The rain had stopped, but the field still smelled of it wet grass, ozone, and lingering melancholy. Morning mist curled along the edges of the training ground as Jason stepped onto the pitch, his coat draped over one shoulder and a whistle hanging around his neck.

He took a long look at the players warming up in silence. No jokes, no laughter, no usual energy. Even Lionel, who was often the first to make noise, just stretched quietly, eyes down. Anastasia and Scarlet kept to one side, their movements mechanical. Diego arrived last, hood up, avoiding everyone's gaze.

Jason sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples.He hated this mood the heaviness that death always left behind.

"Alright, gather up!" he called, voice steady but stern. "We've got three days before our next match. I don't care how bad last week hurt you're still Eternal Era Titans. You've worked your way from the dirt to top twenty in the Galactic League. You don't get to stop because life hits back."

The team formed a semicircle around him, boots squelching in the damp turf. Their eyes were a mix of fatigue and confusion.

Jason continued, pacing slowly in front of them."I know Blaze's loss hit everyone hard. The kid might act like he doesn't need anyone, but you all saw how much his mother meant to him. And you each of you mean something to this team. You're not just here to kick a ball. You're here because you made sacrifices to wear this crest."

He pointed to the iron emblem on his chest."Every bruise, every sleepless night, every failure it's the price of belonging here. You either pay it with purpose, or you quit now."

Silence.Then, a low rumble broke through it the gates sliding open at the far end of the pitch.

Heads turned.

Blaze stepped out.

He looked like someone who had spent the night fighting ghosts. His white hair hung damp over his eyes, his expression distant. His uniform was half-buttoned, and his aura the faint red lightning that usually shimmered around him was dim, almost flickering.

Jason folded his arms, studying him. "You're late."

Blaze's voice was low, almost flat. "I needed some air."

"Air doesn't take two days," Jason replied. "You missed drills. Conditioning. Tactical prep."

"I didn't miss anything worth remembering," Blaze muttered, picking up a ball from the rack.

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Watch it, kid."

Blaze met his gaze for a moment. His eyes weren't angry they were empty. That worried Jason more than rage ever could.

"Fine," Jason said, stepping aside. "If you're here, then show me you still belong here. Pair up with Lionel. We're running full-pressure drills."

Lionel nodded, though hesitation flickered across his face. The rest of the team split into groups, the sound of thudding balls and shouted cues echoing faintly.

At first, Blaze moved like a shadow—fast, smooth, but without his usual rhythm. His movements were mechanical, devoid of spark. Every kick had power but no intention.

Lionel tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, man, your touch got rusty already? You losing it?"

Blaze didn't answer. His dribble slipped past Lionel with effortless grace, but when he shot, the ball curved wide, slicing through the damp air and hitting the post with a hollow clang.

Jason's whistle pierced the silence. "Again!"

They reset. Again. Again. Each repetition sharper, more desperate—but the fire wasn't there.

Scarlet crossed her arms on the sideline. "He's breaking himself," she whispered.

Anastasia nodded softly. "He's trying not to feel."

By the fifteenth minute, Blaze's breath came in ragged bursts. Red lightning flared faintly across his shoulders a subconscious reaction to frustration but faded as quickly as it appeared.

Finally, Jason called it off. "Enough. Lionel, switch with Diego."

Diego jogged over, shoulders tense. Blaze stood still, sweat streaking down his face. When their eyes met, Diego hesitated.

"You okay, hermano?" he asked carefully.

Blaze smirked without humor. "You don't have to pretend. I know what you're thinking—'he's broken.' You're not wrong."

"Not what I was gonna say," Diego replied, tapping the ball toward him. "I was gonna say, show me you still got that fire. Because right now, you look like a ghost."

Something flickered in Blaze's eyes. Challenge. Anger. Maybe both.

Jason watched quietly from afar. He didn't stop them—sometimes fire needed friction to ignite.

"Alright," Blaze said softly, stepping back and cracking his neck. "Let's see if you can keep up."

They clashed.

