The atmosphere was tense.
After Ego's announcement, we knew exactly what was at stake—five matches, only the top two teams advancing. We couldn't afford to mess around. But as if the situation wasn't already cutthroat enough, there was one more rule that completely shattered any sense of teamwork.
The top scorer would advance, regardless of whether their team won or lost.
That meant every single one of us had the potential to survive on our own. The only question was—who would take that spot?
To make things even more restrictive, Ego had already assigned a fixed formation for every team. 4-2-3-1. One lone striker, three attacking midfielders behind them, two defensive midfielders, and a four-man backline.
He wasn't just looking for a team to win games.
He was trying to create the perfect striker.
And naturally, everyone wanted that role.
"I'm telling you, I should be the striker!" Raichi's voice boomed as he slammed his fist on the table. "I'm the most aggressive player here! I can push forward, fight for the ball, and I've got a killer shot. If we want to win, we need someone who can dominate up front!"
Of course, there were always idiots who thought they could qualify alone.
"I should be striker!" Igaguri chimed in, puffing out his chest. "My flexibility will let me evade defenders with ease!"
…Right. Flexibility. This guy was debating for the CF position. Funny.
Kira, meanwhile, watched the commotion with a look of pure disdain. He wasn't even trying to hide it. Maybe my "little talk" had finally knocked some of that "honor in football" nonsense out of his head. Good.
A few guys were actually trying to calm the situation—team-player types like Kuon and Iemon, who were clearly more concerned with overall balance than personal gain. But even their efforts weren't enough to stop the inevitable.
This was going nowhere.
"In my opinion, you should take the CF position," a voice whispered beside me.
Bachira.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're awfully fixated on me."
His smirk widened. "I've talked to you about this before, monster~"
Nah. Nope. Stop that.
We played a few 1v1 and now I was supposed to have delusions too? No thanks. One weird problem at a time.
"Listen up, this is pointless," Kuon finally interjected, stepping between Raichi and Kunigami before their argument turned physical. "We need a way to decide this fairly, or we're just gonna be fighting all day."
He had a point. This was getting boring.
"…I'll be the CF, then."
Silence.
Every head turned toward me.
Kira didn't object—he simply gave me a blank look and nodded. Bachira, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear like I had just made his entire day.
Kunigami studied me for a moment before speaking. "If we go by rankings, then yeah, it makes sense for you to take it. But that also means fewer chances for the rest of us."
A few nods of agreement followed.
Fair. We all needed a shot at proving ourselves.
"We still have the whole day," I said. "So how about this—we play five-on-five matches with rotations. One person sits out as the referee each round. The one who scores the most goals gets the striker position. The same system can be used for midfielders, defenders, and goalkeeper."
It was the only way to give everyone a chance to prove where they belonged.
Most of the team seemed to agree. Even Kunigami and Kuon nodded along.
…Except for Raichi and Igaguri, of course.
"Tch, what a pain," Raichi grumbled, crossing his arms.
"This isn't fair!" Igaguri whined.
But the majority had spoken.
Higher votes win.
So we took it to the pitch.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After multiple rounds of intense five-a-side games, the results were finally clear:
The results were written out.
Isagi Yoichi - 6 goals → Secured the CF position. Bachira Meguru - 4 goals → Attacking Midfielder (AM).Kira Ryosuke - 4 goals → Attacking Midfielder (AM).Kunigami Rensuke - 3 goals → Attacking Midfielder (AM).Raichi Jingo - 1 goal → Defensive Midfielder (DM)..Kuon Wataru - 0 goals → Defensive Midfielder (DM).Chigiri Hyoma - 0 goals → Right Back (RB).Asahi Naruhaya - 0 goals → Left Back (LB).Gagamaru Gin - 1 goal → Center-Back (CB). Igaguri Yudai - 0 goals → Center-Back (CB). Iemon Okuhito - 0 goals → Goalkeeper (GK).
With the positions now set, players like Kuon, Iemon, and even Kira—still clinging to the idea of team play—began discussing formations and tactics. Their conversation revolved around basic positional play, strategies that felt like they were lifted straight from a beginner's handbook.
