“Imagine this—the stage is the World Cup Final. Eighty thousand spectators are watching you from the stands.
The score is 0–0. It’s stoppage time in the second half.
Your team’s last attack. You receive a pass from a teammate, break free from your defender, and now it’s just you versus the goalkeeper!
Six meters to your right, there’s a teammate wide open. A simple pass to him would guarantee a goal!
【You carry the hopes of an entire nation in this moment that decides victory.】
【And yet—you take the shot yourself without hesitation!】
【Only a mad egoist would do that! You abandon all common sense!】
【On the pitch, you are the protagonist. You must see scoring as the ultimate joy, living only for that single moment!】
【I want to raise someone like that in this country—a one-of-a-kind hero who stands atop the 299 corpses beneath him!】
‘A hero like no other!!’
The instant those words echoed in his mind, Ryūma snapped his head up, his eyes glowing a fierce purple as he flicked the ball forward.
He chose the hardest path—not to pass, not to play it safe, but to take on the goal himself and break through alone!
Gritting his teeth, Ryūma stared unwaveringly at the White Team’s goal.
(There has to be a shooting lane—it’s there, I just can’t see it yet!)
(Through Pablo Cavasoz, past Adam Blake, threading a path through the Blue Lock defenders… it exists!)
(Damn it—don’t move so fast! Slow down!!)
At that moment, the deep violet in Ryūma’s eyes turned to pure gold. The purple flames burning off him blazed into golden fire.
Without a doubt, Ryūma had reentered the FLOW State—the “Slow-Motion World.”
Everything in his mind became clear and calm. The three players blocking his path no longer made him anxious.
(That slow-motion state again, huh? Then I’ve gotta move fast.)
He’d already given names to both of his FLOW variations.
The one that slowed the world around him was Slow-Motion World.
The one that doubled his physical power was Limit-Breaking State.
(Hmph. Cavasoz isn’t fast enough—he’s trying to read my motion before intercepting.)
(Adam’s standing exactly where he expects my shot to go.)
(The Blue Lock defender’s negligible—just a bit of technique and I can beat him.)
(Then… that’s the spot!)
As that thought struck him, Ryūma leapt toward the falling ball he’d flicked into the air.
Pablo Cavasoz saw the movement and his heart sank.
He knew immediately what Ryūma intended—the Kaiser Impact!
Ryūma bent his knees slightly, body arched forward, channeling all the tension in his frame into his right leg.
When the ball dropped into the perfect position, he unleashed his full strength.
The power was no different from his previous full-force Kaiser Impact—
but the accuracy had reached a level that defied reason. Dıscover more novels at novᴇlfire.net
The ball screamed toward the White Team’s goal, first slipping perfectly past Pablo Cavasoz’s interception,
then grazing Adam Blake’s cheek—close enough that the ball passed less than five centimeters from his face.
As for the Blue Lock defender, he jumped with everything he had, but his hand was nowhere near it.
The ball tore into the White Team’s net without a shred of doubt!
GOAL!! Red Team 3 : 4 White Team
“Nice one, Ryūma! Two more goals!”
“We’re not done yet—we can win this!”
Seishiro Nagi came running, wrapping his arms around Ryūma’s neck from behind.
“Haha! Tell me that wasn’t cool!”
“Yeah—it was awesome!”
Yoichi Isagi and Jyubei Aryu ran over right after, each shouting in excitement.
“That shot was insane, Ryūma! How did you even find that shooting line?”
“You had three defenders blocking your path to the goal!”
Jyubei rubbed his forehead with an exaggerated groan.
“You were way too flashy just now!”
Still standing behind him, Seishiro Nagi looked just as curious.
“Yeah, Ryūma, how did you find that shot? If it were me, I’d have passed and tried to work around instead.”
He paused for a moment, recalling the earlier play, his tone turning slightly apologetic.
“Ah, right… sorry about Cavasoz earlier, Ryūma. I lost track of him.”
Ryūma blinked, remembering his earlier confusion.
“By the way, how did he even shake you off, Nagi? I was wondering that too.”
Nagi thought for a second, then answered.
“It happened so fast. I was keeping up with him until Aryu and that Heavy Tank tangled each other up.”
“Then he suddenly accelerated, using them as cover to completely shake me off. By the time I thought to warn you,
I saw you’d already noticed and stopped your motion.”
“So I didn’t shout anything—I just moved into position to link up with you.
Didn’t think you’d go ahead and take the shot yourself though.”
Ryūma nodded, rubbing his nose, thinking for a while before saying quietly,
“Hmm… honestly, I don’t even know. I just felt that angle was right for a split second—so I went for it.”
The others reacted differently.
Nagi nodded like he half-understood, Isagi fell into thoughtful silence,
and Aryu—as always—kept praising how “stylish” Ryūma looked.
Ryūma glanced at Isagi, a little uneasy.
(Huh? You’re trying to piece it together too, Isagi?)
(Don’t overthink it, man! I just made that up—I can’t exactly explain FLOW to you, can I?)
(If I did, Ego would have a field day with me later.)
Just then, Rin Itoshi approached, watching him quietly for a moment before speaking.
“Enough chatting. They’re about to restart.”
Ryūma’s eye twitched as he quickly called out,
“Wanna switch it up, Rin? Let Isagi mark Luna—you come here and link up with me.”
Rin’s eyes flickered with a green light as he walked toward the center circle, his tone cold.
“I’ll beat him myself. You just focus on what you’re supposed to do.”
Ryūma sighed helplessly but smiled.
“Fine, fine. You can handle him. But pray we survive their next attack first.”
“After that goal, the whole opposing team’s fired up—aside from Luna, all four of them are getting serious now.”
“Alright, everyone—let’s go!”
Just as Ryūma was about to jog toward midfield,
he suddenly felt a weight pressing on his back and let out a half-laugh, half-groan.
“By the way, Nagi… when are you planning to get off my back?”