As the evening drew to a close, the streets of Isagi's neighborhood were quiet, a stark contrast to the lively day he had just spent with his Blue Lock teammates.
His phone buzzed.
Pulling it out, he glanced at the notification—an official message from Blue Lock.
[Phase 2 of Blue Lock begins tomorrow. Prepare accordingly.]
Isagi smirked.
He had already known this was coming. Anri had texted him about it earlier in the day, and during their date, they had talked about it. Still, seeing the official confirmation sent a thrill through his veins. The real battle was about to begin.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he approached his home.
The moment he stepped inside, warmth enveloped him.
"Yoichi! You're home!"
His mother's voice rang from the kitchen, carrying a mixture of excitement and relief.
"Welcome back, son."
His father added, standing near the dining table with a proud smile.
"I'm back"
Isagi replied, slipping off his shoes before stepping inside properly.
"Come to the table! We made your favorite"
His mother called, already placing dishes down.
Isagi chuckled softly, stepping into the dining room. The sight before him was heartwarming—his parents had gone all out. The table was filled with steaming plates of food, all the dishes he loved, or so the Isagi they knew loved.
As he sat down, his father clapped him on the back, his expression filled with undeniable pride.
"You've made quite the name for yourself, huh? Our Yoichi, the Star of Japan!"
His mother nodded eagerly.
"It's everywhere! The news, the internet, even people at my workplace won't stop talking about you."
Isagi took a bite of his food, savoring the taste before responding,
"Yeah… It's kinda surreal."
And it was.
Ever since the U-20 match, his name had exploded in popularity. He had dominated the highlights, his goals, plays, and humiliating takedowns of Sae and Aiku plastered all over social media. Even those who hadn't watched the full match had seen the viral clips. The way he had outclassed Japan's best had made him a phenomenon.
His father leaned forward.
"I read an article today. They're saying you're already at the same level of hype as Sae Itoshi."
His mother beamed.
"You've worked so hard, and now the world sees it! But more than anything, I'm just happy you're doing what you love."
Isagi smiled at that.
This… was nice.
After all the blood, sweat, and battles in Blue Lock, moments like this reminded him of why he fought so hard.
But even as he enjoyed the moment, his mind was already looking ahead.
Tomorrow, Blue Lock's second phase would begin.
The Neo Egoist League was calling.
And Isagi Yoichi was ready.
.
.
.
The next morning, the Blue Lock players gathered outside the facility. The bus ride had been filled with casual banter and speculation about what awaited them in the second phase of Blue Lock. Some were eager, others anxious.
Isagi sat near the window, resting his chin on his hand as he watched the scenery blur past.
When they arrived, the players filed out, stretching their legs and cracking their joints before stepping into the massive training facility. The familiar sight of the Blue Lock complex greeted them, but something felt... different.
Then, Bachira's voice rang out, breaking the moment.
"Eh? Look there!"
Standing inside the facility, scattered among the crowd, were the U-20 players.
Isagi remained silent, there was nothing to be surprised about since he knew it all.
As the conversation continued, Isagi's focus shifted.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Rin.
Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes locked directly on him.
A silent stare. Unreadable, yet heavy.
Isagi immediately understood what that meant.
'Sae must've said something cruel again…'
He sighed internally. Dealing with a broken Rin was always a pain.
And from the way Rin's expression darkened slightly when he noticed Isagi looking back, it was clear—he was carrying that weight alone again.
But Isagi wasn't in the mood to deal with Rin's emotional baggage today.
The massive screen flickered to life, and the familiar sharp voice of Ego Jinpachi echoed throughout the facility.
"Howdy, you lump of talents. How was your time off?"
His tone was as mocking as ever, dripping with condescension.
The Blue Lock players stood at attention, some rolling their eyes, others grinning at Ego's usual antics. The U-20 players, on the other hand, remained silent, their expressions unreadable.
Ego adjusted his glasses, the gleam of the screen reflecting off the lenses as he continued.
"As you may have guessed already, I've received full authority in the matter of Japan's U-20 representation.
That brings me to the garbage heap that stands before me—yes, you former U-20 players. Even beaten dogs have some utility value."
A few Blue Lock players snickered at the blatant insult, while Aiku just shook his head, amused.
Sendou grumbled under his breath.