I tuned most of it out. None of their ideas mattered if we couldn't score. And in a place like Blue Lock, where individual survival came first, relying too much on teamwork could be a death sentence.
"We should focus on maintaining a solid defensive structure," Kuon suggested, arms crossed as he took on the role of the so-called strategist. "If we don't concede, we can fight for a draw and at least not lose right away."
Raichi immediately scoffed. "Tch. What kind of weak-minded crap is that? This is a striker training program. You're talking like a damn coach for a relegation-battle team."
Kira, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. "It's not a bad idea to have some balance. We can't just charge in recklessly."
I sighed. "You're all missing the point."
That got their attention. The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward me.
"In Blue Lock, defense doesn't matter if you can't score. And to score, you need a striker who can turn chances into goals, no matter what." I leaned forward, my gaze sharp and unwavering, arms crossed as I let my words sink in.
"Face it. Not all of us are making it out of here. You can talk about teamwork and defense all you want, but at the end of the day, this is a fight for survival." I scanned the room, letting my gaze linger on each of them. "And if you don't have the confidence to be that guy—the one to take the shot, to decide the match—then don't bother pretending."
Silence. Some flinched. Others clenched their fists.
"Of course," I continued, my tone dropping, heavier now. I let the silence stretch, my words sinking in before delivering the final blow.
"I can be that guy. So… play for me, Team Z." My gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge me. "You run, you fight, you pass—and I'll score the goals that keep you alive."
A thick tension settled over the room. Bachira grinned, his eyes gleaming with something close to admiration—like he had just found his new favorite toy. Kunigami folded his arms, staring me down, his sense of justice clashing against the raw ambition in my words. Raichi looked ready to punch me in the face.
Kira stood still, his back turned to us, eyes closed. He wasn't arguing anymore—which meant he had accepted it. Whether he liked it or not, the hierarchy in Team Z had shifted.
Raichi, however, wasn't so easily convinced. He scoffed, stepping forward, his eyes burning with frustration. "Hah. You talk big, Isagi," he growled. "But what if I don't wanna play for you, huh?"
I didn't flinch. Didn't back down. I met his glare head-on.
"Then prove you can do more than just talk."
Kuon, ever the peacemaker, cleared his throat and forced a smile. "Alright, alright. I get where you're coming from, Isagi. But we still need a game plan, or we're gonna crash and burn in the first match."
"Our first opponent is Team X. We don't know much about them, but if they're ranked the same as us, they're just as desperate to win."
Kunigami crossed his arms. "Then we have to assume they'll come out aggressive. Everyone's gonna be looking to score for themselves."
I tuned out most of their talk. Nothing to do with me. They could argue tactics all they wanted, but in the end, what mattered was who scored the goals.
Before long, night fell, and one by one, everyone drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow, our first match awaited—the first real step in deciding our future.
Morning came fast. The tension was thick as we finished our warm-ups. No one was joking around, no unnecessary chatter. Just the sound of shoes scraping against the artificial grass, heavy breathing, and the occasional crack of a joint being stretched.
Now, we stood in the tunnel, waiting.
The air was suffocating, thick with unspoken nerves and anticipation. Just ahead, through the open exit, the field stretched out under the glaring lights.
My first match in Blue Lock.
We didn't have to wait long. From the tunnel across, Team X emerged, their presence filling the air with a different kind of tension.
And sure enough, there was one among them who stood out.
In the center of their formation, standing with a confidence that was impossible to ignore, was a striker.
Spiked hair, shaved sides, sharp eyes.
His aura was different. Interesting even.
This was going to be fun.
—----------
{Barou's POV}
Insignificant.
That was the only word that came to mind as I looked at them. Team Z.
Weak. Unrefined. No presence.
They were nothing more than a collection of nobodies thrown together to serve as stepping stones for the true king of the field—me.
Hmph. What a joke.
I scanned their faces one by one, already deciding who would break the fastest under my rule. Some of them looked nervous, others were trying to put on a tough act. It didn't matter. The moment they stepped onto the field with me, they would bend, submit, and crumble.
But then…
I saw him.
Saitama's Blue Demon.
