The room was buzzing before they even walked in.
Camera flashes, muffled chatter, the clack of keys, reporters from across the La Rima League leaned forward, eager for soundbites.
The Northin Way coach, Ignacio Víctor had already left with a grin and a few polite words about "discipline and belief."
Now, it was Devertary United's turn.
The door opened.
Coach Molis Harrison stepped in first, expression neutral but eyes heavy with thought.
Beside him came Vincent Greenwood, hands in pockets, posture calm and unreadable.
They sat.
Microphones were adjusted.
The red light on the recorders blinked to life.
Journalist 1 – Zara Elmont (SportsOne Network):"Coach Harrison, hard-fought match but no breakthrough for your side. How would you assess your team's performance tonight?"
Harrison,leaning forward, fingers interlaced "We controlled the tempo for long stretches, created chances, and played with intent. But football isn't only about control, it's about precision.
Northin Way were clinical when they had to be, and that made the difference. I'm proud of my players' effort, but we have to sharpen our finishing. That's the honest truth."
Journalist 2 – Niko Vale (La Rima League Gazette):"There seemed to be visible frustration from Axel and Shark near the final minutes. Is there tension building in your forward line?"
Harrison,Shakes head "No tension. Just hunger. Every striker lives on goals,when they don't come, frustration is natural. But that's energy we can channel. I'd be more worried if they walked off smiling after a loss like this."
A few quiet laughs ripple through the room. Harrison's tone remains even, confident.
Journalist 3 – Mira Phane (The Continental)
"Vincent Greenwood, as the club's director, what's your reaction to tonight's defeat? Do you still believe Harrison's current system can deliver results this season?"
All eyes shift to Vincent.
He lifts his gaze slowly, eyes sharp beneath the low lights.
Vincent Greenwood,Calmly "Football evolves through moments like this. We measure progress not only in victories, but in how a team reacts to setbacks.
What I saw tonight wasn't failure, it was foundation. The transitions were faster, the back line coordinated better, and our build-up showed understanding.
The result is unfortunate, yes but the performance tells me we're close to something solid."
He pauses, then adds
"And to answer your question, I trust Molis Harrison completely."
The room hums. Harrison glances sideways, briefly nodding in silent appreciation.
Journalist 4 – Edgar Lorn (La Rima League Daily) "Coach, the team's defensive setup seemed to crack just once,during that corner that led to Jesús' goal. Any comment on what went wrong there?"
Harrison,Exhales softly "We switched from zone to man-marking midway, anticipating the short corner. It was the right call but Poker got screened, and Jesús found half a yard.
That's football,small margins. We'll analyze it in training. What matters is that we learn, not linger."
Journalist 5 – Theo Drayne (MetroSport) "Coach Harrison, with this result, Devertary United now have one draws, four win, and ome loss. Are you worried about pressure from the board or fans?"
Harrison smiles faintly a tired, knowing kind of smile.
"Pressure is a part of this profession. If you're not under pressure, you're probably not trying hard enough. But we're not panicking. We're six games in, and this league is long. We'll respond,I promise you that."
Journalist 6– Zara Elmont (SportsOne) "Vincent, any message to the fans tonight?"
Vincent Greenwood,Standing slightly, voice steady "Stay patient. The heart of this team beats stronger every match. Tonight wasn't defeat, it was a test. And we'll pass the next one."
The reporters exchange looks.
The tone, the resolve, it doesn't sound like damage control. It sounds like intent.
As the cameras flash and the two men rise from their seats, Harrison claps Vincent lightly on the shoulder.
"Appreciate that," he murmurs.
Vincent nods, expression as calm as ever.
"Tomorrow's another build day," he replies.
And with that, the two exit the press room, leaving behind the echo of clicking shutters, the quiet buzz of speculation, and the sense that Devertary United's story is far from over.
– – –
The city shimmered beneath the night lights, rain misting softly against the glass windows of Arcelia's Premium Lounge, a high-end restaurant favored by executives, visiting footballers, and the city's quiet elite.
Inside, the atmosphere was low-lit and warm a delicate balance of soft jazz and murmured conversation.
A waiter guided Ryan Shark to a table tucked into a private corner near the balcony on the highest floor of what seems to be a three storey building.
He was dressed simply, dark jeans, a loose white shirt, collar slightly open. The look of a man who didn't want attention.
He sat down, shoulders heavy, eyes distant. The match still played in his head, the missed chances, the look on Valentin's face after that near goal, the echo of the crowd roaring for Northin Way.
He exhaled slowly and looked out over the city.
The waiter approached quietly.
"Something light, sir?"
Ryan nodded. "Just a glass of red and whatever's quick."
The waiter nodded and retreated.
For a few seconds, Ryan was alone, until a familiar voice broke through the low hum of the room.
"Didn't expect to find a footballer brooding in a place like this, most especially the famous Ryan Shark."
Ryan turned slightly.
