Inside a high-tech monitoring room, a team of specialists observed the vital signs of Winston, one of the Divinity Pill testers.
Two men dressed in black suits stood in front of a large monitor, reviewing the latest information about him. They had been examining Winston's proposal to take Oswin's place in Group A when the academy-wide announcement caught them by surprise.
The two men exchanged uneasy glances.
One of them leaned closer to the phone and spoke, "Sir, this is dangerous. Agreeing to this proposal could push the tester into the same condition as the other Divinity Pill testers. We might lose our opportunity to study how he has managed to control his strength and progress this far."
Their superior responded from the other end of the call, "Then keep a close eye on him. Time is not on our side. We need to push him closer to reaching one hundred per cent. The shareholders want results, and they want them now. Remember, we cannot afford to let anyone discover that he's one of the Divinity Pill testers."
The other man in the black suit nudged his colleague, who was still leaning toward the phone, before speaking. "But, sir, this is dangerous. What if he dies in the middle of a match? What are we supposed to say if the other players witness the tester using his supernatural abilities?"
"That's your job, not mine. I pay you a lot of money, so do your job. And if something like that happens, come up with a convincing lie. Have you found the spy yet?"
The two men exchanged another glance. One of them opened his mouth to answer, but his colleague stretched an arm in front of him and shook his head. "No, sir. We're still working on it."
"Fine. Keep me updated on the tester's progress."
Their superior ended the call. One of the men in black suits hissed and clicked his tongue in frustration. His colleague sighed before turning toward the other employees working at their computers.
"Listen up! From now on, whenever Winston participates in a one-on-one challenge, make sure you keep a close eye on him."
"Yes, sir!" the monitoring team replied in unison.
The other man in the black suit stepped beside him.
"Why is this kid doing all this? He's practically painted a target on his forehead. Now we have to divert our resources to keep an eye on him, just when we were getting close to finding the spy."
"Perhaps this will help us find the spy too."
"What do you mean?"
"Putting our resources into monitoring Winston could help us uncover the spy. I think the boss made this announcement for a reason. He wants to catch two birds with one stone." He paused before adding, "We won't be the only ones keeping an eye on Winston. At least, that's what I think the boss has planned."
"I hope you're right. If we miss our chance, the spy could leak information about Winston being a Divinity Pill tester."
The man turned toward the monitoring screens, where Winston's vital signs were being displayed. "Where is that kid, anyway? I don't see him at his usual training field."
One of the employees at the computers immediately began searching through the academy's surveillance footage. The cameras scattered throughout the grounds brought up several different views until they located Winston.
He was training on one of the football fields near the forest fence.
Winston began by performing the drills Dumi had taught him back in Arlesey. At first, he carried out each exercise without channeling his Nethen Essence. However, as he continued, his body began to feel sluggish. His movements became increasingly heavy, almost as though he were dragging his own body across the pitch.
Once he finished the first set of drills, he decided to try again. This time, he channeled his Nethen Essence into his legs.
Almost immediately, a burning sensation spread through his lower body. His feet felt as though they were swelling, while the pain in his legs grew sharper with every passing second. It felt as if the muscles were being torn away from his bones.
Winston crouched down and began massaging his legs. "Ah! Argh! Why does it hurt so much all of a sudden?" He gritted his teeth. I thought I'd figured it out the last time I trained. Why is it hurting again?
After a moment, he forced himself back to his feet. Sweat had gathered on his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.
He wasn't ready to give up.
Winston returned to his starting position and attempted the same drills again, keeping his Nethen Essence channeled into his legs.
The pain intensified—each movement sent another sharp wave of agony through his lower body, spreading upward until his entire body seemed to ache. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to endure it. Before long, he tasted blood.
Yet he continued.
The more he thought about the conversation he'd overheard between the two youth players, the more determined he became.
His father's words motivated Winston to push through the pain. When his father had admitted that he didn't know what had made Winston return to football after the incident, Winston hadn't told him the truth.
But Winston knew exactly why he'd returned to the sport.
He continued performing the drills, determined to endure the discomfort. However, the pain eventually became too much to bear, making it impossible for him to continue.
He walked over to his training bag and sat down. Leaning forward, he began massaging his calves and Achilles tendons.
Shit!
His legs had started itching as well. Winston pulled off his socks and training cleats, then vigorously massaged his lower legs, hoping to relieve the discomfort.
After a while, he decided to try again.
Without his socks and cleats, he walked back to the starting position of the training drill. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and closed his eyes. Then he focused on the Nethen Essence circulating through his legs, attempting to channel it properly.
As he did, memories of Oswin's injury during the match flashed through his mind. His anger began to rise. Suddenly, Winston opened his eyes and sprinted forward, keeping the ball close to his feet as he moved through the drill.
He managed to complete the first exercise, but the shooting pain returned almost immediately. Winston gritted his teeth and tried to push through it. However, the pain became unbearable, forcing him to stop once again. He walked back to his training bag and sat down. After resting for a while, he tried again—and again.
Every time the pain became too much, he took a break before returning to the drill. He repeated this process for hours, refusing to abandon his training.
Eventually, night fell.
One of the academy instructors was making his rounds, checking that none of the youth players were trying to sneak out or avoid the curfew. When he spotted Winston still on the field, he approached him. "You! Training's over. Get back to your dormitory. It's past curfew."
Winston glanced at the instructor, gathered his belongings, and left the field. He returned to Building C and entered the dormitory. By then, everyone else was already asleep. After taking a shower, he climbed into bed and stretched out beneath the covers.
Shit, I forgot to check on Oswin at the infirmary. Maybe I'll visit him tomorrow after training in the dome.
Winston let out a tired yawn. Before long, his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.
The following morning, Winston woke up earlier than everyone else in Building C. He quickly got dressed, picked up his training bag, and returned to the same football field.
He resumed his training, performing the same drills he'd practiced the previous evening. As expected, the pain returned whenever he channeled his Nethen Essence into his legs. Once again, he took breaks whenever it became too unbearable, massaged his legs, and then returned to the exercises.
He repeated the process for some time.
Far away, the short, bald instructor stood watching him with a cup of coffee in his hand. He remained there, quietly observing Winston's training, until the watch on his wrist beeped. He glanced down at it before turning and walking away.
The bell signaling the start of today's training in the training dome. Winston quickly gathered his belongings, slung his training bag over his shoulder, and headed toward the dome. As soon as he entered, he was met with a mixture of stares. Some players looked at him with curiosity, while others wore openly disdainful expressions.
Whispers began spreading through the group, "Who does he think he is, taking another player's place in an upper group? And a player with such a low rating, at that."
The speaker was the same player who had wanted to take Oswin's place. He was currently near the top of Group B, and the announcement had clearly left him displeased. One of the players standing beside him glanced at Winston before turning back to his companion. "You know, you could challenge him. He'll be juggling two one-on-one challenges now."
The player shook his head.
He wasn't foolish enough to challenge Winston. Based on what he'd seen of Winston's skills, he knew he wouldn't stand much of a chance. He would likely suffer a humiliating defeat, and that would only make things worse. If he lost, the players ranked below him would see it as an opportunity to challenge him and take his position.