Isagi Yoichi
So this was the guy I'd heard about before coming to Blue Lock. The so-called genius forward who made a name for himself in Saitama. Tch. He doesn't look like much. Just another weakling who had gotten lucky in his career. It was time someone put him in his place.
And then there was KiraRyosuke.
The Crown Jewel of Saitama.
Hyped up as a future star, the one everyone expected to carry Japan forward. Pathetic. These so-called "talents" were nothing in front of the King.
I cracked my neck, rolling my shoulders.
This should be fun.
It was time to remind these losers where they belonged.
—-----------------------------
{Isagi's POV}
Ego was really unfair.
The first touch? Given to the stronger team.
Another subtle way to crush the weak.
If you weren't good enough to take the ball back, you started at a disadvantage.
Kickoff.
And then—chaos.
A mess of bodies, a tangle of limbs, everyone desperate to get a touch on the ball. It was funny, really. Watching them scramble, trying to steal from their own teammates. No organization, no coordination. Just pure, selfish desperation.
Tch.
So this is what happens when you throw a bunch of strikers together.
Still… there was one who stood apart.
Spiky hair.
The aura around him—it was real.
Now, show me. What makes you different from these nobodies?
The chaos in front of me was just a messy brawl for possession—until one figure cut through it all.
A blur of motion. A presence that demanded attention.
The spiky hair.
Like a lion forcing its way through a pack of scavengers, he barreled into the center, his body knocking aside anyone in his way. A powerful stride, a single, ruthless touch—and the ball was his.
A single dribble, then another—sharp, controlled, absolute.
Before we could even react, he had already created space.
And then, without hesitation—
A strike.
A booming cannon of a shot, launched from well beyond the penalty area.
The ball sliced through the air, with a violent power that seemed impossible, like a missile locked onto its target.
Iemon barely had time to react. He dove—too late.
The net snapped violently, the entire goal shaking from the impact.
GOAL.
A stunned silence fell over Team Z.
"…No way." Kuon's voice was barely a whisper.
"From that distance?!" Igaguri's eyes were wide with disbelief.
"What kind of power was that?" Gagamaru muttered, almost in awe.
Even Kira, furrowed his brows, his usual composed expression cracking just slightly.
As for me?
I grinned.
Now this was interesting.
The first real challenge.
**-----****-------****-----**
{Third person pov}
Barou turned back toward his teammates, his expression one of absolute authority. He didn't celebrate. He didn't need to. That goal was nothing more than the natural order of things.
His gaze swept over Team X, looking down on them as if they were nothing more than peasants awaiting their king's decree.
"Remember your place." His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of a command. "I am the king, and you are all my soldiers. Your only job is to serve me."
His teammates flinched slightly under his words, but none of them dared to argue.
Barou pointed a finger at them, his tone turning sharper.
"Don't get in my way. If you have the ball, pass it to me. If the enemy has the ball, take it back and bring it to me. That is your only purpose."
He scoffed, crossing his arms. "Tch… It's pathetic that I even have to say this. But as long as you listen to me, we'll win. Because I am the one who will devour Blue Lock. I am the King"
His teammates exchanged glances, uncertain, but deep down, they knew—defying him wasn't an option. So they went with the natural order of things set by the lion.
The ball was placed at the center of the pitch once more—Team Z's kickoff.
The tension was palpable. Team Z had just witnessed an overwhelming show of strength from Barou, and now, the pressure was on them to respond.
Isagi stood over the ball, his eyes narrowing as he glanced toward Bachira, who was positioned slightly to his right, grinning with anticipation.
Kira stood just ahead in the center as the attacking midfielder, a composed but serious look in his eyes, while Kunigami took position on the left, his broad frame ready to charge forward.
The whistle blew.
With a quick tap, Isagi nudged the ball to Bachira, who immediately flicked it back with a sharp pass—a one-two.
Isagi sprinted forward, feeling the rush of adrenaline as he received the return pass and pushed forward into enemy territory.
But Team X was already pressing. They weren't going to make this easy.
Isagi took the first touch, rolling the ball forward before making a simple pass to Kira in midfield.
