Jim, Volt, Alex, and the rest of the Phantom Force squad were pushing their limits under the burning sun. Coach Tenjo was giving them hellish drills. Sweat poured, muscles ached, and the ground felt heavier with each step.
Jim focused intensely on controlling his Predator Instinct. He tried to read every move, every pass, trying to activate the ability without losing focus. Every successful prediction made his connection with Ravyn a bit stronger.
Volt was practicing aerial flicks—jumping, flipping, and striking the ball mid-air with increasing accuracy. His earlier breakthrough with Lightning Waltz had unlocked a new passion in him. He was no longer joking around. This was serious.
Alex sat on the sideline, still recovering from his injury. His Blue Dragon sprite pulsed gently beside him, as if watching the others too. Alex's eyes silently observed every drill. Even in silence, his hunger to improve was loud.
Suddenly, the air shifted. A loud laugh echoed through the training facility.
Team Crusher had arrived.
Their captain, Tokito, led the way, eyes full of arrogance. His teammates followed behind like shadows.
"So this is Phantom Force?" Tokito scoffed, arms crossed. "These are the clowns we're facing in the semi-finals? Is this some kind of joke? Look at your training… even my grandma can kick better than this!"
Coach Tenjo turned to them calmly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Do you need some kind of help?" he asked coolly.
Tokito smirked. "No sir, we're just here to see how I'll humiliate your team. Just getting a preview."
Tenjo replied calmly, "You'll see them on the field soon. But do you know Rule No. 1 of any sport? Never underestimate your opponent. Yellow Storm 11 made that mistake. They underestimated us in the first half, and we beat them in the second."
Tokito laughed. "Yellow Storm? That's a weak team. They only qualified for the finals in previous years by losing to stronger teams. You beating them wasn't an upset. It was expected."
At that moment, Alex walked over slowly.
"If you're so strong," Alex said coldly, "then why did your team get eliminated in the first round of the Type 2 tournament? Accept it or cry—your team is strong for Type 1 tournaments, and that's where your limit ends."
Tokito flinched at the sharp truth. He looked away, but then caught a glimpse—Volt was dribbling at hyper speed, executing his Lightning Waltz, his feet flashing like bolts. On the other side, Jim's eyes glowed faintly green—his Predator Instinct activating, tracking every movement on the field.
Tokito's confident smirk faded for a moment. He took a deep breath.
"You don't know how good our defending is," he muttered, but even his voice wavered a little