"What a play!"
The commentator's voice exploded through the stadium like a shockwave, barely able to contain the sheer madness that had unfolded.
"Reo Mikage just dismantled Bastard München's midfield!
First, he blitzed past Rensuke Kunigami with that Rabona nutmeg—then used Alexis Ness himself as a wall to bounce the ball past both Ness and Ali!"
Another voice, just as breathless, cut in:
"That was the same audacious move Isagi Yoichi used in the last match—but Reo pulled it off perfectly in the heat of this match!"
The replay spun across the giant screen, showing frame by frame how Reo had flicked the ball, bypassed two defenders with one manipulative setup, and then launched a missile pass from over forty meters.
Straight into the path of Chigiri Hyoma.
"And then came Chigiri Hyoma—bulldozing his way through with that jet-boosted sprint!"
The second commentator jumped in, voice thundering like a drumline.
"That was the perfect follow-through!"
"This one match…"
The first commentator said, his voice softer now, reverent.
"…has already seen two legendary assists. Every goal tonight has been a drama. Not just scoring—but duels. Execution. Skill."
And then the cameras locked onto the aftermath.
Reo and Chigiri were already sprinting toward each other, Chigiri's scarlet mane flew behind him like a wildfire, his face lit up with uncontainable joy. Reo's grin was hard, fierce—a warrior's smile fused with triumph.
"That was insane! You crazy bastard!!"
Chigiri shouted, laughing breathlessly as he leapt at Reo.
Reo caught him midair, and the two collided in a chest bump of pure adrenaline.
"Way to go, you Red Panther!"
Reo yelled back, his voice thick with pride and heat.
As Reo and Chigiri basked in the eruption of glory—caught in the orbit of flashing cameras—another figure stood still, just outside the Bastard München box.
Nagi Seishiro.
A single hand rested lightly on the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on Reo—not with anger, nor confusion, but something quieter. His expression was unreadable.
He had believed that the pass was for him.
In that fleeting moment when Reo raised his head and unleashed that devastating ball, Nagi had moved—believing, trusting. He thought Reo had chosen him. He had felt something stir in his chest.
But he wasn't the one.
Kaiser had marked him like a predator, suffocating his options. And Reo… Reo had already calculated that. Already planned past him.
The pass had sailed over Nagi—forty meters of deadly precision—into the charging path of Chigiri Hyoma, who made it count.
It wasn't spiteful.
It was brilliance.
Reo had used him—not maliciously, but deliberately. As a lure. A magnet to draw Kaiser away. A beautiful misdirection in a masterpiece of deception.
And Chigiri was the executioner.
Nagi didn't feel anger. If anything, his heart twisted with something far more complicated. A part of him was truly happy—for Reo, for the goal, for the victory. Reo had done what he said he would. He had stood toe-to-toe with Isagi… and won.
But deep beneath the pride, like a tremor under calm waters, another thought pulsed:
'I wasn't enough.'
He stood motionless near the edge of the box, still catching his breath. His body had moved with the belief that he was the chosen one—but in the end, he was a decoy. A sacrifice in Reo's perfect play.
And not far from him—just meters away—stood another man wrestling with a storm of his own.
Michael Kaiser.
Jaw tense. Shoulders tight. The golden prince of Bastard München stood glaring at Reo from across the field, his teeth clenched behind a hollow smile.
Reo Mikage.
That name had become an eyesore.
The scene from earlier burned hot in his mind—Reo sliding in like a blade to deny his Kaiser Impact, which Isagi then capitalized. That alone was an insult he hadn't digested yet. But now… this?
A pass that baited him perfectly—Reo had looked directly at Nagi, had invited Kaiser to chase the obvious threat.
And like a fool, he had taken it.
He'd played right into Reo's hands.
Chigiri scored, but it was Reo's mind that had torn through their defense.
Kaiser's eyes narrowed.
He didn't want to admit it, but the scoreboard didn't lie. His attack had been blocked. His dominance had been hijacked. He could feel it… the judgment.
The weight of their eyes behind his back.
Isagi. Reo.
He could feel them, like they were looking down on him.
And that—that—was infuriating.
Back near midfield, the tension was different. But just as heavy.
