"We were completely crushed. I didn't think they would have a crazy fast sprinter on their team." Niko growled angrily, frustration seeping into him. He glared at team Z, reassessing the total potential of everyone on the field and calculating whether there are any more unassuming talents they possessed.
Okawa came up next to him. He too was angry at the crushing they were receiving. "We're only twenty minutes into the game and we're down three points. Definitely see how those team X players fell apart against them. What's our next move?"
"I say we keep with formation Y. We don't have anyone good enough to contain number eleven, nor do we have the ability to stop their counter using that freakishly fast guy they have, so we'll have to keep with our extremist formation and figure out what works. We'll need to outscore them and stop number eleven in order to win this game."
"That'll be difficult, but I trust you. Your plan woulda worked if their ace wasn't there, so we'll just keep hammering them down and spread number eleven around the field."
Team Y wasted no time after their reset, quickly falling back into position with steely resolve. Their formation now mirrored a daring 3-4-3, a high-risk, high-reward setup designed for aggressive counterplay. The kickoff commenced, and the ball found its way to Niko's feet, the bushy-haired ace immediately setting the tempo.
With sharp, deliberate touches, Niko surged forward, slicing through the midfield without hesitation. His feet danced over the ball with impeccable control, weaving through the first line of team Z's press with graceful precision, leaving Kunigami and Bachira sliding behind him. His movements were fluid but purposeful, his eyes scanning the field with calculated intensity.
Kira furrowed his brows as he sprinted in to confront him, confusion flickering in his expression.
"Is he crazy? What the hell does he think he's doing?" he muttered, clearly bewildered by Niko's decision to charge in solo rather than build the play.
Niko didn't hesitate. The moment Kira stepped in to engage, Niko feinted with a slight dip of his shoulder before cutting sharply to the left. His acceleration was explosive, his low center of gravity allowing him to slip right by Kira without resistance. The jewel of team Z barely had time to pivot before Niko was already past him, his cleats tearing into the turf as he bolted ahead.
Kira clenched his teeth in frustration, turning to give chase, but the gap was already widening. Defense wasn't his forte, but being left behind so cleanly stung his pride.
With a flick of his heel, Niko sent the ball backward toward Okawa, keeping the momentum alive. The instant the pass left his foot, he turned on the jets, dashing past Raichi with a burst of speed. Okawa, understanding what Niko wanted, chipped the ball back over Raichi's outstretched foot, perfectly meeting Niko's stride as he surged forward.
Raichi's eyes widened in disbelief.
"You've gotta be shitting me! These bastards couldn't move like this before!" he barked, veins bulging at his temples as he whirled around in pursuit, but Niko was already gone.
The blistering exchange between Niko and Okawa tore through team Z's midfield like a razor, scrambling their shape and forcing them into damage control. The pace of the attack threw off their timing completely, making their defensive efforts feel disjointed and sluggish.
Niko's gamble was reckless, walking the fine line between genius and foolishness. It was selfish. But it was working.
'This team's already finished. Team V and Team Z destroyed their last opponents, and Z is already destroying us, so there's no possible way we can win. So I'll play selfishly instead, screw teamwork. I'll score as many goals as I can and advance to the next selection. By the time the rest of my teammates catch on, it'll be too late.'
Kuon was next to engage, positioning himself to intercept Niko's drive. But the team Y ace was relentless. With another one-two pass to Okawa, they slipped past Kuon with surgical efficiency, leaving him flailing in their wake.
"Shit!" Kuon spat, whipping around as the ball once again made its way back into Niko's possession.
Iemon rushed out next, abandoning his post to try and pressure the ball carrier before he could reach the box. But Niko didn't panic. With a deft flick, he sent a sharp diagonal pass to Okawa once more, who was sprinting along the edge of the penalty area.
The mohawked forward didn't break stride. With a glance at the goal, he planted his foot and wound up for the shot. His body coiled with power, his eyes narrowing with determination as he swung his leg back.
"Fuck! Someone stop him!" Raichi roared, his voice raw with desperation, pushing his legs to their limit in a last-ditch effort to close the distance.
But he wasn't fast enough.
Okawa's leg came forward, his muscles tightening, fully committing to the strike, but as his foot made contact with the ball, Isagi came crashing in like a battering ram, closing the distance in a split second.
'Huh?!'
His shoulder was powerful, slamming into Okawa roughly. He had sprinted to the defense, cutting across the line of the shot with a perfectly timed interception. With his left foot, he surged into the path of the shot, his shin catching the ball mid-flight.
The impact reverberated through Isagi's leg, but he remained unfazed. The ball deflected off his shin guard at an awkward angle, skimming off course and rolling harmlessly toward the sideline.
The whistle pierced through the field.
"Throw-in. Team Y's ball."
The play grounded to a temporary halt as the ball rolled out of bounds. Players from both sides slowed their pace, catching their breath as they prepared for the next phase.
Isagi exhaled sharply, straightening his posture as he flicked his bangs away from his eyes. His breathing was steady, but his eyes were anything but calm—dark and piercing, brimming with ruthless focus.
