The dorm never felt this loud, even when no one was speaking.
It wasn't noise—
It was the echo of thoughts.
Uncertainty.
Hope.
Fear.
Pressure thick enough to taste in the air.
After the Progress Examination Match, every player walked back to the dorm differently. Some dragged their feet like prisoners awaiting judgment. Others walked too fast, trying to outrun whatever decision waited tomorrow. And a few, like Darius, walked tall… but even he didn't seem fully comfortable.
Because today changed everything.
Every ranking.
Every evaluation.
Every future.
And nobody knew who was safe.
Not even me.
Chinedu slammed onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. "Guy, my legs are dead. Like, actually dead. If I stand up now they will divorce my body."
I sat down on my bunk, sweat still drying on my skin. "The match was tough."
"Tough? Tough is when Nepa takes light during your shower. Today was war."
He turned on his side.
"You and Darius though… that was movie type battle."
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was:
I still felt the weight of that ninety-minute duel pressing on my chest.
The shots.
The passes.
The recoveries.
The looks.
Coach Morgan's eyes dissecting every moment.
And the System pulsing through my senses like an extra heartbeat.
I'd never felt more alive.
Or more exposed.
My mind replayed that final shot—
My curled strike that hit the crossbar.
Just two inches lower…
Just two…
"Bro," Chinedu snapped fingers in front of my face. "Earth to Joseph."
"Sorry."
"You're thinking too much."
"Hard not to."
He shifted upright and pointed at me.
"You played mad today. Everyone saw it. Even Darius saw it."
I didn't have to respond.
Because at that exact moment—
A knock hit our door.
Hard.
The kind of knock that wasn't friendly.
Chinedu blinked. "Ah? Who is knocking with military confidence?"
I opened the door.
Darius stood there.
Face unreadable.
Sweat dried on his jaw.
Eyes sharp.
Behind him, two other Blue Team players leaned on the hallway wall, watching.
The silence was so tight it felt breakable.
"What do you want?" Chinedu asked before I could.
Darius didn't look at him.
His eyes stayed on me.
"We need to talk."
Not aggressive.
Not polite either.
Just sharp.
Direct.
I didn't step back. "About what?"
"About today."
Chinedu scoffed. "Ah! You came to admit Joseph is better?"
The two Blue Team players straightened.
Darius didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't react.
He simply nodded slightly, as if expecting this confrontation.
"Joseph," he said, ignoring Chinedu completely. "Step outside."
I considered it for a moment.
Then stepped out, closing the door behind me.
---
We stood in the narrow corridor, quiet except for the distant hum of air conditioning.
Darius crossed his arms.
"You think today settles anything?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it?"
His jaw flexed.
Not in anger—
In stubborn pride.
"You played well," he said. "Better than before. Better than most."
It took me a moment to realize he was giving me something he rarely gave anyone:
Honesty.
"But you're not ahead of me," he continued. "Not yet."
There it was—the edge.
He leaned closer.
"What you did today? The passes? The recovery? That block in the box? It was good. But if you think that makes you the star of this academy, you're mistaken."
I didn't flinch.
"Are you done?"
His lips curled slightly.
Not a smile—
A challenge.
"No."
He stepped back, voice low and controlled.
"Tomorrow morning, they release advancement results. Tiers. Rankings. Opportunities. And I'm not losing my place to you."
"I'm not trying to take your place," I replied.
His eyes narrowed.
"Then what are you trying to take?"
I answered without hesitation.
"My destiny."
The air between us tightened.
He stared at me for a solid five seconds.
Then—
A surprised, unwilling smirk appeared on his face.
"Tch. You talk different," he muttered.
Then he stepped away, turning down the hallway.
"Rest well, Joseph," he said over his shoulder.
"Tomorrow, the real competition starts."
He didn't wait for my response.
His teammates followed him silently.
When I opened the door again, Chinedu rushed forward.
"What did he want? Did he threaten you? If he tried anything I swear I would have—"
"He didn't."
Chinedu squinted. "Then why do you look like you swallowed a whole motivational speech?"
I sat down, leaned back, and let out a long breath.
"It's starting, Chinedu."
"What is?"
"The real rivalry."
---
NIGHT.
Sleep didn't come easily.
My body was exhausted, but my mind felt electric—wired with tension, possibility, and the lingering presence of Coach Morgan's calculating stare.