Kira controlled it smoothly, immediately feeling the pressure of an oncoming Team X midfielder. He glanced at Isagi—who was moving ahead—and considered his options.
Defying Isagi here would be pointless.
Instead, Kira took a controlled touch past his marker, keeping his movements sharp, and spotted Kunigami making a run into open space on the left.
Without hesitation, he sent a clean pass to him.
Kunigami, strong and decisive, wasted no time. Instead of stopping to assess, he fired a driven pass straight across the field toward Bachira on the right wing.
The ball cut through the field like a bullet.
Bachira's eyes gleamed.
With a soft touch, he brought it under control and faced two defenders closing in on him.
One feint. His body leaned right—his opponent followed.
A quick drag-back. He danced past the first.
The second defender lunged, but Bachira flicked the ball through his legs with a nutmeg, effortlessly slipping past.
Now in space, he lifted his head, already knowing where to send the ball.
A smooth, curling cross arced toward the penalty area.
"You're there, right? Monster~"
And Isagi was.
Right where he needed to be.
Without a moment's hesitation, he met the ball on the half-volley, his foot cutting through it with perfect precision. The connection was crisp, the strike sharp—a bullet launched straight for the top left corner.
The keeper barely had time to react.
The net rippled.
Unstoppable.
As the ball slammed into the net, a hush fell over the field for just a second—before Team Z erupted in celebration.
Barou's jaw clenched as the ball hit the net. That shot. That goal.
Someone—some loser—had dared to score against him?
He turned, his crimson gaze locking onto the culprit. And there he was—Isagi Yoichi—standing tall, staring right at him with something that wasn't fear, wasn't hesitation.
No. That was arrogance.
Barou's teeth grounded together. This nobody. This weakling. This peasant thought he could stand on the same field as him?
Isagi took a few casual steps forward, his smirk growing as he looked Barou up and down.
"Oi. Spiky hair." His tone was mocking, dismissive. "What's your name?"
Barou scoffed, his voice sharp like a blade. "Barou Shouei. Remember it, trash. You'll be groveling under my feet soon enough."
Isagi's smirk didn't fade. In fact, it only grew wider, more condescending.
"Huh. Sounds like some royal bullshit," he mused, tilting his head. "But for a 'King'…" His eyes flickered toward Barou's teammates, who still looked stunned. "…you sure let a lot of peasants do the work for you."
Barou took a step forward, muscles tensing. "The fuck did you just say?"
Isagi met his glare head-on. He wasn't backing down. Not here. Not to someone like Barou.
"I said," he drawled, voice dropping lower, sharper, "for all your talk, you ain't shit if you're getting scored on by a 'nobody' like me."
Barou's nostrils flared.
Isagi leaned in just a little, just enough to push Barou over the edge. Just enough to piss him off.
"Or maybe… you're only good when no one fights back?"
Barou lunged—a fraction of a second, a twitch of motion—before stopping himself. His fingers curled into fists, his jaw locking so tight it might crack.
This bastard.
Isagi just grinned, stepping back and turning away. "Try to keep up, 'King.' Wouldn't want you falling off your throne."
Barou watched him go, a vein pulsing in his temple.
That little shit just made himself a dead man.
Barou's frustration was boiling over.
Every time he tried to reassert his dominance, Isagi was there—pressuring him, defying him.
And then, like rubbing salt into an open wound, it happened again.
Isagi found an opening, slipping past Team X's defenders with calculated movements. Bachira's pass was clean, threading through the gaps like a needle. Isagi didn't hesitate. A single touch to control, and then—bang.
Another goal.
The net rippled. The scoreboard changed. Team Z was winning.
Barou's glare was burning holes into the field.
And just when he thought it couldn't get worse—it did.
This time, Isagi didn't shoot. He baited the defense, dragging them toward him before flicking a sharp pass sideways to Bachira, who was already grinning like a madman.
"Thanks, Monster~!"
With a swift strike, Bachira sent the ball flying into the net.
3-1.
Barou's fists clenched, his jaw tightening like a steel trap.
No. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.
This nobody—this pathetic, weak, unworthy excuse of a striker—was daring to humiliate him?
