Now came the final minute of the game.
No resets. No timeouts. And there was definitely no excuses.
The score was tied—6 to 6.
All around them, the arena shook beneath the roar of the crowd. Fans were on their feet, screaming through a storm of tension. Horns blared, drums pounded, and metal stands rattled under stomping feet. But Kael heard none of it.
His world had narrowed to the track beneath his wheels.
Every breath he took sharpened his focus. Every muscle in his body was wound tight, like a wire pulled to its limit.
Across from him stood Sean, the blonde team captain of the opposing team. He adjusted his wrist guards and met Kael's stare with quiet intensity. The smug grin he wore earlier was gone. Now, there was only the grim tension of someone who'd finally realized this wasn't going to be easy.
Kael bent low with one foot forward, his knees ready and his gloves twitching. He stared right through Sean.
He wasn't here to play.
He was here to end it.
Sean tried to rattle him with a smirk. "Enjoy that tie while it lasts. You're going back to the dirt where you started."
Kael rolled his neck, slow and steady. He kept his voice even.
"Funny," he murmured. "I was about to say the same thing."
Sean snorted. "Keep dreaming, benchwarmer."
Kael's eyes were like glass. They were cold and clear.
"This is the dream," he said, wiping the sweat from his chin. "You're just the obstacle."
The whistle shrieked.
And they were off.
Sean blasted forward like a wrecking ball with raw power and no finesse. But Kael didn't react with panic. He didn't try to match the brute force.
He glided. Smooth. Quiet. And calculating.
Kael's eyes stayed locked on Sean, reading every twitch in his body. He noticed the slight roll of his heel, the way his torso leaned too far inward, and the strain building in his shoulders.
Fake right. Spin left.
Kael didn't fall for it.
When Sean lunged at him, full force, Kael didn't try to stop him.
He slipped around him.
They collided shoulder to chest, their arms tangled, their wheels grinding against the floor but Kael let the momentum slide past him. He shifted low, spun tight, and flicked his wrist with perfect timing.
The ball popped free.
Kael didn't even look at it. He pivoted hard and sent it flying with a no-look pass.
The ball bounced once. Orenji caught it and peeled left, charging down the track like lightning.
The crowd roared again, but Kael's mind was already ahead.
'They'll close in on him. He won't make it.'
He burst forward, cutting across the rink and weaving through two defenders before they could react. His wheels screamed against the surface, but his mind remained calm.
Orenji spotted him. Just for a second.
That was all they needed.
Through a single bounce, the pass came fast and clean.
Kael caught it mid-stride, never losing momentum.
The goal loomed ahead.
The goalie lunged, bracing for a straightforward shot.
But Kael didn't give him that.
He turned his body and quickly threw the ball. It flew low and fast, spinning as it moved. It curved under the goalie's arm like it knew where to go.
And it hit the net.
[BUZZER]
Game over.
For a moment, the arena fell into stunned silence.
Then it erupted.
The final buzzer still echoed in Kael's ears. The crowd exploded into a storm of cheers. Flags flew, feet pounded, voices cracked from screaming, only muffled by the weight of disbelief.
Kael blinked slowly.
That was the ball in the net, right? The scoreboard blazed 7–6 in bold red digits.
He'd done it.
But he wasn't standing tall, basking in the glory. He was sitting on the ground, drenched in sweat, blinking up at the sky like it held answers he didn't have.
Kael looked down at his hands, still trembling from the final shot.
"What just happened…?" he whispered to himself.
He hadn't planned that move. It had just happened—like muscle memory he didn't know he had. Like someone else had grabbed the wheel for a second and pulled him across the finish line.
The replay looped in his head. Sean barreling forward, the no-look pass, the flick of his wrist. The shot that spun like it had a mind of its own. It hadn't felt like strategy.
It hadn't even felt like him.
He hadn't just survived.
He'd owned that moment.
Kael sucked in a shaky breath, wincing as his ribs protested. Every muscle ached, his vision swam, and his heartbeat thundered in his chest. But under all that…
He felt the flicker, if only the slightest.
He felt hope.
Did I actually do that?
Did I win?
The thought felt too heavy, too impossible to be real.
"KAEL!" came a familiar voice, slicing through the fog.
Orenji skated over, beaming like a kid on sugar, his arms in the air.
"That shot! Holy crap, what even was that?! You cooked that goalie, ate and left no crumbs!"
Kael didn't answer right away. He just sat there, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling in stunned silence.
Orenji blinked. "Wait… you good?"
Kael's voice finally came, hoarse but certain.
"I don't know what I did."
Orenji tilted his head. "What? You mean you blacked out or something?"
Kael looked at his hands again, then shook his head slowly.
"No. No—I was there. But it didn't feel like something I've ever practiced. It was like... instinct. Like something old kicking in."
Orenji raised an eyebrow, letting out a low whistle. "So basically, your inner monster just said, 'My turn,' and wrecked the place."
