The dawn sky stretched pale and bruised as Dante sat at the edge of his bed, hands clasped tightly between his knees. His room in the academy dormitory was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. For hours he had been awake, staring at the ceiling, letting Jason's words from the day before repeat in his mind like a drumbeat:

"You're starting the next match."

It should have filled him with unshakable pride. Instead, it came with an ache in his chest and a storm in his gut. He thought of the last two fixtures—two losses that still sat heavy on the squad. Eternal Era had a reputation to defend. Slipping down the table after only two weeks was unthinkable. Fans were already questioning, critics circling. And now, the answer to those doubts was him.

Blaze.

The Titan name had spread quickly after his first substitute appearance, chanted by fans and echoed across training grounds. But Titan names carried weight. They weren't just titles; they were symbols. Lionel had Stronghold because no striker could move him. Anastasia had Autumn Leaf because of her grace and resilience. For Dante—Blaze—his red lightning and fiery aura demanded attention. Yet he still felt like a boy trying on armor too heavy for his frame.

He rose, splashed cold water on his face, and told his reflection in the mirror: "This time… no fear."

Z st

The next morning, the Rising Stars assembled on the practice pitch. The mood was sharper than usual. Two losses had stolen the usual laughter from warm-ups, replacing it with the silence of a squad that knew their place in the top 20 was in jeopardy.

Jason Lockwood, their coach, stood with arms folded, scanning his players one by one before speaking.

"You all know the situation," Jason began. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "Two games, no wins. If we fall again, we slip further down the table. And climbing back up isn't just about talent—it's about survival. Sponsors, scouts, and the board don't wait for excuses."

A few heads dipped. Aya tightened the straps on her boots. Kenji cracked his knuckles, restless. Even Grim, the usually unshakable captain, had a furrow in his brow.

Jason pointed toward the formation board, a glowing projection hovering beside him. "This week, we face the Black Meteors. They may be bottom of the standings, but don't let the rankings deceive you. A cornered beast is the most dangerous. They've got nothing to lose—and that makes them unpredictable."

He tapped the projected lineup. "I've decided. Blaze will start as striker."

A ripple moved through the squad. Some nodded approval—Scarlet smirked knowingly, Aya gave the faintest of nods—but others looked skeptical. A rookie in the starting eleven was always a gamble, more so after two losses.

Dante straightened his spine as all eyes turned his way. Jason's gaze locked onto his.

"You've shown hunger. You've shown power. But goals win games, Dante. Not flashes of lightning. Not raw speed. Goals. That's what I expect of you."

Dante nodded firmly. "I won't let the team down."

Jason softened for a moment. "You're not here to be a hero. You're here to be part of the system. Trust your teammates. Work with them. If you see Lionel calling, you pass. If Aya signals, you create space. The blaze that burns alone fades quickly. The fire that spreads with others lights the whole sky."

The words struck Dante deeply. He had always carried football as if it were a battle between himself and the world. But Jason's reminder cut through his pride. He was part of something larger.

E

They ran drills all morning. Jason experimented with combinations, trying to balance the offense around Dante's aggressive style.

Aya served looping passes, testing Dante's aerial control. At first, the ball clanged off his forehead at odd angles, but by the third attempt he redirected cleanly toward goal.

Kenji pushed him in sprint races, forcing Dante to channel his Elemental Speed in shorter bursts rather than wild dashes. "Don't burn everything in one run," Kenji barked. "Be sharp. Be sudden."

Scarlet, fiery as always, went one-on-one with him in finishing drills, sneering when he mis-hit. "That's the best you've got, Blaze? Show me fire, not smoke."

Even Lionel, calm and immovable, joined in. He deliberately marked Dante during scrimmage, cutting off his angles, forcing him to think rather than just react. Each failed attempt taught Dante something new about spacing, patience, and timing.

And though he failed more often than he succeeded, by the end of the session his movements had begun to smoothen. His strikes carried less desperation, more intent.

Jason blew the whistle. "Enough. Tomorrow, you'll show this on the pitch. Remember—Black Meteors won't give you space. You'll have to carve it."

The day of the match came like thunder.

From the moment the Rising Stars' transport bus pulled into the stadium tunnel, they could hear the crowd. Chants, horns, banners waving like a sea of color. The losses hadn't cooled Eternal Era's support; if anything, it had fueled it. The fans demanded a revival.

As the squad stepped off the bus, reporters swarmed the entrance. Microphones thrust forward, flashes exploding. Questions barked out:

"Coach Jason, do you think putting a rookie in the starting lineup is desperation?"

"Blaze, can you really handle the pressure of carrying Eternal Era's attack?"

"Is this the turning point, or the beginning of the collapse?"

Jason brushed past with silence, his jaw set. Dante kept his hoodie up, ignoring the noise, though his pulse raced faster than any sprint.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was heavy with focus. The sharp scent of liniment filled the air, boots squeaking as players tightened laces. Grim paced like a caged predator, muttering tactical reminders. Aya leaned against the wall, eyes closed, visualizing the flow of the game.

Jason entered, shutting the door behind him. The noise of the crowd faded, leaving only his voice.

"This is where we draw the line. We've sacrificed too much to stumble further. Every one of you has bled for this badge. Tonight, you prove why."

He turned to Dante. "Blaze. This is your chance. Don't think of the name. Don't think of the crowd. Think of the ball, the net, and your team. Nothing else matters."

Dante swallowed, then spoke clearly. "I'm ready."

Jason's eyes scanned the room once more. "Good. Because tonight, we rise."

The tunnel lights bathed them in white glow as they lined up behind the officials. Dante could hear the pounding of his heart against the chants of thousands. "Eternal Era! Eternal Era!"

And then, a lone voice from the stands cut through the din:

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

The words carried equal parts desperation and hope. Some fans laughed, others cheered. Dante felt heat flare in his chest, a spark of pressure and pride intertwining.

As the teams marched onto the pitch, floodlights blazing down like suns, Dante finally looked up at the endless rows of faces. For the first time, he wasn't hidden beneath a hoodie or watching from the shadows.

He was here. In the starting eleven. Blaze of Eternal Era.

The anthem faded, the whistle neared. His nerves still trembled, but his resolve stood taller.

Win or lose, tonight would mark the true beginning.

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