Isagi turned, shooting Barou a knowing smirk.
And Barou?
He was fuming.
The kick-off happened, and within seconds, Barou lost the ball to Isagi.
It wasn't luck. It wasn't a fluke.
Barou had failed to get past him.
And that was all Isagi needed.
After his 1v1 with Bachira, after discovering a newer extent his vision could go, Isagi had been shutting down dribblers left and right. The so-called "King" of the field? No exception.
And Barou hated that.
So, he charged.
Not with caution. Not with hesitation. But with the pure, uncompromising fury of a king who refused to be dethroned.
Isagi saw him coming.
Perfect.
Bachira slipped the ball toward him, and in an instant, Isagi surged forward. His mind was racing, calculating every possibility, every movement. But Barou? He wasn't thinking—he was reacting.
With a predator's instinct, Barou lunged to cut him off, body towering, strength imposing.
But Isagi didn't stop.
He nudged the ball slightly left—baiting him. Barou took the step. Hooked.
A sharp cut to the right. Barou's weight shifted—but too late.
Exposed.
The second Barou realized, Isagi was already past him.
His breath hitched. What—?!
Barou twisted, legs scrambling to recover, but Isagi wasn't done.
He slowed. Just a little. Just enough for Barou to believe—to hope—he could still block him.
And then?
A final feint.
Barou bit again. Trying to slide tackle but getting his ankles bent in the process of missing his target.
With a flick of his foot, Isagi completely bypassed him, leaving the so-called "King" stumbling, grasping at nothing but air. Lying there on the ground.
His eyes widened, humiliation setting in.
And in that split second, as Barou was left behind, Isagi struck.
The ball rocketed past the keeper, slamming into the back of the net.
4-1.
Silence.
Barou stood frozen.
Shattered.
Broken.
Isagi turned, walking past him with a smirk that cut deeper than any insult.
"That's it?" His voice was low, mocking. "Is that all a 'King' amounts to? Tch… Guess you're just another stepping stone after all."
Barou's fists trembled. His nails dug into his palms.
Unacceptable.
—-----
For a brief moment after the ball smashed into the net, there was only silence.
Then—
"Holy shit… he actually did it."
It was Iemon who broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands were still frozen in place from when he had been ready to punt the ball forward—except now, he didn't need to.
Because Isagi had already done it.
A hat trick.
Not just any hat trick. A complete dismantling of Team X's defense and their so-called king.
"What the hell did we just witness?" Kuon muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"Oi oi oi, this is getting kinda insane," Gagamaru mumbled, still staring at the net, as if expecting the ball to burst into flames from the sheer force of Isagi's strike.
"Tch. That bastard…" Raichi clicked his tongue, arms crossed, but his usual irritation was absent. If anything, he looked pissed off that he was impressed.
Bachira, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear.
"I knew it. You really are a monster, huh, Isagi?"
Isagi exhaled, chest rising and falling as he absorbed the moment.
This feeling.
This rush.
He could feel it burning inside him—the proof that this was where he belonged.
"Tch… unbelievable," Kunigami muttered.
The pressure in the air had shifted.
This wasn't just any game anymore.
This was Isagi's match.
And now, Team X knew it too.
Because Barou wasn't the king anymore.
Isagi Yoichi was.
But kings never fall quietly.
And Barou?
Barou was about to show them all exactly what happened when you tried to take his throne.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ball was in play again.
The moment Team Z went forward for another attack, Barou struck.
Like a storm breaking free, he tore through the midfield, bulldozing through his own teammates in the process.
Kira had possession, scanning for an opening.
Too late.
Barou crashed into him like a truck, shouldering him off balance and ripping the ball away before Kira could even react.
"You think you can ignore me?!" Barou's voice boomed through the field, wild, dangerous.
He took off.
One defender in front.
Didn't matter. Barou shoved through.
Two more trying to press.
Like hell they'd stop him. A quick shift, a forceful drive—he bulldozed past them.
His teammates stared, stunned.
Even Isagi, who had been dictating the match so far, felt the shift.
Barou was moving on pure instinct. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
An overwhelming charge toward the goal.
