Recap:

The doors of the shuttle hissed shut behind them, sealing the players away from the roar of the Veridion stadium and the echo of that final whistle. The hum of the engines filled the narrow cabin, steady and low.

No one spoke at first.

They filed into their seats quietly, each carrying the weight of the defeat like something tangible lodged in their chest. The Galactic Cup final had slipped out of their fingers in the dying moments of extra time, the scoreboard still etched into their minds.

Rift Striker 3 — Titans 2.

A number small enough to fit in a child's notebook, yet too heavy for any of them to lift.

Blaze sank into a seat by the window, still in his sweat-soaked jersey. He didn't bother wiping the dried blood near his temple. He hadn't cared for it during the match; he cared even less now.

His right leg throbbed. He ignored that too.

His reflection stared back at him in the glass, eyes pale with exhaustion, still carrying faint traces of that flickering spiritual flame aura he had pushed too hard.

A part of him still didn't believe it was over.

Aya sat across from him, elbows on her knees, fingers laced together. She wasn't crying. She didn't need to. The silence around her was loud enough to show how much she was hurting. She had fought the entire match for them. Pushed past her limits. Controlled the midfield even when her lungs felt like they were on fire. She had given everything.

Maybe that was why she couldn't find words now.

Anastasia slipped into the seat beside Blaze but didn't lean into him yet. She gave him space. She knew the loss cut differently for a striker. Especially him.

He moved a hand to his leg, his jaw tightening. She noticed immediately.

"You should let Jason or the med-team check that," she whispered.

"Later," Blaze said quietly.

Her brows drew together, but she didn't argue.

Farther down the row, Scarlet curled her knees up to her chest, forehead resting on them. Her ponytail was loose, strands sticking to her cheeks. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her missed chance in the 118th minute replaying.

Lionel sat upright, hands clasped, staring straight ahead. He looked like a statue cut from stone, but his thoughts churned beneath the surface. He replayed every tackle, every block… and the one he couldn't stop. The final goal.

He should have done more.

He told himself that over and over, even though he had thrown his entire soul into that match.

Diego rested his head against the seat and sighed softly, the kind of sigh a captain makes when he blames himself more than he should. Grim sat motionless next to him. Kenji had his face half-buried in his jacket. Ryuji kept bouncing his knee, unable to sit still. Mikhail hadn't spoken a word since they left the pitch.

Jason walked down the aisle slowly, looking at each of them. His voice, when it finally came, was low.

"You played the match of your lives."

No response.

"You fought," he added. "You adapted. You pushed a team built from nothing to the final. You held your own against the fastest attack in the galaxy. And I'm proud."

Again, no one spoke.

Jason took a breath, leaned one hand on the back of a seat, and continued anyway.

"I know this hurts. I know losing at the edge like that feels cruel. But listen closely. Look at me."

He waited until eyes finally lifted toward him, even if only halfway.

"You didn't lose your worth out there. You only proved how far you've come."

Scarlet's voice was faint. "Doesn't feel like it."

Jason stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's because greatness never feels like greatness while it's happening. It just feels like pain and hard work."

That didn't fix anything, but the way he said it made the team exhale for the first time since boarding.

The shuttle engines grew louder as the ship lifted into Veridion's night sky.

Stars passed slowly across the windows, quiet witnesses to their heartbreak.

The Weight of Almost

Halfway through the flight, the autopilot took over, and the cabin lights dimmed. One by one, the players allowed themselves to exhale, slumping back into their seats.

Blaze rubbed his leg again, trying to hide the wince.

"You're doing that a lot," Anastasia murmured, frowning.

"It's fine," Blaze said.

"It's not," she replied, leaning closer. "You pushed your right leg harder than you were supposed to. Don't act like I didn't see the way you landed on it in the 93rd minute."

He didn't answer.

She gently placed her hand over his.

"Just… don't carry everything alone. Not tonight."

He stared at their hands for a long moment, then nodded.

Aya shifted slightly at the sight, her expression softening just enough to show she was relieved Blaze wasn't shutting everyone out.

Diego finally broke the heavy quiet.

"We'll get another chance," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But we're not done."

Ryuji nodded. "Damn right."

Scarlet lifted her head. "Next year… I'll score a hat trick in the final."

Lionel cracked a small, tired smile. "We'll hold you to it."

Jason walked back to his seat at the front, but his eyes lingered on Blaze for a moment. He'd seen the limp. He'd seen the way Blaze braced himself getting up the shuttle ramp.

But this wasn't the moment to lecture him. They'd deal with that after Earth.

"Everyone get some rest," Jason said. "We have a long day ahead once we land."

Aya lifted her head slightly. "Interviews and press?"

Jason hesitated. "More than that."

Blaze frowned. "Meaning?"

Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the cabin wall. "You'll see."

Descent to Earth

Hours later, the shuttle broke through Earth's atmosphere. The windows glowed orange for a moment, then cleared, revealing a view of the sprawling continent-wide metropolis below.

