The Eternal Era dorms buzzed that evening with the noise of players reviewing footage from their second match. Jason had told them to rest, to clear their minds before preparing for the next opponent. But Dante couldn’t shake the heaviness pressing down on his chest.
Two matches. No wins. A debut goal that ant nothing in the end.
He needed air. More than that—he needed her.
So he slipped out quietly, hoodie pulled low, and made his way through the neon-lit streets of the capital. His footsteps carried him instinctively to the one place where victory and failure both lost their aning.
His mother’s apartnt.
The door clicked open after three soft knocks.
"Dante," Sang-hee’s voice, warm as ever, filled the narrow hall. She stood wrapped in a light sweater, her hair tied up carelessly. Her smile was soft, but behind it he caught the faint shadow under her eyes.
"Mom," Dante said, hugging her before she could step aside. He held on longer than usual, like the embrace could wash away the noise of stadiums and crowds.
She laughed lightly, tapping his arm. "Careful, Blaze. Don’t crush your mother before you conquer the galaxy."
The Titan na on her lips startled him. "You... you’ve been watching the matches?"
"Of course," she said, guiding him in. "Every mother watches her son’s battles. Even if I don’t always understand the moves, I can see your heart in them."
The apartnt slled faintly of herbal tea. On the table sat a small spread: rice, kimchi, grilled fish. Simple, comforting. She must have prepared it before he arrived, expecting him.
They ate together, the soft clink of chopsticks filling the quiet. For a mont, Dante allowed himself to forget the world outside—the scouts, the losses, the rivalries. Here, he was just her son.
"You’ve gotten faster," Sang-hee said suddenly, her eyes on him. "The way you move—it’s like lightning. That’s new, isn’t it?"
Dante paused mid-bite. "Yeah. Elental Speed. It’s... part of my abilities. But sotis it feels like it’s moving faster than , like I can’t keep up with it."
She reached across the table, her hand brushing his. "Then don’t chase it. Make it chase you. Abilities don’t define you, Dante. You define them."
Her words sank into him deeper than Jason’s tactical lectures ever could.
As they ate, Sang-hee coughed softly into her sleeve. Dante froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
"Mom..."
"It’s nothing," she said quickly, straightening. "Just the tea going down the wrong way." Her smile was reassuring, but he caught the flicker in her eyes—the one that begged him not to press.
Dante forced himself to nod, though his jaw clenched. She always brushed it aside. But he knew. He could feel the fragility behind her strength.
Later, they sat by the window overlooking the city lights.
"You look more like him every day," she said softly, almost to herself.
Dante turned. "Dad?"
Sang-hee nodded. "Your father never played galaxy football, but he carried the sa fire. Too much, sotis. He wanted to change everything at once, as if the universe would bend just because he willed it. You have his eyes when you chase the ball. And his stubbornness when you refuse to back down."
Dante swallowed, unsure what to say. His father’s image was more myth than mory to him. Yet hearing it from her lips made the weight of the na Anderson feel heavier.
"He failed," Dante muttered, surprising himself. "And I can’t afford to."
Sang-hee’s hand rested gently on his shoulder. "No. He didn’t fail. He just never found the balance. That’s what I fear for you, Dante. Talent can win matches. Power can win battles. But only character wins the war."
Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and soft at once. "Promise —you won’t lose yourself to the fire you carry."
They sat in silence after that, the hum of the city below filling the space. Dante’s chest tightened with unspoken vows.
When he finally rose to leave, Sang-hee stood with him, though her steps were slower, her smile a little too carefully maintained.
"Go," she said, patting his cheek. "Train. Win. Live. Don’t waste the ti you’ve been given again."
Dante hugged her once more, inhaling her warmth like it was the only real air left in the galaxy.
As he walked back into the night, neon lights and distant stadium cheers waiting for him, her words echoed in his mind.
Make it chase you. Don’t lose yourself. Character wins the war.
And for the first ti since his debut, Dante felt not just the pressure of proving himself—but the quiet fear of losing the only light that still anchored him.
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