For the first time—this was the King of the Field in full force.
And now, he wasn't asking for permission.
He was taking back his throne.
Barou bulldozed forward, every step like a war drum pounding into the earth. His presence was suffocating—an unstoppable force that refused to be denied.
He didn't need teammates.
He didn't need tactics.
He needed only himself.
And he was going to score.
The defenders in front of him? Crushed.
The distance to the goal? Irrelevant.
Because all that mattered was his shot.
With absolute confidence, Barou swung his leg back, muscles tensing as his entire body followed through—
BOOM.
A cannonball of a shot exploded from his foot, cutting through the air like a missile toward the goal.
But then—
It stopped.
No rebound.
No deflection.
Stopped. Dead.
Because Isagi trapped it.
With a single, effortless touch.
Like taking a gift from a servant.
Barou's eyes widened, his entire body jerking forward, as if the very concept of someone stopping his shot was physically painful to accept.
The field went silent.
"…What?"
Isagi smirked, balancing the ball with ease before flicking it up with his foot.
"Damn." He inspected the ball, spinning it lightly on his toe. "Was that really your best shot, Spikey? Felt kinda… weak."
Barou stiffened.
Isagi let the ball drop and caught it with his foot again, mocking the sheer effort Barou had put into his so-called "unstoppable" shot.
"I thought a 'King' was supposed to have a cannon for a leg." He tilted his head, smirking. "But if this is all you've got, maybe you're more of a court jester?"
Barou's jaw clenched so hard, his teeth might've cracked. His hands curled into fists, veins bulging against his skin.
"You… little… SHIT!"
This wasn't just a loss of possession.
This was humiliation.
The King had been stripped of his crown.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scoreboard flickered.
4-1.
5-1.
6-1.
7-1.
Each number etched deeper into Barou's pride, branding his failure for all to see.
His body moved, but his mind? It was stuck.
This wasn't just a loss. This was erasure.
He stood there, watching as Team Z ripped Team X apart.
—Kira, sliding into the box to finish a clean cutback from Isagi.
—Kunigami, blasting a long-range shot with pure, brute strength, his form unwavering, like a warrior delivering judgment.
—Bachira, dancing through defenders, leaving bodies in his wake before slotting it past the keeper like a child playing in the park.
Goal. Goal. Goal.
The world felt distant. The cheers, the running figures, the scoreboard—
None of it felt real.
This isn't how it's supposed to be.
Barou tried to breathe. His chest felt tight.
Everything was wrong.
He was the King.
This field was supposed to be his kingdom.
So then—
Why was he the one drowning?
He could hear Isagi's footsteps before he even saw him.
And then, that goddamn voice.
Isagi stood over Barou, the smirk on his face sharp enough to cut through his pride.
"You get it now, Spikey?" He cocked his head, gaze burning with amusement. "You're not a king." He took a step closer, looking down at him like he was nothing more than an insect squirming under his boot.
"You're a mere servant."
The words dug deep—a blade carved into Barou's very existence.
His breath hitched. Something inside him cracked.
Isagi leaned in, voice dropping to a taunting whisper. "All that 'King' talk… and what are you doing now? Watching from your knees while I take everything from you?"
Snap.
Barou's fingers dug into the turf. Teeth clenched so hard it hurt.
A servant? Him?
No.
He was born to rule.
He wasn't someone who followed orders. He wasn't someone who obeyed. He wasn't someone who bowed.
His entire life, he had one rule—take the ball, carve his own path, and crush anyone in his way.
And now?
Now, he was being trampled underfoot, humiliated, called a servant by some nobody?
His heart pounded like war drums.
He saw it.
Not darkness. Not despair.
But brilliance.
A field bathed in his presence.
A kingdom where no one dictated his fate.
A king didn't need approval. A king didn't need a throne.
A king didn't need teammates.
Barou stood.
Not as a fallen monarch, not as a dethroned ruler—but as something greater.
A King with no throne.
Because what was a throne, really? A chair to sit on? A symbol of power?
No. A King's power didn't come from a seat. It came from him.
And right now, Barou would take everything back with his own two feet.
