I'm a fraud, so what?

Every year the Royal Magic Academy organizes a magical sports tournament to select the best student of the year… every year a new sport to torment its students with. It’s tradition, apparently. Tradition, in this school, usually means "a new way to break bones while pretending it’s educational."

Last year it was broom racing. Half the students didn’t know how to steer, so the skies looked like a rainstorm of screaming teenagers plummeting to their doom. The healers made a fortune that month.

The year before that? Magical jousting. Imagine knights with glowing lances – now imagine them all riding horses that occasionally teleported sideways. I still have a dent in my ribs from being in the audience when one of those majestic disasters veered off course and tackled the stands. "A learning experience," the professors said. My ribs disagree.

And this year?

Headmaster Galdreth was about to tell us. His beard sparkling with enchanted starlight as he raised his staff for silence. "A game where you kick a ball and attempt to score points in the opposing goal. This year’s Grand Tournament shall be decided by…SOCCER!"

The courtyard erupted like a thunderclap. Cheers, groans, and even magical fireworks from the excited fire mages lit the sky. Some students shouted in triumph, already scheming how their hydras and golems would make perfect goalkeepers. Others slumped in despair, realizing they’d actually have to run. And one very confused troll raised his meaty hand and mumbled, "What’s a ball?"

Me? I clapped politely, wearing the exact kind of smile you use when your grandmother serves you a soup that smells like feet. On the outside, calm and agreeable. On the inside? Screaming.

Because unlike everyone else here, I can’t use magic. Not even a spark. Not even a puff. I couldn’t light a candle with my soul if you paid me.

I’ve faked my way through two whole years of the most prestigious magic school in the kingdom with nothing but magical gadgets, quick thinking, and a smile so fake it should be arrested for fraud. Every exam, every assignment, every demonstration – I’ve survived either by sheer luck or my genius brain. (I’m really good at building magical gadgets)

Oh, right. My name’s Kael. Resident fraud, magical tinkerer, and soon-to-be soccer legend. Probably. Hopefully. Or expelled. One of those.

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Most of the students had already begun practicing summoning and taming monsters for their teams. That was the rule: each team of six players had to be made up of one student and five controlled magical creatures. It wasn’t enough to just kick a ball around – you had to wrangle something with claws, wings, or at least too many teeth into doing it with you.

The better your magic, the stronger your beasts. The prodigies were already bragging. Mira had two unicorns lined up. Veyran, that smug elemental specialist, had summoned a literal magma wolf that set the grass on fire whenever it sneezed. And then there was me.

I had no magic. Not a single spark. If mana were money, I’d be so broke I couldn’t even borrow it.

But I did have… The Orb-o-Matic 3000™.

Okay, fine, that’s just the name I wrote on the side. It’s really just a small silver ball with a few runes I carved by hand, and more duct-tape enchantments than I’d like to admit. Still, when I toss it at a monster, it latches on like a tick, scans its magical core, and slaps a control seal on it. Boom. Tamed.

Totally legal? …Debatable.
Effective? Absolutely.

That’s how I built my team. A harpy defender for defending attacks from the sky, a magic-frog with jumps that.. well he jumps high.. A slime goalkeeper – don’t laugh, the guy’s basically a sticky wall with attitude. And a sarcastic imp in midfield whose main contribution so far has been calling me “Coach Fraud” whenever he thinks I’m not listening.

And then… the crown jewel.

A dragon.

Yes, a dragon. Not a baby wyvern or a sleepy drake, but a full-fledged, fire-breathing, knight-order-terrifying dragon. The kind of monster that usually earns you a statue if you slay it, or a funeral if you don’t.

And me? I tamed it. With my Orb-o-Matic 3000™, and about fourteen near-death experiences. Nineteen if you count the dead birds that fell out of the sky because of my high-pitched screams. And no, not because the birds are dead, but because there were so many falling down on me at once that it could count as near-death.

There’s just one problem.

Big problem.

The dragon sweats.

Like, a lot. Like sauna a lot. And whenever it sweats too much, the control talisman I designed for its forehead slips right off. When that happens, all bets are off – fire-breathing, wing-flapping, crowd-scorching chaos.

But hey, no system’s perfect.

So, how do you cover up the fact that your dragon’s talisman keeps falling off at the worst possible moments?

Easy. You lie through your teeth.

