The next day, Coach Tenjo stood in front of the team holding a clipboard.
"I've filled out the entry form for the Type 1 Tournament," he said. "There's just one problem…"
He looked up.
"…We don't have a team name."
Volt instantly raised his hand. "Easy. Let's call ourselves Sprite Striker! It's got flair, punch, and—"
"Rejected," Coach said without blinking.
Volt slumped. "You didn't even think about it."
Then Volt sat back, crossed his arms, and muttered, "Fine. Then how about Mythos Eleven?"
No one reacted.
Not even a blink.
"…Tough crowd," he sighed.
Then Alex, still sitting under a tree with his headphones around his neck, calmly spoke up.
"Phantom Force."
The name echoed for a moment.
Tenjo raised an eyebrow. "Phantom Force…"
He nodded slowly.
"Mysterious. Strong. Gets the point across. I like it."
Volt pouted. "You like that but not Mythos Eleven? Unbelievable."
Jim smiled.
"Phantom Force… has a nice ring to it."
Two Days Later
Coach Tenjo blew his whistle.
"Alright, listen up! No sprites today. I want to see your real potential—just skill, grit, and raw football."
The players murmured. No sprites?
Jim felt his heart pound. This was his chance.
The practice match began. Jim was given a spot—almost as a filler—but the moment the ball touched his foot, everything changed.
He dribbled past three defenders.
Laser-focused.
He didn't have flashy wings or fire at his feet.
But the way he moved… it was different.
He scored once. Then twice. Then a third time.
A hat-trick.
Silence fell across the field.
Players stared at him, stunned.
"Is this the same guy who sat on the bench all season…?"
But Volt grinned from the sideline. Alex didn't even flinch. Coach Tenjo folded his arms.
No one was surprised—except the rest of the team.
Jim stood in the center of the field, chest rising and falling. Something stirred inside him.
A flicker of power.
A call from within.
Something ancient. Dormant. Waiting.
But not yet awakened.
Coach Tenjo clapped once.
"Jim. You're selected."
Jim blinked.
"As…?"
"Backup striker," the coach replied, then added, "For now."
Jim nodded, holding back the fire building inside him.
One Week Later
The stands were filled.
Cameras clicked. Sprites howled across the sky.
The Type 1 Tournament had begun.
And among all the stars, one team stepped onto the field with quiet determination.
Their name—
Phantom Force.