Extra's Ascent

Defeat. Again! And again! And again!

How many times had it happened now? No one on Aldrich's team could say for sure. They'd stopped counting after the seventh goal slipped through, scored effortlessly by Saldrich when thirty minutes had barely ticked by.

Now, with only ten minutes left on the clock, all Aldrich's side had managed to secure was a solitary goal. A hard-earned one, clawed into existence through Aldrich's sheer willpower and perhaps the complacency of the opposing team, who stood miles ahead with twelve goals to their name and no intention of slowing down.

"This... this is hopeless!" Dickins collapsed onto the turf, arms sprawled, breath heaving. He had no reservations about voicing what everyone else was thinking but couldn't bring themselves to admit. Not Valeria, not Opius.

They'd pushed themselves past exhaustion, fought tooth and nail for every inch of progress, only to be steamrolled by Saldrich and her unshakable ally, Fiona. Together, those two had torn through the team's defences like they were made of paper, reducing their coordinated efforts to mere displays of futility.

Once, they believed they stood a chance. The first goal stung, the second bruised their pride, but optimism lingered. By the time the scoreboard favoured Saldrich's team with a chasm of points, that optimism had decayed into bitter resignation.

What was the point now? Ten minutes remained. Even if they mustered all they had, what could possibly change?

A glance at Aldrich provided no comfort. If anything, he looked like he'd already conceded.

He had fought with vigour in the early minutes, perhaps even more fiercely than the rest. But after the fifth goal thundered past him, something in his demeanour shifted. It wasn't sudden, but subtle. The spark in his eyes dimmed. His posture loosened. He no longer drove himself to intercept Saldrich with the ferocity he once did. Instead, he quietly retreated to the goalpost, letting responsibility drift toward his teammates, Valeria, Opius, and Dickins.

To his credit, he stopped a few attempts, even parried some spectacular shots and secured a goal for the team. But it wasn't enough. Not by a long shot. Twelve goals pierced their net by the forty-minute mark.

If someone like Aldrich, an S-rank student known for his indomitable spirit chose to back down... then what hope did the others, ranked well below him, truly have?

"You've all fought admirably," Aldrich said suddenly, his voice calm but firm. He could see it, the fading fire in their eyes. "But this match isn't over. Not yet. Not by a long shot."

Valeria turned to him, frustration etched across her face. "What are you talking about? The game's almost done! How can you say it's just beginning?"

Ten minutes. That was all that remained. And the scoreboard glared back at them with a mocking disparity, twelve against one.

It was impossible. They'd given everything, and still this was the outcome.

What were they supposed to do now? Pray for divine intervention? Call upon some benevolent entity to grant them a miracle?

They had played their hearts out. And this? This miserable 1-12 score was the result. How could Aldrich possibly believe there was still a way out?

"Before the match began, do you remember the additional rules the instructor announced?" Aldrich asked, his voice measured.

Valeria's brows drew together in confusion. "Additional rules?"

"Wait... was there something like that?" Opius muttered, scratching his head.

Dickins frowned, squinting at the turf like the answer might be written there.

"Yes," Aldrich said, nodding. "I listened. He said regardless of the final score, if both teams manage to reach the ten-goal threshold, an extra challenge would be triggered. That means, if we can score nine more, even if they remain ahead, we still have a chance to turn the tables."

Dickins blinked. "He said that?"

"Yes, I'm certain. I made sure to pay attention," Aldrich replied firmly. "Unlike some of you."

"Even if that's true..." Valeria began, arms crossed tightly against her chest, "...how are we supposed to score nine more goals in ten minutes? We barely scraped one together in forty!"

She had a point, an irrefutable one.

"You're not wrong," Aldrich acknowledged, eyes narrowing. "But there's one more rule the instructor mentioned."

The others looked to him again, this time with renewed curiosity, grasping at whatever thread of hope he might offer.

"He said that if all four team members are within the opposing penalty box when a goal is made, it counts as four points, not one."

Dickins's jaw dropped. "You're serious?!"

"Dead serious. You would've known if you listened instead of daydreaming." There was no venom in Aldrich's tone, but the reprimand stung nonetheless.

Valeria's eyes narrowed. "Even if that's true, how do we make that happen? We'd have to leave our own post completely unguarded, send all of us forward, and hope no one intercepts. Against Saldrich?"

The thought itself felt ludicrous. They'd be laying their throats bare before a lion.

"She's waiting," Valeria said softly, more to herself than anyone else. "Waiting to crush us again."

"And she will, if we stay rooted in fear." Aldrich's eyes burned now, not with desperation, but something fiercer. Conviction. "But if we go all in, put everything on the line, we can make those ten points."

Opius gave a nervous chuckle. "You're insane. You know that, right?"

"Probably," Aldrich said with a grin. "But insanity might be our only shot."

There was silence.

Not heavy, defeated silence but one weighed with thought. Calculation. Hope.

"You have a plan?" Valeria asked finally.

"I do," Aldrich said. "But I'll need all of you to trust me. Follow my lead, no hesitation, no second-guessing. We go full assault, together."

"And if we fail?" Dickins asked, voice quiet.

"Then we fail knowing we didn't quit," Aldrich replied. "We'll lose standing proud, not broken."

He stepped forward, eyes scanning each teammate, locking with theirs.

They saw it then, the certainty he carried like a banner in battle. Even in the face of absurdity, he radiated belief.

Slowly, Valeria straightened her back. "Alright. One last round."

Opius nodded. "Let's make it count."

Dickins let out a breath, a grin pulling at his lips. "Time to see if miracles are real."

Ten minutes. One goal to ignite a spark. Then another to set the world ablaze.

This wasn't over.