Their home.

The players straightened up, expecting a quiet landing. Maybe a few reporters. Maybe some fans. After all, they didn't bring home the trophy.

But as the shuttle glided toward the landing platform, Blaze noticed something unusual.

Lights.

Not just a few.

Thousands.

"No way…" Mikhail whispered.

Scarlet wiped her eyes and leaned forward. "Are those…?"

Aya's breath hitched softly. "Crowds."

The landing pad was surrounded.

People everywhere. Crowding every balcony, every street, every rooftop that had a line of sight to the arrival bay. Banners waving. Screens floating overhead. As the shuttle slowed, the sound reached them even through the reinforced hull:

cheering.

Blaze blinked hard, unsure if he was hearing it right.

They had lost.

The Galactic Cup wasn't theirs.

Yet…

People were chanting their names.

Lionel. Aya. Anastasia. Blaze.

Scarlet's voice cracked. "Why are they cheering?"

Jason didn't smile, but his voice carried something warm beneath the calm.

"Because you made them believe again."

The shuttle touched down with a gentle thud.

The ramp lowered.

And the sound that hit them almost knocked them back.

A tsunami of cheers, applause, singing, chanting, horns, fireworks everything.

Titan City wasn't welcoming losers.

It was welcoming heroes.

The Walk Out

Diego stepped out first as captain. His eyes widened at the sea of lights and people, stretching farther than the training facility's entire district.

Then came Lionel.

The crowd roared louder.

Scarlet and Aya stepped out next. Fans held massive hologram banners of Aya's midfield control, Scarlet's acrobatic finishes, Anastasia's aura flares, Lionel's Stronghold blocks.

And then Blaze walked out.

For a moment, the entire crowd surged forward behind the barricades, as if seeing him in person made the loss irrelevant.

"BLAZE! BLAZE! BLAZE!"

His throat tightened. His chest felt too full.

Anastasia stepped out beside him, just close enough for their shoulders to brush. People cheered her too her Autumn Leaf aura clips had gone viral weeks ago.

She whispered, "Welcome home."

He didn't trust his voice enough to answer.

Investors, Scouts, and the Avalanche

Security led them down a carpeted walkway toward the main hall of Titan Arena. Reporters flanked the sides, drones hovered overhead, crowd barriers shook under the pressure of excited fans.

Jason stayed near the back, watching the team soak it in.

Then came the moment he had warned them about.

As soon as they stepped inside the building, they were ambushed but not by reporters.

By executives.

Dozens of them.

Representatives from every major conglomerate, training institution, academy, tech sponsor, medical sponsor, aura-research lab, tactical division...

All of them lined up.

Waiting.

Wanting.

Blaze stared. "What's going on?"

Jason exhaled like a man who knew this storm was coming. "Congratulations. Losing didn't scare investors away. It made them hungrier."

Aya blinked. "Us? Even though we lost?"

"Especially because you lost," Jason replied. "And still gave the Rift Striker the closest match of their entire season."

Scarlet leaned close to Anastasia and whispered, "People are insane."

Anastasia nudged her lightly. "We earned this."

Executives stepped forward one by one:

• A tech corporation offering Lionel a custom defensive enhancement module.

• A medical sponsor proposing a training program tailored for Aya's endurance.

• A media giant begging Scarlet for a brand deal.

• A research institute wanting to study Anastasia's aura evolution.

• And more than ten corporations asking for a meeting with Blaze.

Blaze didn't answer any of them. His leg hurt too much for him to pretend he wasn't in pain.

Jason noticed immediately.

He stepped in front of Blaze and raised a hand calmly. "My players will speak to you after their medical checks. Not before."

The executives backed off.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

Behind the Curtains

The team regrouped in the players' lounge quiet, dimly lit, familiar. For the first time tonight, they could breathe.

Blaze finally sat down heavily, massaging his leg.

Anastasia knelt in front of him, her eyes steady. "Let me see."

He didn't argue. Not anymore.

She pressed lightly along the side of his calf. He winced.

Aya noticed. "It's worse than you let on."

Jason's footsteps approached. He stopped beside them, arms crossed.

"Blaze," he said. "Say it."

Blaze swallowed. "It hurts."

Jason nodded once. "Good. Now we can deal with it."

He motioned toward the medical wing. "You're going in for scans. Anastasia, Aya, go with him. He needs people he trusts right now."

Aya stood immediately. "Of course."

Anastasia didn't let go of Blaze's hand as they followed Jason down the hallway.

Scarlet watched them go, exhaling. "We really survived all that, huh?"

Lionel gave a soft nod. "Yeah. And we're not done."

Diego sat back, looking up at the ceiling as if he could already see next season forming in his head. "We'll be back for that trophy."

Mikhail finally spoke. "And when we do… this time, we finish it."

The room fell into a quiet warmth. A rare peace.

Because for the first time since the final whistle…

The Titans weren't grieving.

They were rising.

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