Okawa, still frozen from the failed shot, gawked at him with an incredulous scowl.
"You've gotta be kidding me…" he muttered under his breath, fists clenching in frustration.
Isagi met his glare head-on, expression devoid of any sympathy. He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head ever so faintly to the side as he spoke in a low, condescending tone.
"That's it?" he asked, voice flat with disappointment. "I expected more from you after all that build-up."
The words were venomous, delivered with such effortless confidence that they stung deeper than any taunt could. Okawa's eyes narrowed dangerously, his teeth grinding together in barely concealed rage.
Meanwhile, Niko jogged over to the sideline, grabbing the ball for the throw-in. As he walked by, he cast a quick glance at Isagi, eyes narrowed faintly in contemplation. He didn't say anything, but there was no denying the sharp glimmer of respect— and frustration—in his gaze.
'Damn, I was hoping for Okawa to pass me the ball. But even still, Isagi shut that down by himself again… he's seriously on another level.' He thought. 'I still haven't been able to gain enough data on him to get past him. How the hell is he able to move into the perfect spots every time we attack or defend? It's like he's able to see the future.'
Isagi didn't spare Niko a glance. His focus was locked solely on the field, eyes honed and razor sharp as he positioned himself for the next play.
A midfielder for team Y went to take the throw in. The ball rested firmly in his hands, slick with sweat from the heat of the game. His fingers tightened around the leather, knuckles blanching slightly. The tension was thick enough to cut, both teams fully aware that this throw-in could make or break the momentum.
Team Z's players were locked in, positioning themselves strategically. They were spread out across the final third, ready to smother any passing lane. Raichi was back on Okawa, his eyes narrowed into slits, practically daring the mohawked striker to make a move. The air was heavy with anticipation.
"Keep your eyes sharp," Isagi called out firmly. "Don't let them breathe."
The throw-in commenced.
The midfielder hurled the ball with a powerful overhand motion, sending it sailing toward Niko, who had peeled away from the pack with subtle, deceptive footwork. The ball came down fast, angling toward the bushy-haired midfielder's chest.
Without missing a beat, Niko deftly redirected the ball with a slick one-touch pass, sending it sharply toward Okawa's feet. The move was clinical, a powerful display of perfect coordination.
Okawa instantly dashed away from Raichi with a sharp burst of acceleration, creating just enough separation to receive the ball cleanly.
"Shit!" Raichi barked, his boots digging harshly into the grass as he sprinted to recover.
But Okawa was already moving. The mohawked striker surged toward the box, rapidly doing step overs to confuse Raichi. His eyes flicked toward the goal, clearly sizing up the distance between him and it.
The defenders scrambled to close in, but Team Y's offense was a step faster this time. Niko pushed up alongside Okawa, positioning himself diagonally for a potential pass. Another midfielder flanked to the right, pulling Naruhaya with him, further prying open a lane.
The attack was strong, and for a brief moment, the field seemed to tilt in Team Y's favor. Okawa's legs pumped furiously as he reached the edge of the box. With one powerful step, he shifted his weight and wound back his leg, selling the shot with exaggerated form.
"He's gonna shoot!" Igaguri shouted from the side line, his voice raw with urgency.
Isagi's eyes narrowed.
'No. He's not.'
He could see it as clear as day. The slight tilt of Okawa's hips, the positioning of his planted foot, the angle of his torso—it was all a façade. He wasn't going for the goal.
Isagi's body moved on instinct, a product of pure reflex. The moment Okawa swung his leg, Isagi lunged.
The ball never made it to its intended target. Instead, it met Isagi's outstretched boot.
With a sharp, decisive motion, he intercepted the pass with a well-timed block, cutting off the attack in one fluid motion. The ball deflected with a low, rapid spin, skimming just above the grass. It caromed sharply to the right, away from the oncoming Niko, who had already started his diagonal run.
The moment the ball slowed, it was instantly contested. Both teams lunged for it in a frantic scramble, bodies clashing as they fought for possession. Okawa and Raichi barreled into each other, their arms jostling violently as they both tried to shield the ball. They were able to react to Isagi's play thanks to one reason. Belief. They both believed that Isagi would somehow find a way to find the passing lane, though they had completely opposite intentions and feelings about it.
"Get the hell off me!" Okawa spat, slamming his shoulder into Raichi's chest.
"Like hell I will!" Raichi snarled, pushing back with equal force, his cleats scraping deep into the grass as he threw his weight into the mohawked striker.
The ball sputtered between their feet, bouncing erratically as they clashed. For a split second, it looked like Okawa would power through, his lower center of gravity giving him the advantage, but Raichi wasn't one to be out dueled. With a sudden, ferocious shove, he forced Okawa off balance, sending him stumbling back a step.
"Yeah, sit your ass down!"
But before he could trap the ball, a blur of white and red flashed into the fray. Niko surged in with a blistering burst of speed, his bushy hair flying back as he slipped between them and snatched the ball away with a swift, clean touch. He, too, held a sense of expectancy to Isagi's interference, and adjusted his run accordingly.
