Titan Academy's evening sky always carried a strange glow after sunset. The towering energy grids surrounding the campus reflected streaks of soft blue into the air, giving the whole place a kind of gentle hum. Usually, Blaze liked it. It made him feel grounded, like the world was calm for once.

Tonight it felt different.

He sat alone in the small analysis room Jason had assigned to him. The holographic desk flickered with paused match footage, frozen on a blurry frame of Aya making a tackle. Blaze hadn't pressed play for the last ten minutes. He kept staring at the screen, but none of it was sinking in.

His rib still throbbed under the brace, but that wasn't what bothered him.

A soft buzz vibrated through the room.

Incoming message.

Blaze tapped the display and a sleek holographic envelope materialized. The sender name wasn't a club, a scout, or a federation. It was just a clean, unnerving tag:

AURION CAPITAL PRIVATE.

Blaze frowned. He had never heard of them.

The envelope split open, and a new hologram unfolded. A tall figure appeared, dressed in a smooth gray suit, face partly blurred by intentional distortion. No identifiers. No crest. No background.

Just a voice.

"Blaze Anderson," the figure said, smooth and calm. "We've been monitoring your rise, your abilities, your growth… and your potential future impact."

Blaze straightened slightly, uneasy.

"We believe you are more than a striker. You're an anomaly. And anomalies deserve to be nurtured. Supported. Elevated."

A contract materialized beside the speaker, rotating slowly.

"In exchange for your enrollment into our Elite Performance Advancement Program, you will receive full access to augmented training, recovery technology beyond Titan Academy's current scope, and direct mentorship through our private staff."

The figure paused.

"You will train off-site twice weekly. Mandatory. Independent from your team."

Blaze's breath caught.

"This is not a transfer offer. This is an investment. Into you."

Then, the final line:

"Your coach will be notified upon signature. But we chose to inform you first. Because you deserve to choose your future."

The hologram blinked.

End of message.

Blaze stared at the contract floating in the air. Lines of digital text glowed softly, as if waiting for him to reach out and claim them.

A better recovery. Exclusive technology. Private coaching. Elite support. It sounded incredible… and wrong at the same time.

If he signed, things would change. Not in a small way, but in a way that could shift the foundation of everything he had built with the Titans.

He rubbed his forehead and leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"Why now…"

His rib twinged when he breathed too deep. A reminder of his helplessness. His limits. The injury had slowed him down, pulled him out of games, forced him to sit and watch the team train without him. And now this offer dangled in front of him like a shortcut.

The kind of shortcut only a fool refused.

And yet…

A knot formed in his stomach.

He closed the hologram before he could think too much.

He needed air.

Outside, the night breeze was crisp.

Blaze made his way through the courtyard, walking carefully so the brace didn't tighten his ribcage. Students drifted past him, laughing, talking, tossing balls around. A few recognized him and waved.

He waved back, but his mind wasn't there.

Aya spotted him near the fountain. She trotted over, still in her training gear.

"You disappeared," she said. "Jason said you were in the analysis wing."

"Yeah. Just needed a break," Blaze replied.

Aya studied him quietly. She was good at reading people, especially him.

"You look… off."

Blaze forced a smile. "Just tired."

"From sitting and watching film?" she teased lightly.

"Yeah."

He didn't laugh.

Aya tilted her head. "You sure nothing happened?"

Blaze hesitated for a moment too long, and Aya caught it.

But she didn't push. She never did.

She just nodded and sat beside him on the fountain edge.

"You know," she said softly, "you don't have to pretend with us."

Blaze looked at her, unsure what to say.

"Everyone feels the shift," she continued. "You're quieter. You're watching us train like you're far away, not just physically but… somewhere else."

Blaze swallowed.

"You think Jason noticed?"

Aya scoffed. "He always notices. He's just waiting for you to tell him why."

Blaze looked away, the contract's hologram replaying in his mind like a whisper he couldn't shut out.

Aya bumped her shoulder lightly into his.

"Whatever it is, don't let it sit and rot in your chest. That's how people break."

He stared at the ground. "Not everything is simple."

"I know." Aya stood, brushing her hands together. "But you're still part of this team. Even injured. Don't forget that."

She jogged off to join Scarlett, leaving Blaze with the echo of her words.

Still part of this team.

He wished he believed that as much as she did.

Back in the training hall, the mood was different without him.

