Sebastian stood with the rest of Group 3, watching as the boys from Group 2 finished their endurance run. The course was not a standard three-kilometer loop. Instead, the cones had been set up close to the edges of the training pitch, extending slightly into the surrounding grass to create a rough circuit.
Most of the runners had slowed significantly near the final stretch, their early bursts of energy catching up with them. A few were still pushing through, fighting against the burn in their legs.
The first to cross the finish line was a tall, lanky boy with dark hair. Felix Karlsson. He finished with a time of twelve minutes, fifty-seven seconds. The rest of the group trickled in after him, most landing somewhere between 14:35 and 16:40.
A few stragglers came in past sixteen minutes, completely winded, hands on their knees as they tried to catch their breath.
Coach Andreas glanced at his watch, then gave a sharp nod. "Alright, Group three, line up."
Sebastian moved with the others, stepping onto the designated starting line. He placed his hands on his hips, gaze flicking across the course.
Three kilometers.
He had expected something longer. Maybe five K at least. This felt short. Not easy, but not nearly as grueling as he assumed they would use for an endurance test.
If it is just three kilometers, I might as well go a bit faster than planned.
He adjusted his stance slightly, bouncing on his toes.
"On my mark..."
"Get set..."
A pause.
"Fweet!"
The group took off, the sound of pounding feet filling the air.
Sebastian quickly found himself among the fastest runners, keeping pace with the front pack. He recognized Leo Bergström and Hugo Lindqvist just ahead, their strides steady but beginning to waver after the first lap. The others who had started strong began to fade, their initial speed costing them.
Sebastian, however, did not slow down.
His breathing remained even, his steps controlled. Every movement was efficient, his pace unbroken while the rest of the group gradually lost momentum.
By the second to last lap, Sebastian noticed that most of them had dropped off significantly, struggling to maintain speed. Few were barely keeping up, and he was firmly in the lead.
But instead of just holding steady, Sebastian smirked and did the opposite.
He sped up.
His strides lengthened, his breathing barely changing as he increased his pace. The distance between him and the rest stretched further.
Then
He crossed the finish line.
"Ten minutes, forty four seconds."
A few heads snapped toward the assistant holding the stopwatch. Some of the boys from the previous group had their mouths gaping in disbelief.
Sebastian, on the other hand, barely looked winded.
His breathing was slightly heavier, but nothing drastic. He walked a few steps forward before settling onto the grass, resting his arms on his knees as he waited for the others to finish.
The next runner after him, Leo, crossed the line with a time of thirteen minutes, fifteen seconds. One by one, the others followed, their times mostly falling within the fourteen thirty to seventeen minute range.
As the last few stragglers stumbled in, Sebastian caught movement from the side.
"You're crazy, you know that, right?"
He turned his head.
Martin, from Group 2, stood to his left, looking down at him. He was about Sebastian's height, maybe a touch shorter, with a lean build and a mop of brown hair sticking to his forehead from sweat.
Sebastian blinked. "Huh? What do you mean?"
Martin let out a short laugh, gesturing at him. "You just ran three kilometers way faster than the rest of us, but you're barely sweating."
Sebastian shrugged, taking a slow sip from his water bottle. "It wasn't that bad."
Martin squinted at him. "Not that bad? I was dying out there, and you're sitting here like you just finished a light jog."
Sebastian did not really know what to say to that. He was not sure how to explain it in a way that would not sound weird or crazy.
Instead, he just gave a small smile.
Beating a bunch of fourteen year olds was not something to be proud of.
They were kids. He was an adult, at least mentally. If he could not outperform them, then how could he expect to be one of the best in the world?
Martin studied him for a second, then tilted his head slightly. "By the way, I'm—"
"Martin, I know," Sebastian cut in before he could finish. "Played against your school in the finals."
Martin plopped down beside him on the grass, stretching his legs. "Yeah, and you're Sebastian. Knew you'd show up here."
Sebastian turned to him. "Still mad you guys lost?"
Martin shrugged, picking at a blade of grass. "A little, but I'm over it now."
"Alright," Sebastian said, setting his water bottle down.
"By the way, what was your time?" Sebastian asked.
Martin leaned back on his hands. "Fourteen twenty, I think."
Sebastian nodded. "Not bad."
Martin grinned. "Yeah yeah, I'll catch up next time."
Sebastian let out a short laugh. "Good luck with that."
Martin tilted his head, staring at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Fweeeeeeeettt"
Coach Henrik's voice boomed across the pitch. "Alright lads, gather up. Break's over."
Sebastian stood, brushing grass off his shorts, then held out a hand.
"I'm never going to let that happen."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah. So you better get used to it."
Martin snorted, grabbing his hand and pulling himself up with a grunt. "We'll see."
The sixty boys shuffled toward the center, some dragging their feet. Henrik stood with his hands behind his back, flanked by the assistant coaches. They resumed with dribbling drills where they had to make their way through arranged cones and obstacles with the ball.
They also ran shooting drills, with outfield players taking both long and short range shots against the goalkeepers. For passing and defending, they went through a mix of one touch and two touch rondos, focusing on quick passes and ball control.
By the time the session wrapped up, exhaustion hit most of the boys hard. Some flopped onto the grass. Others stretched their sore legs, chugging water fast. The drills had worn them out. A few players started to stand out. Sebastian stayed ahead, his performance a level above the others.
He took a slow sip from his nearly empty water bottle and glanced around the pitch. The sun hung lower, shadows stretching over the torn up grass.