The door of room C-214 closed softly behind them.
No one spoke.
The silence was heavier than the night outside, heavier than the list of names that had vanished forever from the screens. Aïna sat on her bed, hands clasped, staring at the white wall as if the names could reappear there.
Five eliminated.
Not injured.
Not unlucky.
Judged.
Erased.
Sora broke the silence first.
— They didn't even say goodbye.
Mila nodded slowly.
— Because this place doesn't believe in goodbyes. Only results.
Aïna swallowed hard. Her heart was still racing.
— It's not the talent they killed today, she said softly. It's pride.
Sora looked at her.
— You noticed that too?
— Each of them refused something. A role. An effort. A rule.
Mila leaned back on her pillow.
— Which means tomorrow… it's going to get worse.
She was right.
Day Four — The Performance Table
They were summoned before sunrise.
No training clothes.
No cleats.
Only the uniform.
Field 1 had been transformed. Instead of goals, a massive digital wall loomed behind the benches. Cameras tracked every movement. Tablets filled the hands of every staff member.
Ethan Kovač stood at the center.
— Today, you will not run.
A collective sigh spread through the group.
— Today, you will watch yourselves.
The screen lit up.
PROJECT ATHENA — PERFORMANCE TABLE
Lines of names appeared. Then columns:
Physical performance
Tactical adaptability
Mental stability
Compliance with instructions
Collective impact
Numbers. Percentages. Rankings.
Aïna felt her chest tighten.
They turn us into data.
— Numbers don't lie, said Kovač. — But they don't tell the whole truth.
He gestured.
— That's why today, you will see where you stand.
The table reorganized.
ELITE LEVEL — "THE MANTLE"
A golden frame appeared around ten names.
The field trembled.
— That's… the elite already, someone whispered.
Sora widened her eyes.
— They already crowned queens?
At the top:
#1 — Nyasha Dlamini
Muffled exclamations. Nyasha stepped slightly forward. Tall. Calm. Natural authority in her posture.
She didn't shout. She didn't celebrate. She dominated, simply.
Below:
#2 — Lucia Moreno
#3 — Hana Okoye
#4 — Irina Volkov
#5 — Leïla Ben Saïd
Five names that made the air vibrate.
Aïna watched.
Nyasha never rushed.
Lucia read the game two seconds ahead.
Hana mentally broke her opponents.
Irina embodied cold precision.
Leïla turned pressure into elegance.
They weren't just talented players. They were inevitable.
— These players wear what we call the Mantle, said Kovač. — Not officially. Not permanently. But symbolically.
The word echoed.
Mantle.
— They set the level. They raise it. And they crush those who can't keep up.
Nyasha's eyes briefly met Aïna's.
No arrogance.
Just certainty.
STABLE — "THE GREY ZONE"
The screen changed. Most names appeared here, including:
Aïna M. — Rank 73
Her breath caught.
Not bad. Not safe.
Sora leaned toward her.
— The Grey Zone is purgatory.
— Or an opportunity, Aïna replied.
AT RISK — "THE EDGE"
The screen darkened. Red boxes.
Names trembled at the bottom. Some girls gasped seeing themselves. Others stared, pale.
— These players don't fail for lack of ability, said Kovač. — They fail because they hesitate.
A murmur ran through the group.
— And hesitation is deadly here.
Interactions Begin
During the break, the field fractured into invisible camps.
Nyasha's group trained lightly together. A natural gravity drew others to her.
Lucia discussed tactics with Irina. Hana laughed softly, but her eyes constantly analyzed.
Near the benches, tension exploded.
— You should have covered!
— That wasn't my zone!
— You never communicate!
One girl broke down in tears. Another laughed nervously.
Aïna sat, lacing her shoes.
Nyasha approached.
— You adapted quickly to right-back, she said.
Aïna looked up, surprised.
— I had no choice.
Nyasha offered a slight smile.
— That's why you played well.
She left without another word.
Sora froze.
— She just… talked to you.
Mila nodded.
— It means she noticed you.
Announcement of the Test
The alarm cut the noise. Kovač returned to the center.
— Today ends Phase 1.
The field froze.
— Tonight, 45 more of you will leave the football program.
Some closed their eyes.
— The decision will not be based solely on your ranking.
A new title appeared on the screen:
THE SILENCE TEST
Confusion spread.
— Football is communication, said Kovač. — But pressure kills communication first.
He pointed at the screen.
— This test will see what remains when voices disappear.
Rules of the Silence Test
Full match
No verbal communication allowed
No gestures
No signals
Any violation results in immediate elimination
The shock was brutal.
— Teams mixed. Mantle. Grey Zone. Edge.
— Coaches will not intervene.
— Cameras record everything.
— You will be judged on positioning, anticipation, emotional control… and leadership without words.
Aïna's throat tightened.
No speaking?
Her strength was organizing.
— This test, Kovač concluded, removes all excuses.
The Match
The whistle blew.
Immediate chaos. Collisions.
Two defenders running at the same player.
A midfielder frozen, indecisive.
Nyasha moved.
Silent.
Without drama.
She adjusted her runs. Closed spaces. Forced others to adapt.
Lucia instinctively retreated.
Hana pressed without panicking.
Aïna felt lost for ten seconds. Then she breathed.
Observe. Anticipate. Move first.
She covered zones before danger.
Intercepted without tackling.
Offered angles.
Sora, panicked, almost shouted — then bit her lip and followed Aïna's movements.
Something clicked.
They weren't silent.
They listened differently.
At the other end, a girl struck the ball in anger.
Violation.
A buzzer sounded. She was escorted off. No second chance.
Time slowed. Pressure thickened.
A defender hesitated, missed a run. Goal. She collapsed to her knees — not eliminated, but marked.
Nyasha scored once.
Didn't smile.
Repositioned.
Playing to survive, not to win.
The whistle blew. Aïna stayed standing. Exhausted. Trembling. But standing.
I didn't speak. But I existed.
After the Whistle
Match over. Exhaustion heavy.
Heading off the field, one thought echoed in her mind:
If silence is a weapon…
Then I will learn to kill with it.
No applause. No comfort.
The screen lit up one last time:
SILENCE TEST — FINAL DECISIONS PENDING
Kovač spoke calmly.
— Some of you learned today.
— Others revealed themselves.
He looked at them.
— Tomorrow, the table will change.
Aïna returned to her room in silence. Legs trembling. Heart burning.
She had not spoken, but she had been heard.
That night, as the lights went out, one last message appeared on the wall screen:
PHASE 1 — FINAL ELIMINATIONS ANNOUNCED AT DAWN
Aïna closed her eyes.
The Mantle existed.
The Edge was real.
And tomorrow…
Someone else would disappear.