After lunch, and after letting everything settle, Yone's team returned to the studio with clearer heads and steadier hearts.
The decision came quickly—almost instinctively.
They scrapped the entire piece.
No debating what to keep. No agonizing over what to cut. No clinging to ideas just because they were once proud of them. Starting over felt cleaner. Kinder. Like ripping off a bandage instead of peeling it millimeter by millimeter.
And surprisingly?
It didn't hurt.
It actually felt… good.
Freer.
This time, they took Luca's words seriously—really listened. Not as criticism meant to tear them down, but as guidance meant to sharpen them.
They stripped the performance to its bones.
No clutter. No fighting for attention. Every movement had intention. Every formation had purpose. Every moment had space to breathe.
Each of them still shone—but now, they shone together.
Their voices, their styles, their energy were still there—just aligned. Controlled. Polished without being sterilized. Powerful without being overwhelming.
By Friday evening, the practice rooms buzzed with last-minute adjustments and nervous excitement as every team put on their final touches.
When Yone's team hit their final pose—still, grounded, perfectly timed—something clicked.
Like the universe itself nodded and said, yeah… that's it.
"LET'S FUCKING GO!" Nikola shouted, fists pumping in the air.
Breathing hard, sweat dripping, Yone looked at his teammates with a wide, radiant smile. "I think… this is it, guys." He swallowed, emotion creeping up on him. "I'm honestly so grateful I got to dance with all of you. This week was a damn rollercoaster, but we didn't quit. We trusted each other. And we came out stronger." His voice wavered just slightly. "I couldn't have asked for better teammates."
"Stop," Isaac laughed shakily, eyes glassy. "You're gonna make me cry—and I refuse to cry again today."
Too late.
"I LOVE YOU GUYS!" Jordan sobbed outright, arms flung wide like he was ready to embrace the entire world.
They didn't hesitate.
"We love you too," they said together, collapsing into a tight, messy group hug—six bodies, six heartbeats, one shared dream.
Eli pulled back just enough to grin. "So… you guys ready to light the stage on fire tomorrow?"
"Fuck yes," Monarch shot back. "Let's make that stage explode."
Yone nodded, eyes burning with determination. "Alright. Get some rest. Because tomorrow?" A smirk tugged at his lips. "We show everyone exactly why they call us the Ravengers."
And as they packed up and headed out, hope burned bright in their chests—hot, steady, and unbreakable.
Tomorrow wasn't just another evaluation.
Tomorrow was a statement.
****
And when evaluation day finally arrived, the entire camp seemed to vibrate with nervous energy.
No one was sitting still.
Time felt cruel—every tick of the clock dragging them closer to yet another performance that could change everything. Some trainees paced the hallways like caged animals. Others sat eerily quiet, headphones on, eyes closed, replaying choreography and harmonies in their heads like prayers.
Backstage was pure chaos.
Hair stylists rushed from one trainee to another, fingers flying, spray bottles hissing. Makeup artists dabbed and blended with laser focus, correcting smudges, sharpening contours, hiding exhaustion behind flawless skin. Costume racks lined the corridors, filled with fabrics that shimmered under fluorescent lights—leather, silk, mesh, denim—each outfit carefully chosen to sell a story.
Production staff barked instructions as trainees bounced from room to room, checking microphones, rehearsing entrances, fixing last-minute wardrobe malfunctions. Everyone was running on adrenaline and barely-contained panic, all desperate to make sure that when they stepped onto that stage, everything went exactly as planned.
And then—
It was time.
The amphitheater ignited once more as the third evaluations officially began, lights blazing and anticipation thick enough to choke on.
As always, the stunning Cat spearheaded the show with effortless elegance, her presence commanding attention the moment she stepped onstage. Behind her, seated comfortably on the evaluators' couches, were Tuesday, Luca, and Foca—watchful, composed, and significantly harder to impress this time around.
The performance order was decided by a coin toss.
Vocal and rap teams went first, followed by dance teams, alternating back and forth. A deliberate structure meant to keep the energy unpredictable—and the pressure evenly distributed.
One by one, teams took the stage.
And admittedly? The trainees had leveled the hell up.
Nothing pushed growth quite like being shoved out of your comfort zone and told, sink or swim. Many performances revealed sides of trainees even they hadn't known existed—unexpected tones, sharper musical instincts, stronger stage presence.
Of course, Kang Ian once again led his team to a standout performance.
Teaming up with Adel, Akesh, and two others, they took two wildly different songs—pieces that should have clashed—and fused them into something startlingly cohesive. The transition was bold. Risky. And it paid off.
The amphitheater buzzed with excitement as applause rang out, and the evaluators praised Kang Ian's vision and leadership.
But beneath the smiles and polite bows, tension leaked through the cracks.
It was subtle—blink-and-you'd-miss-it subtle—but Foca noticed.
A fraction of a second.
A fleeting tightening of Adel's jaw.
A shadow passing over Akesh's eyes.
When Kang Ian was singled out for praise, the shift in their expressions was unmistakable.
The group remained cordial through the end—professional, even—but the division was there, humming quietly under the surface like a fault line waiting to split.
Still, Foca chose not to address it publicly.
For now.
He hoped—really hoped—that the trainees would resolve it themselves. And preferably before it became a bigger, uglier problem.
The evaluations rolled on.
Mika, Bobby, and Leo took the stage next as a trio, delivering a mash-up that blended classic elements with modern flair. Technically, it was solid. Clean. Well-rehearsed.
But when it ended, the applause felt… restrained.
It was good—no one could deny that.
Just not wow.
Given what the three had already demonstrated in previous evaluations, and knowing their potential, the performance felt safe. Comfortable. And at this stage of the program, comfort wasn't enough.
As the night continued, something became painfully clear to the evaluators.
Their expectations had skyrocketed.
Two evaluations in, "good" no longer cut it. They needed to see performances that screamed sign me. Performances that demanded attention and left no doubt.
From the very beginning, there had been undeniable individual standouts. But this program wasn't searching for solo stars.
They were building a global pop group.
Which meant chemistry mattered. Unity mattered. The ability to move, breathe, and shine as one mattered just as much as raw talent.
And so far?
Too many trainees still had a long way to go.
As the lights dimmed in preparation for the next team, the evaluators leaned forward slightly—waiting.
Watching.
Wondering who, if anyone, would finally give them what they were looking for.
****
PS-
Inspiration for Kang Ian's Team's performance: (https://youtu.be/3q6r75DNNNU?feature=shared)
Inspiration for Mika, Bobby and Leo's performance: (https://youtu.be/zTLFi9uqtYQ?si=V1wnu_EqNiWSjl1Z)