Blue Lock - Conqueror!

[A/N]: This is the longest and thickest I can provide for the last day of the year, Savour It guys

Happy New Year!! 

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"How did you do that?"

Kurona's question hung in the air, a mixture of astonishment and curiosity lacing his tone. The precision of Isagi's shot was beyond belief. It wasn't just the accuracy; Kurona had seen the subtle shift in Isagi's posture, the way he had his eyes locked on Rin moments before the strike. It didn't even seem like Isagi had looked at the goal, leaving everyone convinced it was meant to be a pass to Rin.

Isagi ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling lightly. 

"Ahh... I wanted to pass" 

He admitted, his voice calm yet edged with a trace of satisfaction. 

"Rin had positioned himself perfectly, in a way that made the pass almost irresistible. It would've been a challenge to make that impossible connection. But then..." 

Isagi paused, glancing at the field where the play had unfolded moments ago. 

"Barou. He was watching from outside the main play, and I noticed him moving in toward Rin. If I had passed, it might've been intercepted. And since we were already in the lead, I decided to take the risk. Luckily, it worked out."

His words were matter-of-fact, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed the thrill he felt in that split-second decision. As he turned and began walking back into position, the others silently followed, their expressions a mix of respect and determination.

"Damn! What the hell! That was insane!"

Shidou's voice cut through the air from the opposite side of the pitch. He was almost vibrating with excitement, his wild grin unmistakable as he stared at Isagi. The goal had been nothing short of incredible—a long-range strike that seemed almost supernatural in its precision.

The thought sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. He wanted Isagi now more than ever—his abilities, his instincts, his mind. Shidou was electrified, practically bouncing into position for the restart. The match was far from over, and his competitive hunger burned hotter than ever.

Shidou wasted no time, launching the kickoff the instant the referee's whistle pierced the air. His sharp eyes locked onto Bachira, and with a deft flick of his foot, he sent the ball spinning toward him. Bachira caught the pass smoothly, but his mind churned with emotions far more chaotic than the game before him.

Their team was down by two goals, and the clock was merciless. If they lost this match to Isagi's team, it meant he would never get the chance to play alongside Isagi—the one player who had ignited something feral and exhilarating within him. The stakes were agonizingly personal.

Worse still, Bachira knew he hadn't done anything significant enough in this match to make Isagi's team consider stealing him. His dazzling dribbles, the crazy runs he was known for, had been absent, smothered by his frustration and desperation. Both outcomes seemed to end in the same hollow reality: a future without standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Isagi, feeding off his brilliance, and creating chaos together.

Bachira darted past Kurona with a burst of speed, his feet a blur as he controlled the ball with deft precision. Kurona, refusing to give up, kept pace with him, his focus razor-sharp. But Bachira, ever unpredictable, performed a ruthless nutmeg, sending the ball slipping between Kurona's legs with an audacious flick. The move was aggressive, almost confrontational, and it left Kurona stumbling to recover.

Still, Kurona wasn't done yet. Quickly regaining his footing, he chased after Bachira, determined to close the gap. But no matter how close he got, it was clear he was only reacting to Bachira's relentless dribbling—trailing in the wake of his creative chaos as he surged toward the goal.

Elsewhere on the field, Shidou sprinted toward the penalty box, his instincts honed for the perfect scoring opportunity. Isagi stayed tight on him, cutting off any potential pass, his presence a silent but unyielding block. To the left, Rin tracked Reo, who was making his own calculated run, creating a tense standoff between two tacticians.

Bachira, however, had no intention of passing. He abruptly cut back, sending Kurona skidding slightly as he tried to adjust. Shidou's voice cut through the air, sharp and demanding as he called for the ball, but Bachira didn't even glance his way.

This moment wasn't about Shidou. It wasn't even about the goal. Bachira's heart pounded in his chest, fueled by a single, unrelenting desire—to grow, to prove himself worthy of standing alongside Isagi.

He didn't want to be left behind. He didn't want to be alone.

His dribbling reflected his emotions, each movement carrying the weight of his determination. Bachira's eyes burned with intensity as he pressed forward, his body language screaming one thing: this was his fight, his chance to reach Isagi's level. No one else mattered.

Isagi's keen instincts kicked in as he assessed the situation, piecing together the threads of Bachira's intent. The fiery determination in Bachira's eyes, the way he moved with a single-minded focus—it all pointed to one conclusion. A pass to Shidou was unlikely. Bachira was out to prove himself, to stake his claim on the field, and Isagi could see it clearly.

Kurona, struggling to keep up, was still giving chase, but the gap was widening. Shidou, ever the predator, attempted to slip past Isagi, positioning himself in a spot that could potentially catch Bachira's attention.

Isagi didn't bite. Instead, he exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Kurona, their understanding instantaneous. Kurona shifted to mark Shidou, their roles swapped effortlessly. The exchange left Shidou unmarked for a noticeable moment, his arms raised in anticipation of a pass that never came.

Bachira's actions spoke louder than words: he wasn't passing. He was carving his own path, relying solely on himself.

When Bachira finally faced Isagi, it wasn't just a one-on-one confrontation—it was a battle of philosophies, a clash of wills. The need to defeat Isagi burned brightly within Bachira, fueling every creative and unpredictable move he made.

