The alarm blared at 5:45 a.m. Aïna opened her eyes before it even rang, her body still sore from yesterday's Chaos Drill. Every muscle screamed in fatigue, but her mind was fully alert.
Phase 2. Mantle. Now or never.
She rose slowly, stretched, and glanced at Sora and Mila, still asleep. They had survived the Chaos Drill too, but tomorrow… everything would change. Everything would be measured. Every decision, every movement, every thought might tip the balance.
The central field of Project Athena glistened under the cold morning sun. Candidates were lined up in perfect rows, their expressions a mixture of determination and fear. Ethan Kovač appeared silently, immobile in the center, like a living shadow.
— Congratulations to all of you for yesterday's performance, he began, his voice calm but cutting through the morning chill.
— Today marks the start of the Final Evaluation of Phase 1. Each candidate will be tested individually against a Mantle-level opponent. The goal: demonstrate your mastery, anticipation, and ability to make split-second decisions under pressure.
A shiver ran through Aïna. She inhaled slowly, feeling the cool air in her lungs.
— Only your performance will determine your ranking. There will be no alliances, no excuses, no repeats.
Even before the first ball was played, every candidate could feel the weight of judgment pressing down on them.
The Individual Trial
Aïna was directed to Training Field #4. Her opponent: Nyasha, an undisputed S-level, known for her speed, sharp reflexes, and tactical intelligence. A crowd of cameras tracked every move; every flicker of her eyes or twitch of her fingers would be scrutinized.
Aïna inhaled deeply, centering herself. She knew Nyasha by reputation, but on the field, skill levels mattered, not rumors. The whistle blew, sharp and piercing.
In the first second, Nyasha feinted a pass, aiming for the space behind Aïna. Reacting instantly, Aïna darted diagonally, intercepted the ball, and redirected it to a safe area. Every movement mattered. Every second counted.
Nyasha's lips curved into a slight smile—a silent acknowledgment of Aïna's skill—but Aïna knew better. That smile hid an even faster, more unpredictable attack waiting to strike.
Tactics and Improvisation
The duel became a precise, millimeter-perfect dance: simulated passes, tight blocks, anticipation of every trajectory, movements invisible to an untrained eye. Aïna improvised constantly, guided by her read of Nyasha's intentions and micro-patterns in her opponent's stance.
Halfway through the trial, Aïna executed a sequence that even surprised Nyasha: intercepting a complex pass and, in a single fluid motion, creating an opening for a simulated counter-attack. The movement was so smooth that even Sora, watching from the sidelines, instinctively mirrored her steps in silent admiration.
Kovač's eyes, sharp and unyielding, followed every nuance. A shadow of approval crossed his face, almost imperceptible.
— Impressive, murmured a voice behind her.
Aïna glanced back. Sora and Mila stood at the edge of the field, wide-eyed, absorbing every calculation and adjustment. They now truly understood what leadership and anticipation meant—not shouting orders, not brute force, but seeing, predicting, and guiding.
Pressure and Psychology
By the twenty-fifth minute, fatigue began to weigh heavily. Her body screamed, her muscles threatened to betray her, but her mind remained razor-sharp. Every movement was deliberate. Every breath controlled.
If I falter now… it's over.
Nyasha launched a rapid attack. Aïna had no time to think. Instinctively, she moved, dodged, feinted, and countered. A split-second hesitation would have been fatal. The world seemed to compress into a single instant, where focus and precision were the only things that could save her.
The field seemed to vibrate under the stress. Even the distant cameras and invisible spectators could not measure the storm of tension coursing through the trial. Every candidate held their breath, aware that the slightest error could mean disaster.
Trial Results
The final whistle blew. Aïna collapsed to her knees, gasping for air, sweat glistening on her skin, but her eyes burned with determination. Nyasha approached, extending a hand:
— You are worthy. Very worthy.
A silent but profound mutual respect passed between them.
Kovač's voice cut through the heavy air:
— Aïna Morel, your performance officially places you at the top of the B-level ranking, with immediate potential to join the Mantle. But this depends on your next trial: forced collaboration with candidates of varying levels under strict constraints.
Note for candidates and readers: 282 candidates remain in the competition.
Aïna felt a surge of tension rise within her. The Mantle was still out of reach. Tomorrow's trial would test more than skill; it would test adaptability, leadership, and the ability to command without words.
Final Reflection
Back in the dorm, Aïna collapsed onto her bed, muscles quivering, heart racing. Sora approached timidly, eyes wide:
— How… how did you do it?
— I just listened to the field and anticipated every move, — Aïna replied, a faint but tired smile on her lips.
She knew that tomorrow wouldn't be a battle against a single opponent, but against uncertainty, chaos, and the expectations of every other candidate.
Mantle. I won't touch you yet… but I'm getting closer. Slowly. Relentlessly.
She closed her eyes, feeling the fire of ambition and focus burn steadily within her. Whatever came next, she would be ready.