"Damn it!" Raichi snapped, spinning to give chase.
Niko was already gone, cutting sharply across the field with Okawa quickly regaining his footing and darting alongside him. The sudden recovery forced team Z into immediate retreat.
"Fall back! Hold the line!" Kuon barked, motioning for his teammates to reposition.
Team Z scrambled, quickly shifting into a defensive formation, but Niko had already picked up too much speed. His dribbling was crisp and precise, weaving between the rapidly closing gaps with a deceptive lightness on his feet. He pressed forward relentlessly, his eyes locked onto the thinning space ahead.
And then he saw it—the opening.
Chigiri, still breathless from his earlier sprint, was rushing back into position on the left side, but there was a gap between him and Kuon, just large enough for a direct pass, and Naruhaya was nowhere to be seen. Without breaking stride, Niko flicked his foot, sending the ball surging through the narrow space.
Okawa immediately adjusted his run, cutting across the field to meet the pass. His eyes were wild with intensity, lips curling into a triumphant snarl as he sprinted into the pocket of space Niko had carved out, believing he would be receiving the ball.
That wasn't Niko's intention, nor was Isagi allowing that to happen in the first place.
'You're not slipping through again, bushy bangs.'
The second he saw Niko prepare the ball for a shot, Isagi shot forward like a bullet. His strides were long and powerful, his calves and thighs burning with exertion as he closed the distance with brutal efficiency.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Niko's eyes widened at the sudden interference. It should have been impossible for Isagi to have predicted his plan. He was certain that he would mark Okawa instead, since he was primarily playing the passing role instead of the scoring role. He couldn't fathom the level of logic the raven headed egoist used to target him instead of the more obvious threat.
With a rough slam to the shoulder, Niko was flung off the ball. The impact sent him sprawling, his cleats slipping for half a beat as Isagi's foot slid into the ball with enough force to dislodge it from his control. The ball sputtered free, bouncing forward haphazardly.
"You again?!"
"No shit, rip-off Sherlock."
Isagi was in motion. The second the ball left team Y's ace's possession, he exploded into a mad dash, snatching it back with a ruthless, cutting sprint.
"Isagi's got it!" Kira shouted, his eyes lighting up.
The field erupted into motion once more, both teams scrambling to reposition as Isagi streaked through the center with blistering speed. The tides shifted once more in team Z's favor, and within all of it, Isagi was at its epicenter.
"Get on him!"
Okawa, now burning with fury, turned and gave chase, his eyes wide with frenzied desperation. His legs pumped violently, boots slamming into the grass as he tore after Isagi, his teeth bared in a snarl.
Isagi didn't slow. His mind was already two steps ahead, his eyes scanning the field with extreme focus. He noted the defenders ahead, quickly calculating their positions— the angles they were guarding, the gaps they were leaving open, the best possible route through them.
'Three defenders closing in from the right. Two midfielders trailing just behind. The keeper is inching forward, ready to cut down the angle. Okawa is catching up too. It's tight, but I can break through.'
He kept his pace smooth and controlled, his touches precise and delicate, guiding the ball in a seamless rhythm. With every step, he drew closer to the box, pulling the defenders toward him like gravity itself.
"Cut him off!" one of the defenders roared, sliding into Isagi's path.
Isagi saw it coming, chipping the ball and leaping above the player, glaring at him as he passed below him. He quickly snapped the ball left, cutting through a narrow gap between two closing players with a razor sharp turn. The defenders stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden change in direction.
"Shit!" one of them cursed, spinning too late to catch him.
The space opened wide. Isagi didn't waste a second. His eyes narrowed sharply, locking onto the far corner of the goal. Without breaking his stride, he planted his foot with practiced precision, coiling his entire body in a single, fluid motion, ready to unleash a Hitman's Sniper Shot, thirty seven meters from the goal. He was within his maximum range, which currently stood at forty meters, so he had no problem unleashing a shot from here.
All of the sudden, pain speared into his back. He was sent sprawling on the ground, heaving big when weight fell on top of him a second after.
BZZZZZZZZZZZ
The room was silent, the shrill cry of the whistle resonating in everyone's ears.
"There was a malicious foul on the play. Team Y number sixteen, Hibiki Okawa, yellow card!"
A low groan slipped from Isagi's throat as he pushed himself up slightly, spitting a bit of dirt from his mouth. His fingers curled into the turf, feeling the faint sting of the scrape on his palm. Blinking a few times, he shook off the haze clouding his vision. The ache in his back was sharp and lingering, but manageable. His ears caught the familiar snarl of his teammate's voice cutting through the static buzz of the AI referee's ruling.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Raichi barked, stomping over toward the offender. He was livid, his voice hoarse from the sheer volume of his outrage. He jabbed a finger toward the ceiling-mounted camera where the AI system monitored the match, then jabbed it at Okawa. "That piece of shit rammed right into him, and you're giving him a yellow? What are you, blind?! That's at least a fucking red!"
