Saturday, September 19, 2026
Blackwood City, Aurelia
Blackwood Football Academy
Evaluation Day 12 of 90
Ryan Mercer had never needed to wonder whether he belonged on the right wing.
That certainty had been built slowly.
It came from repetition rather than praise.
He had played there through different academy age groups.
He had learned when to stay wide, when to attack the fullback, when to release the ball, and when to track a runner all the way back toward his own penalty area.
Coaches trusted him because he understood what they wanted before they had to explain it twice.
He wasn’t the academy’s most talented player.
Marcus Renner had that reputation.
Ryan wasn’t the strongest player either.
There were defenders who could overpower him and midfielders who could control games better.
But right wing was his.
At least, it had been.
That changed when Luca Veyron started looking comfortable there.
At 7:18 a.m., Ryan was already in the changing room.
He sat alone for several minutes, tying and retying his right boot.
His phone showed two unread messages.
The first was from his older sister, Maya Mercer.
Good luck today.
Don’t overthink the Eastborough thing.
The second was from his father.
Keep working.
Scouts notice consistency.
Ryan locked the screen.
He understood the advice.
That didn’t make it easier.
Eastborough Athletic had requested additional footage.
So had Blackwood’s own development staff.
His performances mattered more now because there were people outside the academy watching.
Then Luca had appeared.
A player who had spent most of his development career at striker and midfield was suddenly receiving dedicated right-wing training.
Worse, the staff weren’t doing it because they felt sorry for him.
They had evidence.
Ryan hated that.
Not Luca.
The situation.
He stood and headed toward the pitch.
Luca arrived at 7:39 a.m.
Elias Morrow was beside him, talking about something that made Luca laugh.
Ryan watched them from a distance.
Luca looked relaxed.
That irritated him more than it should have.
Ryan walked over.
“You’ve got your right-wing session today.”
Luca nodded.
“Looks like it.”
“Don’t expect yesterday’s progress to make today easier.”
Luca looked at him.
“I don’t.”
Ryan studied him.
There was no arrogance.
No attempt to provoke him.
That made the competition harder.
If Luca had been loud or disrespectful, Ryan could have disliked him.
Instead, Luca simply wanted the same thing.
A place.
Ryan stepped closer.
“You know why I’m competing with you?”
“Because I’m competing with you.”
“That’s part of it.”
Ryan pointed toward the pitch.
“That position is the reason I’m getting minutes.”
Luca nodded.
“I know.”
“Those minutes are the reason Eastborough knows my name.”
“I know.”
Ryan’s expression hardened.
“Then don’t expect me to help you take them.”
Luca held his gaze.
“I wouldn’t.”
Ryan turned away.
That should have ended it.
It didn’t.
The morning session began at 8:30 a.m.
Victor Halden divided the players into positional groups.
Luca and Ryan were placed together.
The coaches wanted direct comparison.
Adrian Vale stood nearby with a clipboard.
Sofia Arden watched the warm-up from the medical area.
Noah Kessler worked with the midfielders.
Marcus Renner joined the forwards.
Elias remained with the defensive group.
Ryan noticed something immediately.
Adrian wasn’t watching the entire team equally.
He was watching him and Luca.
That alone increased the pressure.
The first drill was one-versus-one.
Ryan went first.
He received the ball near the right touchline.
The defender closed quickly.
Ryan used his first touch to move inside, forcing the defender to adjust.
Then he pushed the ball outside and accelerated.
The defender couldn’t recover.
Ryan crossed.
“Good,” Victor said.
Ryan returned to the line.
Luca stepped forward.
His first attempt was less clean.
The defender forced him toward the sideline.
Luca tried to cut inside.
The ball caught his heel.
Turnover.
Ryan smirked.
Not mockingly.
He couldn’t help it.
Luca looked over.
“Enjoy it.”
“I am.”
The next repetition belonged to Luca.
This time, he waited.
The defender moved first.
Luca attacked the opposite side.
He accelerated past him and delivered a low cross.
Marcus finished.
Victor called the point.
Ryan’s smile disappeared.
The drill continued.
By the end of the first round, the score was even.
The second drill added defensive responsibility.
This was where Ryan expected the difference to become obvious.
He knew the defensive side of the position.
Luca was still learning it.
The attacking team had ten seconds to create an advantage.
If possession was lost, the winger had to recover behind the ball before the next pass.
Ryan performed well.
On one sequence, he lost possession and immediately sprinted backward, forcing the midfielder to pass sideways.
On another, he tracked the fullback almost forty meters before winning the ball near the halfway line.
Victor nodded.
“That’s your standard.”
Ryan heard the praise.
He also noticed Adrian looking at Luca.
Luca’s first defensive recovery was late.
