Football Evolution System

Chapter 12: The Next Game

Miya's eyes darted across the crowded room, methodically analyzing the physicality of those gathered. He knew finding the right teammates based solely on appearances was a gamble, but it was the only option available.

If I calculate this properly, we need someone strong in our tier—a muscle that can break through the enemy's defense like a battering ram, he mused, scanning the room again.

To his dismay, several groups had already formed. Miya could see the satisfaction on their faces, the confidence of having chosen wisely.

I need to hurry before the best players are taken.

Turning to his friend, Miya spoke with urgency, "Stay here, Mikey. I'll be back soon enough."

He plunged into the crowd, weaving through clusters of players, and finally approached the first person who stood out—a towering figure with broad shoulders and an air of authority. This person exuded power, standing confidently among the others.

"I'm Miya," he started, his voice steady but filled with urgency. "I'd like for you to—"

Before he could finish, the man's sharp glare stopped him in his tracks. The intensity of it sent a jolt through Miya, almost as if the air around them thickened.

"Do I look like I want to join wimps like you?" the man barked, his voice as sharp as his gaze. "Run along. I already have a team."

Without waiting for a reply, the man turned on his heel and walked away, his dismissive attitude leaving Miya standing frozen.

This is going to be harder than I thought, Miya realized, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

Before he could regroup his thoughts, another voice interrupted. "Hey, I'm Eri, a second striker. Would you like an extra addition to your team?"

Miya turned to see a dark-haired man with deep, calculating eyes. His dark skin and lean build contrasted with the bulkier figures in the room, but there was something about him—a quiet confidence that drew Miya's attention.

Miya scrutinized him for a moment before nodding. "I'd ask what your skill is, but I'm guessing you won't tell me, will you?"

Eri smirked but didn't respond, confirming Miya's suspicion. Instead, Eri gestured to someone at the far end of the room. "I noticed you're in need of another striker. I have a friend over there who might interest you."

Following Eri's gaze, Miya spotted a massive figure standing silently in the corner. The man's head was bowed, but even from a distance, his sheer size was intimidating. His muscular frame suggested raw, unyielding power—the kind of strength that could bulldoze through any defense.

At least we're complete now, Miya thought, though a sliver of doubt gnawed at him. I hope I made the right choices.

He signaled for Mikey to join them. The young boy bounded over with his usual carefree demeanor, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm Mikey, the best striker in the world!" Mikey exclaimed, laughing loudly.

Eri's expression faltered, his lips twitching into a faint grimace. "What a sorry first impression," he muttered under his breath.

Miya narrowed his eyes at Eri. There was something off about this man—something hard to pinpoint. His words were sharp, almost probing, and his demeanor suggested he was constantly studying those around him.

Before Miya could dwell on it further, the room fell silent as the dog-masked man appeared on the massive screen once again. His voice boomed, commanding the attention of everyone present.

"So, you've all managed to gather your teams," he began, his tone dripping with mockery. "It must have been a tough decision, wasn't it?"

The masked man paused, scanning the room as if he could see each individual through the screen.

"That's because you know nothing about each other. This brings us to a crucial lesson—a skill every true striker must master: chemical reaction."

The crowd stirred uneasily at the term. Whispers spread among the players like wildfire.

Chemical reaction? Miya's mind raced. What does that even mean?

The dog-masked man chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying their confusion. "A true footballer isn't just skilled or strong. They must be adaptable—able to blend seamlessly with any team, even if it's their first match together. This brings us to today's test."

The tension in the room thickened as he continued.

"Your task is simple: a four-on-four match. The goal is to demonstrate how quickly you can form chemical reactions with your teammates to overpower your opponents. Any questions?"

The room fell silent. No one dared to speak.

"Good," the masked man said, his voice cold and final. "In that case, let the test begin."