The afternoon light slanted through the restaurant's window, softening the energy in the air. The team was still laughing, Jairo retelling how Lynx "nearly broke a guard's ankles," while Uno edited his video in peace — or at least, tried to.
Mico, quietly stirring his glass of water, glanced at the group one last time before clearing his throat. The laughter died down almost instantly.
"Alright," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Rest day's over."
Lynx groaned. "Already? We didn't even rest properly."
Mico ignored the complaint. "Starting tomorrow, everyone goes back to their normal schedules first — classes, projects, and whatever... life you still have outside the court." His eyes slid toward Lynx. "That includes you."
Lynx blinked, pretending innocence. "Me? I don't even go to this school."
"Exactly," Mico replied. "So go back to… whatever business you have that doesn't involve breaking campus rules or security guards' pride."
Uno snorted. "He means stop challenging people for free food."
Lynx crossed his arms. "You're all just jealous because I won."
Jairo raised his brow. "Bro, no one's jealous. We're concerned. You're gonna end up banned before our first match."
Felix finally spoke, voice calm as ever. "Mico's right. Balance is part of discipline. We can't build something lasting if all we do is move."
Everyone looked at him, half in agreement, half in confusion.
"Translation," Uno said. "He means: go home, take a shower, and don't break things."
Felix sighed. "More or less."
Mico stood up, collecting his bag. "You all heard him. Go recharge your brains. I'll finalize the next schedule and send updates by the end of the week."
Later that night — Engineering Building
The Casa campus was quieter than usual. The glass walls of the Engineering Department reflected the moonlight, and inside, Mico sat hunched over his drafting table — surrounded by rulers, rolled-up blueprints, and his half-finished plate.
A blank sheet of vellum paper stared back at him like an unsolved riddle.
He rolled his shoulders, picked up his pencil, and whispered, "Alright… let's fix two things tonight — this plate and the team."
The sound of lead scratching the paper filled the room, steady and sharp.
His plate was for Structural Design II — a bridge model that needed calculations, load analysis, and sketch precision.
But halfway through, his pencil slowed.
Instead of drawing trusses and beams, his mind drifted back to their training week.
Uno's ridiculous commentary. Felix's silent strength. Jairo's nonstop energy. And Lynx — unpredictable, impossible Lynx.
He exhaled deeply, rubbing his temple. "Revision nine…" he muttered. "Less system, more adaptability."
He reached for a sticky note and began scribbling ideas between structural measurements:
[ Focus on synergy, not sequence.
Felix = stabilizer.
Lynx = wild card. Unpredictability = weapon, not weakness. ]
For a moment, the parallel hit him — the bridge design on his table, and the team he was trying to hold together. Both needed balance, connection, and precise tension. Too rigid, and they'd break. Too loose, and they'd collapse.
He leaned back, lips curling faintly. "Figures. The Castillian's just another structure that refuses to follow textbook logic."
By the time he finished sketching the last line, the clock struck midnight. His eyes were tired, his hands smudged with graphite, but his thoughts were clearer than they had been in days.
He packed up his tools, glanced once more at his finished drawing — then at the notes beside it.
A bridge and a team. Both imperfect. Both his responsibility.
As he turned off the lights, Mico murmured softly, "Alright, Castillian… let's build this right."
And with that, the Engineer left the room — his footsteps echoing through the empty halls of Casa de Imperium, where brilliance and exhaustion always walked hand in hand.
----
The morning light filtered through the blinds of Mico's dorm room, streaking across his desk — a battlefield of blueprints, notebooks, and energy drink cans. His phone buzzed beside his drafting tools, a soft reminder from his digital calendar.
[ Imperial Collegiate League — Registration Opens: Two Months. ]
For a moment, Mico just stared at the notification.
Two months. That was all they had before the gates opened — before their untested team stepped into a court that demanded perfection, not potential.
He picked up his phone, thumb hovering above the screen, then began typing messages — one after another — into the group chat named [ Castillian: Core ].
Captain: Team meeting. One hour. Court Room B
Bring your shoes
Be on time.
An hour later — Court Room B
The Castillian members were already there when Mico arrived, each of them sprawled across the benches in their usual.
Uno was flipping a basketball on one finger, Lynx was asleep with his feet on the table, Jairo was humming the NBA on TNT theme song, and Felix was reading a structural physics book as if they were in a library.
Mico walked in, cold and silent, wearing his gray Casa de Imperium jacket — the one embroidered with the Engineering Department insignia.
The sound of the door closing made Lynx stir. Uno straightened up, sensing the shift in air.
Mico didn't waste words.
He dropped a folder on the table — crisp papers, labeled schedules, and a printed tournament memo on top.
"We've got our first real timeline," he said.
Jairo tilted his head. "Timeline? For what?"
Mico glanced at him, then at everyone else. "For the Imperial Collegiate League," he said. "The ICL."
The silence that followed wasn't confusion — it was gravity. Even Lynx stopped fidgeting.
Felix looked up first. "That's… the Imperium's basketball competition?"
Mico nodded. "Yes. The official tournament of Casa de Imperium University and its partner academies. Every department, every scholar, every athlete who wants to prove themselves enters that court."
He looked at each of them, eyes sharp. "It's not a friendly game. It's discipline, precision, and pressure in one arena. The teams there don't play for fun — they play to survive."
Lynx smirked. "Sounds fun already."
Uno raised a brow. "So what's the catch, Captain?"
"The catch," Mico replied, "is that we're not qualified yet."
Everyone froze.
"What?" Jairo blinked. "Then why're we training like psychos if we can't even—"
"Because we will be." Mico's voice cut through him like ice.
He took a step forward, his presence heavy but steady. "Qualification isn't automatic. We need to prove our worth first — through the internal evaluations. They'll observe our discipline, teamwork, performance… everything. One slip, and we'll be disqualified before the League even starts."
Felix closed his book quietly. "And how long until evaluation?"
Mico turned his phone to show them the date — the red-marked circle on his calendar.
"Two months."
Uno whistled low. "Two months to turn this team into a champion team. Ambitious."
Mico folded his arms. "Necessary."
He walked toward the court and picked up the stray basketball. His hands moved with methodical precision as he spoke.
"Our old schedule is gone. Revision Nine is in effect starting tomorrow. Every session, every repetition — it matters now. This isn't about playing better than others. It's about playing like we belong here."
He bounced the ball once, twice — the sound echoing through the empty gym.
"Remember," he said, voice low but commanding, "the Imperium Collegiate League doesn't care about how much potential you have. They only see execution. We don't impress them with words. We show them with control."
Jairo raised a hand, grinning nervously. "And if we fail?"
Mico looked straight at him, eyes like tempered glass. "Then we don't deserve to wear Castillian on our backs."
That shut everyone up.
For a brief moment, no one moved. The only sound was the rhythmic hum of the campus AC and the distant thud of another ball from the next court.
Then, Lynx — ever the madness in motion — grinned and stood. "Fine. Let's make 'em remember our names."
Uno tossed him the ball, catching Mico's faint smirk as he did. "You heard the man. No flash, no fear."
Jairo whooped, raising a fist. "Let's go, Castillian!"
Felix just nodded once — a silent agreement, like steel taking form.
Mico turned away before they could see the flicker of pride in his expression. He tightened his grip on the clipboard in his hand and said one last thing before heading toward the exit:
"Training starts at 4:00 AM. If anyone's late… you're running until the sun gets tired."
Lynx groaned. Uno laughed. Jairo nearly choked on his water. And Felix, calm as ever, murmured — "Understood."