His glare burned through the field as Team Z reset for the kickoff. His teammates had stopped passing to him, but that didn't matter. He would take what was his.
The whistle blew. The ball rolled.
Barou moved.
Like a beast unchained, he crashed forward, shouldering aside anyone in his way. One of his teammates had barely touched the ball before Barou snatched it from him, powering through the middle like a force of nature.
Kira stepped up—Barou didn't slow down. He bulldozed past, sheer physicality winning out.
Asahi came for the ball—he feinted right, dragged the ball left, and left them stumbling.
He could see it. The goal.
Kunigami sprinted towards him—Barou didn't hesitate. A vicious flick of his foot sent the ball spinning through Kunigami's legs. A nutmeg.
Bachira rushed in, eyes gleaming with amusement—Barou didn't play games. He shifted gears, powered past, and threw Bachira aside with his sheer presence.
30 meters.
The goalkeeper tensed.
25 meters.
Isagi moved to intercept—Barou wasn't going to let him.
20 meters.
"Out of my way, pretender," Barou growled, shifting his entire momentum with one brutal cut inside, leaving Isagi trailing behind.
15 meters.
The angle was tight, the defenders closing in—but it didn't matter.
Because a King with no throne didn't need the perfect shot.
He just needed his power.
Barou swung his leg full force.
A thunderous strike exploded off his foot, rocketing toward the top corner with terrifying velocity.
Iemon barely reacted before the ball smashed into the net.
A goal.
A declaration.
Barou turned, his breath heavy, sweat dripping, but his smirk was predatory.
"Who needs a throne," he exhaled, eyes burning with fire, "when the entire field is already mine?"
—-----------------------------
The moment the ball crashed into the net, something changed.
For everyone else, it was just a goal. A powerful, defiant goal—but still just a goal.
For Isagi?
He saw it.
A surge of white electricity crackled around Barou's frame, barely visible—but undeniable. It wasn't the eerie, suffocating darkness that had swallowed him before.
This was different.
Raw. Blinding. Undeniable.
Like a monarch ascending not to a throne, but to war.
Barou turned to face him, crimson eyes burning with something new.
"Who needs a throne," he exhaled, chest rising and falling with each breath, "when the entire field is already mine?"
Isagi clenched his jaw, heart pounding.
That electricity. That presence.
Isagi felt it—a thrill. A rush of excitement so raw it sent shivers down his spine.
That white electricity crackling around Barou, the overwhelming aura of domination—this was different from before. This wasn't some king sitting on a throne, demanding loyalty.
This was a king who would take everything by force.
A grin spread across Isagi's face, his breath hitching. This… this was it.
"Finally."
His eyes gleamed, locked onto Barou. This wasn't just some ego-driven brute anymore. Barou had shed his past self.
This was a monster worthy of devouring.
"Now we're talking," Isagi muttered, his pulse racing.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Barou's body crackled with white electricity, an aura only Isagi could see. His movements were sharper, his presence overwhelming. The field bent to his will.
But Isagi had already sunk his teeth in.
I'll devour you.
Barou stormed forward, his every step reverberating with newfound dominance. His entire being screamed "I am the King!"—but Isagi?
He was the hunter.
Barou shifted his weight, muscles coiled like a spring—ready to launch a devastating charge. His instincts were sharpened, his new weapon refined to an art.
But Isagi saw it.
A piece of the puzzle—white lightning cutting through the pitch.
Barou came in like a force of nature—an apex predator charging full speed, muscle and will combined into one unstoppable force. His new weapon—**his ability to carve a direct path through defenders like a blade through paper—**had finally been born.
He was going to shatter Isagi.
But Isagi wasn't looking at him.
He was looking through him.
Barou's sprint was perfect. No wasted movement, no hesitation—just raw efficiency. The new Barou, King without a throne,the lightning given form.
But Isagi...
He saw the path.
Not just Barou's—but his own.
So, he didn't dodge.
He crashed into Barou.
Shoulder to shoulder—a violent collision of wills.
Barou's raw power surged through him, but Isagi bent with it, twisted against it—like water swallowing lightning.
And in that instant—
The ball was his.
