Chapter 153: Chapter 153 - Damon VS Lucian (1)

The atmosphere across the training grounds gradually changed the moment Barrack announced the next match.

The casual amusement that had accompanied the previous games slowly faded away, replaced instead by a strange anticipation that spread amongst the gathered students. Conversations lowered. Attention sharpened. Even those who had been chatting amongst themselves moments earlier now found their eyes drifting toward the field.

Because this match felt different.

Not because of the game itself.

But because of the people standing at its center.

Meanwhile—

Damon calmly stepped onto the field.

His white-and-gold academy uniform fluttered lightly beneath the morning breeze while his golden eyes remained fixed ahead.

Across from him—

Lucian Aetherwind stood equally calm.

The young man possessed the same composed expression he always carried, his neatly arranged sky-blue hair swaying gently in the wind while his clear blue eyes reflected neither hostility nor excitement.

There was no smile.

No challenge.

No provocation.

Only observation.

The two simply looked at one another.

Neither spoke.

Neither moved.

Yet somehow—

The silence between them felt louder than any argument.

Meanwhile, their respective teammates gradually assembled behind them.

Standing behind Damon—

Zarhka calmly adjusted her footing while silently studying the field ahead.

Mira looked considerably less comfortable.

The healer had absolutely no combat ability worth mentioning and seemed to understand that fact better than anyone present. She held her hands nervously before her body while repeatedly glancing between Damon and the opposing team.

Meanwhile, Eric looked like he had already accepted his death.

The orange-haired boy kept looking toward the sidelines as though searching for an escape route that did not exist.

"I just want everyone to know..."

Eric sighed.

"...that I was emotionally against this from the beginning."

Nobody responded.

Meanwhile—

Vaelith stood nearby with his arms crossed.

The young elf’s expression carried its usual arrogance, though Damon had already learned enough to understand that most of it was simply a defense mechanism for deeper insecurities.

The elf clicked his tongue.

"Honestly."

His gaze shifted toward the opposing team.

"They don’t appear particularly impressive."

Eric immediately looked at him.

"You say that about everyone."

"Because everyone is unimpressive."

Eric stared.

Then pointed toward Lucian.

"What about him?"

Vaelith paused.

Then looked away.

"...Moderately less unimpressive."

Meanwhile—

Across the field—

Lucian’s own party appeared considerably more balanced.

Every member stood calmly in position.

No obvious weak links.

No obvious liabilities.

And more importantly—

No obvious panic.

Damon quietly observed them.

Then observed his own team.

A faint sigh escaped him.

One side possessed organization.

The other possessed Eric.

The difference was significant.

Then—

The whistle sounded.

The match began.

The leather ball flew upward.

Immediately—

Several students exploded into motion.

The field that had seemed calm only moments earlier transformed into chaos.

Lucian’s team reacted first.

Not individually.

Collectively.

Three members immediately moved toward optimal positions while another advanced toward the anticipated landing point of the ball.

The coordination was clean.

Practiced.

Natural.

Meanwhile—

Eric looked upward.

The ball looked downward.

Neither seemed particularly confident.

Then—

Damon moved.

His body accelerated forward at the exact moment the ball began descending.

Not toward the ball itself.

Toward the players.

The distinction immediately caught Lucian’s attention.

Because while everyone else focused on possession—

Damon focused on positioning.

The first student attempting to receive the ball suddenly found his path blocked.

Not aggressively.

Not violently.

Simply occupied.

His angle disappeared.

Then a second lane vanished.

Then a third.

Meanwhile, Zarhka had already shifted into position.

Without receiving instructions.

Without verbal communication.

The goat beastwoman simply understood.

A narrow opening remained.

Exactly one.

And that opening led directly toward Mira.

The weakest player on the field.

The player nobody considered a threat.

The player everyone ignored.

The ball descended.

The opposing team reacted.

And precisely because they reacted—

The trap closed.

Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Predictable.

The moment attention shifted away—

Mira suddenly found herself completely unguarded.

Meanwhile, Lucian immediately noticed.

His expression sharpened.

Because unlike the others—

He understood exactly what Damon had done.

The game had barely begun.

Yet already—

The field was moving according to someone else’s design.

And for the first time since the match started—

Lucian’s blue eyes narrowed slightly as he looked toward Damon.

Meanwhile—

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Damon’s lips.

The game had only just begun.

Yet the first move had already been played.

The moment the opening exchange concluded, the pace of the match changed completely.

Unlike the previous games where overwhelming strength or simple momentum had often determined the outcome within moments, neither Damon’s party nor Lucian’s appeared interested in rushing forward recklessly. The ball continued moving through the center portion of the field while both teams constantly adjusted their positions, creating an ever-shifting battlefield where every step and every decision seemed to influence the flow of the game.

Meanwhile, students watching from the sidelines gradually began paying closer attention.

At first glance, the match appeared considerably less exciting than Khaira’s earlier domination.

There were no students being launched through the air.

No defensive lines being bulldozed apart.

No terrified screams.

Yet the longer they watched—

The more they began noticing the invisible battle unfolding beneath the surface.

Because unlike Khaira’s match—

This one was being played inside people’s heads.

The ball eventually descended toward the center zone, immediately drawing the attention of several players from both sides.

However, before anyone could properly react, Damon moved.