"Watch your mouth," Okawa spat back venomously, his voice sharp with defiance. His lips pulled into a smug, cocky sneer, barely phased by the penalty as he made his way back to his feet. "It was a fair challenge. If your pretty boy can't take a hit, that's his problem."
"Fair? You body-slammed him, you asshole!" Raichi roared, shoving Okawa's shoulder, making him stumble back slightly.
"Oi! Don't touch me!" Okawa snapped, shoving him right back with a scowl.
"Warning: No physical altercations are permitted outside of legal play. Further misconduct will result in disciplinary action."
A strong hand clamped down on Raichi's shoulder, halting him from going any further. Kunigami's presence was firm, backed by his considerable strength. His narrowed eyes drilled into Raichi, a silent but forceful warning.
"Don't," he muttered, his tone carrying a weight that made Raichi bristle but hesitate. He could hear the anger in the orange haired hero's tone, directed completely at Okawa. "You'll just get yourself carded. Don't do anything that'll screw up the game for us."
Raichi gritted his teeth audibly, his chest still heaving with barely restrained fury. His fists remained, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he didn't move forward again. His nostrils flared sharply as he shot Okawa a venomous glare, the hatred in his eyes promising violence.
On the other side, Chigiri's eyes were narrowed coldly, watching Okawa with a razor-sharp glare that held no trace of his usual calm. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, trembling faintly with restrained indignation. His lips pressed into a thin line, barely able to suppress the urge to snap.
"So this is the kind of crap you resort to? His eyes flicked briefly toward the referee's camera mounted along the wall. "And they're letting you get away with it."
Okawa, still smirking arrogantly, noticed the glare and scoffed dismissively. His eyes narrowed slightly, lips curling into a mocking grin. "What's the matter, princess? Afraid you'll get your pretty little legs kicked out next?"
Chigiri's expression turned ice-cold. Without a word, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed into sharp slits, but he didn't fire back. Instead, he slowly exhaled through his nose, his shoulders tightening faintly. The glimmer in his eyes sharpened into something far more dangerous—a silent promise that he would bury Okawa with speed alone.
From the goal box, Iemon's voice boomed across the field, his expression dark and scathing. "Get your head out of your ass, ref! That was intentional!" His voice carried over the field with barely restrained fury, his gloved hand gesturing sharply toward the AI camera. "You've got twenty goddamn angles! Watch the footage again!"
"Not happening." Okawa's voice was smug, his eyes flashing with defiant satisfaction. "You heard the call. Yellow card. It's done. Move on."
"Like hell it is!" Raichi barked, but Kunigami's hand tightened on his shoulder, pulling him back firmly.
"Let it go," Kunigami muttered, voice low but steady, his eyes still locked on Okawa with cold disdain. His voice was ironclad, holding a weight of discipline that cut through Raichi's rage. "They're not changing the call, so don't worry about it anymore."
"Listen to him," Kuon added sharply, stepping in beside them. His eyes were narrowed, focused purely on the game. His voice was curt and matter-of-fact, devoid of any emotional outburst. "We're up by three. Don't hand them any momentum."
Raichi's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly as his fists remained clenched, but he didn't argue. With a heavy snort, he turned away with a sharp glare, eyes still burning with hostility.
Bachira, who had been watching the scene unfold in silence, finally exhaled quietly. He slowly shifted his gaze toward Okawa, his golden eyes holding an unsettling glimmer of mischief that barely masked his annoyance.
"Heh…" His lips curled into a grin, but it was sharp and devoid of warmth. "That was pretty dirty, y'know. You sure you wanna pick a fight with us?"
Okawa's sneer faltered slightly at the almost playful threat, but the glimmer in Bachira's eyes remained predatory. The dribbler tilted his head faintly, his grin widening just enough to show a sliver of teeth, the glimmer in his eyes unmistakably challenging.
"Che. Shut the hell up, freak," Okawa spat dismissively, turning away, but the flicker of unease in his eyes didn't go unnoticed.
Igaguri, meanwhile, stood a short distance from the confrontation, eyes flickering nervously between his teammates. He fidgeted slightly, tugging on his sleeve, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. His eyes darted toward the ref camera, then to Isagi still slowly pushing himself up. "Hey… should we, um, check on him?" he asked weakly, voice barely above a murmur.
Kira, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange, glanced toward Isagi as well, his eyes briefly softening with concern. Without saying a word, he jogged over to the fallen striker, crouching slightly as he approached. "Yo, you ok, Isagi?"
Isagi, still on one knee, rolled his shoulder back slightly with a low grunt. His breath was steadying, his eyes narrowed in sharp focus. With a slow, measured breath, he pushed himself to his feet, barely sparing Kira a glance. His expression was impassive, void of emotion, but the glimmer in his eyes was frigid and lethal.
Without a word, he turned away, making his way back into position.
"Free kick. Team Z's ball."
It was a direct kick, but nobody on the field or off it — Ego and Anri once again tuned into Isagi's game, this time joined by Sae as well — believed for even a second that Isagi would take the shot. The distance was thirty-seven meters out, barely shy of midfield, far beyond the typical shooting range. Even Kunigami, who currently proved to have the most powerful shot on their team, wouldn't have attempted it, as his maximum range capped out at thirty meters. From this far out, everyone expected a pass. A cross into the box. A setup for a header. Nobody even considered the possibility of a direct strike.