Standing a few feet away, elegant in a soft cream coat and black dress, was Laura Greenwood daughter,Head Journalist, and someone who had recently joined Devertary United's board under Greenwood's recommendation.
Her tone carried that mix of curiosity and calm confidence that made people instinctively listen.
Ryan managed a faint smirk. "Didn't expect to see me in here?, perhaps."
Laura gave a small smile, taking the seat opposite him without asking permission,as though she already belonged there.
"Oh, please," she said lightly, "what are you intentions,I mean after the match you played? Everyone knows who you are. The press won't stop replaying that near miss from the 58th minute."
He looked down, fingers tightening around his glass. "Yeah. The one that should've gone in."
Laura studied him for a moment, not judging, just observing.
"You played well, Ryan. From our press conference, I can tell the problem wasn't lack of effort."
He gave a quiet chuckle. "Effort doesn't go on the scoreboard."
"True," she said. "But attitude does. And while playing the match, you showed something this club hasn't had in a while and that's conviction."
He looked up, brow raised slightly. "Conviction doesn't win titles either."
Laura tilted her head. "No. But it builds the kind of player who eventually does."
There was a silence between them, the kind that wasn't uncomfortable, just heavy with thought.
The waiter returned, placing a glass of red wine in front of Shark and a sparkling drink before Laura.
"My Father talks about you often," she said casually as the waiter left.
Ryan blinked. "Vincent? The director?"
She nodded. "He said you are 'driven, but usually too hard on yourself.' I can see he wasn't wrong."
Ryan leaned back, half-amused. "He talks about all of us like we're projects?."
Laura smiled faintly. "You're more than that. You're part of something he's trying to rebuild, something clean. This club has been messy for years, Barely managing to stand amongst the ranking."
She continues calmly"Greenwood and Harrison want to change that. But they need players who believe."
He sighed, swirling the glass. "Belief doesn't come easy after losses like this, Honestly I prefer when the responsibility wasn't must,back when I was in Blizzare FC playing with the flow."
"Then maybe you're looking for it in the wrong place," she said, eyes steady. "You won't find it on the scoreboard, you'll find it in your response."
Ryan looked at her for a long moment. Her words weren't harsh, but they struck deep.
He finally asked, "So what's your role in all this, Laura?"
Her smile widened slightly. "Officially? Player management. Unofficially? I make sure players like you remember who they are and what they're capable of."
He chuckled quietly. "Sounds like a full-time job."
"It is," she replied softly. "Especially with players who think losing with pressure defines them."
The music in the restaurant swelled slightly a slow, smooth piano piece. Outside, the rain had begun to clear, and the city lights reflected off the glass like fading stars.
Ryan leaned forward, his expression calmer now.
"You really believe we can turn this around?"
Laura took a sip of her drink, meeting his gaze.
"I don't believe it," she said. "I know it. And if you keep playing the way you did,with that fire everyone else will too."
For the first time all evening, Ryan smiled small, genuine."Guess that's something to drink to," he said quietly.
They raised their glasses, the clink faint but clear.
As the night wore on, the tension of the match slowly faded. The conversation drifted from football to life, from loss to resilience.
And by the time Ryan finally stood to leave, there was a steadiness in his step that hadn't been there when he arrived.
---
The Floodlights cut thin white lines through the fog, casting long, distorted shadows over the empty pitch.
Everyone else had left hours ago even the assistant coaches.
Only Axel remained.
He stood at the edge of the penalty box, hoodie damp with sweat, football at his feet.
Shark.
That name pulsed in his mind like an irritation he couldn't shake.
He adjusted the ball again, took three steps back, and struck.
Thud — clang.
The shot clipped the post and ricocheted out into the darkness.
He gritted his teeth.
"Again."
He jogged after the ball, placed it down, and shot again.
Thud — clang.
Again, the post.
Each miss fed his frustration. His breathing grew heavier, his pulse sharp.
He looked around the empty field his voice echoing softly in the cold air.
"They all talk about Shark this, Shark that… 'Shark's the future,' 'Shark's got leadership.'"
He spat to the side.
"Let's see how long that lasts."
He stepped back once more, but this time, the air shifted.
A faint hum almost imperceptible,rippled behind him. The floodlights flickered once. Then again.
The shadows on the ground stretched unnaturally long, converging toward him like slow-moving ink.
Axel paused, ball still at his feet.
"What the…"
Then he saw it — or rather, felt it.
A dark silhouette began to rise from the shadow at his back, formless at first, then slowly taking shape. A presence. A weight.
Two dim, amber-like eyes blinked open behind him.
The figure leaned close, whispering with a voice that didn't echo,it simply vibrated inside his chest.
"Aim… lower. Trust your anger. Don't guide the ball, command it."
Axel froze, his breath trembling, yet he didn't step away. Instead, his hands tightened into fists.
The shadow's outline melded closer, its limbs unfurling until it almost seemed to wrap around him, a beast-like figure with long arms and a sinuous, smoke-like form.