Not toward the ball.

Not toward the nearest opponent.

Not even toward the direction of the attack.

Instead, he calmly shifted several meters toward the left side of the field.

A movement that appeared meaningless.

Yet the moment he did—

Everything changed.

One defender instinctively followed.

Then another.

And suddenly, without anyone consciously realizing it, a large portion of the field had been subtly rearranged.

Meanwhile, Zarhka’s amber eyes immediately followed the movement.

The goat beastwoman possessed none of Khaira’s explosive aggression, yet she compensated with remarkable discipline. Her body remained low and balanced while her gaze continuously shifted between teammates and opponents alike, observing every change occurring across the field.

Without needing further explanation, she immediately understood what Damon was doing.

The opening.

The positioning.

The distraction.

Everything became clear.

Meanwhile, the ball finally reached Mira.

Or rather—

It accidentally reached Mira.

The healer visibly froze the moment the ball landed within her hands.

Several students watching from the sidelines immediately looked alarmed.

Mira herself looked even more alarmed.

For a brief moment she simply stood there staring at the ball as though it had somehow materialized from another dimension.

"W-What do I do?"

The question escaped her lips in complete panic.

Meanwhile, several defenders had already begun changing direction toward her position.

Damon didn’t even look back.

"Pass."

Mira blinked.

"To who?"

This time Damon finally turned.

His expression remained perfectly calm.

"Preferably someone wearing our uniform."

Several students immediately burst into laughter.

Even Mira looked embarrassed.

Yet the humor somehow eased her tension.

Without thinking further, she immediately threw the ball toward the nearest friendly target she could identify.

Unfortunately—

That target happened to be Eric.

The orange-haired boy noticed the incoming ball at exactly the same moment the ball noticed him.

The resulting collision looked entirely unavoidable.

THUMP.

The ball struck his chest before bouncing awkwardly into his arms.

For several moments—

Eric simply stared.

Then stared some more.

Then looked around.

"I caught it."

The statement sounded less like confidence and more like genuine surprise.

Meanwhile, Damon sighed.

"Run."

Eric blinked.

Then immediately looked ahead.

Three opposing players were already charging toward him.

His face lost all color.

"DAMON!"

The scream echoed across the field.

"They’re coming!"

"Pass."

Eric didn’t need to be told twice.

The ball left his hands so quickly that several spectators wondered whether he had thrown it before Damon finished speaking.

Meanwhile, Zarhka smoothly received the pass.

The goat beastwoman immediately accelerated forward.

Unlike Khaira, whose every movement resembled an avalanche crashing downhill, Zarhka moved with measured efficiency. Every step remained balanced. Every shift of weight appeared deliberate. She wasn’t trying to overpower the field.

She was trying to understand it.

Her eyes continuously moved between friend and foe while analyzing the changing positions.

Then suddenly—

She spoke.

"Opening. Right side."

The words were simple.

Almost casual.

Yet the effect was immediate.

Because the statement wasn’t intended for everyone.

It was intended for one person.

Damon.

Without needing further explanation, Damon immediately altered his route.

The moment he did, two defenders instinctively shifted toward him.

The opening widened.

Exactly as Zarhka predicted.

And without hesitation, she launched the ball through the newly created gap.

Several students followed its trajectory.

The pass was perfect.

Fast.

Clean.

Accurate.

The receiver extended his hands elegantly.

Vaelith.

The elf caught the ball with such grace that for a brief moment several students almost found themselves impressed.

His silver hair flowed dramatically.

His posture remained flawless.

His expression carried the same aristocratic confidence he always displayed.

For one glorious second—

Everything looked magnificent.

Then reality arrived.

A defender slammed directly into him.

The elegant posture vanished.

The aristocratic dignity disappeared.

And the elf nearly lost possession of the ball entirely.

The spectators immediately burst into laughter.

Meanwhile, Vaelith somehow retained control.

Barely.

His face twisted with outrage.

"Barbarians."

The insult escaped him automatically.

Then, before another defender could reach him, he quickly passed the ball onward.

Because despite his pride—

He wasn’t foolish.

At least not completely.

Meanwhile, standing near the center of the field, Lucian quietly observed everything.

His expression remained neutral.

His posture remained composed.

Yet his eyes had gradually sharpened.

Because the more he watched Damon’s party move.

The more unusual it appeared.

Objectively speaking, the team possessed obvious weaknesses.

Mira lacked combat ability.

Eric lacked confidence.

Vaelith lacked social skills.

And yet somehow—

Those weaknesses kept disappearing.

Or rather—

Damon kept turning them into strengths

Mira’s lack of threat allowed her to be ignored.

Eric’s cowardice made him hyper-aware of approaching danger.

Vaelith’s arrogance ensured he always positioned himself where he believed others should be.

And Zarhka provided stability for the entire formation.

The realization caused Lucian’s blue eyes to narrow slightly.

Interesting.

Meanwhile, across the field, Damon noticed the protagonist observing him.

Their gazes met briefly.

Neither spoke.

Neither reacted.

Yet both understood the same thing.

This match was no longer about the ball.

Nor was it about scoring points.

It had become a contest of judgment.

A contest of leadership.

A contest of who could better read the battlefield and the people standing upon it.

And judging from the increasingly focused expressions appearing on both sides—

The real match had only just begun.