Clarity in Chaos

Kael wasn't improving. Not in any way that counted.

He could stay upright now. Mostly. And he wasn't crashing into the rink boards every five seconds like some clueless beginner anymore.

But that didn't mean he was playing well.

Every pass he launched veered off-target. Every dodge came late. And when the ball did find him?

He dropped it like it was on fire. Or worse, gifted it to the enemy like a peace offering.

In Rollerball, mistakes weren't just embarrassing.

They were lethal.

His teammates had stopped yelling advice. The energy on the field shifted. Now, they just muttered, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to pretend they didn't mean for it to sting.

"Who put the NPC in the game?"

"He's gonna get someone killed."

"Bench him already."

Kael kept his eyes forward. He didn't flinch. He barely reacted.

Their caution was justified.

The more he fought to fix it, the worse it got. His legs moved before his brain caught up. His arms twitched too late. His instincts, the ones that were supposed to make him different, betrayed him.

He skated harder and overshot his target.

He reached farther and tripped, nearly taking out Orenji in the process.

He tried to block the blonde again but ended up face-first against the boards, his vision spinning.

His body ached. His pride cracked. And somewhere deep beneath it all...

He wanted to scream.

Wanted to rip off his helmet and throw it.

Hell, he wanted to laugh, just to break the spiral.

But instead, he stood there. Bent over. Breathing hard. Thoughts crawling like insects across his brain.

"What am I doing wrong...?" he wondered in frustration.

"Why can't I get this...?" he thought, defeated. "Honestly, nothing's helping my confidence..."

"Everyone else makes it look so damn easy." The comparison stung.

His fingers curled into fists.

"I'm trying. God, I'm trying."

But effort didn't matter if the outcome never changed.

***

During a timeout, Orenji jogged over to him. His face was sweaty, but calm.

"Look, man," he said, catching his breath. "You're not reading the game. You're chasing it."

Kael blinked. "I'm—what?"

"You've got instincts," Orenji said, wiping his face. "And that's fine and all, but Rollerball's not about reaction. It's about anticipation. You keep reacting to what's already happened. But... see the best players? They move a second before. You gotta read it. Watch. Then strike. That's the difference between a corpse and a champion."

Kael stared at him.

"He really has a strong resolve… unlike me. That's cool," he thought bitterly, the words stinging more than he'd admit.

He wanted to push back. Wanted to list every excuse he could and scream that he was doing his best. That he was watching.

But he wasn't.

Not really.

And all that came out was a hollow nod. "Yeah. Okay."

***

Back on the field, he tried something different.

He didn't charge in. Not this time.

He waited.

Watched.

At first, it felt like drowning slower. Every instinct screamed at him to move. But he forced himself to hold still.

And in that stillness, he noticed.

This was what he'd come to know as His first read.

The blonde attacker twitched left before passing right.

One defender's eyes always flicked toward the real threat every time.

The goalie leaned forward when nervous.

These were micro-movements. Small tells. They were barely visible but they told stories.

"Okay... that's something." The realization sparked a flicker of hope.

***

On the next play, Kael mimicked the blonde's step. He almost tripped again but this time, he caught himself. He didn't fall.

No cheers sounded. No one noticed.

But something sparked inside him.

"That was the first time I wasn't completely useless."

And strangely, impossibly, he felt it for the first time since the game began—

Excitement?

Orenji's voice called out behind him, snapping him from his thoughts. "Kael! Wake up, man!"

Kael turned and waved back, sarcasm hiding the flutter in his chest. "I'm awake!"

But inside, his thoughts had sharpened.

No more flailing. No more doubt.

The strong survive. That's the rule.

It wasn't a guideline. Neither was it a suggestion.

But a law written in pain, pressure and blood.

It had always been that way.

Long before this game.

Long before anyone cared what his name was.

And if he wanted to live not just exist, but matter—

He'd have to prove he belonged with the predators...

...or get eaten with the rest of the forgotten.

He inhaled slowly, his eyes locking on the blonde captain.

"I have to stick to him. Shut him down. Don't let him breathe." That one thought burned with urgency.

During the next few plays, something shifted.

His balance. His rhythm. His entire center of gravity.

Like his body had stopped resisting and started remembering.

He wasn't just playing anymore.

He was studying.

"This guy favors his right." he noted, analyzing every move.

"That forward drifts after a score." The observation filed itself in his mental playbook.

"The goalie leans forward on pressure." Another puzzle piece clicked into place.

Patterns emerged.

Habits.

Weaknesses.

And Kael—Kael was learning.

He made better reads. Anticipated cuts. He even whispered, "Hold. Wait... now!" just in time for Orenji to intercept a risky pass.

But it wasn't perfect.