His dribbles were wild yet precise, a flurry of imaginative techniques designed to bewilder. He flicked the ball, feinted, and twisted with a rhythm only he understood. One move in particular stood out: an elastico that seemed destined for the left before snapping to the right in a motion so fluid that even Isagi was momentarily caught off guard.

Bachira seized the opening, breaking to the right. His body coiled as he prepared to strike, his determination radiating through every fiber of his being. He made a shooting motion, and Isagi reacted immediately, lunging forward to block. But it was a feint—the ball remained untouched as Bachira continued his run.

Knowing Isagi would recover, Bachira faked that shot, cutting outside to the left with lightning precision. The sudden shift left Kurona and Rin scrambling to cover, their attempts to reposition futile. Bachira had created the perfect angle, his path to the goal clear.

In that decisive moment, Bachira fired the shot. The ball rocketed forward, but Isagi, having recovered from the fake with incredible speed, launched himself into the air. His jump was perfectly timed, and his head connected with the ball, deflecting it away from its target.

The ball dropped cleanly to Reo's feet, setting off another chain of events. Bachira's effort had been monumental, but Isagi's defensive brilliance matched it step for step, leaving the entire field electrified by their duel.

Shidou's eyes lit up with fierce excitement as he saw the ball land at Reo's feet. The anticipation coursing through him was palpable—he knew Reo's skill, and more importantly, he knew what was about to happen. Shidou immediately began positioning himself, darting into a pocket of space near the penalty box, his instincts guiding him to the perfect spot.

Rin, sharp as ever, reacted swiftly. He surged toward Reo, cutting off his immediate options, his imposing presence forcing Reo to think quickly. Despite the pressure, Reo remained calm, his expression sharper and more focused than ever.

Positioned on the left side of the pitch and far from the goal, Reo assessed the situation with a calculating gaze. With a subtle turn of his body to the left, he drew Rin slightly off balance. The shift was minor but effective, creating just enough room for what came next.

In one fluid motion, Reo swung his left foot around the ball, striking it with the outside of his boot. The ball curved magnificently, a trivela pass that sliced through the air with precision and flair.

For a brief moment, the field fell into stunned silence as everyone processed what they had just witnessed. The sheer technique, the audacity of the move—it mirrored Isagi's earlier goal with uncanny accuracy.

Gasps rippled through the field as players and spectators alike flinched, caught off guard by Reo's bold execution. The ball arced beautifully, heading toward its intended target with pinpoint accuracy, setting the stage for another game-changing play.

Shidou's grin widened as the ball curved through the air toward him. He could feel his heart pounding, the thrill of the moment fueling his excitement. The positioning was perfect, and he was ready to capitalize on the opportunity with his trademark explosiveness.

Reo watched the play unfold with a quiet sense of satisfaction, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. This wasn't just a pass—it was a declaration. Reo had always been labeled an all-rounder, a jack-of-all-trades. But now, he'd found a way to transform that versatility into a weapon sharp enough to stand alongside the talents of these extraordinary players.

His mind flashed back to the moment of realization. Instead of trying to carve out a unique style of his own, he decided to embrace his adaptability fully. By observing and analyzing the techniques of others, he could replicate them with astonishing precision.

The Chameleon Play.

That's what he'd call it—a style of play that allowed him to mimic any move or technique at 99% accuracy. It wasn't perfection, but it was close enough to give him an edge. In this moment, he wasn't just passing the ball to Shidou; he was evolving, discovering a way to become indispensable on the field.

However, Reo knew the limits of his newfound ability. The 1% imperfection was still a glaring weakness when compared to Isagi's calculated plays and unrivaled intuition. But Reo didn't need perfection here. He used the trivela pass not as a direct strike but as bait—a move designed to pull attention away from its true purpose.

The ball spun in the air, its trajectory sharp and deliberate, heading toward the one player capable of reacting with perfect timing—Shidou.

This wasn't just a pass. It was a challenge, a signal that Reo's evolution wasn't just for himself but a call for Shidou to unleash his own brilliance.

Shidou's eyes burned with exhilaration as he leapt into the air, his body coiled like a spring. The ball arced toward him, a perfect culmination of Reo's vision and Shidou's predatory instincts. In that instant, it was as if time slowed, the moment charged with the weight of expectation.

Isagi, reading the danger, sprinted toward the trajectory of the ball, his analytical mind racing to calculate an interception. But even he wasn't fast enough—Reo's pass had been too precise, and Shidou's positioning, flawless.

As the ball reached its apex, Shidou roared, his voice echoing across the field like a war cry:

"This is my territory!"

In a breathtaking display of power and precision, Shidou slammed his foot into the ball mid-air. The strike was nothing short of ferocious, sending the ball hurtling into the net with unrelenting force. The net rippled violently under the impact, the goal a definitive statement of Shidou's dominance, Turning the score into 3-2.

For a moment, the field was silent, save for the fading echoes of Shidou's declaration. Isagi, Rin, Nagi, and Kurona stood frozen, their expressions a mix of shock and awe.

This match, which had already pushed them to their limits, had taken yet another electrifying turn. The intensity was palpable, the stakes higher than ever. What had seemed like a straightforward clash was now evolving into something much greater—a battle where each player was forced to rise above their limits or risk being left behind.

Reo stood at the edge of the field, his chest rising and falling with exhilaration. The moment felt electric. He had just pulled off something extraordinary—replicating Isagi's near-impossible shot, though not perfectly. His pass had followed a trajectory that was achievable, something within his reach. It wasn't the kind of hard, curving strike that had turned Isagi into a game-changer, but for now, it didn't need to be.

