NOVEL NEXT Chapter 158: Trial by Stopwatch
"Alright! We start with the speed test!"
Coach Soner's voice carried across the training ground—steady, sharp, cutting through the morning air.
The players gathered, boots crunching faintly over the synthetic turf. Beyond them, the HSV II staff moved like a well-drilled unit.
Clipboards in hand. Stopwatches around necks.
Even their efficiency spoke of a system far bigger than anything Julian had known back in Lincoln.
In America, he'd trained under one man—Coach Owens.
Here… there were layers.
Assistant coaches, trainers, analysts, each stationed with purpose, their eyes sweeping across every movement.
This wasn't high school football.
This was industry—precision sculpted into flesh and discipline.
Julian's gaze tracked the assistants as they finished setting up the course. Small black tripods blinked red at the start and finish lines—laser sensors waiting to judge every millisecond.
No bias. No mercy. Just data.
"Each of you will sprint 100 meters," Soner announced, his whistle dangling from his neck. "Seven per batch. No second tries. Your times go on record."
Murmurs rippled through the players—routine for them, but for Julian, it carried weight.
Every test here mattered.
Every number became a statement.
He caught fragments of their whispers.
"Normal drill."
"Should be easy."
But beneath those casual tones lay a quiet edge — none of them wanted to be the slowest. Everyone knew what numbers meant here: contracts, selections, promotions. Fail the stopwatch, and you failed the system.
The first batch lined up, crouched low, eyes forward.
Beep.
They launched off the line—feet slapping against turf, arms cutting air, every stride echoing power.
Julian's eyes followed the form, the rhythm.
Speed wasn't just about muscle. It was control—timing, breath, the coil and release of instinct.
And at this level, even a half-second could define worth.
"Those who've finished," Soner barked, "move straight to the 300-meter endurance lane!"
Players jogged off, lungs heaving, while the next batch stepped forward.
Julian rolled his shoulders, loosening his neck. His turn hadn't come yet. He could feel the tension ripple through the others beside him—men built strong, carved by years in academies.
They weren't boys chasing dreams.
They were soldiers defending their place.
The second group sprinted—cleats digging deep, bodies thrust forward like arrows loosed from a bow.
The timers clicked. The staff murmured numbers.
Julian could feel the pulse building in his veins, that old martial fire stirring in his chest.
"Third batch!" Soner called out.
Julian stepped forward.
He crouched low, fingers brushing the turf, eyes locked on the horizon ahead
Wind skimmed past his ears.
The world narrowed—just a single line before him.
No noise. No doubt. Only motion waiting to be claimed.
Should he go all in?
Full power—+50 to Agility?
Or conserve? +20 might hold enough.
Julian's mind flicked through numbers like a blade through air.
Average pro-tier agility… maybe a hundred.
His base? Sixty. Seventy with passives.
If he wanted to stand out here—this first impression, this trial by stopwatch—
He couldn't hold back.
[Rule The Pitch – Lv.3: +50 to Agility]
The pulse hit instantly—electric, precise.
Every muscle in his legs coiled tight, spring-loaded.
The whistle blew.
Bang.
Julian exploded forward, cleats shredding turf, form compact, strides snapping in rhythm.
Wind tore across his cheeks; breath synced to each step.
He drove his knees high, posture low, chasing that invisible finish line.
But as the meters melted beneath him, shadows flashed at his flanks—
One, then another.
A left-back cut through the air beside him—broad frame, razor stride. Melvin Wiesnet.
And just behind, a second figure surged—slimmer, sharp, burning fast. Fabio Baldé.
Julian pushed harder—veins alight, lungs scalding.
He crossed the finish just a hair behind Melvin. Fabio trailed close, face strained, eyes wide.
Not bad, Julian thought, slowing to a jog. But not enough.
Breath still ragged, he triggered ASHI.
The world sharpened—blue light pulsing across his vision.
[Activating Scan Lv.3…]
…
User: Fabio Baldé
Position: LW
Best Attributes:
• Agility: 171
• Stamina: 105
• Perception: 94
Skills:
• Lightning Breaker (Legendary)
• Fearless (Rare)
Age: 19
Total Attributes: 700
…
User: Melvin Wiesnet
Position: LB
Best Attributes:
• Agility: 138
• Stamina: 101
• Perception: 94
Skills:
• Endless Engine (Legendary)
• Pinpoint Cross (Rare)
Age: 19
Total Attributes: 700
…
Julian's pupils contracted.
One hundred seventy-one agility?
That wasn't human speed. That was lightning wearing boots.
…
For the next 300-meter run, the rhythm changed.
Not just sprint—endurance with bite.
And this time, Julian hit the line ready.
The whistle blew.
He surged forward—stride steady, breathing sharp, tempo alive.
Where others began to fade after the halfway mark, Julian only grew sharper.
His lungs burned clean, legs pounding like pistons.
He wasn't built for second place.
Not here. Not now.
With every lap, he layered his focus—
[Rule The Pitch – Lv.3: +50 to Agility]
[Rule The Pitch – Lv.3: +50 to Stamina]
Agility: 120.
Stamina: 130—boosted by the faint glow of the Endurance Band around his wrist, that rare bracelet giving him +10 stamina.
He could feel it pulsing faintly against his skin, like a heartbeat in sync with his own.
A gift from the system—small, but vital.
Still, he couldn't help the sigh in the back of his mind.
When do I get another one?
This path wasn't cheap. Power always had a cost.
For now, he'd take what he had and grind the rest from sweat and breath.
The 300 meters ended with two players collapsing to their knees, gasping, while Julian slowed with steady control.
His chest rose and fell, but his posture never broke. He made sure of it. If the stopwatch was cold data, then body language was fire — the kind that burned into rivals' minds.
He wanted them to see it: while they cracked, he endured.
As the run ended, Julian slowed, chest rising and falling, mind already elsewhere.
Not on the pain.
On the climb.
He thought of the cameras. The photos. The reporters' headlines.
He'd signed with Hamburger SV—the story would spread soon enough.
And with that came what the system craved most—eyes.
Fame. Attention. Followers.
His gaze flicked inward, like checking a HUD only he could see.
[Social Status: Noticed (4,127 Followers)]
Next Milestone: 10,000 (Local Buzz)
Followers Needed: 5,873
Close, but not close enough.
He hadn't even posted in weeks. No updates, no highlights, no clips from Lincoln, nothing since his win against san dimas.
Julian rubbed a thumb against the band on his wrist, mind sharpening.
Alright then. One step at a time.
A post after training. A reel from today's test.
Momentum built brick by brick.
Every milestone mattered. Every set of eyes brought him closer.
Closer to the stage where no one could ignore him.
He lifted his head, eyes cutting across the field.
Still breathing steady. Still standing tall.
Round one—done.
The next test waited.