Chapter 40: The Absolute Standard
The metallic clang of the ball striking the goal post in the previous play still vibrated through the soles of Eshan's boots. The stadium was momentarily paralyzed by the near-miss, the silence heavy as Iemon retrieved the ball for the goal kick.
Team Z held a 1-0 lead, but the air felt thick, saturated with the frantic energy of a match that was rapidly evolving into a war.
Eshan didn't look at the goal he had just saved. He moved through the midfield, his presence acting as a cold front that chilled the panic rising in his teammates. He grabbed Raichi by the shoulder, his grip firm enough to snap the defender's attention back to the reality of the pitch.
"Stop ball-watching," Eshan's voice was a steady, low hum beneath the roar of the stadium. "You're letting Reo dictate the tempo because you're worried about Nagi. Trust the structure. If Reo tries to turn, I'll be his shadow. You just focus on being the pest."
"Don't tell me—" Raichi started, but the words died as he looked into Eshan's silver-gray eyes. There was no doubt there. Only calculation.
The goal kick soared. As the ball reached its apex, the center of the pitch became a grinding machine of bone and muscle. Zantetsu ignited his sprint, a blur of motion aimed at the drop zone, but Eshan had already read the flight path. He didn't chase the ball; he stepped into the path Zantetsu needed to take. When they collided, the sound of their jerseys snapping was audible. Zantetsu was a frantic engine of speed, but Eshan's core was a mountain. He leaned into the contact, his center of gravity so low and locked that Zantetsu bounced off him like water against a stone.
The ball hit Eshan's chest, the impact muffled by his conditioned muscles. Before it could even hit the grass, he flicked it with the side of his foot—a touch so light it seemed to ignore the laws of physics.
Reo Mikage wasn't smiling anymore. The "Prince" of Team V was breathing through his teeth, signaling to Zantetsu and Nagi—a silent command to squeeze the center. They were going to triple-team the source of their frustration. Eshan felt the trap closing before they even moved. He didn't panic. He didn't even accelerate.
As Reo lunged from the front and Zantetsu sprinted from the flank, Eshan engaged that silent, predatory control. With a flick so subtle it looked like a glitch in the defense's vision, the ball glided inches to the left, slipping through the microscopic gap between Reo's legs. There was no sound—just the ball disappearing and reappearing behind the press.
Eshan followed the ball, his frame allowing him to shrug off Zantetsu's desperate shoulder-check as if it were a breeze. He pivoted on his heel and drove into the open space.
"Isagi! Now!" Eshan's voice wasn't a shout; it was a cold strike.
Isagi, sensing the opening Eshan had carved, sprinted into the vacated space. Eshan struck the ball with a flat-footed snap. The ball took off, flying straight and true without a single revolution, dipping at the last second to die on Isagi's laces. Isagi didn't hesitate, but a last-second slide from a Team V defender deflected his shot. The ball spiraled high into the air, bobbling toward the edge of the box.
"Don't let it drop!" Raichi screamed.
The scramble was chaotic. Amidst the noise, Eshan moved with a terrifying calmness. He slid behind the retreating defenders. By the time the ball hit the turf, Eshan was already there, his frame shielded by the very players trying to mark him. He trapped the ball on his chest, using his shoulder to anchor Nagi's hip as the genius tried to intervene. With a violent, controlled twist, Eshan rolled the ball under his foot and fired a reverse-pass to Kunigami.
"Finish it," Eshan commanded.
Kunigami unleashed a left-footed thunderbolt that nearly tore the netting.
TEAM Z 2 - 0 TEAM V
The silence from Team V's side was absolute. Eshan stood at the edge of the box, his chest barely heaving. He looked at his hands, then at the ball. The techniques he had honed in the quiet streets of Yokohama were dismantling the "top" team in Blue Lock.
"Reset," Eshan said to his celebrating team. "If you think 2-0 is enough to break them, you've already lost. We keep the pressure until they can't breathe."
The final ten minutes of the half were a symphony of friction. Team V abandoned their tactical grace. Reo Mikage was no longer the composed playmaker; he was a frantic engine of desperation. He drove the ball with a raw, jagged intensity, smashing into Raichi and Igarashi to force an opening. Across the pitch, Nagi Seishiro had transformed. The lazy indifference was gone. He moved with a predatory silence, his eyes fixed on Eshan.
As the clock ticked toward the final minute of the half, Reo unleashed a reckless, high-velocity ball toward the box—a pass born of pure panic. It was a "prayer," intended for Nagi's freakish reach.
Nagi rose for it, his long limbs unfolding in mid-air. He contorted his torso, trying to reach over Eshan's shoulder to execute a miracle trap. It was the kind of move that had worked against every other player in Blue Lock.
But Eshan wasn't "every other player."
Eshan didn't even look at Nagi. His awareness had already calculated the trajectory and the point of contact. He didn't jump to compete for the ball; he moved to compete for the space.
As Nagi reached, he found himself hitting a wall of corded muscle. Eshan had planted his feet and braced his core, "sealing" Nagi out of the play. Nagi's impossible contortion was met with a physical reality he couldn't bypass. He was left grasping at the air as Eshan took the ball on his chest, the impact muffled by his training.
Eshan didn't let the ball hit the grass. He turned in the same motion, shielding the ball with his frame as Reo and Zantetsu swarmed him. The three "Geniuses" were lunging, desperate for a turnover. Eshan didn't budge. He stayed low, his balance unshakeable, keeping the ball under his absolute control until the long, three-tone whistle echoed through the stadium.
HALFTIME.
Score: Team Z 2 - 0 Team V.
The silence from the Team V side was deafening. They had thrown their best "miracle" at Eshan, and he hadn't even blinked.
Eshan stood over the ball, his midnight-black undercut damp with sweat, his silver-gray eyes scanning the exhausted faces of his teammates. He didn't look triumphant; he looked like a man who was just finishing the first part of a long day's work.
"Get up," Eshan said to the gasping Isagi and Kunigami. "The lead is 2-0. In the second half, we don't just hold it. We end them."
He turned and walked toward the tunnel, The war was only halfway over.
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