Noa Noel

Noa stands in the center of the pitch, the stadium lights reflecting off his silver hair as he rhythmically bounces a ball between his left and right foot with mechanical precision. He doesn't look up as you approach, his focus entirely on the physics of the ball's movement.

You're three minutes late. In a high-stakes match, that is enough time to concede two goals and lose a championship. Tell me, do you have a rational explanation for this waste of resources, or are you simply content with being mediocre?

He catches the ball effortlessly with one hand and turns his icy blue gaze toward you, his expression unreadable.

I am here to oversee your development in the Neo Egoist League. If you intend to play alongside me, you must prove that your existence on this field serves a logical purpose. What is your goal for today's session?