Kurona jogged up behind one figure in the center of it all—Isagi Yoichi—who stood still, eyes fixed ahead.
"That was crazy. crazy."
Kurona said, breath still half-caught from the last transition.
Isagi didn't move, his gaze locked on Reo.
"Yeah. It was."
He murmured.
"It's like… all the odds lined up for him in that moment. And Reo capitalized on every single one."
Kurona blinked, moving to stand beside him now.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Isagi's voice was low, steady. A mix of admiration.
"It means Reo stood ahead of a sticky situation… and evolved. That's it."
Kurona followed Isagi's gaze now, watching Reo's figure still partially lit up by the scoreboard.
"You mean like… an awakening?"
Kurona asked, eyebrows raised.
"That did feel like one."
Isagi gave a small nod, his tone sharpening with quiet clarity.
"He definitely did. He saw me stepping up… and wagered the entire attack on that. Like he wanted to face me."
Isagi said, a glint in his eye now.
"He used my presence as a catalyst to force himself into that exact moment—one where either he'd break… or break through."
A pause.
"And he won."
There was no bitterness in Isagi's voice. Only a thin, analytical respect.
"Haa… Football really is the BEST."
A smile tugged at his lips as he exhaled, light and full of wonder. He turned, pivoting toward the center circle, his boots already moving forward.
"Huh?"
Kurona blinked, turning to him, confused.
But Isagi didn't glance back.
His eyes were forward—only forward.
And behind that cool expression, something deeper simmered.
Excitement.
Because in all honesty, no matter how the scoreboard read, no matter how many calculations he ran in his mind, Yoichi Isagi knew one truth:
He was the most blessed player in this World.
In the real world, his current skills would have been overwhelming.
Enough to dominate any league.
Enough to become the best.
But this wasn't the real world.
This was Blue Lock.
And the monsters here were carved from a different stone.
The goalposts weren't just nets—they were thresholds. To evolve, to fail, to die and be reborn again.
Even he, with all his so-called brilliance, had just been outplayed.
And yet, in that moment, he felt no shame. No sting.
Only joy.
Because this—this—was the kind of football that made his blood burn. The kind where egos didn't just clash—they collided, fractured, and reformed into something sharper.
In the beginning, when he arrived in this world, he'd played it safe.
Traditional football.
But Blue Lock had cracked that.
Or maybe… it had just dug deep enough to reveal what had always been buried.
The Egoist.
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FWEEET!
The whistle was blown, and just like that—the players began shifting back into their positions.
Only two goals had been scored so far.
And yet, the match had already become a global phenomenon.
The football world—millions watching from behind screens, in cafes—was holding its collective breath. Two goals, yes, but each one had been a symphony of chaos and brilliance.
The kind of plays that were far from expectations.
From every corner of the world, one thought echoed loudest:
"If this is how it starts… what comes next?"
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"Haa…"
At the center circle, Kaiser stood with the ball at his feet.
His chest rose with a sharp breath, but it didn't bring calm. If anything, it only stirred the turmoil louder in his head.
His expression was still, but his mind was chaos.
Zero.
That number burned itself into his thoughts like a stain.
He had scored nothing since the Neo Egoist League began.
Not a single goal.
'I need to accept it. Whatever the ranking might say, Yoichi's specs are much higher than mine. I need to find my way around it.'
Kaiser tightened his jaw, forcing his thoughts into order. He had been running mindlessly, chasing the ball like an idiot.
That wasn't his way.
He had always been the one to dictate the field, not be dictated to. Acting irrationally, like some desperate fool, was not Michel Kaiser's way.
'My rule is absolute.'
At this next play, it would be time for an execution.
The referee's whistle cut through the stadium.
Without hesitation, Kaiser nudged the ball forward and sent it sharply to Ness, his precision betraying no trace of the storm inside.
Ness, equally anxious about the current collapse of the Kaiser-Central tactic and the visible cracks in their hierarchy, felt his heartbeat pounding against his ribs as he took possession.
He looked up, searching for options, and began his run.
The situation was suffocating. Everything felt heavier than it should, every lane seemed narrower. But amidst the chaos, Ness clung to one certainty—he had absolute faith in Kaiser. If anyone could turn this situation around, it was him.
