Monday mornings were never quiet at Ridgefield Central High, but that one buzzed differently.
Energy thrummed through the halls excitement, tension, whispered bets. Everyone from the tryouts knew Coach Reynolds was announcing the varsity starter roster today.
Connor Blake leaned against his locker, headphones draped around his neck. Dylan and Noah flanked him, both pretending not to care, both failing miserably.
"You think we made it?" Dylan muttered, tapping his foot.
Noah shrugged. "If we didn't, I'm transferring to bowling."
Connor chuckled, trying to steady his breathing. "You'd be terrible at bowling."
Dylan grinned. "So would you, setter boy."
Still, beneath the jokes, Connor's hands were restless. He'd barely slept. Every rally, every play from Saturday replayed in his mind on loop, especially the final set. That last serve. That feeling in his knee when he jumped and didn't feel pain. It was small, but it meant something.
He adjusted his backpack, exhaling. "We'll know soon enough."
⸻
By the time they reached the gym, most of the players were already there — standing in loose circles, laughter mixing with quiet nerves.
The whiteboard was covered with sheets of paper taped in place. Reynolds stood beside it, arms crossed, clipboard tucked under one arm.
"All right," he called, voice calm but heavy with purpose. "You've all worked hard these past two weeks. I've seen growth, real growth from every one of you. That's the first thing I want to say."
Silence fell like a curtain.
"Now comes the hard part," he continued. "Decisions."
He flipped a page on the clipboard, eyes scanning. "Varsity roster for this season will consist of fourteen players. Eight returning, six new additions."
He paused, then began to read.
"Starters, tentative pending performance."
His tone shifted, almost reverent. "Setter: Elias Monroe, senior. Connor Blake, freshman."
Connor blinked. For a second, the words didn't land.
He actually looked around, half expecting someone to laugh, to correct it.
But no, Noah was grinning like an idiot, slapping him on the shoulder.
Dylan whistled. "You did it, man."
Coach Reynolds continued, naming the rest:
"Opposite : Jordan Hale. Outsides: Dylan Price, Caleb Rivera. Middle Blocker: Mason Lee, Sophie Nguyens. Libero — Liam Carter."
The rest of the rotation filled with backups and specialists.
When Reynolds finally set down the clipboard, the gym burst into applause — some loud, some hesitant. Connor just stood there, hands in his pockets, heart hammering. He looked at Noah, from the trio the only on not in the starters line.
After practice briefing, Coach Reynolds called for attention again.
"Listen up. Being on varsity isn't the finish line. It's the foundation. You're here because you earned it, not because you're perfect, but because you're willing to improve."
He looked directly at Connor.
"Some of you will start. Some will wait for their turn. All of you are part of this team."
Connor met his gaze and nodded.
Reynolds smiled faintly. "Good. Now go make this season worth it."
⸻
The official varsity practice was sharper, faster, louder.
Balls cracked off the floor like thunder.
Connor moved through warm-ups, already sensing the higher stakes, the veterans didn't play around anymore. Every rep counted. Every pass mattered.
He started running setting drills with Elias. For the first few rotations, they worked side by side. Elia's movement clean, predictable, efficient. Connor's slightly off-tempo, but creative.
Reynolds observed, scribbling notes without interrupting.
During a break, Elias turned to him. "Not bad, Freshman."
Connor smirked. "You too, old man."
That earned a quick laugh before they both jogged back to the line.
But somewhere around the fifth drill, the system stirred.
[Calibration Complete.]
[SetterOS Level 2 Activated.]
[New Function Unlocked: Status Window.]
[Access: Personal Stats + Team Overview (proximity based).]
[Would you like to open the Status Window? Y/N]
Connor froze.
He glanced around, everyone else kept training. He exhaled quietly.
"…Yeah. Open."
⸻
A faint blue shimmer appeared before his eyes — translucent, subtle, almost blending into the court lights.
Then numbers began to form.
CONNOR BLAKE — Position: Setter (Varsity RCHS)
• Set Accuracy: B+ (Potential: A)
• Decision Timing: B
• Footwork: C+
• Serve Stability: B-
• Game Vision: A- (Developing)
• Physical Condition: C (Rehabilitation: 42%)
• Sync Compatibility: Team Avg: 58%
• Overall Rating: 70
• Potential: 94
He blinked.
It wasn't bad — better than he expected, actually. But still far from elite.
His potential bar glowed faintly gold, like something waiting to wake up.
He scrolled instinctively — another tab appeared.
Team Overview — Active Range: 15m
Elias Monroe (Setter, SR): Overall 85 | Potential 86 | Strengths — Precision, Tempo Control
Dylan Pryce (Outside, FR): Overall 73 | Potential 80 | Strengths — Power
Marcus Vaughn (Opposite, JR): Overall 77 | Potential 83 | Strengths — Agility
Mason Lee (Middle, SR): Overall 88 | Potential 89 | Strengths — Blocking
Liam Carter (Libero, SO): Overall 82 | Potential 90| Strengths — Reflex, Read Speed
The window shifted faintly, pulsing as though analyzing in real-time.
Then another line blinked in red:
[Warning: Physical condition 42%. Reconditioning Elixir in progress. Estimated full stabilization: 27 days.]
Connor exhaled.
It wasn't magic. It was data. Pure, precise data.
He could see where he stood.
And now, there was no hiding from it.
⸻
"Blake!" Coach Reynolds' voice snapped him out of it.
Connor blinked the display away and turned.
"Yeah, Coach?"
"Your rotation. Let's see if you can run that back set from Saturday, clean this time."
"Got it."
He jogged back to position, hands already moving on instinct. The SetterOS pulsed faintly again.
[Assist Mode: Predictive Trajectory Active.]
[Recommended Placement: -0.25m left. Optimal for hitter velocity.]
He trusted it.
The set left his hands smooth, spinning perfectly into Marcus's path.
The spike hit clean, boom, down the line.
Reynolds clapped once. "Beautiful tempo! Keep that up!"
Connor grinned. His knee barely protested.
⸻
Practice stretched on until the sun bled through the gym windows.
When the final whistle blew, most of the team collapsed near the benches, sweaty and laughing. Elias handed him a towel as he sat down.
"You're gonna be trouble," Elias said, smirking.
Connor shrugged. "You set the bar. I'm just trying to reach it."
"Good answer," Elias said, standing. "Don't forget, setters don't compete with each other. We compete with ourselves."
Connor nodded, storing that line somewhere deep.
⸻
Later, when the gym had emptied and the last echoes had faded, Connor stood alone by the court. The faint holographic glow returned, filling the silence.
[Mission Update: 60% — "Improve 3 individual fundamentals above 80"]
[Bonus Reward: Skill Module (Setter's Vision Lv.1) + Elixir enhancement +5%.]
Connor exhaled through a smile.
The numbers, the data, they weren't intimidating anymore.
They were directions.
A map to becoming the player he wanted to be. The player he could have been in the past.
He looked at his reflection in the glass doors, the faint blue shimmer hovering over his shoulder.
For the first time, the system didn't feel like something foreign.
It felt like a teammate.
And as the lights dimmed and the hum of the gym faded into the evening, Connor Blake, freshman setter, varsity rookie, realized he finally had something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
But purpose.