Reo understood his limits, at least for the moment. The Chameleon Style had its flaws, its 99% precision was unable to replicate the true artistry of Isagi's vision. Reo couldn't yet see himself making that impossible shot a reality because that shot was beyond 100% itself.

But he didn't feel discouraged—this play was enough. It was proof that he could stand on this stage with the best of them.

The thrill of contribution, of helping craft a moment as pivotal as Shidou's goal, resonated deeply. This is my path forward, Reo thought. He didn't need to shadow Nagi anymore. He didn't need to be the piece that made Nagi's genius shine brighter. That chapter was over.

Reo's goal stretched far beyond the here and now. He could see it clearly in his mind's eye: lifting the World Cup, standing at the pinnacle of the sport as a winner. To achieve that, he didn't need someone like Nagi, someone who once made him feel replaceable.

'If I'm replaceable to Nagi, then Nagi is replaceable to me.'

This newfound resolve ignited something fierce within him. Reo wasn't just playing to advance anymore; he was playing to create a team capable of dominating the world stage. And for that, he needed Isagi.

'I'll win this match, and I'll steal Isagi.'

Reo clenched his fists, determination etched into his features. His evolution wasn't just in his gameplay—it was in his mindset. The game was far from over, and now, his ambitions burned brighter than ever.

Team Red remained in the lead, but the other teams were evolving at a pace that could only be described as extraordinary. The goal just scored wasn't merely a stroke of skill; it was a dazzling chemical reaction born of the unbridled synergy between Reo Mikage and Shidou Ryusei. Their movements were electric, their coordination near-impossible to predict—an unorthodox dance of instinct and precision.

On the pitch, Nagi and Kurona lingered in thought, replaying the breathtaking sequence over and over in their minds. Their expressions, usually calm and focused, were shadowed with disbelief.

But the sharp voice that cut through their reverie yanked them back to the present.

"Alright" 

Isagi Yoichi said, his tone sharp and determined. 

"Let's end this match now."

Nagi and Kurona flinched, startled by the sudden interruption. Turning toward the source, they found Isagi standing a few paces behind them, his piercing gaze already locked onto the field. He was poised, ready to take action, his intensity almost tangible.

"You're fired up enough?" 

Isagi asked, his lips quirking into a faint, knowing smirk as he turned to his teammate. 

"Rin?"

"Shut up" 

Rin Itoshi snapped, his voice carrying a venomous edge, but his eyes burned with purpose. 

"I'll score."

Isagi chuckled softly, the sound devoid of mockery. Instead, it was a quiet acknowledgment of Rin's unwavering resolve.

The referee's whistle pierced the air, sharp and clear. With a swift motion, Rin sent the ball rolling toward Isagi, the match resuming at a breakneck pace.

Isagi took the ball with practiced ease, his mind already calculating possibilities. The world seemed to slow for a fraction of a second as his vision sharpened, revealing the intricate web of movements unfurling before him.

"Let's go" 

He murmured under his breath, his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash the full force of his strategy. Rin moved into position, his every step brimming with unspoken intent. Together, they surged forward, two forces of nature ready to carve their path through the opposition.

The game was far from over—but for Isagi and Rin, this was the moment to seize control.

Isagi began his dribble with a fluid grace that captivated everyone watching. Each step he took seemed to draw the audience deeper into the rhythm of the game. As he advanced, Shidou Ryusei appeared before him, veins bulging on his face, a wild grin stretching across his lips. His entire body thrummed with anticipation. This was what Shidou lived for—a chance to crush his opponent in a one-on-one duel.

But Isagi was in a different state of mind entirely. His focus was sharp, his movements mesmerizing, as if he were painting a masterpiece with every step. Unlike Shidou, who thrived on chaos, Isagi thrived on clarity. He wasn't weighed down by doubt or pressure—he knew he was going to win. Yet it wasn't arrogance that fueled him; it was the sheer exhilaration of playing against opponents who were constantly evolving, pushing the limits of the game.

Shidou lunged to intercept, his body coiled like a spring, but Isagi was already a step ahead. With a deft flick, Isagi sent the ball around Shidou, slipping past him effortlessly. Shidou froze momentarily, his excitement boiling over. He loved one-on-ones, but Isagi's level wasn't just superior—it felt untouchable.

Now free, Isagi surged forward with a solo run, his pace and precision leaving the crowd breathless. Ahead of him, Bachira and Barou moved into position, their intentions clear. Barou's eyes burned with ferocity; he wanted nothing more than to crush Isagi's momentum. Meanwhile, Bachira's face was a mix of determination and desperation. He didn't just want to stop Isagi—he had to. For Bachira, losing this match meant losing Isagi, and that thought was unbearable.

The two converged on Isagi, their shadows closing in, but he remained calm, keeping the ball close with subtle, calculated touches. His movements were seamless, as if the ball were an extension of his body. Barou shoved forward, trying to muscle him off balance, while Bachira reached for a clean steal.

But Isagi's mind was already a step ahead, dissecting the field. He glanced up and saw Kurona on the left flank, unmarked and ready to receive. On the right, Nagi had pushed forward, but Shidou, recovering quickly, had shifted his focus to mark him. Reo, too, was closing in on Kurona, aiming to cut off that option.

