After the pre-match meeting in the locker room, Lincoln High stormed the pitch like soldiers marching toward a battlefield.
Their cleats thudded against the turf in unison. The sharp air of late afternoon wrapped around them, filled with the scent of fresh-cut grass, sweat, and anticipation.
Julian stepped onto the field, eyes scanning the opponents across the line.
Bellmere Prep Academy.
Their players moved with crisp precision in gleaming silver kits streaked with black—like blades drawn under moonlight. Sleek. Fast. Disciplined.
Julian exhaled through his nose.
Another storm to weather.
Warmups began. Dynamic stretches, short sprints, one-touch passing drills—the usual ritual. Muscles igniting, blood pumping. But the fatigue from yesterday's clash still clung to their legs like invisible weights.
As the whistle blew to mark the end of warmups, Leo clapped his hands and waved them in.
"Circle up!" he called, voice steady, eyes sharp.
The Lincoln High players gathered, forming a tight huddle.
Leo's gaze swept across them—Riku standing tall like a statue, Damien cracking his knuckles, Tariq bouncing on his toes, Felix grinning, Tyrell calm and focused.
Leo spoke like a general before war.
"Our second match," he began, voice low but firm. "Your feet might still be burning from yesterday. Your lungs still sore. But this is another hurdle—and we crush hurdles."
The tension cracked slightly when he added with a smirk, "And don't forget… we've got our post-match party if we win."
Cael, predictably, was the first to chime in. "I'm already thinking about the food, man."
Felix laughed. "Hope you're not too full to pass the ball."
Tyrell bumped shoulders with him. "I'll score, you carry the drinks."
Even Julian found himself smiling faintly.
Leo extended his hand to the center.
"Let's win this. Together."
Everyone piled on.
"YEAHHH!"
Then came the starting lineup formation—the eleven warriors walking forward side by side, forming a line across from Bellmere Prep's silver-armored knights.
Handshake protocol.
Julian's eyes flicked between the opposition, scanning each face.
And when his eyes landed on the key three, he activated his system.
[Activating Scan Lv.1…]
Digital windows opened in his vision.
User: Malaka James
Position: LWB
Age: 17
Total Attributes: 193
A tireless runner, Julian noted from his build. Springy legs, compact frame. The type that'd fly up and down the wing all game.
User: Adrian Bellamy
Position: CDM
Age: 16
Total Attributes: 198
Sharp eyes. Cold expression. His composure reminded Julian of someone from his past life—still waters that masked violent depth.
User: Felix Yuan
Position: AM
Age: 17
Total Attributes: 197
A classic No.10. Elegant in movement, casual in posture. But Julian knew. The way he held his gaze, the subtle tension in his shoulders—it screamed predator.
He clenched his jaw slightly.
"They're strong," Julian muttered under his breath.
"But not unbreakable."
At least they weren't over 200.
For now.
…
Kickoff.
The whistle pierced the air.
Bellmere Prep Academy started with the ball. Their midfield triangle clicked into gear immediately—Adrian dropping deep to collect, pivoting with one fluid motion before slicing a low pass into the right channel.
It was surgical. Smooth. Practiced.
Like a machine shifting gears.
Their midfield swarmed like hornets. Tight spacing. Relentless tempo. Their 3-5-2 stretched wide on the wings but remained compact through the spine. They wanted to own the center of the pitch. Choke it.
Julian tracked back slightly, eyes narrowing as Yuan peeled off his marker and drifted into the half-space.
So that's how they play…
Bellmere didn't just control the ball.
They commanded it.
Adrian received it again near the center circle, unbothered by pressure, scanning with that eerie calm. With a flick, he chipped the ball over Lincoln's midfield line into space.
Malaka, the LWB, sprinted like a launched arrow down the flank. A blur in silver and black.
"TRACK THE RUN!" Coach Owens shouted from the sideline.
Miles Carter was already reacting, rushing to cut off the lane.
But Bellmere didn't stop.
Every pass had a purpose.
Every run pulled Lincoln's formation apart by inches.
They weren't just playing football—they were executing a blueprint.
Julian exhaled through his nose, calm but focused.
[Activating Rule The Pitch – Lv.1: +3 To All Attributes]
The rush of system power flowed through his limbs like warm voltage. Not enough to burn him out, but enough to sharpen everything.
He couldn't charge in recklessly—not today.
Not against a team like this.
He had to trust his teammates.
He had to wait.
Bellmere pressed forward.
The silver wave surged again.
Malaka tore down the left flank, the ball glued to his boots like it belonged there.
Behind him, Miles Carter chased, but Malaka moved like a missile—cutting in just before the sideline.
In the box, chaos brewed.
Yuan hovered in the half-space.
Two other Bellmere players ghosted toward the near post.
But Riku and Tariq were there, standing tall like twin sentinels.
Still—Malaka didn't cross.
He faked inside.
Then surged again—dragging Miles with him toward the edge of the box.
He's baiting us, Julian realized.
Trying to lure out a center-back. Trying to force someone to break shape.
Just when Miles lunged in for a slide—
Malaka chipped it.
A low, curling arc toward the penalty spot.
Tariq exploded upward.
One leap.
One perfect header.
WHAM— the ball rocketed clear.
Counterattack.
The ball hit the turf near midfield—unguarded.
Tyrell reached it first, boots kissing leather.
Julian's eyes flared. He was already moving.
Now.
Tyrell touched once.
Then sent a piercing pass forward. A razor cut down the right channel.
Julian exploded toward it—
But—
SHHK!
A shadow moved.
Adrian stepped in, sliding across the grass like he knew exactly where the ball would go.
His timing was perfect.
He intercepted it with calm, effortless control—
Then, with one touch, turned the ball away and reset Bellmere's shape.
Julian skidded to a stop, biting down on his frustration.
This wasn't just a team with stamina.
They had brains. They had structure.
And more than that—
They had a monster in midfield.