Damien stepped onto the grass with a quiet rhythm in his steps, the breeze tugging lightly at the hem of his shirt. The sun was gentler than usual—warm but not oppressive—and the field stretched out before him like a challenge dressed in green.
This time, no one flinched.
No stares. No whispered side-comments.
Not because they weren't aware of him.
Because they'd adjusted.
Damien Elford wasn't the unpredictable wildcard anymore. He wasn't the fat, sweaty mystery standing awkwardly at the edge of the team lines. He'd played once. Then twice. Then not at all last week—and somehow, that had solidified him more than his presence could have.
He was just there now.
Expected.
That suited him fine.
The bracelet on his wrist was already secured, the small silver notch of the Awakening Seal snug against his pulse. No system skills. No boosts. No "cheat." Just muscle, instinct, and blood.
He rolled his neck once, then jogged across the half-line where the two teams had begun to split.