Isagi grinned to himself. This is perfect.

Even as Barou's physicality bore down on him and Bachira's deft footwork sought to pry the ball away, Isagi kept his composure. His feet danced around the ball in tight, purposeful movements, waiting for the precise moment to strike.

Then he saw it—the play he had been building toward. The space opened before him, the pieces falling into place. With a quick shift, he sent the ball to his right in a perfectly weighted pass. The recipient? None other than Rin Itoshi, who had been orbiting Isagi like a predator circling its prey, Though what it really was to increase option for Isagi.

The ball rolled smoothly toward Rin, and the instant it reached him, the air seemed to crackle with tension. Every player on the pitch felt it: this was Isagi's play, his moment. And now, Rin was the one to carry it forward.

Rin Itoshi, now in possession of the ball, didn't linger. With a swift and precise motion, he passed it back to Isagi, who had positioned himself perfectly to advance the play. The exchange between the two was seamless, almost telepathic, as if they had been playing together for years.

As Isagi received the ball, his focus never wavered. Bachira and Barou were both closing in, their presence pressing like shadows, but Isagi moved with precision and calm. With a quick feint and a burst of speed, he slipped past them both, his movements leaving them a step too slow to intervene.

Meanwhile, Rin surged forward, his every step calculated to exploit the space Isagi had carved out. As he ran, he glanced back, his sharp eyes locking onto Isagi. The message in his gaze was clear: Send it.

Isagi didn't hesitate. Drawing the defenders toward him with his magnetic play, he sent a grounded, fast pass slicing through the gaps in their formation. The ball zipped across the grass, perfectly weighted for Rin's advance.

It was a play designed for Rin, one that maximized Isagi's vision and Rin's deadly precision. The defenders were drawn to Isagi like moths to a flame, while Rin exploited the openings with ruthless efficiency.

Rin received the ball in stride, his first touch impeccable. Without breaking momentum, he lined up for a shot. His form was flawless—one fluid motion, honed through relentless practice and natural talent. The ball launched off his foot like a missile, its trajectory aimed for the top corner of the goal.

It was a shot that encapsulated Rin's prowess, one of his best—a strike meant to leave no room for error.

But Reo Mikage was ready.

Reo had been silently watching, absorbing every detail of Isagi and Rin's interplay. His evolution had been nothing short of astounding. With his ability to mimic and adapt, Reo had reached a new peak, each passing moment sharpening his instincts.

Positioned near Kurona, Reo had intentionally kept himself low-profile, giving Rin no reason to consider him a threat. But as soon as Rin wound up for the shot, Reo's mind sprang into action.

'I've seen this before'

Reo thought, his eyes narrowing. 

'This is Isagi and Rin's rhythm. If I cut in now, I can stop it.'

As Rin's foot connected with the ball, Reo broke from his position, leaving Kurona behind. With a burst of speed, he closed the gap, reading the trajectory of the shot.

The ball hurtled toward the goal, fast and precise, but Reo's timing was impeccable. He threw himself into its path, extending his leg to intercept. The ball struck him with a resounding thud, deflecting away from the goal.

A collective gasp echoed through the stadium, stunned by what they had just witnessed. Reo Mikage had blocked one of Rin Itoshi's most powerful shots.

As the ball spun out of play, Reo straightened, his chest heaving but his expression calm and focused. His evolution wasn't just about copying anymore—it was about becoming a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

Rin glared at Reo, his competitive fire burning brighter than ever. Isagi, however, smirked faintly, his mind already turning to the next move.

As the ball ricocheted off Reo's block, it spun wildly across the pitch, up for grabs. Isagi Yoichi, always reading the flow of the game, had already moved. While everyone else was caught in the immediate aftermath of the play, Isagi's sharp instincts had placed him exactly where he needed to be.

His eyes flicked to Reo, whose intense gaze betrayed his intentions. Reo had been watching both Isagi and Rin with laser focus, studying their movements, trying to read their rhythm. To Isagi, it was almost too obvious—Reo's focus was so strong that it left no room for subtlety.

Rin, however, was locked in his own headspace, driven by his singular goal of scoring. That single-minded determination, while powerful, had blinded him to Reo's calculated positioning. But Isagi saw it. He understood the risk in Reo's play and took a gamble of his own, sprinting toward a spot just outside the immediate chaos, a position where the loose ball might land.

It was a bet, and as the ball spun through the air, Isagi held his breath.

The moment felt endless, the noise dimming as all his focus zeroed in on the ball. And then—

It dropped. Inches away from him.

Luck? Maybe. But Isagi didn't waste time pondering it. He moved without hesitation, his body reacting instinctively. The ball rolled into his path, and with a powerful strike, he sent it hurtling toward the goal.

It was low and fast, aimed precisely to the left corner. The goalkeeper dove, desperate to reach it, but the ball was out of his grasp. The net rippled with the force of the shot.

Goal.

The scoreboard shifted: 4-2.

Isagi's teammates erupted in cheers, while the opposing team was left stunned. Isagi stood there, his chest heaving, his face alight with a triumphant smirk.

"I'll take that" 

He murmured to himself, his eyes briefly locking with Reo's.

Reo's expression was a mix of frustration and awe. Despite his block and his growing ability to read the game, Isagi had still found a way to capitalize.

