The Tournament Approaches

Daniel wiped sweat from his forehead as he lined up for another sprint drill. The tournament was two weeks away, and Coach Navarro wasn't going easy on anyone.

"¡Más rápido, más rápido!" (Faster, faster!) the coach barked as they ran the cones.

Daniel pushed himself harder, but something felt off. His surroundings seemed sharper—almost too sharp. He could hear every breath, every footstep. The rhythms of the players' movements slowed in his mind, just like in class.

No. Not now.

His legs locked up for a second, and he tripped over his own feet. Crash.

Laughter rippled through the team. Álvaro smirked. "Parece que Carter ya está cansado." (Looks like Carter is already tired.)

Daniel gritted his teeth and got up. Coach Navarro didn't look impressed.

"Focus, Carter. If you want to play in this tournament, I need to see better."

Daniel nodded, but inside, he was panicking.

If his powers kept acting up, he'd lose his spot in the lineup.

Then, out of the corner of his eye—he saw him.

A man stood near the stands, watching. He was different from the ones Daniel had seen before. Older. More serious.

And when their eyes met, Daniel knew.

He wasn't just some random spectator.