Dawn of the Code

The sun peeked through the clouds above Westlake High, casting long shadows over the training ground. Whistles cut through the brisk morning air. Cleats thudded against turf. Kyrie Barnes stood near midfield, alone, silent. His breath was steady, his eyes sharper than ever. It had been three days since Ren Nakamura's arrival. Three days since the mirror was placed in front of him. Three days since he declared war against his own limits.

"If I can jailbreak my mind... I can rewrite the code. Not to predict... but to dominate."

And today—the next phase began.

Coach Dominguez clapped his hands, gathering the squad. The Westlake Acers formed a loose semicircle around him.

"Listen up!" he barked. "We've qualified for the National High School Football Cup. Regional qualifiers begin this weekend. Our group has four teams: us, Clausten High, Rudderfield Academy—and our first opponent: Eastbrook High Rangers."

A murmur spread through the group.

Taylor raised a brow. "Eastbrook? They're top-seeded, right?"

Coach nodded. "Undefeated this year. And stacked. You want names? I'll give you names: Claren Seamus, Hodges Coleman, and their golden boy—Haden Scott."

Kyrie's eyes narrowed slightly.

"They'll press us. They'll provoke us. They'll mock us. But we've trained for this," Dominguez continued. "Today, we set the squad. Tomorrow, we travel. Match kicks off Saturday morning. Get your minds right."

The whistle blew. Scrimmage began.

---

Kyrie moved like water across the field. There was no tension in his limbs, only precision. Every pass was an equation. Every step, a calculated shift of gravity.

Dante dashed past him with a grin. "Hope you're not planning to play like a robot again. Eastbrook's gonna eat you up."

Kyrie didn't respond. His system was evolving. Beyond Dante's chaos. Beyond Ren's balance.

"Claren. Hodges. Haden."

Three new variables. Unknown data points.

Coach watched from the sideline. Eyes scanning. Mind deciding.

By the end of the session, the eleven were named:

Kyrie. Dante. Ren. Taylor. Jordan. Adam. Alex. Quinn. Miles. Evan. Crest.

The squad for war.

---

The Journey East

The bus hummed quietly as it rolled through winding highways toward Eastbrook. Rain danced against the windows. Inside, silence.

Kyrie sat by the window, headphones on, eyes fixed on the landscape blurring past. His mind replayed simulations—passing lanes, defensive shapes, tempo shifts.

Ren sat across the aisle, jotting notes into a small black notebook.

Dante lounged in the back, arms behind his head. A smirk played on his lips, but his eyes were serious. Everyone was locked in.

Even Taylor—usually loud—was quiet. Focused.

Jordan rested his chin on his palm. Adam slept.

It felt less like a team trip, more like soldiers moving to the front lines.

---

Eastbrook High

The campus was pristine. Modern. The field, tucked behind the school, gleamed under a late-afternoon sky. The Rangers were already there—stretching, joking, radiating confidence.

Coach Dominguez led his players across the field. A staff member greeted them. Then came the formal handshake—a display of sportsmanship before war.

That's when Kyrie saw him.

Haden Scott.

Lean build. Clean fade. Gloves on both hands. Aura like a king stepping onto his throne. He stood in the center of Eastbrook's team, chewing gum, smirking casually.

As they approached, Kyrie could hear it—the girls on the Eastbrook side already cheering.

"Go Haden!"

"Number 10!"

"Destroy them, baby!"

Claren Seamus was beside him—wiry, bright-eyed, grin plastered on his face.

Hodges Coleman, broader and built like a tank, rested a ball on his hip, expression unreadable.

"Westlake," Haden said, his voice lazy but cold. "Didn't think you'd send the B-team. Thought I'd get a challenge."

Dante stepped forward, laughing. "You'll get more than that, pretty boy."

Claren laughed. "Ohhh, he's got jokes! Haden, can we keep this one after we win?"

Kyrie's eyes locked on Haden. Silent. Calculating.

Haden glanced at him. Their gaze met.

He didn't blink.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't care.

Something tightened in Kyrie's chest. Not fear. Something else.

Recognition.

The same way Ren had looked at him.

But this wasn't curiosity.

It was dismissal.

---

Pre-Match

The stadium filled quickly for a school game. Local fans, students, scouts. The energy pulsed like a living thing.

Westlake huddled near their bench.

Dominguez's voice was steady.

"They think they're better. Let them. We don't need to win their game. We win ours. Play together. Fight smart. Trust your training."

Everyone nodded.

Kyrie pulled his shirt tighter. The number 14 on his back felt heavier today.

He glanced at Ren, who adjusted his wristband methodically.

Then Dante, bouncing on his heels, grin razor-sharp.

Then the whistle blew.

---

Kickoff

Eastbrook in navy. Westlake in white.

Haden stood over the ball at the center circle. Claren beside him. Hodges on the far right.

Kyrie settled into his position, watching. Absorbing.

He whispered to himself.

"If I can jailbreak my mind... I can rewrite the code."

The whistle pierced the air.

Haden tapped the ball back.

It began.

---

Kyrie surged forward, already in motion.

This wasn't Greenwood.

This wasn't training.

This was war.

He watched as Haden's first touch drew two defenders in—then slipped a ball behind their line with elegant cruelty. Cheers erupted.

Aura.

But aura alone didn't define greatness.

Dante would clash.

Ren would adapt.

And Kyrie...

"I'm not here to play by their rules. I'm here to rewrite them."

His heartbeat slowed.

Mind sharpened.

The field became numbers, shapes, pressure points.

"And soon they'll all see…"

He stepped into his first duel.

"…There was never just one code."

"…There was always a higher one."

The Code to True Perfection this was the first stage to test it to improve to reach a level beyond normal.