"Tch. This guy really doesn't hold back."
Ego ignored their reactions, pushing forward with his explanation.
"That's why I have decided to construct the new U-20 team using the players assembled here. The best of Blue Lock and the scraps of the old U-20 will now fight for the right to represent Japan on the world stage.
The U-20 World Cup is one hundred days away. If you entered as you are now, victory would be utterly impossible."
A heavy silence followed his words.
The Blue Lock players remained still, listening intently, while the former U-20 members tensed.
"With that in mind, the next stage aligns with a simple concept: Strike while the iron's hot."
Ego's smirk deepened.
"I've devised a method to rapidly accelerate your development."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp even through the screen.
"I have a question: What was the primary factor that made you stronger?"
The players instinctively recalled their own growth.
Their awakenings. Their struggles. Their battles.
"Awakening your egos. Discovering dormant weapons. Without exception, all of these were drawn out by the environment. The special, cruel, secluded environment called Blue Lock.
Therefore, I've decided to throw you all into an even crueler environment."
Ego's grin widened.
"In Blue Lock's second phase, all of you will throw yourselves into the five great European leagues—the very best in the world.
All of you will choose an environment among these five for yourself."
Suddenly, the screen displayed five country flags.
These were world-class football giants.
The room buzzed with murmurs of shock and excitement.
Ego continued, unfazed.
"The survival challenge in the league you've chosen will function as the final selection for the U-20 lineup.
You'll put yourself in the best football environment in the world.
All you need to rise to the top…
is the proof of true originality."
A notification buzzed on every Blue Lock player's phone.
As they glanced down, the screen displayed five countries.
The atmosphere tensed as Ego's voice echoed again.
"Wager your future and choose the environment in which you want to fight."
A timer counting down was displayed on their screens, set for a duration of 90 minutes.
.
.
.
As chatter filled the room, players began announcing their choices, each one shaping their next path.
"I'm going to Germany"
Naruhaya declared, determination in his eyes.
"France for me"
Kira followed, his tone steady, already visualizing his comeback.
"Spain sounds like my kind of playground"
Otoya grinned, nudging Bachira, who smirked.
"Same here! I wanna dance with the best dribblers!"
Bachira added, excitement bubbling in his voice.
"England is the obvious choice"
Chigiri said confidently.
"I want to challenge the fastest players."
"Italy"
Niko stated firmly.
"What about you, Isagi?"
Bachira, curious about Isagi's choice, peeked at his phone—only to see that he had already locked in his decision.
"Germany, huh?"
Bachira raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Yeah. Why? You think it's a bad choice?"
Isagi asked, his gaze steady as he met Bachira's eyes.
Bachira tilted his head, a thoughtful grin playing on his lips.
"Not bad, just unexpected. Your playstyle has changed a lot. You play for the thrill now. Ever since that 3v3 match against Rin, it's been obvious. That's why I figured you'd pick Spain, France, or even England—somewhere that thrives on creativity and freedom."
Isagi smirked.
"You're not wrong. I love playing instinctively, but I also want structure. Germany is the perfect place to learn rational football—how to find the most efficient paths to goal. But I don't plan to just follow their ideology."
He tapped his temple, his voice brimming with confidence.
"I want to master their logic, break it down, and then fuse it with my own instincts. A playstyle that blends reason with unpredictability—that's the kind of football I want to create."
Bachira's grin widened as he let out a chuckle.
"Heh, that's so like you. Take the best parts, twist them your way, and turn them into something new."
Isagi nodded.
"Exactly. If I can control the game both rationally and chaotically, no one will be able to stop me."
Bachira laughed, giving Isagi a playful punch on the shoulder.
"Alright, alright, Mr. Egotist. Guess I'll see how your 'rational-crazy' football turns out soon enough."
As the countdown continued, more players locked in their choices, each preparing for their own evolution.
The next battlefield was set.
.
.
.
As the countdown hit zero, the players started moving, each heading toward the gate of their chosen destination.
Isagi, Naruhaya, Yukimiya, Hiori, Raichi, Gagamaru, Kurona, Kiyora, and Teppei Neru—all nine of them had chosen Germany. Without hesitation, they stepped through the entrance marked with the emblem of Germany.
The moment they crossed the threshold, A holographic projection of Ego flickered to life before them, his piercing gaze sweeping across the group.
