Jim was buzzing with excitement.
Today was the day.
For the first time, he was selected in the Starting Eleven. No longer a benchwarmer. No longer the invisible kid. Now, he was a proper player—one of the front three, alongside Alex and Volt.
He stood in front of the mirror wearing his Phantom Force jersey, heart pounding.
"I've got this," he whispered, smiling to himself.
His confidence was sky-high. After all, he had done the impossible in the last match—awakening a mysterious dinosaur sprite mid-game and turning the tide. The memory of that overwhelming power still echoed in his body. It made him feel unstoppable.
So excited, in fact, that he couldn't sleep all night.
Match Day – Phantom Force vs Ironclad Warriors
The stadium was packed. Flags waved. Fans screamed. The air buzzed with anticipation.
Jim soaked it all in, walking onto the field with his teammates under the blazing lights.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the commentator shouted. "Look who's in the Starting Eleven this time! Jim—the unstoppable force from the last match! Can he repeat the miracle?"
Jim smiled confidently as he took his position on the front line.
Alex leaned over. "Let's make history again."
Jim nodded. "Count on it."
The referee blew the whistle. Kick-off.
Alex passed the ball sharply to Jim, who took off toward the goal—eyes gleaming, arms pulsing with adrenaline.
He called for his sprite.
Nothing.
Confused, he pushed harder.
Still nothing.
He went for the shot anyway—no power boost, no assistance.
It was blocked effortlessly by the opponent's defender.
The commentator hesitated.
"Huh… That didn't look like the Jim from last match."
Jim frowned. Maybe it was just nerves?
Volt quickly intercepted the ball, weaving past a defender and passed it to Jim again.
C'mon… awaken!
But again—no sprite.
No boost.
Jim hesitated, and the opponent stole the ball. Moments later, the Ironclad Warriors counterattacked and scored.
0–1.
The stadium murmured. Some fans looked confused. Others disappointed.
"Something's off with Jim today," the commentator said grimly. "Was last match just… a fluke?"
Jim's hands trembled.
On the sideline, Coach Tenjo gave a long, heavy sigh. He wanted to believe in Jim. But he had to think about the team.
"Sub him out," Tenjo said, voice tight.
The number went up on the board.
Jim's number.
Jim froze in disbelief. His stomach dropped.
As he walked off the pitch, the roar of the crowd faded into a dull hum. Alex and Volt tried to meet his eyes—but he didn't look up. He couldn't.
He ran. Past the fans. Past the tunnels. Past the stadium gates.
He kept running until everything disappeared… except the sound of flowing water.
He collapsed beside a quiet river, panting.
"Why…?" he muttered. "Why couldn't I do it again?"
His fists clenched.
"Why can't I summon it? Was I just lucky last time?"
He stared into the river. The reflection showed a boy—broken, confused, angry at himself.
Then, a deep voice came from behind him.
"So, you thought awakening a sprite makes you an expert overnight?"
Jim turned sharply.
An old man stood there, arms folded, face calm and unreadable. His voice had the weight of experience behind it.
"Even pro players take years to master their bond with a sprite. You… barely just started."
Jim squinted. "Who… who are you, uncle?"
The old man smirked.
"Who I am doesn't matter. You can call me Yuu Kenzo."
He walked forward and sat beside Jim, eyes watching the water.
"I've seen your matches. You've got something special. But you're still a beginner. You think you controlled that power last time?"
"No. Your sprite controlled you."
Jim blinked.
"If you truly want to walk this path," Kenzo said, "I can teach you. Not just how to awaken your sprite… but how to master it."
Jim looked at his reflection again. He no longer saw just disappointment.
He saw potential.
He saw a second chance.
And for the first time since leaving the field, he nodded.
"Okay… I want to learn."
Kenzo's eyes softened.
"Then stand up, Jim. This is where your real journey begins."