Chapter 1: First match

The locker room carried a quiet tension that felt heavier than the air itself. Rows of metal lockers stood slightly rusted at the edges, marked with old scratches and faded stickers from past seasons. 

The faint smell of sweat, detergent, and worn leather boots blended into something familiar, something that belonged to competition. 

The ceiling fan spun lazily above, pushing around warm air that never really cooled anything. Above the benches, a wall mounted television flickered softly, its blue light reflecting across tired faces and focused eyes. 

Some players sat leaning forward with their elbows on their knees, while others stayed silent, pretending to adjust their gear while secretly listening to every word from the broadcast.

Yagmi sat among them, his gaze locked onto the television screen. The commentators’ studio looked bright and polished, almost too clean compared to the rough reality of the locker room. 

Three analysts sat behind a glass desk, papers and tablets scattered neatly in front of them as highlight clips played silently behind their backs.

Henry leaned slightly forward, fingers loosely interlocked on the table. “You see, if Rebelians adjust their tactics a little bit, then they might win. Instead of a fighter, they have two defenders, and that is a very good strategy. But the risk is higher now. 

If the marksman gets eliminated, then it is basically over for them. They will not have any source of damage. But the benefits are higher than the loss. Two defenders means it will be really hard to even touch the marksman.”

Yuki nodded slightly, her expression calm but sharp. “Yeah, but Azies’ assassin, Iori, he is just too good at penetrating defense. His second skill, Fast Step, is enough to pass through the defense, and the marksman will be vulnerable.”

Brok let out a short breath of amusement, folding his hands together. “Yeah, but just reaching the marksman is not enough. Soya, his reflexes are just otherworldly. Even if Iori reaches him, Soya can just reposition himself and get back to safety again.”

Yuki spoke again, this time with more certainty in her tone. “But running around will not help if the ground itself becomes a bomb. Iori’s ultimate just does that.”

Henry gave a slow nod. “Yeah, but Aswel the defender and Sira, both of them are masters of defending. While they are around, Soya cannot be touched. One skill of Aswel can just heal all of them again.”

Brok finally turned slightly toward the main camera, his voice filled with excitement that felt almost contagious. “Yeah, this might be the game of this season. All those superstars, they will surely deliver a very exciting match. In thirty minutes, the match will begin, and we cannot wait.”

The broadcast music swelled slightly as the camera zoomed out, and then the screen faded to black. The television returned to a silent channel logo, its glow still lighting the room in a cold, steady shine.

The silence inside the locker room lasted only a few seconds before the television suddenly went dark. The coach of Rabelian stood near the switch, his shadow stretching long across the tiled floor under the locker room lights.

He looked directly at Yagmi. “Listen, Yagmi. Do not waste your ultimate. You all can only use your ultimate three times. That is the rule of this league. Azies, they are strong, but we are stronger. We will crush them.”

The words did not feel like motivation. They felt like a promise carved into stone.

Yagmi slowly lowered his gaze, his fingers tightening slightly against the edge of the bench as the weight of the upcoming match settled deeper into his chest.

The television flickered again as the broadcast briefly cut to a rule breakdown segment. The studio lights dimmed slightly, and behind Henry, a large digital screen lit up with formation diagrams and glowing player icons moving across a virtual field. 

The background music softened, shifting into something more informational, almost instructional, as if welcoming new viewers into the world of the league.

Henry adjusted his earpiece before looking directly into the camera. 

“If you are new, let me explain the rules. Each team has five members. One striker, one defender, one marksman, one mage, and then the star of the game, the assassin. Each player has three spells in total. The first and second spell can be used five times. And the third, the most dangerous one, the ultimate, can only be used three times in a game.”

As he spoke, the digital screen behind him animated smoothly, showing skill counters decreasing and ultimate meters glowing in warning red tones. The visuals made the rules feel less like numbers and more like life or death decisions waiting to happen on the field.

“The game will end after the base is destroyed.” Henry continued, his tone steady and professional. “Once again, welcome everyone. In twenty five minutes, Rabelian vs Azies will begin in the Eye of Storm Stadium, with over sixty thousand spectators.”

The camera slowly zoomed outward, revealing the massive stadium hologram behind the analysts, lights flashing across endless rows of seats. The roar of a distant crowd audio track quietly layered into the broadcast, almost blending with reality.

Back in the locker room, the faint echo of that crowd noise leaked through the television speakers, mixing with the quiet breathing of players preparing for war disguised as a game.