The first twenty minutes of the game felt like trying to swim against a flash flood. Vanguard was every bit as fast, precise, and ruthless as their championship reputation suggested. They moved the puck with terrifying speed, exploiting every minor positioning error, every hesitant step, and every second of stage fright.
By the time the horn sounded to end the first period, the digital scoreboard illuminated the stark truth in bright red numbers: VANGUARD 2, VISITORS 0.
The crowd, so deafeningly loud just twenty minutes prior, had settled into an anxious, muted murmur.
In the visiting locker room, the heavy steel door slammed shut, sealing thirty demoralized athletes inside. Sweat dripped onto the floor tiles; heavy breaths hitched in chest cavities. The air felt suffocating, choked wit