Isagi turned toward Rin, who was glaring at him, his competitive spirit flaring even higher.

"Keep up, Rin" 

Isagi teased, his voice light but challenging.

Rin wasn't overly frustrated with Isagi—at least, not this time. The play had unfolded exactly as he had envisioned: he had manipulated Isagi into passing the ball, carefully guiding his decision-making. Yet, the unexpected wrench in the plan had been Reo. Reo, whose defensive intervention had cut off the execution with a precision Rin hadn't anticipated.

Reo hadn't made a massive impact throughout the game, his presence was largely overshadowed by the high-level plays of others. Until now. First was that Assist which was similar to Isagi's play.

It was an unexpected twist that had Rin narrowing his eyes, re-evaluating the pieces on the board.

Reo himself was a study in contrast—his face flush with both frustration and awe. His team was losing, but he wasn't dwelling on the scoreline. The thrill of evolution coursed through his veins, his mind racing with possibilities. What could he truly achieve by unlocking every fragment of his potential? What was the pinnacle he could reach if he sharpened his abilities and instincts to their absolute limits? Reo was drunk on the idea, intoxicated by the image of a future self-standing on the grandest stages of all.

Barou, meanwhile, was seething. The self-proclaimed "king" of the field had been reduced to an afterthought. Not a single meaningful pass had come his way all game, and his precious touches on the ball had been pitifully sparse. His patience, always paper-thin, was nearing its breaking point. He wanted the ball. No, he needed the ball—needed to score, to reclaim his dominance, to remind everyone on the field of his power.

Bachira, in stark contrast, was a storm contained within. The agony of falling short weighed on him, though he fought to suppress it. Watching Rin and Isagi operating on a level he could barely fathom sent pangs of inadequacy through his chest. Even Reo, with his relentless determination, seemed to inch closer to that echelon. And here he was, struggling to keep pace.

He cast a lingering gaze at Isagi, the player who had once inspired him to dream of a different kind of football—a football where every play was thrilling, where every moment was shared between them. Isagi, however, stood in his way, blocking his every attempt, and shutting him down with an unyielding defensive acumen. Assisting a goal didn't feel like the right answer. No, Bachira longed for more—for a connection, a synergy that could rekindle the magic between them. Yet now, he felt nothing but distance. Alone, once again.

The sharp blast of the referee's whistle cut through the tension. Shidou stepped up, his grin predatory, yet something in his demeanor shifted. Instead of sending the ball to Bachira, as he usually would, he passed it to Reo.

Bachira blinked, his surprise evident. Shidou had deemed him inefficient—a judgment that cut deeper than he cared to admit. Shidou's attention was now on Reo, curious to see what the evolving midfielder could conjure up.

Reo received the ball, his eyes already scanning the field. This was his chance—a moment to showcase his newfound resolve. The question wasn't just what he could create, but how far he could push the boundaries of his own potential.

The ball clung to Reo's feet as he surged forward, his movements commanding attention. In an instant, the field became a shifting puzzle, players darting into their preferred positions, each hoping to carve out their moment of influence.

Amid the chaos, two presences stood out above the rest—Shidou and Bachira. Their movements were deliberate, demanding Reo's focus. It was as if the field itself conspired to draw his eyes toward them.

Reo pressed forward, his mind racing to calculate the next move. He wasn't just looking for a goal; he was crafting the space for it to happen. Yet, even as he ran, a flood of thoughts rushed in, unbidden and overwhelming. They clawed at his mind, fragments of ideas and possibilities colliding with his focus. He flinched internally, momentarily shaken, but pressed on.

Suddenly, Rin appeared in front of him, an immovable obstacle poised to snuff out his advance. Reo barely spared him a glance. Without hesitation, he sent the ball hurtling toward the right wing with precision born of instinct and vision.

The recipient of the pass was exactly who it needed to be—the player burning for a chance, desperate to prove himself. Meguru Bachira.

Bachira caught the ball smoothly, his body moving before his mind could fully register the opportunity. Kurona, ever-watchful, was already closing in, ready to apply suffocating pressure. But Reo's pass had accounted for Kurona's reach, threading the needle and creating just enough room for Bachira to break free.

Bachira pushed forward, his feet a blur as he sprinted past Kurona, who could do nothing but chase, Bachira was locked in—a storm of emotion swirling within him.

For too long, his monster had loomed large, dictating his every move on the pitch. The monster thrived on chaos, on moments of connection, always seeking someone to share the spotlight with. That someone had been Isagi—the player who had become the monster's equal and most of the times even surpassed the Monster, the one who matched Bachira's hunger with his own.

But not now. Now, Bachira was trying to suppress the monster, forcing it back into the recesses of his mind. He didn't want to see through its eyes anymore, didn't want to search for someone to pass to. If the monster awoke, it would drag him back to a place of reliance. A place where his plays were for someone else, not himself.

This was his chance to reclaim his old way of playing—the solitary, untethered soccer he had once loved. His heart pounded as he raced forward, every touch on the ball an assertion of his resolve.

Bachira would silence the monster. He would prove that he could stand alone, that his soccer didn't need anyone else.

Bachira surged forward, the ball tethered to his feet like an extension of his own being. His movements were fluid, electric, and brimming with a wild creativity that only he could conjure. His imagination ran rampant, painting vivid, chaotic possibilities in his mind as he darted past players who dared to challenge him. Their presence only fueled his resolve, each step emboldening him to take on the one opponent he truly craved to face—the one who stood at the pinnacle of his desires.