Not just football—but martial flow. Diego's Wind Step technique clashed with Blaze's lightning-infused movements. Their feet blurred, the ball zipping between them like a living pulse. Every impact sent small gusts through the mist.

Lionel whistled from the sideline. "That's more like it."

The rhythm built—Diego feinting low, Blaze vanishing mid-spin using Vanishing Steps, then reappearing behind him. Diego countered with a side kick, channeling qi through his leg. Blaze blocked with his forearm, lightning crackling briefly.

Then, Blaze stopped. His control faltered, and the ball rolled to a stop between them.

Diego exhaled, lowering his guard. "Enough?"

Blaze didn't answer. He turned away, walking toward the bench. His voice was almost too soft to hear: "I can't feel it anymore."

Jason's hand clenched around his whistle, but he didn't blow it. Instead, he let the silence linger.

Anastasia exchanged a worried glance with Scarlet. Lionel kicked the grass in frustration.

The whistle finally sounded. "Wrap it up!" Jason barked. "Shower, refuel, review in thirty."

The team dispersed. Blaze sat on the bench, staring at his hands. For a moment, lightning crawled across his knuckles—weak, fading, uncertain.

Later, in the locker room, the atmosphere was subdued. Showers hissed in the background while Jason stood by the doorway, watching his team.

Blaze sat alone, towel draped around his shoulders, headphones in but no music playing. His reflection in the locker mirror looked distant—haunted by someone who used to be unstoppable.

Jason stepped closer. "You want to talk about it?"

Blaze didn't look up. "Nothing to talk about."

Jason crossed his arms. "Your fire's out. You know it, I know it. You can't fight what's inside you by pretending it's not there."

Blaze's jaw tightened. "You think I don't know that? Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Every time I breathe, I remember what I lost. What I left behind."

Jason sighed, lowering his voice. "Then use it. Pain's not your enemy. It's fuel if you let it be."

Blaze looked up, eyes burning faintly with crimson sparks. "And if it burns me instead?"

Jason smiled sadly. "Then burn brighter before it does."

Meanwhile, far across the city, Diego sat alone in his apartment. The glow of his comm-link filled the dark room.

He stared at the message flashing on the screen:

"We need results. Arrange a meeting with Blaze. Soon."

He rubbed his temples, muttering, "Damn it."

The knock on his door came almost immediately after.

When he opened it, a man stood there—a stranger wrapped in a dark coat, face half-covered by a hood. The faint emblem of the Hunters gleamed beneath the rainlight.

"You've been quiet, Diego," the man said softly. His tone carried no emotion. "Our patience runs thin."

"I told you—I'm working on it," Diego snapped.

"Work faster," the man replied. "He's vulnerable. His grief makes him reckless. We want him… accessible. A conversation, nothing more. You'll arrange it."

Diego swallowed hard. "And if I refuse?"

The man tilted his head. "You won't. You know what happens if your past surfaces."

With that, the stranger turned and vanished into the mist, leaving only the hum of neon behind.

Diego stood frozen for a long time, then slammed the door shut and cursed. "You bastards…"

He sank onto his couch, staring at his trembling hands. His mind raced—images of his old life, the mistakes he'd buried, the chains he thought he'd broken.

Finally, he whispered, "I'll protect him… somehow."

Back at the training grounds, Blaze remained after everyone left. The sky had turned purple, streaked with faint stars. He stood at the penalty line, staring at the empty goal.

His aura flickered again—lightning curling weakly around his body.

He whispered, "Come on. Wake up."

The ball floated slightly off the ground, static humming through the air. Blaze took a deep breath, launched forward—Vanishing Steps—then a spinning strike.

The ball exploded off his foot, trailing crimson light through the twilight. It slammed into the net with a sound like thunder.

For a moment, he felt it—the fire again. Small, fragile, but real.

He fell to his knees, breathing hard, rain beginning to fall once more.

From a distance, Jason watched silently from the hallway. A faint smile crossed his face. "That's it, kid. Don't let the fire die."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.