Its claws touched his shoulders lightly, almost guiding, almost merging. The next words came half from Axel's own mouth, half from the thing behind him:
"He won't outshine me again."
Just then he struck the ball —
Thud.
This time it didn't miss. The ball curved perfectly, kissed the post, and buried itself in the top corner of the net.
He stared at it stunned then smirked.
"Again," he whispered.
The shadow pulsed faintly, its amber eyes glowing brighter.
He took another shot.
Goal, Another Goal and more Goals follow.
Every strike hit the target,perfectly curved, perfectly placed. The kind of accuracy that didn't feel human.
The air around him grew colder with each shot. His breath came out in faint white clouds.But he didn't stop.
His words grew sharper, darker, almost chanting between breaths.
"I'll dominate him."
"He thinks he's the hero."
"Let him watch me rise."
The shadow seemed to feed on his voice growing stronger, its smoky tendrils merging fully into Axel's outline until they were one and the same.
He took one last shot,the ball tore through the net completely this time, whistling into the dark beyond the goalpost.
Axel stood still, chest heaving.
A faint, twisted grin crept onto his face.
"Next game…" he whispered, staring at the torn net.
"…the world won't remember Shark. They'll remember me."
Behind him, the shadow rippled faintly,the faint shape of a beast's head flickering above his shoulders for a split second before fading completely into the night.
Only Axel remained, alone on the pitch, silent, but smiling in the dark.
– – –
The rain had stopped.
The city glowed in soft reflections, streets slick with silver light as cars hummed past in the distance.
Vincent Laura stepped out of Arcelia's Lounge, her heels clicking lightly against the pavement. She drew in a quiet breath,the crisp night air carried a faint scent of wet stone and espresso.
A small smile touched her lips.
She reached into her bag, retrieved her phone, and tapped a number without hesitation.
The line clicked almost immediately.
Vincent Greenwood (on phone):
"Laura. Late call. That usually means something."
Laura (softly):"It does. I just met with him."
Greenwood:"Shark?"
Laura:"Yes. He came here alone. Looked… weighed down. But we talked. He's calmer now."
There was a pause on the other end,faint static, the hum of Greenwood's office heater perhaps.
Greenwood:"And?"
Laura:"He's driven,Father. He blames himself for the miss, but it's not bitterness. It's focus. The kind that can be shaped."
Greenwood (quietly):"That's what I was hoping to hear."
Laura leaned against the railing, the faint city breeze brushing her hair aside.
Laura:"He's got something raw in him. You can tell from how he speaks about the game it's not arrogance, it's responsibility. But he doesn't yet realize how much the others look up to him. He leads without noticing."
Greenwood:(half chuckling) "That's precisely the kind of leadership we need the unintentional kind. The one that earns respect rather than demands it,but I want to make a wild move that will sharpen him better."
Laura: "So you plan to make him central to the next phase?"
A brief silence followed deliberate.
Greenwood: "Let's say… I want to test how he handles responsibility when the spotlight isn't kind. Harrison's training rotation will change next week. Shark will anchor the front line — not as a lone striker, but as the pivot for Marcus and Axel. I want him thinking like a leader, not just a scorer."
Laura smiled faintly. "So you're grooming him for captaincy?"
Greenwood:(amused tone) "Not really and Not yet. But if Wolf Deo doesn't hold consistency, the armband might shift sooner than expected."
Her tone turned thoughtful.
"Father,I see you're building more than a team here, aren't you?"
A soft exhale from the other end.
Greenwood: "I'm building a culture. The last regime built egos,berserk players but I'm building accountability and precistency. And people like Shark… people like you… they make that possible."
Laura glanced back toward the restaurant, from her position.
Laura: "He'll come around, Vincent. The loss, might have done more good than harm."
Greenwood: "Losses reveal truth. Wins only hide it."
The sound of distant thunder rolled across the skyline low, steady, like a drumbeat under the night.
Laura: "And the others?"
Greenwood: "I'll meet with Harrison at the facility in the morning. We'll review the footage. Northin Way's press exposed certain gaps in our defensive line,Poker did well, but Ness needs tactical refinement. Still… our chemistry's growing. Slowly, but it's there."
Laura smiled, her voice calm and sure.
"You sound more optimistic than after your first match in charge."
Greenwood: "Because now I see who believes. That's all I needed."
A short pause, the kind that always preceded Greenwood's signature exit from a call.
Greenwood: "Good work tonight, Laura. Keep an eye on Shark. If he starts channeling frustration into leadership, we'll have our turning point."
Laura: "You'll have it," she said quietly. "He's already starting to carry himself differently."
Greenwood: "Then it's begun."
The call ended.
Laura lowered the phone slowly, her reflection caught faintly in the glass of the restaurant door sharp, poised, and thoughtful.
Then she whispered under her breath:
"You'll be more important to this club than you know, Ryan. Just don't lose faith before it happens."
She turned, her figure fading into the night as the city lights pulsed softly in rhythm with the rain-soaked road.