"So, you mongrels have chosen Germany."
His smirk was both approving and condescending.
"The land of cold, mechanical efficiency. The nation that breeds rational football to an almost inhuman level. And at its peak—Bastard München, the strongest club in the country."
His voice carried its usual calculated arrogance as he continued, his words weighing heavy on them.
"Here, you won't just be training. You'll be thrown into the very heart of the system. You'll fight for survival alongside and against the club's elite—players hailed as the Eleven Rising Stars of the next generation. These are the young prodigies poised to dominate world football. Your task? Succeed within this environment. Otherwise, you'll be discarded without hesitation."
The room was silent, the weight of Ego's words hanging heavy in the air.
Then—click.
The darkness behind the hologram shattered as lights flared to life, illuminating the figures standing just beyond.
The players of Bastard München.
Even as the hologram of Ego faded, his voice remained, cutting through the tension like a scalpel.
"From this point on, my instructions end here"
Ego declared, his tone unwavering.
"Your survival, your evolution… It will no longer be guided by my hands.
The one who will now take charge of you… The man currently known as the greatest player in the world. The Master Striker—"
The room felt like it shrank under the weight of his presence. His eyes scanned the group with an expression devoid of arrogance yet overflowing with absolute authority.
"Noel Noa."
As Noel Noa's piercing gaze settled on the Blue Lock players, the room remained thick with anticipation. Before anyone could fully process his presence, Ego's voice crackled back to life through the speakers.
"Now then, let's begin the real game"
Ego announced, his usual smug tone laced with an ominous edge.
A new hologram flickered into existence, displaying a massive screen filled with data—charts, numbers, and club logos.
"The next stage of Blue Lock—the Neo Egoist League—begins now."
Ego began outlining the specific rules of the Neo Egoist League, emphasizing that each player would need to earn their spot in the starting eleven by competing to take it from an existing member of the club. This unique team, consisting of diverse talents, would face off against teams from four other wings in an intense league competition.
In the matches, the teams would need to score three goals to secure a victory. There will be unlimited substitutions, permitting players to come in and out of the game freely.
Isagi knew these fundamental rules, so nothing initially caught him off guard — until Ego introduced the next crucial regulation. He explained that once during each match, every team would have the opportunity to field their Master for five minutes.
'Wasn't the time of the Star Change supposed to be just three minutes…? Did it shift because of my actions…?'
Isagi gazed intently at Noa, his mind racing with uncertainty.
'Well, it's only been extended by two minutes'
He reassured himself internally.
'There shouldn't be any issue.'
"But before we begin, there is one final addition to this experiment. As you all know, those who failed within Blue Lock's previous selection process were eliminated. However…"
His tone darkened slightly, as if savoring the impact of his next words.
"A different path existed. A second chance. The wildcard program."
Murmurs rippled through the players. Wildcard? They had never heard of such a thing.
"Only one made it out."
Ego let the words hang for a moment, letting the tension grow unbearable before delivering the final blow.
"He will be joining Bastard München"
The doors at the far end of the room creaked open.
Footsteps echoed. Slow. Measured. Heavy.
And then—he stepped into the light.
Kunigami Rensuke.
As Kunigami stepped into the room, Ego delivered his final words with an air of finality.
"That concludes the briefing. Now then—take it away, Master Strikers."
And with that, his hologram flickered before vanishing, leaving only silence in its wake.
The tension hung thick in the air, the weight of the Neo Egoist League pressing down on every player in the room. But there was no time to process it—because the moment Ego disappeared, something shifted.
A deep mechanical whirr echoed through the chamber.
Isagi turned his gaze forward just in time to see the wall behind Noel Noa and the Bastard München players slide open, revealing an expansive training field bathed in cold, artificial light.
But Noa didn't turn to look.
Without even glancing back, the world's best striker walked forward, his presence commanding the space around him. As he passed Isagi, he spoke in a low, steady voice—words laced with both challenge and certainty.
"Wir sehen uns im Ziel."
The message was simple.
"I'll see you at the finish line."
And with that, Noa exited through the same doors the Blue Lock players had entered from, vanishing into the depths of the facility.
The room was still for a beat—until the eleven players of Bastard München turned sharply toward the newly opened area, moving as one, their eyes locked onto the field ahead. No hesitation. No second thoughts. They were already in motion.