Kael let out a short laugh, though it sounded more like disbelief than amusement. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Well, however you did it," Orenji said, plopping down beside him, "you scored the sickest goal I've seen in years. Like... they'll probably analyze it in training sessions or something. That curve—ugh! Beautiful."
They sat for a moment as the noise of the arena slowly faded. People were leaving. Teammates patted Kael on the back as they passed. But Kael stayed still, his mind spinning.
"Hey," Orenji said. "Ice cream?"
Kael blinked. "What?"
"You need a cool down, I need sugar. We're celebrating. Let's go."
Kael raised a brow.
"…Ice cream?"
"Yes, Kael. Ice cream. You've survived emotional whiplash, possible supernatural instincts, and Sean's sweaty rage. You've earned ice cream."
Kael huffed out a tired breath. It could've been a laugh. Or a sigh.
Maybe both.
After a beat, Orenji stood and stretched. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I'm starving here, alright? And you look like you're going to pass out. I, for one, know a spot that doesn't ask questions if you smell like rubber and victory."
Kael stared at him. He hesitated but finally stood with a groan.
"Fine. But I swear, if this is some weird flavor like sweet corn and wasabi, I'm walking back."
"Pfft, please. I'm not a maniac." Orenji grinned. "Double chocolate with caramel for me. You strike me as a cookies-and-cream guy."
"…That obvious?"
"Egoists always go classic."
Kael narrowed his eyes at the word. "Egoist?"
"Yep," Orenji replied as they headed out. "You've got that whole 'mysterious prodigy who secretly thinks the world revolves around him' vibe."
Kael huffed a dry laugh. "Seriously?"
"Don't deny it, bro. That shot was straight-up anime protagonist energy."
"Not this again. And I wasn't even trying to be flashy. I was trying to win."
"Exactly," Orenji said, nodding. "Egoist."
Kael looked away, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "You're insane."
"Probably."
They wandered through the streets of Stonehaven, the sky burning gold as dusk set in. The cool breeze carried the scent of grilled food, city dust, and something sweet. For the first time in a long while, Kael wasn't running. Or hiding. Or fighting.
He was… walking.
Just walking.
He looked at the people passing by—the families laughing, couples arguing playfully, kids racing on bicycles. So normal. So easy.
"I don't think I've ever done that before," Kael said after a while.
Orenji glanced sideways. "Done what?"
"Just… played like that. With all of me. You know, no filters. No fear."
"Felt good?"
Kael nodded. "Terrifying. But yeah. Kind of… free."
They reached a neon-lit ice cream stand tucked between two apartment buildings. The sign read STONE SCOOPS. It blinked like it couldn't decide whether it was open or broken.
Kael got pistachio and cookies-and-cream. Orenji, true to his word, went with double chocolate and caramel chunks.
They sat on the curb, plastic spoons clinking against their cups.
Kael's smile lingered for a second then faltered.
His breath caught.
Egoist…?
He'd heard that word before, but he couldn't place it.
His eyes drifted down to his half-eaten scoop. The word looped in his head like a glitch—egoist. Egoist. Egoist.
A memory clicked into place. It was the notification from this morning, tucked beneath his thoughts like a stone under a rug.
Incapacitate the egoist before 00:00.
He blinked slowly, then looked at Orenji.
"Hey," Kael said. "What makes someone an egoist, anyway?"
Orenji gave him a look. "You mean like you?"
Kael shrugged. "Humor me."
Orenji licked caramel from the back of his spoon, thinking. "Well… to me, it's not just someone who thinks they're the best. It's someone who has to be. Someone who'll do whatever it takes to stay on top. Doesn't matter who gets hurt, as long as they win."
He poked at his ice cream.
"In other words," Kael muttered, "someone selfish."
"Exactly." Orenji pointed his spoon like a judge's gavel. "It's not just confidence. Egoists don't care if the world burns, as long as they're warm by the fire. They see people like pieces, you know, tools or obstacles. Nothing in between."
Kael's gaze darkened slightly.
"So… someone like Sean?"
Orenji snorted. "That guy? Absolutely. He walks like the world owes him something. Acts like the rules don't apply to him. Bullies people just to remind himself he's still got teeth." A pause. "He's the worst kind of egoist. The kind that makes others small just to feel big."
Kael let out a long breath.
So that was it then.
That was the quest.
He looked down at his palm. They were still faintly bruised from the Roller ball scuffle but they were definitely starting to heal.
I must've done it, he thought. I incapacitated the egoist.
He sighed, leaned back against the curb, and let his eyes follow the trail of clouds drifting across the copper sky.
Quietly, almost to himself, he whispered, "Guess that means I won."
Orenji glanced at him. "What was that?" his mouth was half-full.
Kael just shook his head, smiling faintly. "Nothing. Just thinking."
"Dangerous pastime."
"Yeah," Kael murmured. "But sometimes it helps."
They lapsed into silence again, eating slowly as the sun dipped lower, the world around them softening into gold and shadow.
"I used to think surviving was all I could do," Kael said, staring into the swirl of ice cream. "But today…"
He paused, shaking his head.
"I felt like I mattered. Like I belonged on that rink."