He surged forward, the opposition's press already tightening around him. Boots thudded closer, cutting angles, but Ness trusted his king. Without hesitation, he threaded a sharp through ball into the sliver of space ahead—where Kaiser had already ghosted past Nagi's reach.
The pass met Kaiser's stride perfectly.
Kaiser, reading Reo's movement closing in from the side, didn't hold it for even a heartbeat. With a crisp touch, he sent the ball straight back to Ness, pulling Reo's weight off-balance.
And then it began.
A flurry of one-two passes, executed with precision. Kaiser and Ness carved the field open with their rhythm, the ball never staying at their feet long enough for anyone to pin them down.
Ness carried the ball forward, his boots cutting into the turf with urgency. His eyes flicked up as Chigiri, a blur of scarlet, closed in on him from the side, his speed doubling back into a sliding tackle.
Ness had already turned his hips to send the ball to Kaiser waiting ahead, but that single glance at Chigiri's rapidly closing form changed everything.
'It won't work…'
At the last fraction of a second, Ness adjusted. His foot cut under the ball, sending a lobbed, blistering pass arcing high and fast. Chigiri's slide ripped through the turf but met only air, the ball flying cleanly over his boots—weighted perfectly for Kaiser.
Kaiser surged forward, stride unbroken, when a sharp voice cut across the pitch.
"You're not getting past me!"
Reo had recovered and was already at his left, leaning his full weight into Kaiser's shoulder as he fought to win the ball.
But Kaiser didn't budge.
As the pass dropped toward him, he extended his left hand, planting it firmly against Reo's chest to hold him off. Reo gritted his teeth, expecting the trap—only to blink in confusion when Kaiser made no attempt to control the ball.
The ball skipped once on the grass. Kaiser had let it roll straight through.
By the time Reo twisted to react, it was already too late.
It had gone exactly where Ness intended.
Grim.
In full stride, the Grim collected the ball, his momentum carrying him forward with terrifying acceleration.
In the same moment, Kaiser broke away from Reo, his sprint cutting diagonally to the right in a sharp, angled run that shredded the defensive shape further. Reo tried to adjust, pushing forward to chase Kaiser.
However, on the opposite side, Ness mirrored Kaiser, darting across to the left with the same precision, their two diagonal runs crisscrossing the pitch like blades.
Ness's diagonal run got him between Reo and Kaiser. This slowed down Reo's chase as Ness moved right between them to halt Reo's chase.
It was very close to a tactical foul, a clever move designed to prevent Reo from reaching Kaiser.
"That's as far as you go, eyesore!"
Ness snarled, voice sharp and biting, committing himself fully to his role as Kaiser's protector.
Kaiser didn't waste the opening. He burst into space along the right flank, a streak of controlled aggression, his cleats carving deep lines into the pitch. His movements carried none of the frustration that had plagued him earlier; now there was only deadly intent.
'Good boy, Ness!'
Kaiser thought, a faint, predatory curl tugging at his lips as his kingly confidence returned.
'Leave the rest to me.'
And then his gaze locked forward.
Not at the goal.
But at the back of a figure he was most wary of.
The one rival he wanted to crush above all else.
Isagi Yoichi.
Kaiser drove straight at Isagi, his sprint cutting a clean, aggressive line forward.
Isagi, already tracking Grim's advance, turned his head slightly at the sound of Kaiser's cleats slicing the turf behind him. One glance at that forward charge was all it took to trigger instinct.
'What's he planning?'
He couldn't tell at a glance, and with no time to second-guess, he committed—leaning his body slightly to the right while maintaining his run, angling himself to block Kaiser's path completely.
Kaiser saw it.
He deliberately shifted his run to the right as well, matching Isagi's adjustment to bait him into overcommitting. And the instant Isagi's weight tilted to that side, Kaiser abruptly cut left, his shoulder dropping low as his stride shortened, creating a sudden change of direction.
Isagi tried to mirror the adjustment, pushing off his outside foot to slide his hips left and cut Kaiser off.
But that, too, was exactly what Kaiser wanted.
