2012 · Los Angeles · Training Facility
The conversation didn't happen on the court.
It happened off to the side, near the scorer's table, where voices stayed low and words carried weight.
"He didn't disappear,"
the assistant coach said, arms crossed.
The head coach didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed on the floor, following Gu Kai as he moved through a light shooting drill.
"He shouldn't have," the coach said at last.
"Not if he's real."
Across the gym, two guards sat on the bench, towels draped over their shoulders.
"That dude's annoying," one of them muttered.
"Yesterday you cut him off, today he's passing early."
"Yeah," the other replied.
"He's not forcing it anymore."
They both fell quiet.
That silence meant something.
---
Gu Kai felt the shift before anyone said it out loud.
The drills were different today.
Fewer free runs.
More structure.
Defensive shell.
Short-clock reads.
Multiple reps of the same action—again, and again.
The coach didn't shout.
He watched.
When Gu Kai made the right cut, there was no praise.
When he hesitated half a beat too long, the whistle came sharp and quick.
"Again."
Gu Kai reset without complaint.
He was starting to understand something important—
This wasn't about impressing anymore.
It was about not breaking.
---
The system interface surfaced quietly, like a reflection on glass.
---
[Evaluation Phase Entered]
[Opponent Attention Level: Increased]
[Defensive Priority: Adjusted]
[Survival Requirement Updated]
---
No rewards.
No fanfare.
Just information.
Gu Kai exhaled slowly and went back to work.
---
Midway through the session, the coach called him over.
Not loudly.
Not in front of everyone.
Just a finger motion.
"See this," the coach said, pointing at the clipboard.
"When the help comes early, you don't beat it with speed."
Gu Kai nodded.
"You beat it with timing."
The coach looked at him for a second longer than necessary.
"Most guys don't listen at this stage," he said.
"You did."
Then he turned away.
That was it.
But Gu Kai felt it—
A line had been crossed.
---
The final drill was brutal.
Continuous five-on-five.
No stoppages.
Losers ran.
Bodies bumped.
Feet dragged.
Mistakes stacked up quickly.
One player missed a rotation and got yanked immediately.
Another argued a call.
He didn't return.
Gu Kai stayed quiet.
He talked on defense.
Pointed on offense.
Moved early.
Not faster—
Earlier.
When the drill finally ended, several players bent over, hands on knees.
The coach blew the whistle once.
"Listen up," he said.
"Tomorrow, the group gets smaller."
No one spoke.
"You either show you belong," he continued,
"or you make it easy for us to decide."
His eyes moved across the room.
They stopped on Gu Kai for half a second.
Then moved on.
---
As the gym began to clear, the system interface appeared again—brief and precise.
---
[Stage Progress Update]
[White Traits: Active]
[Tactical Understanding (Basic): Synchronization Increasing]
🟣 Purple Trait Unlock Condition Progress: 58%
[Note]
Growth is no longer explosive.
It is cumulative.
---
Gu Kai sat on the bench, unlacing his shoes.
His legs were heavy.
His breathing steady.
This wasn't the kind of progress that showed up on a highlight reel.
But it was the kind that decided who stayed.
He stood up and glanced back at the court one more time.
Tomorrow, some people wouldn't be here.
And for the first time since he arrived—
He knew he wouldn't be one of them.
Not because he was faster.
Not because he was stronger.
But because he was learning how to survive
after they started taking him seriously.