"Damn, you were so close to beating him," Oswin said, folding his arms across his chest.
Winston stood beside him, wiping the sweat from his face as he watched another youth player take on the drill.
"Mikel isn't easy to beat. I was trying to force him wide so I could use my speed to get past him," Winston said with a sigh. "But I didn't know he had such explosive speed himself."
"I saw that. I was hoping to test my explosive speed too, but now I have to come up with another tactic to beat him." Oswin stretched out one leg before performing a few light leaps.
The bald, short instructor blew his whistle as another youth player finished the drill. "Darwin, you're next."
Darwin walked onto the field and waited for the whistle.
Peeep!
The moment the whistle sounded, he bolted toward the scattered mannequins, weaving through them with quick movements. Once he reached the one-on-one section, Darwin nudged the ball forward. Mikel immediately spread his body wide, his eyes locked onto the ball. Darwin mixed several skill moves together before Mikel suddenly poked his leg toward the ball and forced it wide.
Darwin saw his opportunity.
He sprinted after the loose ball, triggering a burst of explosive speed as he drove it deeper toward the crossing area. Just as he was preparing to enter the box, Mikel suddenly appeared beside him.
Bang!
Mikel slid across the grass and knocked the ball away with a perfectly timed sliding tackle. Darwin hadn't expected him to recover that quickly. The instructor blew his whistle, Winston stared in astonishment.
How did he recover that fast?
Darwin shook his head and walked back toward the line.
His twin brother was next—after weaving through the mannequins, he watched carefully as Mikel stopped yet another player. Instead of attempting to beat him, he nudged the ball forward and unleashed a long-range shot.
Gaillanger remained composed—the goalkeeper tracked the ball before diving and parrying it away.
Long shots won't work either. This drill is really tough. Beating Mikel one-on-one is one thing, but getting past the goalkeeper is another. Winston narrowed his eyes, The instructor is truly testing our striking ability.
As Winston continued thinking, Oswin's name was called.
"Oswin, you're next." Oswin stepped onto the field.
Peeep!
He immediately weaved between the scattered mannequins, maintaining the same speed as he moved through them. Once he reached Mikel, Oswin sprinted directly toward him. He mixed body feints with a few stepovers before nudging the ball toward Mikel's side. Without waiting, Oswin lifted his foot and struck the ball, sending it toward the goalkeeper in a high arc.
Gaillanger maintained his composure, he waited patiently until the ball entered a certain radius before suddenly launching himself into the air.
His fingertips reached the ball and pushed it away, Oswin landed and looked back at the goal.
It was so close, but that didn't work either. Winston watched the goalkeeper carefully, It seems like beating Mikel is possible, but the goalkeeper is the real problem. The way he's able to read the ball is incredible. They're truly professionals.
Winston shifted his gaze toward the bald, short instructor before looking around the attacking dome. Some players who had already taken the drill wore disappointed expressions, while those who were still waiting moved around restlessly.
Is this a test to see whether we're ready for the senior league? Or maybe the instructor is observing our weaknesses and strengths. Winston narrowed his eyes, It has to be one of those two. I can't think of another reason.
His gaze returned to Mikel and Gaillanger.
The only thing I can do right now is study Mikel's blind spots and the goalkeeper's blind spots. But that's going to be difficult. Nobody has managed to get deep enough into the box to force Gaillanger into a difficult save. As Winston thought, the bald, short instructor walked through the group with his coffee still in hand.
He smiled before raising his whistle.
Peeep!
"Next."
Duke stepped onto the field—he weaved through the mannequins before attempting to use Mikel's position as a blind spot for Gaillanger. However, Gaillanger's sharp goalkeeping instincts allowed him to track the ball. He waited until it entered the correct radius before diving toward it. After several more players completed the drill, only a few remained.
Sebastian, Lucas, and Diago.
Some of the youth players had already noticed the tension between Sebastian's group and Winston and Oswin—Lucas and Diago glanced toward them. Winston and Oswin weren't paying attention to them at all. They were simply chatting while waiting for the remaining players to finish.
"It seems like they haven't caught on to our plan," Diago said, yawning.
"I wish this training drill was already over. I'm eager to play against Oswin. His improvement has gotten me excited." Lucas pressed his leg against the ground.
Crack!
His joints made a loud popping sound.
"The obsession with that player is going to make you crazy," Sebastian said. "I'll take the drill first."
