The morning began with a sharp whistle that pierced through the silence of the dormitory. Kaito jolted awake, the sound pulling him from restless dreams filled with flashing lights, roaring crowds, and Renji’s cold grin. Around him, the other players scrambled to their feet, groggy but alert. The program didn’t allow for weakness, even in sleep.

They were herded into the main arena, where Coach Kuroda waited. His presence alone was enough to silence the murmurs among the players. Behind him, a massive digital screen lit up, displaying the words: THE BETRAYAL TEST.

Kaito’s stomach churned at the ominous title. He glanced at Renji, who stood a few rows ahead. Renji’s expression was unreadable, but his earlier words haunted Kaito: “The kind that separates the hunters from the hunted.”

Kuroda’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Congratulations on making it this far. But as you’ve likely realized, this competition only gets tougher. Today’s test will challenge not just your skills, but your trust in each other—or lack thereof.”

He gestured to the screen, which flickered to reveal a holographic diagram of the arena. It had been transformed into a labyrinth-like structure with small fields scattered throughout.

“The Betrayal Test is a team-based challenge… at first,” Kuroda explained, his tone cold and precise. “You will form teams of three. Together, you will face another team in a battle to control the ball. The team with the most goals after ten minutes wins.”

A ripple of relief passed through the players. For once, it sounded like a straightforward match. But Kuroda wasn’t finished.

“However,” he said, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips, “there’s a twist. Once the match ends, each member of the winning team will vote to eliminate one of their own. Only two players from the winning team will advance. The eliminated player will be sent home immediately.”

Gasps and murmurs erupted among the players. Kaito’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t just about winning—it was about proving your worth to your own teammates, convincing them that you deserved to stay. Trust was a luxury no one could afford.

Chaos ensued as players scrambled to form teams. Alliances formed and broke in seconds as desperation took hold. Kaito stood in the middle of the chaos, unsure of where to turn. His mind raced. Who could he trust? Who would turn on him the moment they had the chance?

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“Need a spot?” Renji’s voice was calm, almost amused, as he approached. Beside him stood another player—Takuma Yamada, a quiet, stocky midfielder known for his defensive skills.

Kaito hesitated. Renji was a wildcard, but his skill was undeniable. And Takuma’s solid presence could balance their team. But Kaito couldn’t shake the feeling that Renji had ulterior motives.

“Why me?” Kaito asked cautiously.

Renji smirked. “Because I don’t pick weak players. And I know you’re not weak.”

Takuma nodded. “We need someone who can score under pressure. You proved that yesterday.”

Kaito swallowed his doubts and nodded. “Alright. I’m in.”

The labyrinth field was disorienting, with narrow corridors leading to open spaces where mini-goals were scattered. Kaito’s team faced off against another trio: Riku, a lightning-fast winger; Haruto, a sharp-tongued playmaker; and Kenta, a towering defender.

The whistle blew, and chaos erupted.

Renji took control immediately, his movements fluid and commanding. He danced past Haruto with ease, sending a precise pass to Kaito, who sprinted down the corridor toward an open goal. Kenta barreled toward him like a freight train, but Kaito anticipated his charge. With a quick feint, he sidestepped and fired the ball into the net.

“Goal!” the system announced, and Kaito’s name lit up on the scoreboard.

Takuma held the midfield, intercepting passes and distributing the ball efficiently. Renji was everywhere, orchestrating the game like a conductor. The three worked together seamlessly, pulling ahead by three goals within minutes.

But the other team wasn’t giving up. Riku’s speed became a problem, slicing through their defenses and scoring two quick goals. Haruto’s sharp passes created dangerous opportunities, forcing Takuma to defend with everything he had.

The match ended with a narrow victory for Kaito’s team: 4-3.

Back in the staging area, the tension was suffocating. The three of them sat in silence, the weight of the upcoming vote hanging over them. The system provided each player with a tablet to cast their vote anonymously.

Kaito’s mind raced. Takuma had been solid, but not spectacular. Renji, on the other hand, was the clear leader of the team. But Kaito couldn’t shake the feeling that Renji was dangerous. If Renji stayed, he’d likely dominate the next rounds. Was this Kaito’s chance to remove a threat?

He stared at the tablet, his finger hovering over the screen. The seconds felt like hours.

Finally, he made his choice.

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The results appeared on the screen.

Eliminated Player: Takuma Yamada.

Kaito’s heart sank. He looked at Takuma, who nodded grimly but said nothing. The system’s staff escorted him out, leaving Kaito and Renji alone.

Renji leaned back, his sharp grin returning. “Smart choice,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “You’re learning, Suzuki. But remember—this is just the beginning. The hardest choices are still ahead.”

Kaito didn’t respond. His chest felt heavy, his victory hollow. He had survived, but at what cost? And how long could he keep making these choices before they consumed him?