And that was exactly why Isagi knew it would work.
He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his legs slightly, loosening his muscles. His eyes swept over the field with calm, calculated precision, mapping every inch of it. He saw the entire layout in perfect clarity. The clustered mass of defenders packed into the box, the over-committed wall shifting toward the near post, and the goalkeeper positioned slightly off-center, anticipating a cross or a decoy play.
None of them were marking him seriously. They weren't even looking at him.
'Everyone's in the box. No one even thinks I'm going to shoot. Perfect. I see Kuon and Kunigami towards the right side, I'll slam it there and use them as distractions.'
The plan crystallized in his mind with razor-sharp clarity. It was instinctive, the decision forming in a heartbeat. His eyes flitted toward the far post, then flicked back to the right where his teammates waited. He subtly shifted his posture, selling the fake, making it look like he was aiming for a cross.
'In… out… In… out…'
His breathing slowed, deliberate and steady, centering himself. The tension coiled in his muscles, a spring-loaded fury held just before release.
The whistle shrieked, sharp and decisive.
Without hesitation, Isagi exploded into motion. He surged forward with a sudden, fluid burst of speed, closing the gap between himself and the ball in a blink. His strides were long and powerful, each step driving him with unwavering purpose. The moment he planted his foot, he twisted his entire body into the shot, every ounce of strength and precision coursing through him.
His boot slammed into the ball with brutal force. The sharp, bone-jarring crack of impact cut through the air like a gunshot. The ball rocketed off the grass with blistering speed, a white blur knuckling through the air. Its erratic spin created a slight, unpredictable wobble, a knuckleball at long range, rendering it nearly impossible to track.
The players in the box all snapped to attention, their eyes locking onto the ball as it came screaming toward them.
From their position near the far post, Kunigami and Kuon surged forward. Both players lunged toward the incoming ball, their bodies twisting midair as they prepared to contest it with a header. Their eyes were locked onto the soaring projectile, their jaws clenched with determination.
'Perfect height. Right in the sweet spot. This is mine.'
The moment before contact, both of them realized something was wrong. Their eyes widened in a brief, jarring flicker of confusion.
'Wait… it's still rising?'
Their heads snapped back slightly, following the ball's trajectory as it kept climbing. Their outstretched bodies missed entirely, the ball soaring right over their heads. It wasn't coming to them, not at all.
It was going directly toward the goal.
Time slowed to a crawl. Chronus took action and manipulated the sense of time for everyone watching, making sure they all witnessed the brilliance of Isagi Yoichi, making sure they all knew of the supremacy he held over them. The world wanted them to know of the declaration that the masterpiece of Ego wished to install: That he was the best.
And so, they listened. They adhered.
They obeyed.
Every player on the field watched, their eyes fixed on the spinning blur. This entire moment, nobody moved.
The goalkeeper didn't even flinch.
He remained completely still, his feet rooted to the ground. His eyes remained locked on the airborne team Z players, expecting the pass. By the time he realized what was happening, the ball was already halfway past him. His body tensed slightly, his arms half-raised, but he didn't even attempt to dive.
It was too late.
The ball slammed into the far corner with a violent, resounding thud. It struck the inside netting so viciously that the entire goal frame jolted slightly, the net rippling violently as the shot buried itself deep into the corner. The ball barely slowed as it ricocheted against the inner side net, its momentum making it spin rapidly in place before finally coming to a stop.
The stadium fell into stunned silence.
For a moment, the entire field froze in its place. All the players stood stock still, their eyes wide and their mouths agape. No one moved. No one breathed.
Kunigami, still facing the goal, slowly lowered his arms. His eyes were wide, his breathing slightly unsteady as he stared at the ball lodged in the corner. His lips parted faintly, but no words came out.
"...No way…" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
Kuon, his head slowly swiveling back toward Isagi, wore the same dumbfounded expression. He blinked once, his mouth opening and closing slightly, struggling to process what he had just witnessed. His hands, still half raised from his failed header attempt, slowly fell to his sides.
The players of team Y were no different. Niko stood stock-still, his eyes locked onto the ball in disbelief. Okawa, still recovering from the prior clash, stared at the goal with his lips slightly parted, confusion and shock clouding his face.
The goalkeeper slumped slightly, his arms slowly falling to his sides. His eyes remained wide and disbelieving, locked on the back of the net. The parasitic sense of despair bit into him.
The same parasite team X was infected by
The only one partially unfazed was Bachira. He knew how audacious Isagi was, but even he didn't think it would be to this extent.
A slow, devilish grin stretched across his face. His golden eyes gleamed with barely contained glee as he tilted his head slightly, watching the ball settle at the bottom of the net. His grin widened even further, splitting into a full fledged, fanged smile.
"Ha… hahaha... He did it again," he laughed softly, muttering in a frenzied tone. His eyes glimmered with excitement as he turned toward Isagi. "Just like last time. You sneaky bastard."