Then—
A countdown flashed on the screen.
10 seconds.
Isagi stepped forward without hesitation.
The rest of the Blue Lock players followed suit, quickly grasping the situation. They weren't here to watch—they were here to compete. To prove they belonged among the best.
9 seconds.
No words were exchanged, only the sound of shifting feet and steady, measured breaths.
8 seconds.
Every second felt like a heartbeat, the anticipation tightening around them like an invisible force.
7… 6… 5…
Their bodies tensed.
4… 3…
Their minds sharpened.
2… 1…
0.
The moment the timer hit zero, the entire group exploded forward.
The first section—1st Zone: Straight Dash.
A pure speed test. The sharp sound of cleats striking the futuristic track filled the air as they surged ahead, muscles firing like coiled springs.
Bastard München's players tore through the distance effortlessly. Their strides were smooth, precise, each movement controlled down to the finest detail.
Isagi pushed forward, his breathing steady, his focus razor-sharp.
The next section came fast—2nd Zone: Incline Dash.
A steep, unforgiving incline stretched before them. The path demanded power, endurance, and perfect balance.
Bastard München's players didn't falter. Their legs pumped like machines, surging upward without losing momentum. This was their world.
But Isagi wasn't fazed. His body moved without resistance, his lungs controlled, his form steady. He wasn't even breathing hard.
Kunigami kept pace beside him, his sheer physicality carrying him forward.
Behind them, the rest of Blue Lock struggled to keep up.
Still, they pushed on, determined.
3rd Zone: Ladder Sprint.
The ground was now marked with a precise ladder pattern. One misstep would cost valuable time.
Quick feet. Precision. Rhythm.
Isagi's eyes flicked down for half a second, calculating his steps as he breezed through. Bastard München's players were already moving forward without hesitation.
Then came the 4th Zone: Step Jumps.
Scattered platforms rose ahead, each varying in size and distance. A single miscalculation meant failure.
The players leapt forward, adjusting their landings in real-time, bodies twisting mid-air to reach the next step.
Isagi's mind worked instantly. Distance, trajectory, foot placement—his instincts took over. He moved seamlessly, landing each jump perfectly within his reach.
Kunigami was keeping up. His powerful frame allowed him to cover distance with brute strength, bounding forward without breaking stride.
But behind them—
The rest of Blue Lock lagged.
Gasping breaths. Missteps. A few stumbles. Naruhaya barely caught himself, arms flailing wildly as he nearly slipped off a platform.
The gap was forming.
Ahead lay the 5th and final zone—Pole Dribbling and Shooting.
The moment Isagi's foot touched the ball, he accelerated.
Sharp cuts. Quick touches. Perfect control.
He weaved through the poles with rapid precision, his movements light and efficient, his agility on full display. Not a single wasted step.
Then—the shooting zone.
His body moved instinctively. One final touch, a perfect setup—
He struck.
The ball rocketed toward the target, aimed precisely at its center—a clean, calculated shot designed for a high score.
But just as the ball soared forward—
A voice.
Low. Smooth. Unshaken.
From his left.
"Endlich treffen wir uns, Yoichi Isagi."
Isagi didn't flinch. He knew it was gonna happen and had kept his eyes on him.
A second shot fired at the exact moment.
The ball hurtled toward Isagi's in midair, aimed to knock it off course—to erase his attempt.
But then—
A shift.
A subtle dip.
Isagi's ball dropped slightly in its trajectory, slipping just past Kaiser's shot, avoiding contact by mere centimeters.
And then—
Bang.
It struck the target dead center.
Perfect score.
The room was silent for a beat.
Isagi exhaled slowly, then turned, his gaze locking onto the one who had tried to intervene.
Kaiser.
Kaiser was stunned for a second, his sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly, his mind racing.
That wasn't luck. That wasn't coincidence.
He had aimed directly at Isagi's ball—yet it dodged him.
Then, it clicked.
Kaiser's mind flashed back to the U-20 match. He had studied Isagi's movements, his plays, his skills.
And now, he realized—
But—that should've been impossible.
Kaiser hadn't spoken to Isagi yet, hadn't given any outward signs of his intent. So how?
How had Isagi seen through him so effortlessly?
The thought nagged at him, a rare crack forming in his composure.
