Winston spent the next few hours wandering around the hotel, waiting for the ten o'clock training session. He was deeply unsettled by what he had overheard. While he had been away training with Dumi, the situation surrounding his upcoming match had escalated far beyond what he had expected.
People stared at him as he walked by. Others whispered among themselves. It seemed bets had been placed on both Winston and Maximilian, with Maximilian heavily favored to win. Despite Dumi giving him the day off, Winston still made his way to the training ground to warm up. The growing popularity of the match had begun to get to him. The whispers and curious glances followed him everywhere, making it impossible for him to enjoy the hotel tour Dumi had told him to take.
Eventually, he gave up on trying to relax and returned to the training ground. He continued warming up until the training session was about to begin. Near the training ground's outer fence sat a familiar black SUV. Its darkly tinted windows revealed nothing inside. The vehicle had been parked there for quite some time, seemingly watching Winston from a distance.
Inside the vehicle, two figures observed him. "Ma'am, he seems to have improved since earlier. I think he's ready."
"It's not enough. He still needs more time." A pause followed. "Let's keep watching him from here. We'll see just how far he's improved during the upcoming match."
Winston eventually sat down on the concrete steps, allowing the gentle morning sunlight to warm his skin after completing his warm-up. The training ground was completely empty except for him. Dumi had arranged for them to have exclusive access to the facility during specific hours.
I hope Dumi has some advanced shooting drills planned. Winston rubbed his chin. I need to ask him about the dead-ball technique. Maybe he can finally help me master it.
"You done with the warm-ups?" Dumi's voice came from above him. Winston's head snapped upward. He immediately sprang to his feet.
"Um... yes."
Dumi stood over him with his arms folded, his expression showing clear disapproval. Winston rubbed the back of his head. He hadn't expected Dumi to show up today. After all, he had been given the day off.
Looking down, Winston struggled to come up with an excuse. Finally, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Coach. I know you told me to take the day off, but word about the upcoming match has already spread."
Dumi stared at him for a moment. "Didn't you at least get some sleep? You're still nervous about the match, aren't you?"
Winston remained silent. Dumi sighed. "It's okay to be nervous. Just don't let it control you." He glanced toward the empty training ground. "Oh, and your match has become popular around the hotel... and outside it too."
Winston's shoulders sank. "...I noticed."
Dumi gave him a knowing look. "C'mon. Let's continue training."
Winston followed him. "What are we focusing on this week?"
Dumi thought for a moment. "Oh, right. Physical conditioning."
Winston's eyes lit up. "Coach, can you teach me the dead-ball kick?"
"Not yet."
Dumi continued arranging the training equipment. "First, we need to build your physical form. There are three main dead-ball styles I want you to learn: the dip, the knuckleball, and the power knuckle." Winston listened carefully. "Your form is still too basic. Your dead-ball attempt against Arlesey was terrible. Honestly, I should've started with your physical conditioning from the beginning, but your ball control, dribbling, and passing needed more attention." Dumi placed the final cone down. "Anyway, we'll get to the dead-ball technique later. For now, we're working on your stamina."
Dumi arranged eight cones in a perfectly straight line, leaving exactly one meter between each cone. "Start here."
Winston nodded. He began weaving between the first four cones with a quick zigzag movement without touching any of them. When he reached the fifth, he lightly tapped the ball before continuing through the remaining cones. He repeated the drill twenty times, moving back and forth across the line.
Dumi watched closely. "This will help develop your explosive acceleration. Don't just focus on speed. Keep your movements controlled."
Winston nodded and continued. After completing the drill, Dumi immediately moved on. "Next. Shuffle runs." The cones were rearranged into another straight line, this time with several meters between each one.
Dumi demonstrated the movement. "Stay low. Keep your center of gravity balanced. Move laterally without crossing your legs. Stay light on your feet."
Winston followed his instructions. He darted between the cones, his feet skimming across the grass as he moved from side to side. His movements were sharp and controlled.
"Good," Dumi said. "Again."
Winston repeated the drill. The shuffle runs were designed to improve his reaction speed, body control, balance, and acceleration. With every repetition, Winston became more comfortable with the movement. After a short break, Dumi rearranged the cones again.
"Triangle dash." Six cones were positioned diagonally across the field. "This drill is for agility and acceleration. You'll sprint between the cones in this pattern. Focus on your turns. Don't waste movement."
Winston nodded. He exploded toward the first cone. Then the second, then the third. He changed direction sharply before accelerating toward the next. Again, And again.
He completed roughly twenty repetitions, matching the number of sets he had done during the previous drills. By the end, sweat covered his body, but his breathing remained steady.
Dumi watched him carefully. His acceleration has improved.
Ding!
[Nethen Essence: 60%]
[Voltage Core: 60%]
"Okay, that's enough for now. Take a breather. We'll resume later," Dumi said, watching Winston's movements from a short distance.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Winston's improvement had been surprisingly quick. Even Dumi, who had expected progress, hadn't anticipated how rapidly Winston would adapt to each drill.
