The Martial Unity

James grabbed his helmet with both hands, dropping to his knees in despair. At a time like this, Leonel could only sigh.

However, under the silence of the arena, a resounding boom of two clashing bodies sounded.

Leonel grimaced, feeling his already fractured ribs break cleanly as his vision was filled with sights of the moon above.

It was then a loud whistle blew through the silence.

"Unnecessary roughness, roughing the passer, number 21. Half the distance to the goal, still first down."

Leonel landed heavily on the ground, grasping at his chest with his eyes squinting in pain.

The rookie stood over him in shock. At first, he had let his frustration get the best of him. He had never for a moment thought that James would drop such an easy layup of a pass, so he unleashed everything he had on Leonel, knowing they would lose the game. Never did he think that his actions would give the Royal Blues another chance with zero seconds on the clock.

The medics rushed onto the field. Despite the Royal Blues gaining new life, the stadium still remained silent. The sight of Leonel writhing in pain made many send furious gazes toward the rookie and James.

"Bennett, get the hell off the field! Rook, you're in."

Coach Owen coldly benched his Five-Star prospect. He didn't know what was wrong with James today, but he was clearly in his own head too much. It was impossible to use him for this final play.

The medics quickly lifted Leonel's jersey, undoing the bandage wraps from the first half to reveal ghastly purple and green bruises. It was simply impossible for a bruise to spread so quickly. The only explanation was that Leonel had suffered this injury very early on in the game.

"Don't." Leonel grabbed the hand of the middle-aged male medic who tried to take his pads off. "There's just one play left, I got it."

Coach Owen who had rushed onto the field frowned deeply, his arms crossed over his well-built chest and his mustache billowing.

The team stood around Leonel's slowly rising figure, solemn expressions on their faces. They knew that everyone made mistakes, but at the moment, they were having a really hard time forgiving James.

"What are you all pouting for? An injury timeout doesn't last forever, let's do this. Line up!"

Seeing Leonel's resolute attitude, the medics and Coach Owen had no choice but to jog off the field under the silence of the crowd. In those moments, the heavy breathing of the players who stood on their last legs was all that remained hanging in the air.

Leonel's fiery gaze lit a fire under them all, filling them with a strength they didn't know they had.

On the sidelines, Conrad looked on with a gloomy expression. Victory had been in his grasp, yet it slipped away, just like that.

Leonel slapped his hands together, standing behind his offensive line as though he wasn't injured at all.

"Blue 80. BLUE 80. Down set, HUT!"

**

his handsome features. Who knew how they did it, but the guys managed to get their hands on a few dozen champaign bottles. Their wrist watches were probably beeping away with talks of

did on the final game winning play, it was probably best he didn't move too

cap. You're

Center Milan Inga, slapped his shoulder without regard for his grimace. He swung back a flask of vodka,

come. No need to

hopping in

and undergarments, taking his time. He planned on hopping into the showers last. Although he was pretty certain that Aina wouldn't come, he still had to put his

medics

see his coach half dozing off, a strong scent of alcohol leaking from

get yourself fired going around like

those preppy pricks." Coach Owen tipped his flask up as though mockingly

how embarrassing. You get

to the bright lights of the NAFL. This old man will just stay in his little

coach of the best Academy football program on Union Continent. Your salary is

mustache would blow and he'd have another witty comeback

choosing Royal

chose Royal Blue because he liked Coach Owen's straight

me, thank that dead rat on your lip. If

Owen laughed uproariously, slapping Leonel's back

green vomit your

grimace of pain, Coach Owen walked

it

hear Coach Owen's

pain pangs slowly faded, Leonel dug through his locker to find his black

nutrition and enhanced nutritional supplements. The Ascension Empire believed that while their technology advanced rapidly,

was one of his father's creations. According to his Gene Assessment, he was slotted in to grow to six feet tall. But, after drinking this poison everyday, he superseded that by three inches and might

actually a Four-Star General. He only went on to work in this unnamed division

the bottle, a familiar scorching pain seared Leonel's chest. But, at the very least, his aching ribs dulled down

'Refresh' ability of his watch, he preferred taking a shower as did most people.

he scrubbed every inch of his body before walking out with a towel around his waist and one hanging loosely over his head. Slightly obscured with a pattern of green,

his hair, wincing as he struggled to keep his arms above his

a pair of deep blue jeans, a skin-tight white turtle-neck sweater, and draped over

pm right now, dad won't kill me too much if I'm home

his shoulder. But the moment

you moping around