Chapter 2: Monsters in the Locker Room

2

The coaches at Silver Hollow Academy are unimaginably powerful.

The whole school whispered about them like they were part of the town’s legend—“Old Man Reynolds, saw him play in the ‘70s, never lost a game.”

I didn’t dare act rashly.

So I began living as if I had taken the supplement.

A few months later, when I still hadn’t made varsity, several teammates became anxious.

"Dude, what’s up? We all made varsity in, like, a week tops."

“Yeah, why are you still benched, rookie?”

Sweat and Axe body spray hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of old gym lockers. I silently watched the sticky worms roaming inside their cores.

Summoning my courage, I asked, “After making varsity, what does it feel like?”

The oldest teammate, Derek, was calm. He held up two fingers and spoke slowly:

“The human body’s energy is complex and always changing. Ordinary folks have scattered energy, so they can’t compete.”

He paused, palm facing up, and a flash of flame danced over his palm. “See? Varsity’s a different world.”

He’d done this at team parties before, but now it seemed more ominous. Pointing at the fire, he said, “But after the supplements and training, you’ll only sense two lines: one is the varsity line, the other is your own. The varsity line is what sets you apart—this fire comes from that.”

Derek beckoned to me. “Rookie, touch it.”

I lightly touched it, and the flame was scorching hot.

But I said, “I saw…”

I saw that beneath the so-called varsity line, connected to the core, was the sticky worm. It seemed to be born together with the fire.

So, Derek had awakened the fire energy.

Second teammate Marcus laughed. “Look, I’ve got the water energy.”

The moisture in the air condensed in his palm, instantly turning to ice.

He smirked, letting ice crystals scatter onto the linoleum like hail at a Friday night football game.

3

What is it that I don’t understand?

The supplement is an insect egg.

After the egg hatches, it firmly attaches itself to a person’s core, with its slender, sticky tentacles spreading through the extraordinary nerves of the body.

Athletes are the incubators for these sticky worms.

They provide the worms with nutrients, and in return, receive powers beyond those of ordinary people.

But… why are the athletes completely unaware?

Do they know there are such monsters in their bodies?

If they do, and have accepted this coexistence… how revolting.

If they don’t, then the sticky worm is controlling them… I can’t accept that either.

I think, I must escape. First, save my life, then run.

The thought made my heart pound like a drum before a playoff game. I glanced around my dorm—posters on the wall, my muddy cleats by the door, the trophies gleaming with someone else’s promise. Nothing felt safe anymore.