Orenji leaned back, licking a melted line from his thumb. "See? That's the egoist talking again."
Kael laughed under his breath.
"Maybe," he murmured. "Maybe it's not such a bad thing."
Orenji gave him a sidelong look. "You're probably the only person I've ever met who could do what you just did and then immediately question if it even happened. Most people would be jumping up and down, bragging right now. But not you." he said thoughtfully.
The ice cream was halfway gone, melting in slow swirls beneath the amber city light.
Orenji sprawled beside him like a sunbathing cat, legs out, his back against the wall, his spoon lazily fishing out the last caramel chunk.
The silence wasn't awkward. It stretched between them like comfort.
"So…" Orenji began, his voice casual but carrying something heavier beneath it, "I never actually made the Argus Drift Program roster. Not fully."
Kael turned his head slightly, curious.
Orenji kept his eyes on his cup. "My mom pulled strings to get me on the trial list. I passed the physicals, failed the first three gift scans."
He licked his spoon, then sighed.
"I'm not gifted. Not exactly."
Kael didn't interrupt. He just listened, his attention razor-sharp even in his stillness.
"They gave me a title, though. A half-born."
Kael blinked.
Orenji smiled bitterly. "Sounds cool, right? Sounds like I'm one of those tragic chosen-ones in an anime or something. 'The half-born!'" He made a dramatic sweeping gesture, his voice mock-heroic. "Neither full human nor enhanced. Destined to be overlooked in both worlds!"
Kael let out a soft snort, amused by the flair but not missing the pain underneath.
"I'm not strong like the others," Orenji continued, quieter now. "I don't control fire, or bend water, or summon lightning. I can't fly, or teleport, or tear through walls. I just… feel things."
Kael's brow furrowed slightly. "Feel things?"
Orenji nodded. "Like… people. Tension. Emotion. Intent. I know when someone's lying before they say a word. When someone's hurting even if they hide it. I don't always know what to do with that, but it's there. Constant."
He paused, then added softly, "I felt it when you walked into the rink, you know. You weren't angry. You were just trying not to fall apart."
Kael's expression flickered.
Orenji didn't push. He just scooped another bite of ice cream and leaned his head back.
"I get why they don't think I'm useful. Being a walking empathy radar doesn't exactly win wars, you know. Doesn't score points. But sometimes... it's enough to remind someone they're not alone."
Kael looked away.
His voice came quietly. "You ever tell anyone that before?"
"Nope."
Kael's gaze returned to him. "Why now?"
Orenji gave a half-shrug. "Because you're quiet. And honest. And you're not pretending anymore."
A beat passed.
"Also," Orenji added, "because if I had told anyone else, they'd try to recruit me for a support squad or emotional wellness unit. And I don't want to wear a lame vest and say, 'Tell me how you feel' every day."
Kael barked a laugh. It was sharp and surprisingly… real.
"That bad, huh?" he managed in between chuckles.
"Worse," Orenji said. "They have matching sandals."
Kael shook his head, smiling. "Tragic."
"Thank you."
A breeze passed between them, brushing Kael's hair across his forehead. He let the last bit of ice cream melt on his tongue, then set the cup aside.
"And I wasn't angry," he said after a moment. "At the rink."
Orenji raised an eyebrow.
Kael stared out at the city's lights. "I was scared. Scared it'd happen again. That I'd lose control. That I'd become something I couldn't come back from."
Orenji didn't speak.
Kael looked down. "But when I moved—when I passed, spun, shot—it didn't feel like I was breaking. It felt like I was becoming."
He paused.
"I didn't know that could happen."
Orenji exhaled softly. "Yeah. Becoming's scary."
"But it feels better than pretending," Kael added.
"Now that is egoist talk," Orenji said, grinning.
Kael rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on."
"Nope. Totally egoist. You've got main character syndrome, bro."
Kael stood, brushing off his pants. "Says the half-born who gave me a monologue."
"Touché," Orenji said, getting up with him. "You gonna walk me home like a gentleman, or should I find a bicycle instead and pretend this never happened?"
Kael looked at him with a straight face. "Lead the way. But if you trip, I'm posting it."
"Do you have a phone?"
"I'll…. I'll find one. Eventually." Kael puffed out the words.
"Egoist and savage. Amazing."
As they turned onto a quieter street, lit with low amber lamps, Kael felt something settle in his chest.
Not fear.
Not adrenaline.
Something lighter.
A presence that didn't feel like a burden.
He glanced sideways at Orenji. He was always carefree, running his fingers through his hair, mumbling about how mint chocolate chip is a crime. And then he realized something strange.
Orenji reached over, offering the last spoonful of his ice cream with a grin. "Here. Winner's share."
Kael smirked. "That's disgusting."
"Come on, Mr. Egoist. Don't be selfish."
Kael took the spoon, rolled his eyes and laughed.
And for a moment, between caramel chunks and dusk-drenched sidewalks, being selfish didn't feel so lonely after all.
This was the first night in a long time he hadn't felt alone...
He realized.