Chapter 2 – The King of Concrete (Part 1)
The ball clacked against the wall in a tight rhythm, echoing through the alley like a metronome.
Thud. Tap. Tap. Thud. Tap.
Thiago balanced on the balls of his feet, the ball never more than half a second off his skin. Inside his head, the System tracked his every touch. Every angle. Every mistake.
He was already sweating, but he didn’t stop.
"Close Touch," he thought.
A subtle awareness flared in his limbs. His movements sharpened. His contact with the ball felt more intentional, cleaner, like invisible lines were drawing ideal angles around each bounce.
He juggled off his right thigh, brought it down with his left foot, and angled a spin off the wall to trap it mid-roll.
The System responded silently:
+0.05 Close Touch+0.02 BalancePassive: Muscle Memory I – Applied
The numbers weren’t much. But he didn’t care. Because they stacked. Day by day, touch by touch. They were proof he was moving forward—even if no one else could see it yet.
His chest heaved. His feet burned against the concrete. His toes were already raw, the skin splitting where old blisters hadn’t healed.