put the new kid in!"

Dante sat on the bench, hoodie still half-zipped, red lightning sparking faintly at the edges of his aura. He froze when he heard the crowd. The fire in his chest ignited instantly, but he forced himself to stay calm. This wasn't his choice. It was Jason's.

Jason didn't flinch at the noise, though his knuckles whitened as he clenched his clipboard. He knew exactly who they meant. Dante. The wild card. The one with a broken Titan move and frightening speed. A boy who could change everything—or collapse under the pressure.

On the field, Anastasia Lockwood—Autumn Leaf—barely turned her head when the chant surged. Her teammates' eyes darted nervously toward the stands, but she stayed locked in on the ball, intercepting a dangerous run with a leaf-step feint. Still, as she jogged back into formation, she allowed herself a fleeting glance toward the bench, toward Dante. Her expression was unreadable, but her gaze lingered just long enough to suggest she'd heard the chant—and considered the possibility.

Scarlet, her friend, grinned even as she caught the exchange. "Looks like the crowd wants a show," she muttered, firing a pass down the left flank.

Anastasia didn't respond, her face returning to its usual calm mask, but the thought had already nestled in the back of her mind: How would he fit into our rhythm?

Jason's Dilemma

Jason stalked to the technical box, calling Lionel—Stronghold—closer.

"What do you think?" Jason asked in a low voice.

Lionel's brow furrowed. "You want honesty? The forwards aren't sharp today. Kenji's forcing plays, Aya's trying to do everything herself. The kid—Dante—he could break them open."

Jason exhaled slowly. That was the problem. Dante wasn't ready for balance; he was ready for chaos. And chaos could win games—or lose them twice as fast.

Still, the crowd's chant rang in his ears like a drumbeat. They weren't wrong.

He tapped his wristband, pulling up formations. Every option he slid Dante into tilted the balance: too much offense here, too much exposure there. Could he really risk the team's shape for one gamble?

His gaze shifted to Dante. The boy wasn't even fidgeting. He was staring straight at the pitch, eyes hard as steel. That resolve made Jason's gut twist.

On the Pitch – Pressure Builds

The opponents pressed harder, sensing Eternal Era's hesitation. Grim, the Rising Stars' captain, barked orders from midfield, but the lines wobbled under pressure. A desperate clearance sent the ball skidding wide.

"Coach!" Scarlet yelled, her face red from sprinting. "We need firepower up front!"

Jason's heart skipped. Even his own players were starting to call for it.

Dante's Moment

"Dante."

The voice was sharp, commanding. Jason had finally turned.

Dante rose without hesitation, peeling off his hoodie. Crimson sparks flared around him as though they'd been waiting all this time. The crowd exploded into cheers, stomping their feet, chanting his name now.

"Listen to me," Jason said, gripping his shoulder. "You're not here to play hero. You're here to fit in. Do you understand?"

Dante's lips curled into a half-smile. "Then give me the ball, and I'll fit the goal."

Jason shook his head, muttering something under his breath before gesturing toward the assistant coach. "Warm him up."

As Dante jogged to the sideline, stretching, Anastasia's eyes tracked him briefly again. This time, there was no denial—only calculation. If he comes in, he'll change the rhythm. Can we keep up?

Scarlet caught her look, smirking. "Looks like our Autumn Leaf is curious."

"Focus," Anastasia replied, sharp but calm, sliding into another interception as if nothing had happened.

Finally, the referee raised the board. Dante's number lit up.

The stadium shook. Fans shouted, sang, some even waved improvised banners with his name. The "new kid" was in.

Jason exhaled, his tactical screen still glowing in his hand. He had no illusions—this wasn't the perfect formation. But sometimes, football wasn't about perfection. It was about momentum.

Dante stepped onto the field, his crimson lightning snapping against the turf, eyes locked forward. He wasn't thinking about the crowd anymore. Or the chants. Or even Jason.

He was thinking about one thing: proving he belonged.

Cliffhanger

The ball rolled his way almost instantly. He trapped it cleanly, opponents already closing in.

The crowd held its breath.

Would the "new kid" rise—or would he break?

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