From A Producer To A Chapter 170: Trials Finals

Chapter 170: Trials Finals.

Coach Richard tapped Dayo lightly on the shoulder.

"Why are you zoning out?"

Dayo blinked and turned to him. "Ah, Coach... rember what I told you about Alex using?"

Richard’s expression sharpened imdiately. He tugged Dayo a bit closer so no one would overhear.

"Yeah? What happened?"

Dayo smirked quietly. "Well... it’s not just Alex. It’s all the athletes under Coach Matthew."

Richard froze.

"All of them?"

Dayo nodded calmly. "Yes. Every single one."

Richard looked suspicious now. "And how do you know all of this?"

Dayo gave a small smile. "Believe , Coach, if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it. Just... watch them while we swim."

Richard stared at him for a mont. Two months of working with Dayo had taught him one thing — the boy didn’t talk loosely. If Dayo said sothing, it usually ant he had solid reasons behind it.

Richard finally exhaled. "Alright. For now, just focus. No matter what they’re using, they can’t beat talent. And you have that. Go out there and finish this."

Dayo smiled and nodded before returning to warm up.

Richard watched him walk off, his mind spinning.

If what Dayo said was true, today’s race was going to cause a storm nobody expected.

Warm-ups ended.

The officials began calling the swimrs for the final lineup.

---

The organizers followed the sa pattern from Nationals — Dayo, Alex, and Evan were placed close together. It was deliberate, everyone could tell. The crowd loved the matchup, and the officials wanted the energy.

The stadium was roaring.

"JD!!!"

"JD!! JD!! JD!!"

"JD THE ROCKET!"

"LET HIM COOK!"

"JD SWIM!!!"

Dayo stepped forward calmly, jaw relaxed, eyes steady.

It was loud — almost too loud — but he had learned how to drown noise out. Even with the entire stadium vibrating, he stayed grounded.

A group of fans near the barrier shouted again when he looked their way.

They scread louder, so waving shirts with his na, so waving Nigerian flags.

He raised his hand slightly, signaling them to calm down.

They only scread louder.

Dayo chuckled under his breath. His heart was steady.

He turned—and saw Alex staring at him.

Alex’s expression told a story without words:

Oh, so you’re enjoying the attention? Let’s see if you smile after the race.

Alex muttered sothing under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, but Dayo knew exactly what it ant. It was written all over his face.

Dayo didn’t react.

Just a slow blink.

Calm. Unmoved.

It irritated Alex imdiately.

He clenched his fist, jaw tightening.

"Let’s see how you talk when I beat you at the finish line..." he whispered, barely audible.

On Dayo’s other side, Evan stretched his arms, listening to the crowd.

He gave Dayo a subtle nod.

Dayo nodded back.

The announcer’s voice bood across the stadium.

"FINALISTS... TAKE YOUR MARKS."

Everything fell silent.

The air grew heavier.

Every athlete crouched.

Every cara zood in.

Every fan held their breath.

Dayo eased into his starting stance.

Eyes forward.

Body loose.

Mind empty.

Just swim, he told himself.

With a deep breath he waited for the sound.

---

BEEP!

They exploded forward.

As expected, Dayo’s start wasn’t the fastest.

He wasn’t a strong starter — his strength ca later.

Alex also started slow, but slightly sharper than Dayo.

Evan was sowhere in between.

The others pushed aggressively too.

Eight bodies sliced into the water at nearly the sa ti.

For the first 10 ters, they were almost completely even.

Dayo kept his strokes calm.

Long.

Efficient.

No rush.

He could hear faint hints of the crowd even underwater.

"CO ON JD!"

"LET’S GO!"

"PUSH!"

But his mind muted everything.

All he could feel was the water and his heartbeat.

By 15 ters, Alex began inching ahead.

Just a tiny lead — half a shoulder.

By 20 ters, the gap stretched slightly more.

Dayo saw it through the blur of bubbles.

Alex’s legs were kicking aggressively, clearly boosted.

Dayo didn’t panic.

Just reach 25. That’s all. 25 and then go.

His mind stayed blank.

Focused.

One breath.

One push.

They reached the 25-ter mark.

And that was when everything changed.

---

The mont Dayo crossed 25 ters, sothing inside him snapped — not fear, not desperation, but a clean, sharp resolve.

I’m not losing to soone who’s cheating.

His strokes tightened.

His body fell into perfect rhythm.

His kick sharpened like soone flipped a switch.

His entire pace surged instantly.

The crowd noticed it first.

"HE’S MOVING—"

"JD IS CLOSING!"

"OH MY GOD LOOK AT HIS SPEED!"

"GO!!!"

"JD PUSH."

His acceleration wasn’t magical.

It was controlled.

Refined.

Years of work compressed into raw execution.

He sliced through the water as if it was nothing but air.

Smooth.

Explosive.

Precise.

Alex felt the movent beside him and widened his eyes underwater.

He kicked harder, trying to maintain the lead.

For a mont, he stayed ahead.

Just a mont.

Then Dayo caught him.

Then Dayo matched him.

He refused let all his sacrifice go in vain and pushed.

Alex’s heart clenched.

He gritted his teeth, arms burning, legs shaking — but he couldn’t stop the inevitable.

Dayo pulled ahead with each stroke.

By 40 ters, he was fully leading.

Alex and Evan chased behind, but they were chasing a shadow.

Dayo kept pushing.

His last 10 ters felt like a full sprint inside the water.

His arms slapped the water with power.

His legs kicked like engines.

The wall was right there.

Finish this.

He stretched his arm—

BAM!

His hand struck the wall.

He kept his head down for half a second, breathing hard, water dripping off his face.

Then he lifted his head slowly.

Alex surfaced at his side, panting, wide-eyed.

Evan surfaced too, staring in disbelief.

The other swimrs touched the wall one after another.

Dayo turned his head toward the scoreboard.

The screen refreshed.

The numbers loaded.

The crowd erupted so violently the stadium shook.

Dayo’s lips curled into a slow smile.

A calm, satisfied smile.

The kind that said everything without saying a word.

The scoreboard said everything.