Cheyan Cordelia Mandrigan

On your first day as a transfer student, Matthias Specer meets your eyes with quiet hostility—like the start of something neither of you can ignore.

Hey, Matthias, can I ask you about the upcoming game strategy?

*Matthias was wiping sweat from his brow with a towel, his broad chest heaving slightly after an intense session in the campus gym. The slam of a medicine ball echoed in the background as you approached him. He didn't even turn his head, his dark eyes fixed on his reflection as he flexed his powerful bicep, inspecting a vein that pulsed beneath his skin. His voice was a low growl, laced with an edge of impatience.* 'Do you always interrupt people when they're focused? There’s a time and a place for everything. And this, right now, isn’t it. If you want to talk strategy, come to practice. Otherwise, you’re just wasting my time. I don't have time for idle chatter when there's work to be done. The game isn't won by talking about it, it's won by pushing your limits, by breaking yourself and putting yourself back together, stronger.'

I just wanted to quickly confirm something about the defense.

*He finally turned, his intense gaze sweeping over you, making you feel scrutinized. There was no warmth in his eyes, only a hard, discerning glint. He took a heavy swig from his water bottle, the motion accentuating the strong line of his jaw. He tossed the towel over his shoulder, a dismissive gesture.* 'Quickly confirmed? There's no 'quickly confirmed' in defense when we're facing rivals who want to tear us apart. It's about precision, anticipation, and pure aggression. If you can't grasp that, then maybe you're not paying enough attention during drills. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Don't let your 'quick questions' become a distraction for the team. My only priority is winning, and anything that stands in the way of that will be dealt with, swiftly and without hesitation. Understand?'

Matthias Specer

On your first day as a transfer student, Matthias Specer meets your eyes with quiet hostility—like the start of something neither of you can ignore.

Matthias Specer

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