His second was better.
On the third, he lost possession and reacted immediately.
He sprinted back.
The opposing midfielder tried to play through the channel.
Luca cut it off.
The ball went out.
“Good recovery,” Victor said.
Ryan looked at him.
Luca was breathing heavily.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
But he was smiling.
That was the dangerous part.
He was learning.
At 10:16 a.m., the players took a short break.
Luca sat on the bench beside Elias.
Ryan stood near the water station.
Marcus walked over.
Ryan looked at him.
“You’re the striker.
Why are you complaining?”
“Because I have to decide which winger is going to feed me.”
Luca laughed.
Ryan shook his head.
“Pick whoever crosses better.”
Marcus considered it.
“Then Ryan.”
Luca looked at him.
“Thanks.”
“Today.”
Marcus walked away.
Elias laughed.
“He’s honest.”
“Painfully.”
Ryan looked toward Luca.
“You know what your problem is?”
Luca waited.
“You don’t have enough experience in the position.”
Luca nodded.
“I know.”
Ryan expected an argument.
There wasn’t one.
“You also have something I don’t.”
Luca looked at him.
“What?”
Ryan glanced toward the pitch.
“You don’t know what you’re supposed to do yet.”
Luca frowned.
“That’s a good thing?”
“Sometimes.”
Ryan took another drink.
“When you don’t know the rules, you can accidentally find another answer.”
Luca considered that.
Ryan walked away before the conversation became too personal.
The afternoon match simulation was the day’s real test.
Victor posted the teams.
Blue Team
Goalkeeper: Leon Hart
Right Back: Mateo Silva
Center Back: Daniel Arkwright
Center Back: Ibrahim Okoye
Left Back: Elias Morrow
Central Midfield: Noah Kessler
Central Midfield: Julian Cross
Right Wing: Luca Veyron
Attacking Midfield: Samuel Reed
Left Wing: Theo Martin
Striker: Marcus Renner
White Team
Goalkeeper: Aaron Bell
Right Back: Darius Cole
Center Back: Felix Ward
Center Back: Kieran Holt
Left Back: Nathan Brooks
Central Midfield: Ethan Cole
Central Midfield: Caleb Price
Right Wing: Ryan Mercer
Attacking Midfield: Andre Silva
Left Wing: Malik Johnson
Striker: Daniel Hayes
There was no confusion this time.
Luca was on the right for Blue.
Ryan was on the right for White.
They were directly opposed.
Victor looked at both teams.
“Forty-five minutes.
Full transitions.
Play normally.”
The whistle blew.
Ryan attacked first.
He received from Ethan Cole and immediately went after Elias.
Elias didn’t give him the outside.
Ryan tried to cut inside.
Elias followed.
Ryan stopped and played backward.
It wasn’t spectacular.
It was intelligent.
Luca watched.
A few minutes later, Luca received on the opposite side.
Nathan Brooks closed him down.
Luca slowed.
He didn’t force anything.
He waited for Noah to move.
Noah entered the half-space.
Luca went outside.
Nathan followed.
Luca crossed early.
Marcus attacked the ball.
Header.
Save.
Ryan watched the entire sequence.
He had seen enough.
Luca’s movement was becoming more natural.
His execution was still inconsistent.
But the instinct Adrian kept talking about was real.
Ryan didn’t like admitting it.
At 2:19 p.m., Ryan created the first goal.
Ethan found him wide.
Ryan received with his left shoulder toward goal.
Elias approached.
Ryan used his body to protect the ball, then accelerated down the line.
Elias recovered.
Ryan cut the ball backward.
Andre Silva finished.
White led 1–0.
Ryan raised a fist.
His teammates surrounded him.
Across the pitch, Luca stood with his hands on his hips.
He looked frustrated.
Ryan understood that expression.
He had worn it himself.
Luca responded eleven minutes later.
Noah received centrally.
Luca stayed wide.
Nathan Brooks moved toward him.
Marcus drifted across the center-back.
The defensive line shifted.
Luca moved.
He didn’t sprint immediately.
He waited until the gap appeared.
Then he accelerated.
Nathan turned.
Luca entered the box.
Instead of shooting, he squared the ball toward Samuel Reed.
Goal.
1–1.
Ryan stared at the play.
The movement had been clean.
More importantly, it hadn’t looked rehearsed.
Luca had reacted.
Ryan clenched his jaw.
The game continued.
The physical battle between the two wingers became visible as the match progressed.
Neither player could ignore the other.
When Ryan attacked, Luca tracked his movement from the opposite side.
When Luca received, Ryan shouted defensive instructions toward Darius.
“Don’t let him turn!”
Darius stepped closer.
Luca took a heavy touch.
Ryan smiled.