He spun off the impact, turning Barou's own force against him, flicking the ball forward with the outside of his boot—a sharp redirect that left Barou off-balance.
For a moment, the King was dethroned of the field he had claimed as his.
And Isagi?
He didn't hesitate.
One step. A second. The goal was in sight.
The keeper rushed out—too late.
No wind-up. No warning. Just a ruthless, cutting-edge strike—
A Power Shot
And then—
BANG.
The net bulged. Goal.
8-2.
Isagi turned, locking eyes with Barou.
A smirk. No words needed.
Because at that moment, as Barou clenched his fists, as the white lightning around him dimmed for just a second, he knew—
He had been devoured.
Barou's entire body tensed, his fists trembling at his sides.
But then—
PREEEEET!
The sharp, final whistle cut through the air like a guillotine.
Game over.
The scoreboard read 8-2. An undeniable, brutal defeat.
For the first time, the self-proclaimed King had been dismantled.
Barou froze. His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, white electricity still flickering through his limbs—power untamed, yet useless now.
Around him, Team X slumped in exhaustion, some collapsing to their knees, others staring blankly at the scoreboard. The weight of their loss settled in like a heavy chain, wrapping around their throats.
Meanwhile, Team Z erupted.
Kunigami let out a victorious roar, fist pumping in the air. Bachira grinned wildly, laughing as he threw an arm over Isagi's shoulder. Even Kira, despite his usual composed nature, exhaled with a smirk, shaking his head.
Amidst it all, Isagi stood there, staring at Barou.
Not with mockery.
With hunger.
A predator who had just devoured a worthy opponent.
"Oi," Isagi called out, tilting his head, voice dripping with amusement. "What happened, 'King'? You were talking real big before."
Isagi took a step closer, towering over Barou's fallen form, eyes gleaming with merciless amusement.
Barou didn't look up. His fists were still clenched against the turf, his body trembling—not with fear, but with something far worse.
Humiliation.
Isagi clicked his tongue. "It's great wanting to be a throne-less king, commanding servants and all that. Real dramatic. But you're forgetting something important."
Barou's breathing hitched.
A presence settled over him. Heavy. Suffocating.
Isagi leaned in, his smirk stretching wider. "All of that is useless if you can't score."
Barou's pupils shrank.
"You have no talent as a striker."
Silence.
Barou felt something inside him crack.
Isagi's next words were the final blow, driven straight into his gut.
"Quit football. Donkey."
Everything went still.
For the first time in his life—Barou Shouei had been reduced to nothing.
The scoreboard flashed bright against the stadium lights.
TEAM X - 2 | TEAM Z - 8Winner: TEAM Z
Isagi's name shone at the top of the scoreboard, 4 Goals – Top Performance.
The field was silent for a moment, as if reality was struggling to catch up. Team Z had just destroyed Team X.
Barou, once untouchable, now stood motionless—drenched in sweat, jaw locked tight, his presence no longer radiating absolute dominance.
The weight of defeat crushed down on Team X. Meanwhile, Team Z had no time for celebrations.
A buzzer sounded.
"All players, return to your dorms," the intercom echoed. "Rest and prepare for your next match."
No further instructions. No extra words. Just move on or be left behind.
Isagi exhaled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. His body was exhausted, but his mind? Still hungry.
His eyes flickered back to Barou one last time. The King had fallen today.
But that fire in Barou's eyes?
Yeah… Isagi had a feeling this wasn't the last time they'd clash.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author Notes:
Yo,
another chapter, please do give some stones yea? And if possible a few reviews are also appreciated.
With this, the first match of the First Selection is done. Barou got an early buff, and the roles are reversed because Isagi is a full-fledged egoist. lol.
Isagi naturally brings out the best in other players, so since he's already evolved here, the process of evolution for others speeds up as well. but that also means that evolving won't be enough to defeat him.
The next two matches against Team Y and Team W won't be this detailed—expect more streamlined action. but I might kind of put more into the Team W one cuz I feel like writing chigiri's whole thing.... anyways.
Signing off,
SG
Editor's Note:-
Wow, Barou got destroyed… haha 😂
-NB