Eric looked around, searching for an opening—a weakness to exploit, a crack in the armor. But the more he searched, the more helpless he felt.
This man before him seemed like an impassable mountain. An immovable object. A wall forged from sheer will and experience.
He had assumed a stance like a warrior preparing for battle.
His face was devoid of emotion, a mask of cold calculation. And there was something eerie about his pupils that seemed to gnaw on his decision even before he made it.
’Do I have to retreat?’
Eric’s jaw tightened as he failed to find a path forward.
"Seems like Eric is struggling to get through the commander of Madrid’s defense—Cristian Romero!"
Eric could feel Tonali closing in from behind. The Italian had recovered quickly, and time was running out. Though he had managed to gain significant distance in a short span thanks to his explosive acceleration, he knew he couldn’t maintain this isolation for long.
The realization pressed down on him like a burden he couldn’t shake.
’What should I do?’
He questioned himself as he moved, his feet dancing nervously.
’Doesn’t matter. I’m a striker. The goal is all that matters. If there isn’t a path, then I’ll just carve it on my own.’
He bit his lip, shaking off the emotion of helplessness. Then he advanced with a blistering burst of pace that shortened the gap between him and his opponent in a fraction of a second.
But Romero didn’t budge.
He sensed the incoming threat, steeled himself, and braced for impact.
Before rushing to intercept, Romero rolled his pupils around to check on his teammates. He could spot them right behind him, each positioned in a manner that seemed to block every route to the goal. Their positioning brought him a sense of assurance like a safety net woven from collective discipline.
However, to his surprise, just as he rushed to intercept, Eric passed the ball.
Instead of facing him head-on, the Viking had made a pass—a sudden, unexpected shift.
Though the move caught him off guard, Romero didn’t panic. He had confirmed his teammates’ positions, and he trusted them to recover the ball. Just as he expected, his teammate was already rushing to intercept.
But then, something stirred his emotion.
His pupils enlarged. His heart thumped against his ribcage.
’Where did he come from?’
Panic flickered in his chest at the sight of a pink-haired youth sprinting toward the ball. He was approaching at a blistering pace—faster than Romero had anticipated.
’He’s not going to make it.’
Romero drew a quick conclusion as he averted his gaze from his teammate. He could tell that the pink-haired youth would reach the ball first.
This meant bad news.
Upon the realization, he withdrew his focus from the ball and turned to locate Eric. He had expected the Viking to cut through him and position himself inside the box.
But to his surprise, Eric was sprinting to the opposite flank instead.
’What?’
This didn’t make sense at all.
Even so, Romero couldn’t leave him alone. Before deciding on a move, he checked ahead of him.
Just as he looked forward, he found the retreating figure of Tonali.
The sight brought him a measure of assurance.
’Tonali’s there. He’ll cover.’
So he made his decision. He abandoned his post to intercept Eric, chasing the giant of a man across the pitch.
Though it meant leaving a space open behind him, he knew he had to lock onto this threat. The chances of others scoring were far lower compared to Eric Hakonsen.
’If I let him loose, it’s over.’
He sprinted after the Viking, determination burning in his gaze.
The atmosphere of the stadium witnessed a drastic shift as the pink-haired youth rushed to collect the ball.
The audience felt their hearts thump with excitement, their gazes glued to the pitch.
Just as expected, Yang reached the ball before anyone else. However, he couldn’t control it cleanly—his momentum was too great. So he adapted, letting the ball roll forward to execute his next move.
He touched it with the tip of his foot, sending it rolling toward the corner flag. The touch allowed him to conserve his momentum and glide past the opposing defender blocking his path.
Then he made a quick glance inside the box, searching for Eric.
But the box was packed. The opposing defenders had it under their control like soldiers guarding the fortress.
Anxiety flickered across his features. Hesitation flashed through his pupils as he searched for an opening.
’Eric is brilliant in aerial battles.’
The thought surfaced. If he just made a cross high enough to avoid the defenders lurking inside the box, perhaps he could create something out of this attack.
He considered it.
But something inside him held him back.
So instead of crossing into the box, he passed the ball outside where one of his teammates was making a run.
He was unmarked and had a lot of space to operate.
It didn’t seem like a bad option. Though he knew Eric would complain later, this felt like the smarter choice.
Who cares who scores the goal?
As long as we score, does it even matter?
With that thought, he released the pass. The ball cut across the box, heading straight out.
The opposing defenders didn’t see it coming. No chance to intercept.
’Now!’
Just as the ball rolled outside the box, Hiro accelerated.
He had been lurking in the shadows, avoiding gazes, concealing his presence. Like a predator stalking through tall grass, he had been waiting for this moment.
And now as he sensed the opportunity, he struck.
He dashed like a bolt of lightning, passing his opponent in the blink of an eye.
The opponent sensed something like a shift in the air, a whisper of danger. But before he could even process it, Hiro was already there.
’Where did he come from?’
The thought barely formed before it was swallowed by shock.
It seemed as though he had appeared out of thin air like a ghost materializing from the void.
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