He still missed a few shots. Made a bad pass. He even accidentally scored for the wrong team once, which hurt more than it should've.

His teammates paused.

They hesitated.

The old doubts returned to their eyes.

"Slow down!" Orenji barked during a scramble. "You're rushing again!"

Kael cursed under his breath. "I know! I know!" he snapped, frustration bubbling over.

His chest burned. His thighs felt like concrete. But the worst pain was the one in his chest. The ache of knowing he was trying harder than ever, and still...

Still falling short.

"I wanted this to be my moment. My proof."

"But right now... I'm just a joke." The thought struck hard.

And then, like a door opening in a burning room, the realization set in.

He'd been sprinting into a storm with no map, no plan, hoping effort would somehow outpace understanding.

It didn't.

It wasn't working.

So he inhaled again, slapped his cheeks, and focused.

"Don't let the panic set in. Don't let the chaos overwhelm you."

He thought it firmly, trying to stay calm.

Just:

Observe. Predict. Strike.

And that's when it happened.

Mirroring.

He'd read about it before.

The human brain was wired for it. An ancient survival mechanism coded deep in our DNA.

It didn't need training. It didn't need time.

It just needed a moment.

These were called mirror neurons, the same cells that fired when you performed an action or watched someone else do it. They were the foundation of learning. The core of empathy.

The reason a baby copies a smile... and a fighter mimics a master.

This was biology doing what it did best—stealing fire from the gods.

In other words, evolution's cheat code for survival.

And Kael?

Now, Kael was using it.

***

He mirrored him.

His eyes locked on the blonde's hips.

He matched his breath to his stride.

He let his shoulders go loose. His arms ready.

And when the blonde charged—

Kael didn't stop him, but slowed him.

He guided him. Subtly shifted his angle, nudging him toward the wall.

Just enough for Orenji to swoop in and block the shot.

"Nice," Orenji grinned.

Kael just nodded.

His lungs were tight, but his eyes were clear. It wasn't just instinct anymore.

It was imitation at the neurological level.

Monkey see. Monkey do.

But sharper. Quicker. Focused.

He wasn't thinking.

He was downloading.

"This wasn't just a game anymore," came the thought in his head, charged with new purpose.

"It was a puzzle."

"And I'm starting to solve it."

***

The scoreboard blinked: 2–6.

They were still behind.

But something had changed.

His teammates felt it first. Kael's wild energy had crystallized into precision. He wasn't the out-of-control rookie anymore.

He was reading the field like a tactician.

He wasn't chasing plays.

He was the strategist setting traps, manipulating space, drawing pressure.

The blonde tried the same spinning feint again but Kael didn't fall for it. He closed the angle and forced him into Orenji's line.

"Now!"

Orenji slipped in and stole the ball.

The pass came toward Kael but he didn't catch it.

Instead, he redirected it mid-air, backhanding it to a teammate wide on the edge.

Score: 3–6.

The crowd leaned forward.

Kael didn't celebrate.

He was still calculating.

The blonde captain stared at him, his eyes narrowing. For the first time, his confident grin was gone.

Kael stared back.

"I won't let you run as you please. Bring it."

The blonde roared and rushed.

Kael had baited him. He kicked the ball free and passed again.

Score: 4–6.

It was a small shift on the scoreboard, but a massive one on the field.

Cheers erupted. Real ones.

Not pity claps. Not half-hearted calls.

These were cheers laced with awe. With hope.

Orenji dashed over to him, breathless and beaming, his skates scraping to a halt. "You're cooking, man!" he laughed, his eyes wide with adrenaline.

Kael wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest still heaving. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes stayed sharp. "Let's keep going," he said, his voice low but focused, like a fuse that hadn't finished burning.

Each second sharpened his senses.

"Right side's weak!" he called it mid-glide. "Their #12 overcommits!"

His team adjusted.

Score. 5–6.

Momentum was building now, like a wave Kael had finally learned how to ride.

Then again.

Another turn. Another read. Another perfectly placed pass.

The pieces were moving in sync and Kael was steering the rhythm.

Then again.

The game was tied now. The score at 6–6.

***

The arena went still.

Even the guards stopped pacing.

Everyone was watching.

And somewhere between the pulse of the lights and the crack of skates, Kael felt it:

They were no longer losing.

They were hunting.

Kael, once the weakest player on the team, had become its brain.

No panic. No overthinking.

Just clarity.

Rhythm.

And when it came down to the final minute, Kael grinned like a demon tasting blood. His eyes were sharp, his breath steady. There was no fear left in him. Only hunger.

Every move he made was calculated, every thought controlled.

He wasn't just focused.

He was deadly.

One more goal to win.

And Kael?

Kael was ready.

< Chapter Ten > Fin.