The match pressed on—ugly, suffocating.
Every time Lincoln carved into East Valley's half, the rhythm snapped.
A tug at the jersey.
A shove in the ribs.
A clipped ankle hidden behind the referee's back.
It wasn't football. It was ambush disguised as a game.
And there was no VAR. No cameras. Just a whistle and two blind eyes.
The ball spun into Julian's feet near midfield. He turned—only for Sergio to barrel into him like a battering ram.
The impact rattled his bones, forcing him back a step. Sergio's strength was no joke—his attributes were built for this.
[Rule the Pitch – Lv.2: +10 to Strength]
Julian's body steadied, absorbing the collision. His frame braced like steel against Sergio's weight.
For a moment, surprise flashed in Sergio's eyes. The boy's smirk faltered.
He wasn't supposed to stay standing.
But then—Dante Cruz slithered closer. Just enough to shield the duel from the referee's view. A grin stretched across his face, poisonous, rehearsed.
"Go down."
