The sheer force of the movement caused Lookman to finally lose his grip.
He stumbled behind as Izan broke free, eyes now locked on the goal.
He reached the arc of the box, time condensing into a single breath.
Izan knew.
He didn't wait for a prompt or a command.
He activated it himself, his muscles coiling with focus and control.
[Knuckleball Lv 3]
The word echoed like a thunderclap in his mind as his foot connected.
The strike was brutal—clean, flat, and full of unpredictable fury.
The ball left the ground with a hiss, slicing through the air with a venomous swerve.
It didn't spin like a regular shot.
It wobbled mid-flight, a hovering bullet that danced in the air, swaying left, then right, before violently dipping.
The keeper barely moved. Frozen. Uncertain. One wrong step and he was out of position.
Too late.
The ball smashed into the top corner with a guttural thunk, rattling the net and silencing the Gewiss Stadium for a split second before chaos unfolded.