"I spoke with your coach. After we finish the shooting portion of your training, we'll be going on a trip."
Winston glanced at him with a concerned expression. "Oh... okay. Is it related to training?"
Dumi turned toward him with a faint smile. "Yes, it is. But whether it'll be fruitful depends on you." He paused before looking around the training ground. "By the way, who's that kid who plays on the wing?"
"You mean Oswin Alexus?" Winston asked, furrowing his brow.
Dumi's eyes suddenly lit up. He picked up the football and pointed at Winston as though he'd just remembered something important. "Yeah, him. Bring him along to our next session."
"Okay. Will do."
Dumi nodded. "The next few drills will mark the end of our current session. After that, we'll head to a gym owned by one of my old friends. He'll take us through some upper-body exercises."
Winston nodded before turning his attention back to the training ground.
The final drill of the session focused on Winston's footwork. Dumi placed a flat agility ladder on the grass. "Step in and out of each square as quickly as you can. Keep your movements controlled. Don't let your feet get tangled."
Winston nodded and positioned himself at the start of the ladder. He began. His feet moved rapidly through each square, maintaining a steady rhythm as he progressed down the ladder. The drill was simple compared to some of the exercises Dumi had put him through earlier, but Winston quickly understood its importance. Every movement demanded precision. A single misplaced step could disrupt his rhythm and force him to start again.
He completed twenty repetitions. By the final few, his feet were moving almost automatically. Dumi nodded approvingly. "Good. Agility ladder drills are about more than just moving your feet quickly. They improve coordination, rhythm, timing, acceleration, and body control. Those things matter when you're trying to create space or change direction in a match."
Winston wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Got it."
Dumi picked up the ladder. "That's enough for today. Let's head to the gym."
Winston grabbed his training bag. As they walked away from the pitch, he couldn't help feeling excited.
We're finally getting closer to the shooting drills. That was the part he'd been waiting for. Maybe Dumi can finally help me fix my dead-ball technique.
Ding!
[Nethen Essence: 61%]
[Voltage Core: 61%]
The combination of Dumi's training drills had helped Winston improve not only his body control but also his mental focus. Until now, he hadn't realized how much pressure he had been putting on himself. Dumi had warned him earlier that stressing over the upcoming match would only tighten his muscles and increase the risk of injury. Winston needed to take things one step at a time.
The training had gradually taught him to focus on the task at hand rather than obsess over the match. Dumi had also introduced him to several techniques designed to improve his concentration and help him remain calm under pressure. During the first week of training, Dumi had even suggested that Winston spend two hours in the sauna to relax his muscles. The intense training sessions could cause excessive muscle tension and, if left unchecked, potentially lead to injury.
"Did you find it? The stuff?" Maximilian leaned against the hotel's iron balcony railing, his eyes fixed on Winston training in the distance. His expression was cold and calculating. He raised his hand, forming his index finger and thumb into a pincer-like gesture before slowly closing them, as though crushing something between them.
"Mmm. Yeah, I got it." A raspy, rugged voice came from behind him.
The striker coach leaned against the wall, flicked open a lighter, and took a drag from his cigarette. "It's interesting seeing Dumi train that boy. Still the same basic stuff." He exhaled a stream of smoke. "But hey, everyone has their own way of training, I guess."
He reached into his pocket. "It'll cost you more, though. It wasn't easy getting this."
Maximilian glanced over his shoulder. The striker coach's expression hardened. "Aren't you afraid? If they find out, you'll be kicked out of the league and arrested."
"One problem at a time," Maximilian replied coldly. "Once I win the upcoming match, I'll deal with the rest." He tightened his grip around the balcony railing. "I need to crush Winston. Someone who played terribly in the senior league can't possibly outdo me."
His eyes narrowed. "I need to go back. Those bastards on the senior team used me and forced me out." Maximilian turned toward the striker coach. "He's being trained by one of the legendary strikers. Even though I've been playing and training longer than him, he's improving far too quickly."
The striker coach remained indifferent, calmly smoking his cigarette.
"So I can't underestimate him," Maximilian continued. "I need to make an example out of him."
He turned his gaze back toward Winston. "I'm the best striker on this team."
The striker coach inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling. He flicked the cigarette butt over the balcony and reached into his pocket. After rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a small black, resealable plastic bag.
He handed it to Maximilian. Maximilian took it without a word and slipped it into his jacket pocket. As he walked away, the striker coach stepped closer to the balcony railing and watched Winston from above.
"Interesting..." A sinister smile appeared on his face. "I can't wait to see this match."
He reached into his cigarette pack and shook it until a cigarette slid free. He placed it between his lips, lit it, and took another slow drag. Smoke drifted from his mouth as his eyes remained fixed on Winston. He watched him for several seconds. Then he smiled.