Football Evolution System

Chapter 5: First Test

"Now, all of you, make sure to give a good listening ear," the dog-masked man began, snapping his fingers. Instantly, small pit-like holes burrowed themselves into the ground.

In the next moment, red balls began to spring from the holes, accompanied by small collars, soon filling up every single pit.

"There are enough balls for everyone," the man continued, his voice cold and authoritative. "Pick one and wear the collars beside them around your left leg. When done, await further instructions."

Miya bent over and picked up a ball from the pit. As he secured the collar around his ankle, he noticed it lacked a strap. The collar seemed to activate on contact, turning red and snapping tightly in place. Miya winced at the sensation, feeling a chill run down his spine. 'Must be automated,' he thought, trying to suppress his unease. 'Everything in this facility is high-tech.'

The balls were distinct from one another, each adorned with unique designs. Miya couldn't shake the curiosity about why they needed individual balls for a game of football. But before he could dwell on it, everyone had completed the task, and the dog-masked man resumed speaking.

"Now that you're all set," he said, a sinister edge to his tone, "I'll explain what you have just done..."

He paused, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably before delivering the bombshell. "The straps around your legs are bombs."

The room erupted into chaos.

"Bombs?!"

"Impossible!"

"What kind of sick joke is this?!"

The dog-masked man allowed the panic to swell before speaking again, his voice calm and deadly serious. "It's not a joke. The balls in your hands have motion sensors. They must be supplied with kinetic energy every five seconds. If not, the collars will explode."

A tense silence fell over the room as the gravity of the situation set in. The footballers exchanged anxious glances, uncertainty and fear clear in their eyes. One of them, a cocky-looking player with a swagger in his step, scoffed.

"It's clearly a bluff," he shouted, defiant. "You're trying to scare us."

The dog-masked man tilted his head, studying the defiant player. "Then maybe we should start with you first," he said smoothly. "The balls will glow red when there's three seconds left. Any more questions?"

The cocky player hesitated, gripping his ball tighter. The murmurs of the others died down, all eyes now focused on him. He shrugged, trying to maintain his bravado. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll play along with your little game."

He dropped the ball to the ground, his expression skeptical. As he stood there, counting down the seconds, the tension in the room became palpable. At the three-second mark, the ball began to glow red. A collective gasp echoed through the hall as the player hurriedly kicked the ball, resetting the countdown.

"Is this some kind of game?" he asked, the bravado in his voice faltering.

"You tell me," the dog-masked man replied, his tone cold and detached. "Are you done testing me, or do you want to go further?"

The player smirked, trying to reclaim his composure. "Football is all about risk, isn't it?" he chuckled, letting the ball roll away from him. As the countdown began again, the room held its breath.

'Is this risk really worth it?' Miya thought, his heart pounding. He watched in horror as the ball's glow intensified, the seconds ticking away.

"Keep going, senpai! You're really co—"

The explosion was sudden and brutal. A wave of heat and the smell of burnt flesh filled the room as the player's leg was blown off. His scream was cut short, replaced by a sickening silence as his lifeless body collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around him.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The gruesome reality of the situation hit everyone like a sledgehammer. They were not playing a game; this was a nightmare. The dog-masked man had been deadly serious.

"That's what will happen to every one of you if you question me," the dog-masked man said, his voice slicing through the shocked silence. "Never rebel against your coach!"

The green-haired boy in the back snickered, seemingly unfazed. "Whoa! He went splat. Such a brave striker!" he remarked, his tone disturbingly gleeful. The rest of the room, however, was gripped by sheer terror.

Miya's mind raced. 'He killed him... Isn't that illegal? Killing is illegal!'

The dog-masked man continued, his tone casual, almost conversational. "And did I mention, I'll do anything to create my perfect footballer? If you think I'll get jailed for this, you're wrong. I've forged all your signatures for a life-and-death program. It's all perfectly legal... or close enough."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "Right now, you've all basically disappeared off the face of the earth. No one knows you're here, and no one will come looking for you. Now, do as I say and play my games, or face the consequences."

The weight of his words settled like a suffocating blanket over the group. The players stared at each other, horror etched on their faces. The cocky player's lifeless body was a grim reminder of the stakes they were facing. This was no ordinary training camp; it was a death trap.

Miya felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. He looked down at the ball in his hands, the ominous red glow a constant reminder of the peril they were in. The collar around his ankle felt like a shackle, binding him to this horrifying reality.

As the other players stood in stunned silence, the dog-masked man clapped his hands, breaking the spell. "Now, let's move on to the next exercise," he announced, as if nothing had happened. "I suggest you all pay close attention and keep those balls moving."

The room was filled with a new kind of silence, one born of fear and resignation. The players knew now that they had no choice but to comply. The dog-masked man had made it clear: rebellion meant death. And so, with trembling hands and pounding hearts, they prepared for whatever twisted challenges lay ahead, each of them praying they would survive the day.