The stadium was quieter than usual that morning.
Not because there was no wind, or because the city had finally learned how to sleep—but because Ares Locke could feel it.
The silence before judgment.
He stood at the edge of the pitch, lacing his boots slowly, deliberately. The grass was still damp from the night rain, the scent of earth thick in the air. His body ached in places he hadn't known existed before Rowan Vale entered his life, and yet… it felt different now.
Sharper.
More awake.
Thirty days.
He was already several days in.
And somehow, the clock felt louder than ever.
Ares exhaled and stepped onto the field.
Rowan was already there.
No umbrella. No clipboard. Just his hands in his coat pockets, eyes calm, unreadable, tracking Ares like a predator that hadn't yet decided whether its prey was worth the effort.
"You're early," Rowan said.
Ares nodded. "I didn't sleep well."
Rowan's gaze flicked over him. "Good."
Ares blinked. "Good?"
"Means you care," Rowan replied flatly. "People who sleep well when their future is on the line rarely last."
That… oddly helped.
Rowan gestured toward the center of the pitch.
"Today, we stop pretending," he said. "Up until now, I've been correcting bad habits. Teaching you how not to embarrass yourself."
Ares swallowed.
"And now?" he asked.
Rowan's eyes sharpened.
"Now I see whether you're worth refining."
The words landed like a weight on Ares's chest.
DING.
A familiar chime echoed softly in his mind.
⸻
System Notice
Training Intensity Increasing
Reader Attention: Rising
Emotional Focus Detected: ANTICIPATION
⸻
Ares steadied his breathing.
Rowan placed five cones across the pitch—unevenly, unpredictably.
"This is not a drill you can brute-force," Rowan said. "You'll move through the cones while I apply pressure."
Ares frowned. "Pressure how?"
Rowan didn't answer.
Instead, he clapped once.
Hard.
The sound echoed across the empty stadium like a gunshot.
"Go."
Ares moved.
At first, it felt manageable. Tight touches. Short steps. Control over speed. Everything Rowan had drilled into him over the past days.
Then Rowan spoke.
"Too slow."
Ares clenched his jaw and accelerated.
"Your left foot is late."
He corrected instantly.
"You're thinking too much."
The comment hit harder than the others.
Ares stumbled slightly, barely regaining balance as he slipped past the third cone.
Rowan's voice never rose, never softened.
It simply continued.
"You hesitate before committing."
"Your shoulders betray your intent."
"You're afraid of failing the move."
Ares's breathing grew ragged.
Each word felt less like instruction… and more like exposure.
DING.
⸻
Reader Emotion Detected: TENSION
Will Output: +8%
⸻
His vision sharpened—not in the supernatural way it had during the miracle shot, but in something subtler. His awareness narrowed. The ball felt closer to his feet. The cones felt farther apart.
He pushed through the fourth cone.
Rowan stepped closer.
"Again."
Ares didn't stop.
"Again."
He looped back.
"Again."
His legs burned. His calves screamed. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging.
By the sixth run, his movements were sloppy.
By the eighth, they were desperate.
By the tenth—
He lost control.
The ball rolled away.
Ares froze.
Silence swallowed the stadium.
Rowan stared at the runaway ball… then back at Ares.
"Pick it up," he said.
Ares jogged after it, chest heaving, and placed it back at the starting point.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
Rowan shook his head. "Don't apologize. Explain."
Ares clenched his fists.
"I… tried to keep up. I rushed. I didn't want to disappoint you."
Rowan stepped closer, stopping just an arm's length away.
"That," he said quietly, "is your first real problem."
Ares looked up.
"Fear of disappointment will break you faster than lack of talent."
Rowan turned and walked back toward the cones.
"At the trials, no one cares how hard you tried," he continued. "They care whether you hold the line when pressure crushes you."
He pointed at the field.
"Again. But this time—slow."
Ares blinked. "Slow?"
"Control first," Rowan said. "Confidence second. Speed last."
Ares nodded.
He stepped forward.
This time, he didn't listen to the imagined judgment in his head.
He listened to the ball.
Tap.
Shift.
Touch.
Turn.
His breathing steadied.
DING.
⸻
Reader Emotion Detected: RELIEF
Will Stability Increased
⸻
He cleared the final cone without error.
Rowan didn't praise him.
Instead, he placed another cone.
Then another.
"This," Rowan said, "is the line."
Ares frowned. "The line?"
"You cross it today," Rowan continued, "or you stay a hopeful amateur."
The cones now formed a narrow corridor—tight angles, little margin for error.
"One mistake," Rowan said, "and we start over."
Ares stared at the setup.
This wasn't about technique anymore.
This was a test of composure.
Of trust in himself.
He inhaled.
Then moved.
Every step felt deliberate. Every touch calculated. His muscles screamed, but his mind stayed quiet.
No panic.
No rush.
Just motion.
Halfway through—
Rowan spoke again.
"You're not special."
The words struck like a blade.
Ares's heartbeat spiked.
DING.
⸻
Reader Emotion Detected: ANGER
Will Output: +12%
⸻
But this time… he didn't falter.
He didn't speed up.
He didn't lash out.
He finished the sequence cleanly.
Silence.
Rowan studied him for a long moment.
Then—finally—he nodded.
"That," Rowan said, "is the first line crossed."
Ares's knees nearly gave out.
A new panel appeared, faint but steady.
⸻
Quest Progress Update
[Impress Rowan Vale]
Status: 70% Complete
Passive Perk Pending…
⸻
Rowan turned away.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we add opposition."
Ares's heart skipped.
"Opposition?"
Rowan glanced back over his shoulder.
"Pressure doesn't come from cones," he said. "It comes from people who want to break you."
He walked toward the exit.
"And Ares?"
Ares straightened.
"You're still fragile," Rowan said. "But now… you're fragile with direction."
The gate closed behind him.
Ares stood alone on the pitch, chest rising and falling, sweat soaking his shirt.
He looked down at his trembling hands.
They were shaking.
But not from fear.
From restraint.
From something inside him learning how not to break.
He clenched his fists.
"…I crossed it," he whispered.
The system chimed softly.
DING.
⸻
Reader Emotion Detected: HOPE
Unbreakable Will — Stabilizing
⸻
Ares looked up at the empty stands.
Someone was watching.
And this time—
He was ready to give them a reason to stay.