"Eliminated?" Yoru Ryoshu's smile widened, sharp and mocking. "Doesn't the game only count as an elimination once the clock hits zero?"
"The game isn't over yet."
Igarashi's pupils shook violently. He stared at Aki in disbelief, unable to fathom the logic behind his actions. Everyone else was paralyzed by the fear of being "It," yet this guy had stepped into the role of the demon willingly.
Is he insane? Igarashi wondered, a chill running down his spine. Or is he just a complete psychopath?
Regardless of the answer, Igarashi didn't stick around to find out. He scrambled away from Aki as fast as his legs could carry him, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and the ball.
The rest of the room stood on high alert, their eyes glued to Aki, waiting for his next move.
Aki, however, didn't move. He stood still, casually tracking the timer. One minute had already bled away.
"Has he given up?" Isagi muttered from a safe distance. He tried to convince himself that was the case, but the thought wouldn't stick. Everything Aki had said and done so far pointed to one undeniable truth: this man was a predator.
Predators don't surrender.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
In the central monitoring room, Ego Jinpachi's gaze drifted away from the other screens, settling on the feed for Team Z. He watched Aki standing solitary in the center of the room, ball under his foot, motionless.
A ghost of a smile touched Ego's lips. On a pitch, the only person who truly exists is the one with the ball—the one with the power to strike.
The timer entered its final sixty seconds.
Aki finally spoke, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "On a pitch, the only one who truly shines is the one who takes the shot. Those of you who are too afraid to even touch the ball... those who spend their time hiding from a pass..."
His eyes flashed with a cold, crimson light. "In my eyes, you're nothing but complete and utter waste."
Boom!
The ball exploded off his foot like a cannon shell, hurtling toward one of the players.
Had the others not been hyper-fixated on Aki, they wouldn't have stood a chance. The player managed to dive out of the way just in time as the ball whistled past his ear.
Suddenly, Aki was a blur. His speed was staggering, a terrifying display of raw physical power. He began to weave through the group, keeping the ball close to his feet rather than shooting it away.
Beads of sweat rolled down the faces of the players. They couldn't understand what this madman was doing. If you're going to shoot, then just shoot!
The psychological pressure was suffocating. In this twisted game, the hunter had more peace of mind than the prey. Aki didn't have to worry about being hit; he only had to ensure he hit someone else before the buzzer. The others, however, had to live every remaining second in a state of high-alert terror. To them, the game felt like it was already over.
"There's a guy sleeping right there!" Igarashi shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Bachira. "Why don't you just hit him and get it over with?!"
Aki remained silent, his gaze shifting to the sprawled-out Bachira. He'd almost forgotten about his friend—the idiot had clearly stayed up way too late watching football programs at his house last night.
Aki checked the clock. Thirty seconds left.
His lips curled into a smirk.
Boom!
He sent a stinging shot straight at the sleeping Bachira.
But the expected cry of pain never came. Instead, with a fluid, almost instinctive grace, Bachira's body contorted. He trapped the ball perfectly beneath his foot without even fully opening his eyes. He rubbed his face groannigly. "Hmm? Has it started already?"
He looked up and spotted Aki. "Aki! You're in the same room as me? I thought for sure they'd put you somewhere else!"
Aki let out a dry chuckle. "Isn't it better this way? Now you actually have a chance to chase after me."
Bachira's expression shifted, a playful yet competitive light igniting in his eyes. "Aki, don't get ahead of yourself. Who's chasing who? That remains to be seen!"
The rest of Team Z watched the two of them chat in stunned silence. They know each other? More importantly... how can they be casually talking at a time like this?!
Aki gestured toward the monitor, where the countdown was entering its final ten-second stretch. "Meguru, if you don't pass that ball soon, you're the one going home."
Bachira sprang into action, his movements erratic and joyful. "Home? It's not over yet!"
"The ball hasn't been shot... so the game isn't over!"
The room froze. Between Aki and Bachira, the sentiment was identical. The ball hasn't been shot, so the game isn't over.
But Bachira's target wasn't the weak links. He ignored the panicking crowd and charged straight for Aki. He didn't hesitate for a second, his focus narrowing down to a single person. His aura shifted—he looked like a beast that had finally spotted its true prey.
Ten seconds remaining.
Watching the charging Bachira, Aki felt a surge of genuine exhilaration. You haven't changed at all... devouring each other to grow. Only by challenging the strongest can you truly transcend.
If you don't test yourself against the best, how will you ever know how weak you really are?
"Aki! Right here, right now... I'm taking you down!" Bachira yelled. His dribbling was a blur of feints and step-overs, the ball appearing like a flickering shadow beneath his feet.
He let loose a strike aimed directly at Aki's chest.
Aki's expression remained terrifyingly calm. As the ball reached him, he didn't try to trap it. He leaped into the air, his thigh muscles coiling and snapping like a whip.
High-Altitude Volley!
CRACK!
The impact was instantaneous. The ball, redirected with even more violent force than Bachira's original shot, slammed directly into the face of Yuuda Imamura. The force was so great that a spray of blood misted the air.
The timer on the screen hit zero.
[3... 2... 1... 0]
The result was final.
Aki landed lightly on his feet, his breathing steady, his eyes devoid of surprise. It was as if the trajectory had been calculated the moment Bachira kicked the ball.
The room was plunged into a shocked stillness.
Isagi Yoichi stared at Aki, his mind reeling. That move was absurd. To take a mid-air ball, without any setup or trap, and redirect it with such pinpoint accuracy and lethal power...
It required perfect spatial awareness, timing, and raw strength. If that shot had been aimed at him, Isagi knew he wouldn't have been able to dodge it.
Aki hadn't just been playing tag. He had been executing a execution.