The whistle split the air.
Sharp. Final. Real.
Julian moved before thought could catch up—instincts firing, muscles coiled, boots carving into turf.
The ball was already spinning down the line.
And in that first heartbeat, he felt it—
The difference.
This wasn't high school football.
This wasn't drills or scrimmages or controlled training intensity.
This was Germany.
A battlefield built on rhythm and rigor—where movement had no pause, where structure wasn't just followed—it was lived.
The pace struck like lightning.
Every touch from his teammates was a trigger; every shift in Emden's line carried a response ready to spring.
No wasted steps. No mercy.
They didn't wait. They pressed.
Compact. Coiled. Ruthless.
The field shrank around him, every lane closing like jaws.
Julian darted into space, seeking the pocket between their lines—
But the delay he expected never came.
A defender shadowed him instantly—
Shoulder. Elbow. Hip. Pressure.