Isagi Yoichi.

The mere thought of Isagi sent a spark of exhilaration coursing through Bachira's veins. This wasn't just another play. This was his chance—his only chance—to reclaim the chaotic freedom within himself, to overcome the Monster that had driven him for so long. And to do that, he had to face the one who had become his greatest rival.

Bachira charged at Isagi, his gaze locked on the other player with a ferocity that bordered on obsession. The world around them blurred, the field shrinking until it felt as if it were just the two of them. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but he welcomed it. This was the test he had been waiting for.

As they collided in their showdown, Bachira's movements became a symphony of unpredictability. He feinted to the left, his body twisting as if caught in an improvisational dance, and with a deft flick of his foot, he sent the ball soaring just enough to set up a potential shot. Isagi reacted immediately, his instincts sharp, lunging to intercept. But Bachira's eyes gleamed with mischief.

In an instant, Bachira stopped his shot mid-motion and instead kicked the ball hard against the ground. It skidded forward with a sharp, deliberate force, slipping right between Isagi's legs. The suddenness of the move left Isagi frozen for a fraction of a second—just enough time for Bachira to slip past him.

For that fleeting moment, Bachira felt as if he had outpaced not just Isagi, but the Monster that had loomed over him for so long. A step ahead. A fleeting triumph.

With Isagi behind him, Bachira barreled toward the goal. Kurona had shifted into position, moving to intercept, but Bachira was in a trance now—lost in the chaotic beauty of the game he loved. As Kurona closed in, Bachira performed a breathtaking backheel flick, sending the ball arcing above Kurona's head.

Time seemed to slow as Bachira dashed forward, his heart pounding with exhilaration. He wasn't just playing the game; he was commanding it, shaping it with his will and imagination.

"Your rampage ends here, Blunt Bangs!"

Rin Itoshi's voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and commanding. His figure emerged in front of Bachira, radiating a presence that could not be ignored. Rin's timing was impeccable, as if he had read the flow of the game from its inception. He had been watching, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to intercept.

Rin had anticipated that Isagi would halt Bachira in their one-on-one duel, positioning himself ahead to capitalize on the loose ball and turn defense into a lethal offense. But as he witnessed Isagi falter and Bachira surge forward, Rin knew he had to act. Urgency gripped him as he sprinted back, closing the distance just as Bachira bypassed Kurona with that audacious backheel flick.

Now, face-to-face with the rampaging Bachira, Rin stood as the final wall between chaos and control.

Bachira's eyes burned with wild intensity, his every movement unpredictable, his body a whirlwind of creativity and audacity. With a sharp pivot, Bachira launched into a long stepover, his feet weaving around the ball in mesmerizing arcs. The motion was fluid yet erratic, a calculated storm meant to disorient and dismantle.

Rin's focus sharpened. He had seen how Bachira outmaneuvered Isagi—using movements so irrational they defied logic, exploiting unpredictability as his greatest weapon. Rin knew that trying to stop Bachira through conventional means would be futile. There was no plan, no pattern to decipher.

So, Rin abandoned logic.

In that moment, he let go of his rigid calculations and allowed his instincts to take over. His body moved on its own, every fiber tuned to the rhythm of the game, to the primal need to stop the storm before him.

Bachira pushed forward, his steps quickening as he prepared for his next move, but Rin was already a step ahead in his own mind. As Bachira shifted to the right, Rin matched him, his reflexes sharp and precise. When Bachira feinted left, Rin followed without hesitation, his body attuned to every subtle cue.

The clash was electric, their movements a dance of chaos and control, unpredictability and precision. Time seemed to slow as the two locked into their battle, the outcome hanging in the balance.

Rin's instincts screamed at him, and he lunged, his timing perfect, his body cutting off Bachira's path with an almost surgical precision. This was not just a duel of skill—it was a battle of wills, and Rin refused to lose.

Bachira didn't flinch at Rin's precise movements. Instead of trying to outmaneuver him immediately, he paused, holding his ground. His golden eyes gleamed with mischief, his body relaxed yet coiled like a spring, ready to explode at the perfect moment.

Rin mirrored his stance, sharp and calculating. He wasn't one to rush in blindly, but neither was he willing to play passive for too long. Time ticked on like a taut string, and the tension in the air thickened. Finally, Rin made his move, lunging in to force a reaction from Bachira.

Bachira's lips curled into a grin.

With Rin's movement, Bachira executed a wide, sweeping double touch, his feet dancing around the ball in a bold arc. The ball zipped past Rin, leaving him momentarily behind as Bachira accelerated forward.

But Rin wasn't so easily beaten. His instincts roared to life, his body twisting with a sharp, explosive turn. He matched Bachira's pace, closing the gap in an instant. As they converged, their legs reached for the ball at the exact same time.

Thud.

The ball ricocheted upward, spinning wildly into the air. Both players halted for a split second, their eyes snapping toward the ball as it floated in a high arc.

"Nice pass, Bachira" 

A voice cut in.

Bachira's head turned, and Rin's eyes widened. Standing just beyond the fray was none other than Reo Mikage, his posture poised, his expression alive with exhilaration. Reo had been waiting for this exact moment, positioning himself in the one spot where chaos might work in his favor.

