"LISTEN UP! ALL OF YOU!" the captain roared, voice cracking as the ground trembled beneath them. "We don't have time—I said MOVE! Get in formation! NOW!"
He pointed toward the human section in the stands, his breath ragged.
"Those people—those thousand souls—they DIE if we freeze! So don't give me that dead-eyes bullshit!"
A dragon growled nearby; the captain flinched and forced himself to keep shouting.
"Hold the line! Hold the fucking line! We buy them TIME—doesn't matter how! JUST MOVE!"
It was a good speech, Vincent had to admit. The man was passionate, and he could easily ignite his teammates' spirit. Compared to Vincent's old captain in the team, Marco, whose leadership style was always leading by example, he would definitely prefer this one. Unfortunately, all of the words the captain said failed to reach his heart, especially after he saw the opponents finally arrive at the field.
No, not the opponents. They were enemies.
"Hahaha! It has been a long time since we played against Lysandria, right?!" A tall figure ducked under the frame of the entrance, his horn scraping the metal slightly. Behind him, three more dragonkin emerged, each one exuding raw power with every breath.
"Tch! What is so good about accepting their challenge?" One of them snorted in disdain. "Would it be better if we just prepared for our match against the Elven Forest? It has been a long time since I had a nutritious dinner!"
"Treat it seriously, will you?!" Another dragon interrupted, annoyed. "Don't you dare embarrass yourselves, or the King himself would knock your door tonight!" He said it threateningly.
"Yeah, yeah, no need to hold your knickers…" The earlier dragon just picked his ears nonchalantly, not even treating this game seriously. He started warming up, spreading his wings wide intimidatingly.
The other dragons also followed the movement. Some cracked their necks. Others dug clawed feet into the turf, leaving deep grooves. One bounced a ball on its knee—the ball shook the ground with each tap. Somehow, Vincent felt his stomach twist painfully. At this point, he understood the meaning behind their warm-up.
They were stretching like predators preparing to chase prey, and this wasn't just a match. No, this was an execution disguised by sport, and somehow, he got dragged into this mess unwillingly.
"S-Stop… stop… this isn't real…" he whispered, backing away. His legs moved on their own. Survival instinct kicking in despite the fog in his mind.
He took one more step, and then, something cold snapped around his ankle.
"Huh?" Vincent looked down. A glowing chain—thin but pulsating as if it were alive—wrapped itself around his leg like a living serpent. Before he could react, it yanked him forward violently. "Shit—!" He stumbled, falling on one knee. Pain shot through his body, but it wasn't from injury. It was pure terror.
Right after that, laughter spilled from the stands, all mocking him for his pitiful attempt.
"RUN, LITTLE HUMAN! RUN ONE LAST TIME!"
"LOOK AT HIM TREMBLING! THIS IS SO FUCKING HILARIOUS!"
"HEY, BARBARIANS! MAKE SURE THAT YOU KEEP HIM ALIVE! I WANT TO SEE HIS REACTION AFTER THE MATCH!"
"THAT'S CRUEL, BUT I LIKE THAT!"
Vincent's hands shook uncontrollably as he clawed at the chain. It hummed, reacting to his touch, then tightened. Someone behind him who had already taken position as the left wing whispered shakily, "You can't run. The agreement between the two races has been formed… So, we can't refuse the match…"
His breathing quickened. "No… no… no…"
Vincent knew that he had wanted to die earlier tonight. However, not like this. He wanted to leave the world with dignity, not being torn apart for the amusement of monsters. Unfortunately, before he could think of anything else…
BOOOM!
A massive impact shook the field. A ball—large, blackened, and reinforced with metal rings—slammed into the turf so hard the ground cracked. Dirt and blood splattered upward.
Kickoff.
No referee whistle.
No countdown.
Just death.
"MOVE! MOVE! EVERYONE, MOVE!" The captain roared from behind, trying to snap his teammates from the fear looming in their hearts. "NATHAN! RUN! BLOCK THE CROSSING ROUTE! HILDA AND I WILL HANDLE THE MIDDLE! EVERYONE, KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ENEMIES!"