At around midnight, the System pulsed softly.
[IDENTITY FORMATION: 38%]
[NEW DATA ANALYSIS AVAILABLE]
[Would you like to review match influence charts?]
"Yes."
Charts unfolded in my inner vision like holographic pages:
Influence Zones
Key Moment Impact Rating
Heat Map: Passing Control
Composure Drop Points
Rival Impact Comparison (Darius vs. You)
The last one made my pulse quicken.
Rival Impact Comparison – Summary:
Darius dominated attacking momentum.
Joseph dominated midfield control.
Match influence rating: Joseph 8.4 / Darius 8.1
I blinked.
I… had a higher score?
The System had no reason to lie.
But the academy might judge differently.
And then—
[Special Notification Unlocked]
"This rivalry will shape your Identity. Proceed with strength."
I lay back on my pillow, staring at the ceiling.
Twenty-seven days left.
Twenty-seven days to carve out who I am as a player.
The pressure wasn't the problem.
The unknown was.
---
MORNING.
Breakfast was quiet.
No one rushed.
No one joked.
No one played.
Even the older academy boys walked slower, sensing the tension rising like heat waves.
At exactly 8:00 a.m., Coach Ravel's voice crackled through the facility speakers:
"All players proceed to the main assembly hall immediately."
Chinedu gulped loudly. "Father Lord, remember your children."
We walked together, joining the river of players funneling into the hall.
The directors sat at a long table.
Coach Ravel stood in front of the podium.
Coach Morgan beside him, arms crossed.
Every heart in the room pounded in sync.
Coach Ravel began.
"Yesterday's Progress Examination Match revealed strengths… and flaws."
His eyes swept through the room.
"Some of you rose. Some of you fell. And some of you… surprised us."
Chinedu whispered, "Please let us be in the surprise category oh."
Then Ravel lifted a tablet.
"Advancement tiers will be read in categories. If your name is not called, wait until the next category."
He cleared his throat.
"Starting with Tier Three – Development Tier—"
Groans echoed.
Tier Three was the lowest.
Nearly ten names were read.
Then:
"Tier Two – Competitive Tier—"
This one was respectable, solid, promising.
More names filled it.
But not mine.
Not Chinedu's.
Not Darius's.
My heartbeat climbed.
Then Ravel paused.
Looked up.
Straight at us.
"Tier One – Elite Advancement Group—"
"—where the highest potential players from this evaluation have been placed."
Chinedu grabbed my arm hard enough to cut circulation.
Ravel read slowly.
"Tunde Omoyele."
A few claps.
"Bola Martins."
More claps.
"Darius Okonkwo."
The room reacted—half impressed, half unsurprised.
Darius stood, expression calm but proud.
Ravel continued.
"And finally…"
He let the silence stretch.
Long.
Sharpened.
Deadly.
"...Joseph Oyas."
The hall erupted.
My heart felt like it punched itself.
Chinedu screamed, "YESSS! I knew it! I knew it! My guy is Elite! We are eating jollof today! No—party rice!"
I stood up slowly, like my body hadn't caught up to reality.
Coach Morgan's eyes met mine.
He didn't smile.
He didn't nod.
He simply watched…
As if saying:
Prove this wasn't a mistake.
---
As the hall emptied, Darius approached.
No smirk.
No arrogance.
Just seriousness.
"Told you it wasn't over," he said.
I nodded. "It never is."
He extended a hand.
For the first time.
A handshake not of friendship—
But of rivalry.
"I'll push you," he said softly.
"You push me."
"Agreed."
He turned and walked away.
Chinedu slid beside me. "Bro… that handshake? That was Premier League trailer-type energy."
I laughed.
Because it was.
And because something had shifted today.
Not just my ranking.
Not just the rivalry.
Not just the academy's view of me.
My entire journey was stepping into a new chapter—
One filled with greater expectations, harsher tests, sharper enemies…
And a destiny that felt closer than ever.
The System pulsed once:
[Congratulations: ELITE TIER ACHIEVED]
[New Pathway Unlocked — "Professional Projection Arc"]
My breath caught.
Professional…
Projection…
Arc.
This wasn't a dream anymore.
This was the beginning of the real climb.
Arsenal.
Europe.
The world.
Everything suddenly felt possible.