He was the only one who wasn't totally surprised, because he had already been on the receiving end of a similar play in their match against team X. He had been the only one to feel the sting of Isagi's ruthless unpredictability firsthand back then. But now, he wasn't alone.
The scoreboard instantly flickered and updated.
Team Y 0 – 4 Team Z
The glowing numbers seared into the digital display like a brand, merciless and unrelenting. The gap widened even further.
And finally, the silence broke.
Team Z exploded into a frenzy.
Chigiri whipped around and sprinted toward Isagi with a wild grin, pumping his fist into the air. "ISAGI!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with raw exhilaration.
Raichi let out a roar, throwing arm with a fist so tightly clenched his knuckles turned white. "FUCK YEAH! THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE, ISAGI!" he snarled, his face contorted with unrestrained triumph.
Kunigami, still recovering from his shock, let out a loud, disbelieving laugh. He threw his head back and barked out a loud, "HAH!" as if in defiance of reality itself.
Even Kuon, despite himself, let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head faintly. He stared at Isagi like he was a god, disbelief and reverence in his gaze.
"He's a goddamn maniac…"
A wide grin was split across Isagi's face, menacing and predatory as any beast in the world. It was full of tyrannical delight, jubilation carved into every curve of his lips. The muscles in his jaw were taut, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl of satisfaction. His eyes, cold and sharp with feral glee, gleamed with a murderous glint as they remained locked onto the goal, the symbol of his absolute dominance.
'There's my hattrick, you fools. Make sure to engrave it into your damn minds that you don't ever underestimate me.'
The thought rang in his mind like a clarion bell, reverberating through every fiber of his being. His blood roared in his veins, liquid fire coursing through him with an intoxicating burn. His heart slammed against his chest, pounding with the wild, unrestrained rhythm of victory. Each beat was a drum, fueling the flames of his unyielding hunger. The exhilaration coursed through him, making his body feel more alive than ever.
His gaze drifted slowly over the field, drinking in the aftermath of his third goal. Carnage was what he had left in his wake. The players of team Y were scattered in disarray, their expressions contorted with disbelief and despair. Some were still frozen, their eyes wide with the dull, hollow shock of helplessness. Others were slumped over, hands gripping their knees as they struggled to catch their breath, their willpower drained and their spirits shattered at the sight of his shot. It was the same expressions team X made.
Niko's expression was the most delicious of all.
The bushy-haired playmaker stood rigid near the edge of the box, his eyes locked onto the goal with a vacant, disbelieving stare. His jaw was slightly slack, his lips parted faintly in shock. The calculating gleam that once filled his covered eyes was gone, replaced with a hollow glimmer of disbelief. His fingers twitched faintly at his sides, curling into loose fists as though he couldn't decide whether to rage or collapse.
Isagi's grin widened ever so slightly, curling in cruel amusement.
'What's wrong, Niko? You look like you've seen a ghost.'
The mental jab sent a sharp wave of satisfaction through him. He could almost taste their despair on the air—a bitter, acrid thing laced with hopelessness. It was divine.
A slow chuckle escaped his throat. Low and guttural, it rumbled softly from his chest, just beneath his breath, a sound of genuine, unrestrained delight. His grin curled higher, sharper, more sinister.
And still, he didn't celebrate.
He simply stood there, his expression frozen in a wolfish, bloodthirsty grin, silently mocking them all. His body was loose and relaxed, but the tension in the way he held himself spoke of his readiness. He was coiled and poised, like a predator circling its prey. With a swift turn, he went back to the center circle, ignoring his cheering teammates around him.
'Ah, I don't care anymore. Just restart the game already, I still haven't had enough yet.'
—
In the observatory room, it was quiet. So quiet, even the slightest flinch would have generated noise. The steady hum of the monitors filled the silence as Anri and Sae stared at the screen, their eyes locked onto the image of Isagi, still frozen mid-celebration, his expression one of unrestrained euphoria. The net behind him was still quivering from the sheer force of the shot—a hattrick from thirty-seven meters out. And yet, despite the magnificence of it, neither of them could speak, their minds still reeling from what they had just witnessed.
They sat, silenced by the brilliance of the play, different thoughts running through both of their minds.
Anri's fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles slightly pale from the pressure. 'I can't believe it… he actually did that. From that far out. And with such lethal precision...' She stared at the image of Isagi's smirking face, feeling an odd mix of awe and disbelief. 'How is he so good already? This isn't just raw talent, this is… this is something else entirely.'
Sae, on the other hand, leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed. His sharp gaze drilled into the screen, analyzing every detail. He was deconstructing the play in his mind, retracing Isagi's movements from the moment he lined up the free kick to the second the ball hit the back of the net. He
A low, self-satisfied chuckle cut through the silence, jarring both Anri and Sae out of their daze.
"Pfft… Well, I can't say I expected that."
