"Kaiser!"
Isagi stared in disbelief at Kaiser, who had landed alongside him after the blocked shot.
"This guy... Did he seriously start charging toward me the moment Hiori got past him? And he just so happened to catch me at the exact moment I switched feet—when I was least mobile. If I'm right about this... then Kaiser... you really are a damn genius."
"Which means... Shinichi must've seen both Kaiser's and Dada Silva's movements, and that's why he was confident enough to go shut down Chigiri himself... So basically, he saw through everything we were doing? Damn it... how far does that guy's awareness even reach?"
Isagi shook his head, trying to clear the whirlwind of thoughts from his mind. He looked up at the screen on the sideline, which was replaying the exact moment Kaiser had disrupted his volley.
In the slow-motion footage, after Isagi struck the ball, Kaiser appeared from the blind spot behind him and raised his leg to block the shot.
The ball deflected off Kaiser's foot, then bounced off Isagi's shin before flying out of bounds. The final touch—was Isagi's.
"So it really was mine that went out. Compared to an attacker, if Kaiser was fully committed to stopping me, of course he'd reach the spot faster than any pass. He didn't try to intercept the ball directly—he waited for the exact moment I couldn't fight back and went in for the kill. It looked risky, but that was probably all part of his calculation."
Isagi wasn't surprised by the result—he had mentally prepared himself for it. But that didn't make it any less frustrating as he jogged back to his team's half, clenching his jaw.
"It's not just Blue Lock players who are evolving—these guys are growing too. I can't let a few early wins make me complacent. These are the best talents from around the world. One mistake, and they'll pass me up on the curve."
Isagi reminded himself, doubling down on his focus. His eyes scanned the field, particularly zeroing in on Shinichi.
Shinichi's overpowering individual skill was still beyond what Isagi could aim for right now—but that hyper-advanced awareness, always one step ahead of everyone else, that was the quality Isagi couldn't stop chasing.
"Yeah... I definitely made the right choice coming here. My next goal—is to reach Shinichi's level of thinking… and take my Meta Vision to the next stage!"
With a newfound goal in mind, Isagi Yoichi was more fired up than ever. But he wasn't the only one who felt that this training match had been worthwhile—Chigiri Hyoma, too, had come away with valuable insight.
In this high-intensity setting, his weaknesses had been exposed almost immediately. Chief among them was his over-reliance on his golden shooting zone. Sure, within that 44-degree space, his shots were a real threat—but the problem was how restrictive that range was.
It wasn't a matter of poor dribbling skills; it was a fundamental flaw. No matter how much he improved, if his target zone was predictable, defenders would always close in—even if he had Lavinho-level dribbling.
"Looks like I need to put training for entering the golden zone on hold for now. Dribbling's not something that improves overnight, anyway. What I really need is better finishing—ideally, a shot I can take on the move, from anywhere. My current wind-up takes too long. If I can't outrun my marker, I'm stuck crossing the ball instead of finishing it myself. I've got to expand the golden zone so they never know where I'm going to strike from."
Everyone was quietly reflecting, drawing their own conclusions. On Shinichi's side, though, the atmosphere was noticeably heavier—except for Kaiser, who seemed fired up.
"Damn that blue-haired brat, mocking me like that..."
Charles seethed, glaring across the field at Hiori with clenched teeth.
Dada Silva, meanwhile, wore a sour expression as he stared at the calmly composed Sae.
"That damn twig... tricked me like that? I'll pay him back with a goal. Just you wait."
Suddenly, Dada Silva shouted toward Shinichi,
"Hey, get me a proper pass next time, yeah? You can handle that, right?"
Shinichi didn't even turn around.
"If you're in the right position, the ball will find its way to you."
"Hah! That's all I needed to hear."
Satisfied with that response, Silva cracked his knuckles and looked toward the opposing side with renewed hunger.
Charles, on the other hand, wasn't having it. He scowled and kicked Silva in the shin.
"Hey! I'm the midfielder here! You should be saying that to me! Otherwise, you're not getting any passes."
"Tch. You think I'm some scrub who's never played with you before? Your passes always go wherever you feel like. No one can predict them. Besides, you're not the one calling the shots on this team."
"Oh yeah? Then I'll make sure I get you a good pass. Just wait!"
...
Beep—!
The whistle blew again. This time, Shinichi's team's goalkeeper didn't go for a long kick, instead passing the ball short to Shinichi himself.
Shinichi began advancing at a slow, measured pace, casually scanning the opposing team led by Isagi.
To be honest, the flaws were obvious at a glance—so much so that Shinichi briefly considered charging all the way through for a solo goal.
But that wasn't due to any fault of Isagi's side.
The team was hastily assembled, with barely any chemistry or cohesive tactics. And to make matters worse, most of their standout players weren't known for their defense. Naturally, the formation was full of holes.
But Shinichi wasn't here to steal the spotlight—he was here to evaluate talent. So after crossing the halfway line, he casually handed the ball off to Charles.
Of course, Charles couldn't care less about Shinichi's careful scheming.
The moment the ball touched his feet, he charged ahead like a wild animal, with only one thing on his mind: get the ball to Dada Silva.
Shinichi didn't interfere—he just watched, eyes calmly tracking every movement on the field.
Charles might be impulsive, but his raw talent was real. More importantly, his style made it easier to judge players with unique personalities. Whoever could read his chaos and adjust accordingly had genuine potential.
As for performance? Charles didn't care about impressing nobodies. From his point of view, these guys were beneath his notice. So even by the end of the tryout, most of them would get little chance to shine.
But that was perfect.
If they played too well and caught others' attention, they wouldn't be cheap anymore.
Shinichi needed hidden gems—underrated talent to carry him from "new-gen No.1" to "world No.1." He couldn't challenge someone like Noa with a team of scrubs. This was the critical stage. No room for dead weight.
"Hey! Quit slacking!"
Unable to take it anymore, Dada Silva exploded. After failing to catch yet another of Charles's erratic passes, he had muscled his way through defenders and finally reclaimed the ball—only to lose it again moments later.
"Seriously, I'm sick of this damn kid! Aren't you supposed to be the mentor here? Show some damn authority, you bastard!"
Charles clearly didn't care whether Dada Silva could reach his passes or not, and the two had been clashing from the start. One didn't respect him, the other didn't want to lower his style—a recipe for chaos.
As the ball rolled gently to Shinichi's feet, he gave a small sigh and shook his head. But he'd seen enough. His gaze sharpened just slightly.
"…Alright then. Time to finish this quickly."
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