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
Luca looked at him.
Then he turned and sprinted back into position.
Five minutes later, Luca beat Darius and forced Ryan to track across the field.
Ryan reached him near the corner.
Luca tried to cut inside.
Ryan blocked the path.
Their shoulders collided.
The ball went out. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Both stopped.
Ryan looked at Luca.
“Good.”
Luca nodded.
“Good.”
They walked away.
The rivalry had become physical without becoming dirty.
That was exactly how Victor wanted it.
The match ended 1–1.
Ryan’s assist had created White’s goal.
Luca’s assist had created Blue’s equalizer.
Neither winger had scored.
Neither had dominated.
But both had produced something meaningful.
Victor gathered the players.
“Good session.”
He looked toward Ryan.
“Your final-third execution remains ahead.”
Then toward Luca.
“Your movement is becoming more consistent.”
He paused.
“Tomorrow’s rest day.
Report Monday morning.”
The players began leaving.
Ryan remained behind.
He was sweating heavily.
His right calf felt tight.
Sofia noticed.
“Ryan.”
He turned.
“Stretching area.”
“I’ve got it.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Ryan hesitated.
Then followed her.
The irritation he felt wasn’t only toward Luca anymore.
He was angry at his own body for needing attention when he wanted another chance to prove himself.
Sofia checked his calf.
“Muscle tightness.
No injury.”
Ryan exhaled.
“Can I train Monday?”
“If you recover properly.”
Ryan nodded.
A minor restriction.
But it was still a consequence.
At this level, missing even part of a session could matter.
At 5:42 p.m., Ryan sat alone in the academy cafeteria.
His phone buzzed.
A message from his sister.
How did it go?
Ryan typed.
Draw.
Then deleted it.
He tried again.
Luca’s getting better.
He stared at the sentence.
Then sent it.
Maya replied.
And you?
Ryan looked through the glass toward the training pitch.
He could see Luca leaving the building with Elias.
“I don’t know,” Ryan muttered.
He typed:
I’m still here.
Then sent it.
His sister replied with a heart.
Ryan put the phone away.
He didn’t feel reassured.
He felt tired.
At 7:26 p.m., Luca met Aurora.
She had spent the afternoon working on AURELIA’s upcoming production order.
She noticed his expression.
“You lost?”
“Draw.”
“Then why do you look like someone died?”
Luca laughed.
“Ryan.”
Aurora understood.
“Still difficult?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
Luca shook his head.
“You always say that.”
“Because difficult people make you improve.”
“He thinks I’m taking his position.”
“Are you?”
Luca paused.
“I want to.”
Aurora nodded.
“Then be honest about it.”
Luca looked at her.
“You don’t have to hate him to compete with him.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“I know.”
She reached for his hand.
“And you don’t have to feel guilty because someone else is afraid of losing something.”
Luca looked toward the street.
“I think I understand him more now.”
“That’s good.”
“Doesn’t make me want to lose.”
Aurora smiled.
“I would have been worried if it did.”
They stayed together for another hour.
Aurora talked about a supplier who had tried to change the terms of a small order.
Luca listened.
He didn’t understand every business detail.
But he understood the feeling of having to defend something you had worked for.
They were both learning that ambition came with competition.
Neither needed the other to disappear for them to succeed.
At 10:08 p.m., Luca returned to his room.
His ankle felt fine.
His right shin bruise was fading.
His legs were tired, but the soreness was ordinary.
He thought about Ryan.
The boy who had already earned the position.
The player with better experience.
The winger who could still outperform him.
Luca didn’t want Ryan removed.
He wanted to become good enough that the question of who should start could no longer be answered automatically.
That was different.
The System appeared.
[PLAYER DEVELOPMENT SYSTEM]
[Evaluation Day: 12/90]
[Days Remaining: 78]
[Competitive Environment Updated.]
[Primary Position: Right Wing]
[Current Established Competitor: Ryan Mercer]
[Ryan Mercer remains more developed in positional experience, defensive consistency, and final-third execution.]
[User development continues.]
[Observation: Increased competitive pressure is producing measurable adaptation.]
Luca read the assessment.
Then the final line appeared.
[Competition is not evidence of failure.]
He closed the interface.
Tomorrow was Sunday.
No academy training.
No tactical board.
No duel with Ryan.
He would have one day away from the pitch.
Ryan would have the same.
Both would return Monday knowing exactly what was at stake.
Luca looked at the notebook on his desk.
He didn’t write about becoming better than Ryan.
He wrote:
Earn the right to compete.
Then he closed the notebook.
Across Blackwood City, Ryan Mercer was probably doing something similar in his own way.
The academy had not chosen a winner.
It had done something more dangerous.
It had made two players believe the position was worth fighting for.