Scarlett and Aya ran drills together, sharper than usual, trying to compensate for Blaze's absence. Lionel anchored defensive structure with more responsibility than ever. The coaches whispered among themselves, adjusting rotations and formation trials.

Even the sound felt different.

Louder.

Emptier.

As Blaze entered the hall again, he paused near the entrance. He watched quietly. Watched Aya do an extra sprint. Watched Scarlett attempt finishing drills she usually left to him. Watched the midfield try new passing patterns to cover the missing bite up front.

He felt it.

The shift.

Not intentional. Not hostile.

Just… reality trying to move forward.

He wasn't out there, and they were learning to fill the gap.

A dull pressure wrapped around his chest that had nothing to do with the fracture.

Jason, overseeing a defensive sequence, turned and spotted Blaze.

"Hold that drill!" he called before walking toward him.

Blaze straightened slightly.

Jason approached with that steady, unreadable look he had perfected as a coach.

"What's going on with you?" he asked quietly.

Blaze blinked. "Nothing. Just adjusting."

Jason shook his head. "Don't do that. Don't give me answers you think sound clean."

Blaze looked away. "It's fine."

"No," Jason said, stepping closer. "Something's off. You're in your head. You didn't even take notes in analysis this evening. And you've been flinching every time someone mentions 'future training'."

Blaze stayed silent.

Jason crossed his arms. "Talk to me."

Blaze took a breath, rib aching at the stretch.

"I got a message," he admitted finally.

Jason's brow tightened. "From who?"

"A private investor group."

Blaze's voice was low, almost reluctant. "Aurion Capital."

The reaction was immediate. Jason's jaw locked for half a second. His eyes sharpened.

He knew the name.

"What did they send?" he asked.

"A contract. Some… program." Blaze rubbed his hands together nervously. "They want me to join this exclusive training development thing. Off-site. Twice a week."

Jason breathed out slowly, the kind of exhale that hid frustration under control.

"And you're considering it."

Blaze didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Jason shook his head slightly. "You're hesitating. That's not like you."

Blaze stiffened. "I'm injured. I can't do anything. They're offering something that might help me get back faster, stronger..."

"Or they're trying to separate you from your team," Jason cut in.

Blaze flinched. "It's not like that."

"You don't know that."

Blaze felt heat rising in his chest. "I can't just sit here doing breathing exercises while everyone else gets better. I can't slow down. Not after everything I fought for."

Jason's voice softened. "You're not slowing down. You're healing."

"I feel useless," Blaze whispered.

Jason's eyes softened, but the firmness stayed.

"Being injured doesn't erase your worth. And chasing shortcuts doesn't fix broken ribs or broken trust."

Blaze looked away again. The weight of the contract felt heavier than ever.

Jason stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Let me be clear. Whatever they told you, whatever promises they made… this decision will impact more than your recovery. It will ripple through the team. Through your place here. Through how we move forward."

Blaze swallowed hard.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly.

Jason answered without hesitation.

"I want you to think beyond pain and frustration. I want you to remember who you are. And I want you to tell me the truth."

Blaze looked up.

"Do you want to take that offer?"

Silence stretched.

Long.

Heavy.

Blaze opened his mouth… and closed it again.

That was all Jason needed.

He nodded slowly. "Alright. Then we're going to talk about this properly. Not now. Not while emotions are running wild. Tomorrow, my office. Morning."

Blaze didn't argue.

Jason placed a hand briefly on his shoulder.

"You're not alone in this. Don't forget it."

He turned and walked back to the field.

Blaze stood there, the echo of Jason's words lingering in the back of his mind.

Not alone.

He wished it felt true.

Hours later, in his dorm, Blaze lay on his bed staring at the ceiling.

The contract hovered above him in projection mode, slowly rotating.

Good offer.

Amazing offer.

Impossible offer.

His chest tightened again.

Not from the injury.

From fear.

Fear of falling behind.

Fear of being replaced.

Fear of watching the team rise without him.

Fear that this injury might be the first wall he couldn't run through.

He hated the feeling.

He hated himself for considering what looked like running away.

His holopad buzzed again.

Aya sent him a voice note.

"Whatever you're thinking about doing… don't do it alone."

Blaze closed his eyes.

He didn't respond.

Not yet.

But tomorrow, in Jason's office, he'd have to make a choice.

And whichever way he leaned…

nothing would stay the same.

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