"Branding" I declared to anyone who asked. "That’s right, the forehead emblem? That’s our signature. Team Kael’s Monster Kickers! Recognizable, fashionable, unbeatable."

I even held my hands out like I was presenting a priceless artifact instead of a sweaty rune that looked like it had been drawn by a toddler with a crayon. Nobody questioned it. Nobody dared. When you say something with enough confidence – and when you’ve got a dragon looming behind you – people nod along out of sheer survival instinct.

Of course, there’s always one person who doesn’t buy the pitch.

Mira.

Mira’s the top student in our class. The kind of prodigy whose sneeze makes flowers bloom, whose yawn makes butterflies dance around her, and whose “casual practice session” looks like the finale of a fireworks festival. She’s so effortlessly talented that she doesn’t walk through the school corridors, she glides – like the universe is rolling out a red carpet of blossoms for her.

So naturally, she cornered me after practice.

"That talisman" she said, tapping at it with her delicate, perfectly manicured finger, "looks unstable."

Unstable? Please. It wasn’t "unstable" It was one bead of dragon sweat away from turning the entire training field into a barbecue pit.

But did I say that? No. I gave her my best salesman grin.

"Unstable? No, no" I said, waving it off with a laugh that was two pitches higher than normal. "That’s just the advanced design. You wouldn’t understand. Cutting-edge engineering."

At that exact moment, the talisman slid off with a plop.

The dragon blinked, pupils narrowing into dangerous slits. His throat rumbled with the low, ominous growl of an approaching apocalypse.

Mira screamed.

I dove forward like a desperate goalie, slapped the talisman back on his forehead, and prayed to god. The rumbling stopped. Barely.

"..see?" I said, forcing my lips into what I hoped was a confident smile while my soul attempted to evacuate my body. "Advanced design. Totally safe."

She squinted at me, suspicion written all over her perfect face.

But.. she walked away.

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The first official match of the tournament came faster than expected. Way faster. First Round: Kael’s Monster Kickers vs. Class B’s Elemental Strikers.

Of course, the Elemental Strikers weren’t just strong – they were ridiculous. Their lineup was a pair of stone golems built like fortresses, two salamanders that looked like walking bonfires, and one very smug-looking phoenix that preened its feathers like it already had the trophy in its claws.

When we marched out onto the enchanted stadium field, the place was packed. Students, nobles, even professors leaning forward in their seats. Magical banners waved overhead, changing colors every few seconds. Bookies shouted odds while wizards tossed bags of gold back and forth.

"And here comes Kael’s Monster Kickers!" boomed the announcer, a magically amplified gnome with lungs like a Dragon. "Featuring the Academy’s first-ever dragon player!"

The crowd went nuts. Screaming, stomping, cheering. Somewhere in the back I swear I saw someone faint.

I strode onto the field with my team behind me, trying to look confident instead of like someone about to throw up breakfast. The dragon’s talisman glowed faintly, still sticking to his sweaty forehead – for now.

"Kick-off!"

The whistle blew, and.. as ecpected.. it was chaos.

The phoenix swooped down, trailing flames like fireworks. My harpy shrieked right back, feathers clashing with fire in mid-air like some kind of avian death-metal concert. The frog jumped after the ball, every jump actually shaking the field. The slime goalie… jiggled menacingly.

And the dragon? Oh the dragon was perfect. A wall of scales and muscle. Every time he moved, the Elemental Strikers scattered like pigeons chased by a kid with a stick. He batted the ball forward with terrifying grace, his claws barely grazing it.

Until.

Plop.

The talisman slid right off.

"Oh no."

The dragon’s pupils flared, throat glowing as fire bubbled up. The crowd gasped as one.

"Advanced design!" I shouted, diving like a lunatic. I slapped the talisman back on mid-roar, nearly singeing my eyebrows off. The fire fizzled harmlessly into smoke.

The announcer cleared his throat. "Uh… what an innovative strategy! Looks like Kael’s team uses dramatic stunts to confuse the enemy!"

The crowd roared approval, clapping and chanting.

I grinned through my terror, sweating buckets. "Yeah! Stunts! That’s what we do!"

Somehow, some way, we won the match. 3–1. The dragon even scored by tail-slapping the ball so hard it got stuck in the net’s magic barrier like a fly in honey.

That’s how we moved on to Round 2.