Before Isagi's balance could fully settle, Kaiser snapped his body back to the right again, his feet hammering the pitch as he exploded past the angle of Isagi's block.
Isagi's core tensed as he tried to correct for the second feint, but the rapid switch had left his frame just off-balance. He reached his right hand out, angling his arm to shield Kaiser from zipping past—
—only to feel impact.
Kaiser's left arm shot out like a battering ram, colliding with Isagi's forearm with a jarring thud. The contact sent sweat scattering from their skin, droplets spinning in the air as Kaiser bulldozed through the challenge.
In that instant, Isagi's reach was broken.
Kaiser surged past him in full stride, never breaking momentum, his golden hair snapping behind him as if mocking the defender he'd just left behind.
"I win, you arrogant asshole!"
Kaiser roared, his words venom-laced and triumphant, his voice cutting through the stadium as he left Isagi in his wake. He burst past Isagi with a final surge of speed.
The previous clashes have left him with a sharp, undeniable clarity. Battling Isagi in his specialties was hopeless. Every time they fought on those fronts, Isagi's superior specs crushed him.
'If I want to win, it has to be on my terms.'
Even if the margin was small, he did have one edge: speed.
Isagi's acceleration was monstrous—an inhuman burst that could close space in an instant—but in terms of sheer top-end velocity, Kaiser surpassed him. Even if only by a fraction, that fraction was enough.
That was why from the very start of this attack, Kaiser had run with everything he had, ramping up to maximum speed before the duel even began. He needed to carry momentum into this exact moment, to frame the battle as a pure footrace where Isagi would be forced to chase on his weaker terms.
And now he was free.
Isagi was behind him, unable to cut him down from the blindside like before. Kaiser could feel him there, the presence like a wolf breathing down his back, but he didn't allow it to rattle him.
'Stay in my sightline'
Kaiser thought coldly, his peripheral vision locked on every shadowed movement Isagi made.
'I'd rather have you here than lurking for a surprise strike.'
Kaiser felt the surge of victory pounding in his chest as he left Isagi behind, the gap widening with every stride. His confidence swelled with each breath, the taste of control finally returning to his tongue.
He cut sharply to his left, boots tearing into the pitch as his eyes locked onto the one player waiting for him.
'Right here!'
Grim was sprinting down the left side, his eyes flicking up just in time to meet Kaiser's. That brief connection said it all.
This was it.
He had already gotten past Isagi—there was no one left to stop him. One well-timed pass and Kaiser could finish the job himself.
Grim saw it too. He adjusted his pace perfectly, drawing his foot back as the ball rolled into his control, every muscle coiled to deliver the pass Kaiser was calling for.
But then—
"Grim! Look out!"
The shout ripped across the field from behind. Ness's voice—loud, desperate—exploded through the the stadium.
Grim's head snapped up at the call, and even Kaiser's focus wavered for the smallest fraction of a second.
Both of them looked.
Both Kaiser and Grim were stunned, eyes widening as the tension of the moment tightened like a vice.
From behind Grim, a streak of motion erupted.
Yukimiya.
He came tearing in at full sprint, his timing perfect, and in one seamless motion scooped the ball cleanly off Grim's feet. There was no clash, no fumbling challenge—just a precise, surgical theft that flipped the entire play on its head.
Grim stumbled forward, empty-handed.
Kaiser froze for a fraction of a second, his chest clenching in disbelief as Yukimiya darted away with the ball.
'No…!'
Shock turned to rage in an instant. Everything Kaiser had built, every calculated movement to escape Isagi and carve open the goal, had just been obliterated in a single touch. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding.
'Damm It!'
But Yukimiya didn't flinch. Even with Kaiser's furious presence, he carried a look of raw frustration himself, as though he was just as sick of being a background piece in someone else's script.
'This is it!'
The words screamed in his head as he pushed the ball forward, accelerating sharply to his right. His boots bit deep into the turf, his body leaning low into the run, every muscle tightening with purpose.
'This is my moment.'
His heartbeat thundered, louder than the roaring crowd.
'...and I'll overcome it. Because I have the capabilities to succeed—right here, right now.
This is my…
Divine Trial.'
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