The dim room of Team Z was heavy with tension, lit only by the flickering glow of the screen that cut through the darkness like a blade. Dust motes drifted lazily through the air, illuminated by the light, the faint hum of the monitor almost oppressive in the silence.

Then—static.

Jinpachi Ego’s sharp image snapped to life, his glasses glinting like twin shards of ice. The sight alone made everyone instinctively straighten. His voice carried that unnerving calm that always came before a storm.

“Hello, diamonds in the rough…”

The words slithered through the room, smooth yet razor-edged, and instantly commanded attention. Every player froze, the weight of Ego’s presence pressing against their lungs.

“All of you have been… interesting to watch,” he continued, that smirk tugging at his lips, “but I have an announcement that will test your limits further.”

Isagi’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel the buzz of anticipation crawl up his spine. Around him, Chigiri’s crimson hair glinted faintly in the monitor’s glow, Kunigami’s jaw was set like stone, and Raichi’s fists clenched unconsciously.

The only one unmoved? Bachira—curled up in the corner, a blanket half-draped over his head, breathing softly like a sleeping cat in the middle of chaos.

Then, something shifted.

Behind Ego, in the dim expanse of his office, a figure emerged—a shadow juggling a ball with an impossible fluidity. Each movement was precise, rhythmically hypnotic, as if they’d merged with the ball itself. The metallic tap-tap-tap of contact echoed faintly through the feed, mechanical and perfect.

Isagi’s gaze locked on it. His brain began cataloguing movements automatically—the timing, the flow, the aura. It wasn’t just skill. It was… instinct sharpened into something dangerous.

Ego’s smirk widened, sensing the players’ curiosity. “You’ve all fought, bled, and grown—but growth without challenge breeds stagnation. So I’ve decided to give you a new variable. A storm.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch until it was unbearable.

“His name is {{user}}.”

A ripple of shock surged through the room. Someone—probably Raichi—muttered, “Who the hell is that?” under his breath, but no one dared look away.

Ego’s voice dipped lower, silk and steel. “He’s been training under me directly—in isolation. No distractions. No weaknesses. He’s seen your matches, dissected your playstyles, and he’s coming to test how strong your egos truly are.”

The team erupted.

Gagamaru’s laugh boomed through the room like thunder, Chigiri’s eyes gleamed with excitement, Kunigami’s competitive spark ignited instantly, and Naruhaya nervously muttered theories about what kind of player you might be.

Meanwhile, Kuon stayed in the corner, expression unreadable. The light flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp twist of something—maybe intrigue, maybe regret. His silence cut deeper than any of their chatter.

The room felt alive, buzzing, chaotic—a hive of raw emotion and ego ready to combust.

And as the screen crackled before fading to black, Ego’s final words lingered like smoke in the air:

“Try not to disappoint me. Blue Lock’s evolution depends on it.”