The pressure on the field was suffocating. Each step, each movement felt like a razor's edge, but no one backed down. The five against Ryusei Hoshigaki [Old Legend] had become more than just a training match — it was a battle of survival.
Renji Kurogami's heartbeat thundered in his ears. He was pushing his limits — no, breaking them. The pieces he had collected through this hellish training were finally coming together.
"Specter Drive."
Renji's body blurred, his movements mimicking Hoshigaki's unpredictable steps. He was still slower — still not perfect — but the gap was closing.
"Phantom Step."
He vanished from sight, his sharp acceleration slipping through the cracks in Hoshigaki's defense.
But that still wasn't enough.
"Vision Line."
The enhanced field vision, taught by Seiji Nakamura [Old Legend], laid the entire pitch bare before him. Every player's movement, every shift in weight — Renji saw it all.
And in that moment, he realized something chilling.
Mori hasn't made his move yet.
Kazuya Mori — the top scorer, the tactical genius — had been hanging back this entire time. Renji had been so focused on keeping up with Hoshigaki that he hadn't noticed it before. But now it was clear.
He's using me.
Renji gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. But there was no time for anger. Hoshigaki was already on him.
(Real football skill: Marseille Turn.)
Hoshigaki spun with the ball, slipping past Renji's tackle in a flash. Renji recovered instantly, his Vision Line tracking the ball's trajectory—
But Mori was already there.
"Too slow," Mori whispered.
Renji watched in disbelief as Mori intercepted the ball with perfect timing. He had been waiting — studying the entire match, watching Renji's evolving movements, and using him to close the gap against Hoshigaki.
"You devoured me," Renji muttered, his eyes narrowing.
Mori didn't deny it. "That's the point of this training, isn't it?"
Before Renji could react, Mori was gone — his positioning flawless, his instincts razor-sharp. And for the first time, Hoshigaki was on the back foot.
(Real football skill: La Croqueta.)
Mori slid the ball from one foot to the other, dodging Hoshigaki's challenge with clinical ease.
"Let's finish this," Mori said calmly.
And then—
"Precision Drive!"
The shot was fast, low, and impossible to stop. The ball slammed into the net with a thundering finality.
The whistle blew.
Match over.
Renji stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides. He had used everything — every skill he'd copied, every lesson he'd learned — and still, it hadn't been enough.
But more than the loss, it was the realization that burned him.
I was devoured.
As the players walked off the field, Hoshigaki's laughter rang out behind them. "Now that's what I wanted to see! You're finally starting to understand what it takes to reach the top!"
Renji didn't respond. His eyes were locked on Mori's back — and for the first time, his frustration turned into something else.
Hunger.
(To be continued…)