They both turned toward the sound to see Ego, sitting lazily in his chair, a devilish grin plastered across his face. He slurped noisily from his cup of noodles, the faint aroma of miso wafting through the room. The Blue Lock director leaned back, resting his feet on the table in front of him with the casual confidence of a man who had just watched his investment exceed every expectation.
"That kid always has a way of surprising me. I don't know how I haven't adjusted to it by now." He chuckled again before inhaling another mouthful of noodles.
Anri snapped out of her stunned silence, whipping her head toward the eccentric manager. Her voice was laced with incredulity. "How are you taking this in so calmly?! We just witnessed a world-class goal! And you're reacting like it's no big deal!"
Ego didn't even bother glancing at her. He simply slurped up another mouthful, enjoying himself, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He finally turned to her, his smirk widening.
"It's very simple, my dear Anri. You're astonished because you're not used to seeing the brilliance of Isagi Yoichi. I, on the other hand, am used to sights like these. I've always known he was capable of these things, and helped him cultivate these weapons he has. He's my protege, after all. Why do you think I personally chose him in the first place?"
He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with manic glee. His voice lowered, laced with a twisted sort of reverence. "He is the masterpiece I intend to cultivate by the end of this program. The weapon I will forge to annihilate the world's defenders. The striker who will become the apex predator of international soccer. The player who will stand above all others and inspire millions—no, billions of players around the world to evolve become greater."
He jabbed a finger at the screen, where Isagi's image remained frozen, his smirk wild and full of arrogant satisfaction. "That is my magnum opus in the making."
Anri's throat tightened slightly, her lips parting as she stared at the screen. She had admired Isagi's tenacity from the moment she saw his first game. But this went far beyond that. This was cold, clinical domination.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "He's… he's becoming something else."
Ego's smirk widened at her awestruck expression. "He's becoming exactly what I intended him to be. Look at our resident genius, he's feeling the heat of Isagi's goal the most out of everyone."
Sae, who had remained silent until now, let out a short, humorless breath. His eyes were still locked on the screen, his brows furrowed slightly. He shook his head faintly, still struggling to fully process the shot.
"…He certainly is amazing…" he muttered, his voice so low almost no one else could hear it.
Anri blinked, glancing at him. "What?"
"When we trained together… I thought I understood his level. I thought I had him figured out. But I was wrong." His gaze hardened, his level of respect for Isagi increasing noticeably behind his eyes. "I said before that his ability to adapt and evolve is his biggest weapon, but I didn't think it would be to this level. I can barely hold myself back from storming the field and playing with him."
Ego let out a sharp bark of laughter, turning to Sae with a smug grin. "Heh, get used to it. You're going to be seeing a lot more of that from Isagi. This is just the appetizer."
For the first time in a long while, Sae felt genuine competitiveness flare in his chest. 'Seeing you play now is making me want to train too. You're starting to look like someone who can actually hold his own against me.'
He stood up, hands in his pockets as he walked towards the doors. "I'll be heading out now. I'm going to go train for some new moves I thought up. Send me the footage for the entire game when it's done, Ego."
Ego's grin widened, wolfish and filled with twisted satisfaction. "Make sure to grab the spare training uniforms before you go. Don't let anyone see you, either."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Well, see ya."
Ego and Anri stared at the back of Sae before turning back to the screen in silence, watching as the replay of Isagi's goal looped once more. The ball arched through the air with impossible precision, bypassing both defenders and teammates alike before slamming into the back of the net with bone-rattling force.
Anri smiled. Hope was rekindled within her.
'If he keeps this up… there's no way we'll lose this year's world cup.'
—
"GET ON HIM, QUICKLY!"
"DOUBLE TEAM NUMBER 8 NOW! DON'T LET ANYONE ON TEAM Z THROUGH!"
Team Y's defenders swarmed Bachira in a desperate attempt to kill the attack before it could bloom. They had tried pressing the attack again, going back to their methodical route of passing and creating space, but a quick steal from Bachira had rendered that useless.
A wild grin spread across his face as he danced on the ball, flicking it between his feet with effortless control. The first defender lunged in for a desperate sliding tackle, but Bachira performed a quick drag-back, letting the defender's cleats scrape the turf uselessly as he pivoted and flicked the ball over his outstretched legs. Before the defender could even register his failure, Bachira was already past him, moving with ghostly fluidity.
The second defender wasn't as reckless. He charged in carefully, arms wide, trying to block Bachira's escape routes.
Bachira's grin widened. 'Let's dance.'
He dipped his body to the left, selling the illusion of a full sprint, only to immediately snap his right foot outward in an Elastico, cutting back inside at an impossible angle.
"Whoops~, guess I made a mistake. I meant to run."
The defender's legs locked up, unable to react in time. His body tilted awkwardly before he collapsed onto one knee, left reaching for a ball that was already gone.
A third defender stormed in next. This one wasn't here to be embarrassed like his teammates, and learned not to be committed. He needed to crush the play entirely, at least stall it for his teammates to recover, or else team Z would be given an open lane to shoot.
Bachira anticipated the body check before it even came. As the defender threw his weight forward, Bachira rolled the ball backward with his sole and leapt into a La Croqueta, pushing the ball sideways from one foot to the other in a single, rapid motion.
