Elian awoke the following morning with a heaviness that wasn't just physical—it was a mental weight that pressed on him as he recalled the previous night's solitary training session. Though he had practiced for hours on the empty pitch, trying to tame the unpredictable flow state, he still felt that raw surge of power bubbling beneath the surface, wild and unrefined. He knew he had a long road ahead before he could control it completely.
After a quick shower and a light breakfast, he left his hotel and headed to the training facility. The city was already stirring in the early hours, and the cool air offered a welcome contrast to the inner storm of thoughts. On the bus ride, he stared out the window, replaying every moment of that night in his mind—the sudden clarity, the overwhelming calculations, the fleeting realization that he was no longer tethered to a digital guide. He was alone now, and with that came both freedom and uncertainty.
