Stalemate

The match continued at a blistering pace, with the tension mounting as the clock ticked down. Both teams pushed each other to their limits, but for Elian, fatigue was beginning to creep in. His legs felt heavier with every stride, and the explosive bursts of energy that had defined his play earlier in the match were no longer sustainable.

He glanced toward the sidelines, catching Edward's watchful gaze. The coach gave him a quick thumbs-up, a small gesture of encouragement. Elian nodded in return, but he knew he had to conserve his energy wisely now.

As the ball was momentarily out of play, Elian took the chance to converse with Meta.

"Meta," he muttered under his breath, careful not to draw attention.

"Yes, Elian?" Meta's voice chimed in his head, calm and devoid of its usual teasing tone.

"I'm running out of gas," Elian admitted. "What do you suggest? Should I push harder, or should I start pacing myself?"