The defender missed everything. His attempted shove met empty space, his body stumbling forward as he stretched his legs out to steal the ball—
"Looks like you had a little accident. Might not want to leave your legs so open, somebody might end up getting the wrong signals."
He was nutmegged. In cruel, humiliating fashion, Bachira displayed his expertise in Joga Bonito by kicking the ball through the team Y player's legs, stopping the ball with a hop before nudging it with the inside of his right foot to complete the meg.
"Damn, I'm just too good~!" Bachira chirped as he dashed past the helpless defender.
But just before he was free, a fourth player threw himself into the fray, slamming against Bachira's side with raw desperation. The impact knocked him off balance, and for the first time in Bachira's possession, the ball rolled loose.
A golden opportunity—
For Isagi.
"Thanks for that, you dribbling monstrosity. I'll take it from here."
Like a predator pouncing on an opening, Isagi lunged, stealing the ball before the defenders could react. His first touch sent the ball spinning past the closest opponent. His second was already setting up the next move.
"Dammit, stop him—!"
Too late.
Isagi surged forward, his vision expanding as he mapped every moving piece on the field. 'Three new defenders in front of me. Kunigami's arriving on the right. Chigiri's in the gap between them, and Bachira's looping around from behind.'
The plan formed instantly.
The first defender lunged to stop him. Isagi didn't slow down. Instead, he pushed the ball slightly forward and lightly flicked it to his right. Just enough for Kunigami to take over.
Kunigami bulldozed forward, his sheer strength sending another defender stumbling back. He kept the ball close, shielding it with his frame. He went to take a shot, only for a wall of defenders to collapse onto him.
"LIKE HELL WE'RE LETTING YOU SHOOT!"
They threw themselves at Kunigami, limbs outstretched in a desperate bid to block the inevitable cannon strike.
"Tch…" Kunigami tsked annoyedly, sending a low driven pass straight into space. In a blink, Chigiri was gone. His explosive acceleration sent him flying into the gap, his speed so unreal the defenders barely had time to register he was already inside the box.
"SOMEONE STOP HIM—!"
One last defender tried to close the distance. Chigiri cut inside with a devastating chop turn, leaving the defender reaching for air.
The goal was right there, perfect for his shot. But before he could actually take it, Niko came and shouldered him off the ball.
"I won't let you dictate the pace of the game again."
The ball was let loose without an owner, but Chigiri didn't waver. With a final lunge, he swiped the ball towards the side, near the edge of the box where the ultimate nightmare resided.
It went straight to Isagi.
The moment the ball reached him, Isagi already knew what he was going to do. He took a touch to situate himself, positioning himself slightly further in the box. There were no other defenders around him, so he had all the time in the world to prepare himself.
The keeper prepared himself, tensing his entire body while he honed his sight on the ball. Fear was in his heart, and doubt poisoned his spirit, but he still held strong, forcing all of his will onto his form to react. He watched Isagi set himself up, ready to block the shot he knew would come.
Isagi shot the ball, arcing it to the top right of the box, but Miagi didn't follow it. He knew after the first time that it was an illusion. So with a clear mind and heightened confidence, he dived low and to the left. He relished the look of shock and confusion on Isagi's face.
'That's right, you idiot. I have your shot all figured out now. You're not scoring on me this time!'
BBBZZZZZZZZ
Team Y 0 - 5 Team Z
"Huh?" Miagi noticed too late that the shot had not been an illusion. No, the arc he saw earlier was the real thing.
In the terror of it all, with all of the anguish he felt, he couldn't help but remember one thing.
'Oh, so that's why he was confused…'
Another buzzer sounded out a second later.
It was half time.
---
Hellooooo~~~!!!! So, amazing news. I have here a special announcement. We're going to be playing a game together, a game of guess. In the future, I will be creating 2 groups of players for Blue Lock (The universe not the facility). This does not pertain to anyone in the NEL that is not Japanese, this is confined to Japanese players only, so there won't be any Alexis Ness as patience or something similar. Now, onto the listing.
The first group will be consisted of 7 players representing the 7 unforgivable sins.
Wrath: ???
Pride: ???
Gluttony: ???
Lust: ???
Envy: ???
Sloth: ???
Greed: ???
And 7 other players will become their counterpart series, a second group of players that will be representing the 7 heavenly virtues.
Patience: ???
Humility: ???
Charity: ???
Chastity: ???
Kindness: ???
Temperance: ???
Diligence: ???
Who will they all be? Who are the 14 players who will be representing each of these titles? Comment your predictions in the review, I can't wait to hear them!
Anyways, If you guys want to get ahead on the story, go check out my Patreon!
Chapter 9: An Awakening, A Chess Showdown Between Aces
Chapter 10: A Worthy Rival
Chapter 11: A Fun Interlude
Chapter 12: Execution of the Unworthy
Chapter 13: Awaken, O' Reaper of Death. Face the Phantom that's Come for your Head
Chapter 14: Titanomachy
Chapter 15: Hell's Paradise