And then, what bothered him even more—
Even after Kaiser had tried to interfere, Isagi didn't react.
No smirk. No confrontation. Nothing.
As if Kaiser's attempt hadn't even registered as a threat.
Isagi simply walked away from the shooting spot, his gaze shifting toward the other players still in the middle of their test.
Unbothered. Dismissive.
And for the first time in a long time—Michael Kaiser felt invisible.
Kaiser had taken first place just seconds ago, standing at the top like he belonged there.
Then—Isagi arrived.
Kaiser had planned to mess with him, to toy with the so-called Hero of Blue Lock.
To see if he was really as sharp as he seemed in that U-20 match.
But now? Now that Isagi had shown him something without even trying—
Kaiser was interested.
He strode toward Isagi, an easy grin on his face, hands in his pockets.
"Ha! Es war doch keine Verschwendung, zu Blue Lock zu kommen."
(Ha! Coming to Blue Lock wasn't a waste after all.)
Isagi turned to him, his expression unreadable.
"Ich bin hergekommen, um dich zu treffen, Bluelock's Held."
(I came here to meet you, Blue Lock's hero.)
Kaiser's eyes gleamed with something sharp, something expectant.
"Stell sicher, dass du mir in die Quere kommst, Yoichi."
(Make sure you get in my way, Yoichi.)
He stopped just a step away, his presence looming, his confidence suffocating.
But—Isagi didn't flinch. Didn't react.
And then—
"Das bringt nichts, Kaiser."
(That's pointless, Kaiser.)
Ness's voice cut in as he walked over, having just finished his own run. He held out a small box containing micro-interpreters meant for real-time translation.
"Er kann dich nicht verstehen—"
(He can't understand you—)
But Isagi didn't look at Ness.
His gaze stayed locked onto Kaiser.
And then—calmly, evenly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he responded.
"Klar, ich nehme deinen Spitzenplatz ein."
(Sure, I'll take your top spot.)
Kaiser and Ness blinked.
They hadn't expected that.
Isagi had just spoken German.
Not just spoken—but with clarity.
Before Kaiser could respond, the heavy metallic doors at the far end of the room slid open.
Noel Noa entered.
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
Every player straightened, instincts recognizing the presence of a legend.
Isagi, without hesitation, plugged the micro-interpreters into his ears. He understood German well enough, but not perfectly.
The other players had just barely finished their runs, and Noa timed his entrance the moment they did.
His eyes scanned them coldly.
Then, he spoke.
"Your initial training is done for now."
His voice was sharp. Measured. Uncompromising.
"I think you've realized it by now, but this room is designed to measure your physical abilities. Bastard München's philosophy is one of 'Extreme Rationality.'"
Noa's piercing gaze swept across them.
"I put no stock in the so-called invisible powers of 'immersion' or 'emotion.'
Only those with the numbers to win will be selected as starters.
The 21 players here will be ranked based on training and gameplay data.
The Top Eleven will play in the matches.
Anyone below that won't be used.
Bastard München is a team that wins with logic."
As Noa's words settled in, a massive holographic screen flickered to life.
The rankings appeared.
21st - Naruhaya (Last to finish.)
20th - Kiyora
19th - Hiori
18th - Kurona
17th - Gagamaru
16th - Raichi
15th - Neru
14th - Yukimiya
13th - Schneider
12th - Bachman
A sharp intake of breath.
The 12th and 13th-ranked players froze.
Schneider and Bachman—Bastard München's usual starters.
They had just lost their spots.
On the first day.
The list continued.
11th - Mensah
10th - Birkenstock
9th - Sachs
8th - Ndiaye
7th - Ali
6th - Grim
5th - Gesner
4th - Kunigami
3rd - Ness
2nd - Isagi
1st - Kaiser
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then—a wave of shock.
The Blue Lock players and even the Bastard München regulars stared at the ranking in disbelief.
Isagi had taken the second spot.
Kunigami had taken the fourth.
Two newcomers. Two Blue Lock strikers. Already within the top four of Bastard München's team.
Isagi stood there, unfazed.
His eyes scanned the ranking board, taking in the results.
It wasn't surprising.
He expected this.
From the moment he stepped onto the field, he knew he would place high.
And now—he was one step away from taking the top spot.
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.
.
.
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