As the ball descended, Reo surged forward, his body moving with a confident fluidity. He received the ball cleanly, his control flawless, as if the unpredictable chaos had been orchestrated just for him.

Reo had passed the ball to Bachira earlier, fully aware of what he was doing. It wasn't blind faith—it was a calculated risk, a gamble to create the same kind of magic that Isagi had conjured in the previous play. Isagi's goal had seemed like pure coincidence at first glance, the ball miraculously landing at his feet. But after reflecting deeply, Reo understood that it wasn't luck; it was intentional. Isagi had crafted his chance by manipulating the field and anticipating the unthinkable.

And now, Reo wanted to reach that same ground.

The ball at his feet, Reo's heart raced—not with fear of failure, but with the sheer intoxication of discovery. His eyes burned with excitement, his grin wild and unrestrained. He wasn't playing to win anymore. He was chasing something far greater: his own evolution, his awakening, the thrill of learning something new about himself.

Reo stood tall, ready to turn the chaos into a masterpiece. This was his moment to gamble everything, to seize the opportunity crafted from unpredictability, and to carve his name into the story of this match.

The ball reached his foot which he rocketed toward the goal.

"You're too drunk on your Progress, Chameleon."

The voice cut through Reo's focus like a sharp blade, making him flinch. It was unmistakable—the voice of Isagi Yoichi.

Reo's eyes widened as he snapped out of his thoughts, but it was too late. His shot, which had been so carefully set up, was blocked. Yet the remarkable thing wasn't the block itself. It was what followed.

Instead of the ball bouncing away or being deflected to another player, Isagi performed the unthinkable. His leg moved with surgical precision, absorbing the ball's momentum and speed, controlling it as though it had been passed directly to him. The ball stuck to his feet as he dropped back into position, his movements calm and deliberate, a stark contrast to the chaos around him.

Isagi rose to his feet, the ball still under his control, and began his run. Reo, still processing what had happened, didn't even register the moment he was nutmegged. The ball slipped cleanly between his legs, and by the time he turned, Isagi was already several steps ahead, a blur streaking toward the goal.

The energy in the air shifted. Isagi wasn't just playing anymore—he was driving the match to its conclusion.

Behind him, Shidou and Barou were the closest threats, their predatory instincts kicking in as they pursued him with everything they had. But Isagi wasn't giving them any chances. His focus was absolute, his movements precise. He was pouring every ounce of his being into this final run, determined to end the match in the most definitive way possible.

He could have finished the game earlier. He'd seen the opportunities, the openings. But he hadn't taken them. Isagi had been reveling in the mental battles, the chess-like plays unfolding across the field. It wasn't just a game to him—it was an intellectual war, a test of wills and strategies that exhilarated him.

But now, the moment had arrived. The match had reached its peak, and the satisfaction of playing it to its fullest had been achieved. Isagi no longer held back.

He sprinted down the field, his speed relentless, his determination palpable. The others were closing in, their desperate attempts to stop him fueled by their own pride and drive. Yet Isagi only accelerated, as if fueled by something greater.

That's when it hit everyone on the field like a sudden wave of realization—Isagi Yoichi didn't look tired at all.

Sweat dripped from every other player, their bodies heavy with fatigue after an intense and grueling match. Their movements, once sharp and precise, had dulled slightly under the weight of exhaustion. Even their breathing had become ragged, the toll of relentless effort evident in every step.

But not Isagi.

He was sprinting across the field with undiminished vigor, his pace unwavering, his form sharp. He wasn't even breathing hard. His calm, controlled demeanor sent a ripple of unease through those chasing him.

'Was this his limit? Or had he never truly gone all out against us?'

The thought crossed their minds like an unwelcome truth, a gnawing sense of defeat that clawed at their resolve. They had thrown everything they had at him, pushed themselves to their limits, and yet Isagi was still running as though the match had just begun.

Shidou, Barou, Rin, and the others gave chase with all their might, but it was futile. Isagi was in a league of his own, and for the first time, the players on the field couldn't help but admire him.

And then, the moment came.

Isagi reached the edge of the box, his eyes scanning the goal with an unwavering intensity. The ball rolled at his feet like it was drawn to him, and he didn't hesitate. His leg swung back and then forward in one fluid motion, striking the ball with precision and power.

The shot soared through the air in a perfect arc, spinning beautifully as it carved its path toward the top corner. Every player chasing him slowed to a stop, their eyes following the ball's trajectory with a mix of awe and resignation.

Time seemed to freeze as the ball crashed into the back of the net.

The goal was flawless, a masterstroke that ended the chaos and sealed the match. The score turned 5-2. Team Red had won, and the final note of this symphony of unpredictability was struck by Isagi Yoichi himself.

The realization settled over the field like a heavy fog—Isagi was beyond them. This wasn't just a goal. It was a statement, a testament to his unmatched vision and his ability to bend the game to his will.

Unaware of the thoughts swirling in the minds of his opponents, Isagi stood near the edge of the box, his face calm yet focused. He hadn't scored just any goal—it was his hat trick, the perfect ending to an intense, chaotic, and worthy match.

The whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, and the players sank to the ground or leaned on their knees, their exhaustion finally catching up to them. But in the midst of it all, one thing was clear: Isagi Yoichi had cemented himself as the conductor of this chaotic symphony, leading Team Red to victory with unmatched brilliance.

