First Steps

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Light, rhythmic footsteps echoed through the golden sunlight filtering through the trees on the Alabama campus.

Having grown accustomed to the smog and fumes of the big city, Lance now fully embraced the fresh oxygen, filling his lungs with every step, making his stride lighter.

In the quiet of early morning, the campus was just waking up. Some students rushed to their early classes, cradling their books. Others, dragging their tired bodies, emerged from all-night study sessions at the library. And some stood on the dewy grass, basking in the morning sun, practicing yoga. Life, usually fast-paced and chaotic, seemed to slow down here.

Lance jogged, passing through it all.

After rounding a corner, he entered a long, straight, tree-lined path and shifted into high gear.

Sprint. Accelerate. Full sprint. Keep accelerating—no holding back.

This wasn't a casual jog. It was the interval training he'd mastered during his cross-country days, alternating between fast and slow speeds to regulate his breathing and pace, while maintaining consistent energy output throughout.

It was a test—

A way to assess his new body's potential, and at the same time, test the system's functionality.

According to the system, the progress bar at the bottom represented a key daily feature. Through training and games, Lance could fill this bar, and once full, it would unlock another round of card draws.

Lance also noticed that the system's upper interface had a slight difference between the left and right sides. The left side, labeled as "template," had more flexibility, while the right, the "slots," had only three available spaces.

So, he wasn't sure if there was a cap on how many templates or slots he could use. And if there was, could he unlock more slots through additional draws? If not, did the three slots represent different functions?

The newbie gift pack had given Lance two cards, both of which were now equipped. There was still one slot left, sparking Lance's curiosity—and competitiveness. He was eager to fill that progress bar and earn another card draw.

What exactly did "through training and games" mean?

Was it based on time spent?

Or quality of performance?

Did better performances result in extra bonuses? And how about training—did internal scrimmages and system-based training count as well?

Lance would have to figure this out gradually.

From what he had tested yesterday afternoon and this morning, everything seemed to count—

Both system-based training and personal workout routines moved the progress bar forward. Additionally, both time spent and the quality of training played a role. Longer sessions obviously advanced progress, but higher intensity and quality sessions made the bar move faster.

Also, this was likely still the "beginner's zone," so filling the progress bar wasn't too difficult. Yesterday and today were just experimental tests, and he'd already made noticeable progress. However, as he moved forward, the difficulty would surely increase, especially as the training intensity ramped up.

Huff. Huff.

Lance sprinted down the length of the tree-lined path, maintaining top speed, and then slowed to a steady jog. Switching between steady running, accelerating, and decelerating, he did laps back and forth.

His lungs burned, as if bubbling over with the effort. A sharp, aching sensation spread through his muscles, but he kept his feet moving. With steady breaths, he turned toward the campus football field, spotting the towering structure in the distance.

A crimson and ivory-white behemoth stood five stories tall, vast and imposing. The front housed offices, while winding stands stretched out like the arms of a Transformer, filled with the history of the place. It looked like a giant beast resting silently in a corner of the campus.

Bryant-Denny Stadium.

The stadium was named after two university legends: George Denny, who served as the university's president from 1912 to 1932, and Paul "Bear" Bryant, the legendary coach who led Alabama's Crimson Tide football team to countless triumphs starting in 1975.

The stadium could hold 102,000 people, making it the most iconic landmark in Tuscaloosa. For the locals, they might forget their way home after a few drinks, but they'd never forget the location of the stadium.

For Lance, everything was new. Cross-country running usually took him through outdoor trails, and he had rarely visited stadiums, let alone one that could hold 100,000 people. The sheer scale and atmosphere were overwhelming.

Yesterday's trial had given him a taste, but today, he had the chance to really take it all in.

As he entered the stadium, it felt like stepping into a new world—

And that was fitting, since football itself was an entirely new world to him.

Just then—

A figure darted out from behind, racing past Lance like a bullet fired from a bowstring, instantly overtaking him.

Lance, still marveling at the stadium's grandeur, instinctively reacted, his body responding before his mind could catch up.

Push off. Sprint.

His speed surged forward, but instead of immediately passing the figure, he stayed close behind, maintaining pace. He took a closer look.

Wait, wasn't this the guy from yesterday? The one who almost faceplanted twice—what was his name again? He played cornerback, right?

Unaware of Lance's thoughts, Marlon Humphrey had simply been messing around, but when he glanced back, he saw Lance's face right on his heels.

He nearly jumped out of his skin!

"Oh, God!"

Panicked, Humphrey kicked into high gear, pushing himself to full speed. But to his horror, Lance stayed right on his tail, keeping pace without breaking a sweat.

The two of them, two streaks of wind, entered the stadium one after the other.

Meanwhile, Ronnie Clark was busy hauling out the team's training equipment—

Football was a sport known for its intense collisions, both brutal and unrelenting. The same went for training. Players had to practice hitting, dodging, and enduring hits, as well as working on their agility.

This was the basic, universal training. Everyone on the team had to go through it. After that, position-specific drills would fine-tune their skills.

That was just the morning's physical workout.

On top of that came the gym workouts, and most importantly, the strategy training.

In the NFL, professional players spent four days a week, ten hours a day, grinding both mentally and physically. It was a grueling routine that would break an ordinary person.

But things were different in the NCAA. College athletes were only allowed to train for up to twenty hours a week, and they also had to spend at least seven hours in academic study halls.

This meant that NCAA teams were more reliant on physical prowess, while their strategies were simpler.

Clark had been setting up the field for the team's morning session when—

He saw two figures sprinting into the stadium. Was that… Humphrey and the new guy from yesterday?

Humphrey was speeding up, trying to shake off the rookie.

When that didn't work, he tried switching up his pace, hoping to wear Lance down. But to his surprise, Lance stuck with him, never falling behind.

Around the field they went, circling lap after lap in a high-speed game of tag.

One lap.

Two laps.

Three laps.

Out of nowhere, Lance accelerated, pulling ahead. Humphrey, caught off guard, couldn't match his pace. Once Lance gained a lead, the gap widened, leaving Humphrey behind in disbelief.

Humphrey: What the heck just happened?

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