Blue lock: Reborn Egoist

The game was over.

Eito stood at the edge of the makeshift field, his breath heavy, his legs aching. The final whistle blew, and the match was decided. He had scored—he had proven to himself and his father that he could perform under pressure. But the taste of victory was fleeting. Ego Jinpachi's words rang in his mind, cold and direct.

"You've improved. But you're still far from where you need to be."

The praise, if you could call it that, felt hollow in comparison to the weight of his father's expectations. It wasn't enough. Eito knew that. His first goal was a small victory in the grand scheme of what lay ahead. But the hunger to prove himself—to surpass the world—was still burning fiercely in his chest.

As he slowly walked off the field, Ximena met him with a proud smile, her arms open to embrace him. She was always there, a steady presence, balancing Ego's harshness with her warmth. She pulled him into a hug, her voice soft and reassuring. "You did well, mi amor. You're growing stronger every day."

Eito felt the pride in her words, but it didn't satisfy him. He wasn't doing this for praise. He wasn't doing this for her approval. He was doing it for himself. To become great. To become the best.

Ego stepped forward, his cold eyes scanning the field. "Good. But I won't let you rest on this. You're far from where you need to be."

Eito nodded. There was no argument, no defense. His father's expectations were clear. He had to prove himself. Every day. Every minute.

"Come with me," Ego said, turning and walking toward the small building at the edge of the property. "You'll begin your next phase of training."

Eito followed without hesitation. His body was exhausted, every muscle sore from the game, but his mind was sharp. He was ready for whatever came next.

As they entered the building, a small room with training equipment and a few monitors stood waiting. It wasn't much, but it was all Eito needed. He had trained with the basics—ball control, speed, endurance. But now it was time to take things further.

Ego turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "The first test was to see if you could handle pressure. The second test is your ability to adapt to different situations on the field. A striker is not just a machine with muscle; they are the deciders. They make the game happen. You will learn to fight for the ball, to win, to dominate. No excuses."

Eito felt a surge of excitement rise in his chest. This was the real challenge. This was what he had been training for. He wasn't just going to be good—he was going to be the best.

Ego gestured toward the screen on the wall. "From now on, every movement will be tracked. Every stat, every skill, and every second of your training will be logged. You will push your limits. And you will measure your progress."

A series of flashing stats appeared on the screen. His physical stats—Stamina, Speed, Technique—all hovered within the G to F range, with his Instinct and Focus inching into the F range. But the number that caught Eito's eye was the Ego stat. It still had no value next to it. He hadn't unlocked it yet. It unsettled him, but he knew what it meant. Ego wasn't something that could be given. It had to be forged from within. And that was what he had to do.

Ego's voice broke through his thoughts. "Your next task is simple: you will have to outsmart, outmaneuver, and outplay your opponent. Every movement counts. You will learn to anticipate, to move faster, and to feel the game."

Eito's mind was already racing, preparing for the challenge ahead. But just as he was about to speak, Ego interrupted.

"And there's something else." Ego's eyes narrowed. "We'll be bringing in two more opponents for your training. They're older, faster, and more skilled than the ones you face today. You will fight for every inch on that field."

Eito felt the blood in his veins heat. This was the moment. The moment when he would push beyond his limits.

"Get ready," Ego said, turning toward the door. "You will train until you collapse. No rest. No excuses. Do you want to be a striker? Then prove it. Every minute of every day will test you. And the only thing that matters is your ego. Your desire to win. Do not forget that."

Eito nodded, his focus razor-sharp. Ego was right. This was more than just training. This was warfare.

As the door opened, two new opponents stepped into the training room. They were older, stronger, more experienced. One was a tall, wiry teenager with dark hair and a fierce, competitive glint in his eyes. The other, shorter but solidly built, had a calm expression but moved with the confidence of someone who had seen it all.

Eito didn't hesitate. He knew what was expected. He knew what he had to do.

This was the start of something bigger than he had ever imagined.

The game was no longer just a game. It was survival. And Eito was ready to fight.