The locker room was a graveyard of silence.

Scarlet slumped against her seat, red hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her eyes burned with defiance, but the fury was hollow it couldn't mask the sting of failure. Aya sat with her elbows on her knees, staring down at the floor, replaying every misplaced pass in her head.

Grim leaned against the lockers, arms folded, silent as a statue. His aura was usually calm, grounding. Tonight it was heavy, suffocating. Even he could not shield them from the truth.

Lionel unstrapped his shin guards methodically, his face a mask. He had been flawless individually, but what did that matter if the team crumbled? Kenji muttered apologies no one answered. Ryuji buried his face in a towel.

And then there was Dante—Blaze. The fire inside him had raged during the game, but now it flickered, uncertain. He had scored. His name had been chanted. And yet, the taste of victory had been stolen. His chest was tight, his jaw clenched. He hated this emptiness more than he hated defeat itself.

Jason stood at the center of the room, coat slung over his shoulder, gaze sweeping across them all. His silence dragged on, suffocating, until finally he spoke.

"Two matches. Two losses."

His words dropped like stones.

"We're not just failing to win, we're failing to believe."

Scarlet broke first. "Coach, I scored last game and set up chances this time. I—"

Jason's glare silenced her. "You play for yourself, Scarlet. Until you understand that your shine means nothing without the team's glow, your brilliance is a liability."

Scarlet bit her lip, blinking away the sting.

He turned to Aya next. "Your vision is our backbone, but hesitation has no place here. If you're the one holding tempo, then hold it with conviction. No second-guessing."

Aya nodded once, quietly swallowing her frustration.

Jason's eyes found Grim. "Captain, you keep the line steady. But even a wall cracks if the foundation is weak. Demand more. Don't just absorb pressure. Command it."

Grim gave a silent nod, taking the weight without complaint.

Then his gaze cut to Dante. The locker room shifted—every eye turned to the rookie.

"You burned bright," Jason admitted. "You scored. You answered the crowd. But Blaze—tell me, what good is a spark if it sets the whole house on fire?"

Dante's fists clenched. He wanted to argue, to shout that he had done his part. But deep down he knew Jason was right. One goal wasn't enough. Fire alone wasn't enough.

Jason's voice hardened, carrying across the room."We are Eternal Era. That name means history, legacy, excellence. And right now, we're a disgrace. Lose one match? Fine. It happens. Lose two in a row? That's the start of a pattern. And in this league, patterns decide rankings. Rankings decide survival."

He tapped the holo-board at the front of the room. The Galaxy Table flickered into view, luminous rankings scrolling down. Eternal Era sat at 17th place. Still within the top 20, but sliding dangerously.

"Three more poor results," Jason said coldly, "and we're out. Once you fall out of the top twenty, it takes years to claw back. You think the sponsors care about your pride? You think the scouts care about your excuses? They'll strip this team for parts and feed the vultures."

The silence that followed was heavier than any roar of the crowd.

Jason's tone softened, but his eyes stayed sharp."You've sacrificed to get here. The pain, the blood, the endless training, it wasn't for mediocrity. You want to stay in the top twenty? Then you bleed for it. Every second. Every game. Every tackle. There are no easy wins, no safe matches. Forget that, and you'll lose more than points—you'll lose everything."

He let the words hang, then stormed out, leaving them in the weight of his shadow.

When the room finally stirred again, Scarlet exhaled sharply. "He acts like we're already relegated. It's just two matches."

Lionel spoke quietly, but his voice cut through her words. "Scarlet… two matches is momentum. Right now, it's moving against us."

Aya lifted her head, her eyes flicking toward Blaze. "But at least we found something new."

Dante looked up, meeting her gaze. "A goal isn't enough."

Scarlet scoffed. "Don't get arrogant, rookie. One flashy strike doesn't make you the savior."

Blaze stood, the fire sparking faintly along his arm. "I'm not trying to be the savior. But I won't settle for just existing here. If we're Eternal Era, then I'll burn until we live up to that name."

The room stilled again. Aya gave him the faintest smile. Lionel's lips curved, just slightly. Even Grim's silence seemed to carry approval.

Scarlet looked away, annoyed but unsettled by his conviction.

The Walk Home

Later, as the night cooled and the stadium emptied, Blaze found himself alone under the artificial stars of the dome's ceiling. The chants of his name still echoed in his ears, but they tasted hollow. What was glory if it didn't bring victory?

He replayed Jason's words in his head. What good is a spark if it sets the house on fire?

He clenched his fists, whispering to himself."Then I'll learn to control it. To burn without destroying. To ignite without fading."

In the shadows above, unseen by him, two figures watched from the stands. Bounty hunters—the same shadows who had whispered during the Rising Stars' duels.

One of them smirked. "The boy's flame is getting hotter. But a wildfire is hardest to tame once it spreads."

The other simply nodded. "Let him burn. The galaxy will come calling soon enough."

Jason's Quiet Burden

Meanwhile, in his office, Jason replayed an old recording. Not of Dante. Not of Blaze. But of another striker one whose movements he knew by heart.

A younger man. Fierce, precise, merciless. Dante's father.

Jason leaned back, rubbing his temples. "If only you were here now, old friend. Maybe you'd know how to shape him better than I can."

The screen froze on the image of Serpent Fang's finishing strike, the very move Dante had tried to replicate. Jason exhaled slowly.

"Blaze is fire… but fire consumes. If he can't learn control, he'll destroy himself before he ever reaches the top."

He turned off the screen, the darkness swallowing the room.

The next match was just days away. The easiest on paper—last place on the table. But Jason knew better. No game was easy when pressure threatened to crush his team from within.

Two losses in a row. One spark of hope. And a storm gathering on the horizon.

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