He began walking toward the training area. Sebastian knew the full history between Lucas and Oswin. He also knew exactly why Lucas had injured Oswin a year ago.
"By the way, Wis, I've been noticing something weird. Do you see Sebastian?"
"Yeah. I see him."
"Okay, look at his feet. Is that an ankle weight?"
Winston focused on Sebastian's legs—the moment he saw the weights around Sebastian's ankles, his expression changed.
"The design is similar, but the color is different," Oswin continued. "Do you think he was also trained by Dumi or someone close to him?"
Winston pondered the possibility. Dumi has never mentioned training anyone else. Boris had also never mentioned another player he had trained on his private estate.
"I don't think so," Winston said. "Maybe because he's rich, his father hired another private trainer who uses the same method as Dumi and Boris."
"Huh?" Oswin rubbed his chin.
"Okay. This just confirmed something for me."
"And what's that?" Winston shifted his attention toward him.
"You know that you're not the only one in this academy with explosive speed, right?" Oswin pointed toward Sebastian. "Sebastian has it too. And his is terrifying." Winston's expression became serious.
"Most people suspect his father uses unorthodox methods to train him and help him develop that explosive speed. His father and his corporation have already set a new precedent. Now, most clubs want players capable of reaching that kind of speed." Oswin paused and rubbed his chin. "At the conference, his father said he would unveil what his son used to reach this level of speed. I suspect whatever that new product is will change the football world." Winston's eyes narrowed as he look at Sebastian.
"And I think we're not only here to develop our skills. They might also be trying to figure out how to train us to reach that speed." Oswin looked at Winston.
"At least, that's what I heard before coming to this academy. Then I started asking questions about your explosive speed, the ankle weights, and the way your speed improved."
He pointed toward Sebastian, "And now that I see those weights on him, it just confirms my suspicion. He was trained using the same kind of method as you."
Winston stared at Sebastian as he walked toward the drill.
I wish I'd taken the time to watch his highlights. Another thought suddenly crossed his mind. I wonder if Dr. Haruto was right.
Winston's gaze remained fixed on Sebastian. Maybe he really is using the Divinity Pill. His scalp suddenly went numb. But if that's true, wouldn't the Federation be watching him more closely?
Winston's eyes narrowed, especially when it's this obvious that he's using something to achieve that speed.
Sebastian stepped toward the starting line. Winston's expression hardened. What exactly is Sebastian hiding?
Sebastian stood at the starting line and waited for the bald, short instructor to blow his whistle.
Peeep!
The moment the whistle sounded, Sebastian exploded forward. He weaved through the mannequins with ease, his movements smooth and controlled. The speed he displayed was almost identical to Winston's. Once he reached the one-on-one section, Sebastian slowed down slightly.
Mikel stepped forward to face him.
Sebastian confidently carried the ball toward him, drawing the defender out in the same way Winston had earlier. Once Mikel committed to his movement, Sebastian suddenly turned and exploded into a full sprint toward the crossing area where Darwin was standing.
Mikel reacted immediately and chased after him—but Sebastian had anticipated it. He timed his movement perfectly, nudging the ball between Mikel's legs as he recovered.
A nutmeg.
Sebastian accelerated into the box, his explosive speed carrying him past Mikel. As he approached the goal, he calmly opened his body and curled the ball low toward the bottom corner.
Thud!
The ball struck the inside of the post before settling into the back of the net. Sebastian came to a stop—he turned toward Winston and Darwin and smirked. The entire attacking dome suddenly went quiet. One by one, the youth players shifted their attention toward Winston and Darwin.
Of course, everyone knew the three of them were among the most promising strikers in the attacking dome. Sebastian's performance wasn't just about completing the drill. He was mocking them—more specifically, he was challenging their ability as strikers.
Darwin immediately folded his arms, his expression darkening. Winston, however, simply stared at Sebastian for a moment.
Then he yawned—Oswin glanced at him in disbelief. "Wow, I'm surprised you're not annoyed by that," Oswin said.
"No, I am." Winston stretched his arms and calmly watched Sebastian return to the line. "It's just that I'm buying my time. You said we have the same speed, right?"
Oswin nodded.
"I'll master mine first. Then, when we have our one-on-one challenge…" Winston's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll wipe that smirk off his face."
Oswin grinned.
"That's the Wis I know."