Nagi and Kurona erupted in celebration, rushing to Isagi the moment the whistle blew. Their faces were lit with exhilaration, their shouts of triumph filling the air. Without hesitation, they tackled Isagi, jumping on him in their excitement. Isagi, though not as animated, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

The last goal hadn't been particularly hard for him, a clean execution of all his training and instincts. But that didn't mean he didn't feel good about it. The match had been exhilarating, a true test of his ability to command the field and shape the game.

On the other side of the pitch, Team White was visibly crushed.

Reo sat on the ground, his hands buried in his hair, staring at the turf. He had given everything, and pushed himself to reach new heights, yet he had been outdone by Isagi once again.

Bachira stood silently, his head lowered. He had poured his chaotic creativity into the game, yearning to score, to reclaim a part of himself. But he hadn't succeeded. Not a single goal to show for his efforts.

Barou, the self-proclaimed king, looked lost. He had been overshadowed, reduced to a single attempt at goal—a shot that Isagi himself had blocked. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, but he said nothing, unwilling to show weakness.

The only one who didn't seem disheartened was Shidou. His golden eyes gleamed with excitement, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the loss. He stood upright, his gaze locked firmly on Isagi.

"This was the best match of my life" 

Shidou muttered under his breath, almost as if speaking to himself. The match had been a thrill, and even in defeat, he found satisfaction. Isagi had won, and Shidou could respect that. But his grin wasn't just admiration—it was a promise. He was already thinking about the next time they'd clash.

The celebration on Team Red's side began to wind down. Nagi was still draped over Isagi, with Kurona hanging on his side. Isagi, ever the level-headed one, let them have their moment, standing there with a slightly exasperated expression.

Finally, Nagi leaned back, his usually laid-back demeanor replaced by a rare moment of curiosity.

"So" 

He said, his voice cutting through the fading celebration. 

"Who are we picking?"

The question froze the atmosphere, bringing an abrupt end to the celebration.

Isagi's expression shifted, his smile fading as his mind began to race. Nagi and Kurona exchanged glances, both realizing that it was time for a decision. The weight of the match, of everything that had just transpired, settled over them.

Now came the moment to choose, and with it, the responsibility to shape the next phase of their journey.

"I say, Shidou—his shooting ability is unreal. He could be a great asset to the team" 

Kurona remarked, his finger tracing imaginary arcs through the air as he emphasized his point. His voice carried admiration as he recounted Shidou's mid-air shots. The two goals scored by Team White were masterpieces, crafted through Shidou's raw talent and finished off with pinpoint assists from Reo.

But Isagi wasn't swayed.

"No" 

He said firmly, his eyes narrowing with conviction. 

"In this entire match, only two players improved and truly made an impact—Mikage Reo and Meguru Bachira."

Kurona paused, his curiosity piqued. He turned to Isagi, sensing there was more to his judgment. Isagi's mind was replaying the match's key moments. Bachira's dribbling was mesmerizing, a dance of pure creativity and flair. He had even outmaneuvered Isagi in a one-on-one, proving his growth. Then there was Reo—sharp, adaptable, and calculating. Reo had outsmarted Rin at a critical juncture, replicated Isagi's Trivela pass using his Chameleon style, and delivered an assist that rivaled the best plays on the field.

"That's true" 

Kurona admitted after a moment of thought. 

"So, which one?"

Nearby, Nagi stood silently, his arms folded as he watched. Though he didn't say a word, his expression betrayed a quiet hope—he wanted Isagi to choose Reo.

Isagi didn't respond immediately. Instead, a confident smile spread across his face as he began walking toward Team White's players. Each step was deliberate, heightening the tension that hung in the air. The players of Team White stiffened, knowing that one of them was about to be chosen.

Isagi didn't spare anyone a glance until he stopped in front of his pick.

"Your play was the most impressive in that match" 

Isagi said, his tone steady and authoritative. 

"Come now. You've earned your spot on my team—Mikage Reo."

Reo, still seated on the ground, looked up at Isagi, his face a mix of emotions—shock, frustration, and something deeper, a smoldering determination. This wasn't what Reo had planned. He had entered the field with the goal of stealing Nagi from Isagi's team, not being chosen himself. Yet here he was, thrust into the spotlight.

Isagi turned then, walking toward Bachira. For a moment, their eyes met, a silent exchange of respect and understanding.

"Bachira" 

Isagi said, his tone quieter but no less resolute. 

"let's meet again at the next stage."

With those words, he turned on his heel and headed toward the Winner's Gate. Kurona followed closely behind, his posture casual but his demeanor sharp. Rin moved as well, silent and unreadable, his gaze fixed ahead.

Nagi lingered a moment longer, his attention shifting to Reo. 

"Let's go, Reo"

He said simply, his voice calm but firm. Then he turned and followed Isagi.

Reo remained motionless for a moment, his mind racing. The weight of being chosen bore down on him. Gritting his teeth, he finally stood, his resolve hardening. He followed after Nagi, his eyes alight with determination.

Team White watched their departing figures in silence, the bitter sting of defeat hanging heavy in the air. Their journey would continue at the third stage, a harsher proving ground. Meanwhile, Team Red had surged ahead, conquering the fourth stage first and setting their sights firmly on the challenges that lay beyond.

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[A/N]:

Also, Thanks for your great comments guys, It has been getting me excited to write more, Keep it up