Still stunned, Aaron snapped back to reality when Coach George shouted his name.
He clapped his hands, gathered his teammates, and tried to rally them. "The game's just getting started. Don't let the other team get into your heads. Believe in yourselves—we're not worse than they are!"
To be honest, because of Aaron's gentle personality, his pep talk sounded a bit soft.
Still, it did help. At least it pulled the Milford players out of their dazed state.
Under Aaron's direction, the team lined up again, setting their defense five yards outside their own end zone.
But a massive gap in skill isn't something willpower alone can fix—especially when Milford's fighting spirit was already weaker than their opponent's.
On the extra scoring play, Austin High's quarterback once again slipped through behind his blockers and casually pushed into the end zone.
In less than a minute, the score became 8–0.
The situation looked grim for Milford Middle School.
On the sidelines, the Austin supporters erupted in deafening cheers.
"Aaron, shake it off," Mike said during the change of possession, noticing Aaron was still off his game. "It's about time we showed them what we can do."
Mike knew he wasn't much help on defense—but on offense, he planned to surprise them.
With the Moonlight trait, Mike's physical stats had already passed 190. That level would be elite even among professional athletes. Among high schoolers, it was complete overkill.
Seeing the determination in Mike's eyes, Aaron straightened up. "You're right. It's time we fought back."
Both teams lined up again at midfield.
Whiiistle—
After the snap, Aaron cradled the football and charged toward the opposing backfield in a pincer formation with Mike.
Once he drew most of the defenders toward himself, Aaron pitched the ball to Mike nearby.
A second later, Aaron was slammed to the ground.
Mike, now with the ball, didn't even notice what happened behind him. He had only one thought: get the football into the end zone.
Facing an oncoming linebacker, a fire burning in his chest, Mike didn't bother dodging.
He accelerated, leaned forward, and braced for impact.
Boom—
In a raw, no-frills collision, the linebacker was sent flying.
Mike adjusted his stride and slammed straight into the last line of defense—the safety.
Another violent impact. The safety was knocked aside.
With no one left to stop him, Mike sprinted into the end zone like a hurricane.
Touchdown—Milford scores six.
After crossing the line, Mike slammed the football hard into the turf, venting all the pent-up frustration inside him.
There was no denying it—this solo touchdown was brutal, a perfect blend of power and speed.
The crowd, stunned for a split second, exploded into cheers.
That kind of savage, smash-mouth scoring sent adrenaline through the roof—exactly the kind of football Texas hardliners loved.
But when Mike turned around to celebrate with his teammates, he saw several of them gathered around Aaron, clearly in a standoff with the opposing players.
"What's going on?" Mike ran over and asked.
"It's nothing," Aaron said, rolling his shoulder before smiling. "Mike, that was incredible. You really are our best running back."
"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Little George snapped. "Their number 23 knocked Aaron down and then deliberately stayed on top of him."
Only then did Mike notice the opposing team's No. 23 being boxed in by Milford players.
When No. 23 saw Mike looking over, Tucker shrugged and flashed a provocative grin on his dark face.
It was obvious—the big guy nicknamed "Tank" had a nasty streak.
Seeing Mike's expression darken, Aaron quickly stepped in. "Mike, calm down. It's still game time."
On the field, everything depended on the referee's call.
The ref hadn't flagged No. 23. If Mike caused trouble now, he might end up getting penalized instead.
With momentum finally swinging their way, Aaron didn't want Mike risking an ejection.
On the sideline, Coach George was already arguing with the head referee.
"Didn't you see that? Austin's number 23 was playing way too rough. You should at least warn him, or he'll just push it further next time," Coach George protested, sticking to the facts.
"I saw it. His defense was legal," the head referee replied coldly. "You should return to your sideline."
"How can that be legal? He was practically trying to injure someone—" George tried to argue again, but the referee's expression grew increasingly stern.
Suddenly, it clicked.
This was Austin's home field. The refs were obviously leaning their way.
"Bullshit," Coach George muttered under his breath as he turned and headed back to the bench.
There wasn't much he could do about those borderline calls. Keep pushing it, and he might get slapped with a sideline penalty.
Thankfully, on Milford's next extra-point attempt, Mike once again bulldozed into the end zone, tying the score.
That helped Coach George feel a lot better.
When possession changed again, Austin's coach called a timeout.
As both teams headed to the sidelines, Coach George asked, "Aaron, how's your arm?"
He'd clearly seen how No. 23 had pinned Aaron's arm earlier—that was why he'd been so furious.
"I'm fine, Coach," Aaron replied.
"Good." Seeing Aaron really was okay, Coach George relaxed. Then he warned him, "Be careful of their number 23. He might target you again."
"I understand," Aaron nodded, his expression turning serious.
After that, Coach George turned to Mike. "You should stay sharp too. That timeout might be them figuring out how to deal with you."
"Doesn't matter. Let them try," Mike said, thumping his chest, eyes burning with competitive fire.
Coach George shook his head but didn't say anything else. Having that kind of fighting spirit wasn't a bad thing.
"Sam," Coach George suddenly said, giving him a meaningful look, "when we get back out there, I want you to cut loose on defense. Can you do that?"
After his strong performance in the previous game, Sam had regained Coach George's trust. His position now was defensive end.
If the refs weren't going to flag Austin's No. 23, Coach George was ready to fight fire with fire.
Sam understood exactly what the coach meant. A cruel smile spread across his face. "I know what to do, Coach."
After all, Sam hadn't exactly been a model student in the past—this assignment suited him just fine.