By how quickly the captain reacted, Vincent knew that this was not the man's first rodeo. He seemed to be a veteran in this team, and with how he kept shadowing the dragon, who was already in the penalty box, this was enough for Vincent to conclude that the man was a damn good defender.
Honestly, with his leadership, coupled with his jacked body and quick reaction, if it were in his old world, Vincent was sure that the captain would've made a name for himself already. The man was basically the taller version of Thiago Silva, commanding the entire defensive line with his shouts and his actions as well.
Unfortunately, this was not his old world, and Vincent didn't have any confidence that the captain could contain the dragon for too long. Even if somehow the man managed to do so, the other dragons would be able to replace that position, coming up as the team's second striker to destroy the human team's defense.
"Urgh… What should I do now?" Vincent hesitated, trying to resist his instinct as his body still moved around. He tried to step into midfield, but the moment he did, one of the dragons snapped its yellow eyes toward him.
'Shit.' His heart hammered. Every tiny movement he made seemed to draw their attention, like a small animal caught between wolves. 'Help the captain?' He couldn't even breathe without risking being targeted. Still, his body moved without the brain's command, starting to explore the midfield to get into a good position.
Honestly, even though the fear inflicted by the opponent's team was still lingering in his bones, Vincent's mind started to get calmer. His body remembered the pitch even while his soul was shaking. After all, the football pitch was always his home field, and it was where everything could be under his control.
Unfortunately, that confidence only lasted for a few more seconds before the brutality woke him up from his daydreaming.
One of the dragons suddenly sprinted forward, faster than Vincent had ever seen any human sprint. In a blink, the creature collided with the nearest human defender, an older man who was also the captain's partner in crime.
CRACK!
"AAAARGH!"
Facing the violent collision in the air, the man screamed instantly, having his left arm bent in a way no living being should ever experience. The moment the man fell to the ground, he lost consciousness immediately with a mouth full of foam, signalling that he was out of the game.
"YEAH! THE FIRST BLOOD FOR GUMA!"
"GUMA! GUMA! GUMA! THE BEAST FROM THE NORTH! HIS NAME IS GUMA!"
"COME ON! THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING! FIVE MORE TO GO!"
Fortunately, the foul was given to the human team. It seemed that the rule still worked quite well here. However, Vincent changed his mind instantly when the only punishment that the dragon got was just a yellow card.
"No… No fucking way…" His breath became ragged while cold sweat rolled down the back of his shirt. "Y-Yellow…? He broke his arm! Are they insane?! He'll die!" He cried out hysterically, pointing at the victim of the cruelty who looked like his soul had been sucked to hell already.
In return, though, he only got the 'Are you an idiot?' gazes from the others.
"B—Brother, this is a n—normal foul." The left midfielder, a short man whose face resembled a rat, stuttered; his face was so pale from the fear of standing in this bloody pitch. "D—Dragon has a superior b—body, so it is n—normal for them to go overboard a little."
'A little?!' Vincent's mind was frozen, his body trembling violently. When he saw that some of the dragons looked at him maliciously, every instinct in him screamed to run, to curl up, to disappear. But the chain around his ankle pulsed again, dragging him a step forward. "No… please… stop…" Vincent choked out.
Unfortunately, his luck seemed to be the worst. The goalkeeper restarted the game, yet somehow, the ball fell in front of his feet.
"HA! HE GETS THE BALL!"
"HARO! ENDS HIM!"
Seeing a dragon charging at him full speed, his brain screamed for him to run away. However, his body betrayed him.
Vincent didn't know how or why, but the instinct he honed for so many years on the football field suddenly kicked in. Before he could process what to do, the moment the dragon slid on the ground, so close to snapping his foot, he rolled the ball gently to the back. He swiftly shifted his weight onto his outside foot, then, like a world-class ballerina, he completed a complicated Marseille Turn in one breath, allowing him to evade the tackle.
Then, right after that, Vincent could hear something ringing inside his head.
FOOTBALL SYSTEM INITIALIZING...
ERROR: HUMAN RACE – NO INNATE BONUS
EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED
TEMPLATE LOADING: ZINEDINE ZIDANE (5%)