"SUPER GOOOOAL!!!"
The roar detonated through the stadium like an explosion finally given permission to exist, launching the audience from their seats at their respective homes, crashing into the pitch, swallowing every last trace of silence that had dared to remain.
"The young emperor who had suffered throughout the entire league… Michael Kaiser!!"
The giant screen above the field flashed with his name, his number, the frozen frame of that impossible strike still burning across the display as if the reality itself needed a moment to process what had just happened.
"He has just shown his talent with the attack of A New Awakening!!!"
The words barely kept up with the emotion pouring out of the commentators' throats, their voices cracking with disbelief and exhilaration all at once, as if they were witnessing the birth of something that could no longer be contained by normal expectations.
"Bastard München is overwhelmingly strong! First Isagi with that 44-yard explosive goal and now Kaiser with his own explosive yet curved shot to score his first goal in the NEL!!"
On the field, the emperor himself stood at the center of it all.
Kaiser's scream had already torn out of his lungs the instant the net rippled — raw, violent, unrestrained — but now that sound had finally died, swallowed by the stadium's endless thunder.
And yet…
his pose remained.
Chest heaving.
Arms still held in the shape of conquest.
As if he needed this moment to sink in.
As if he needed to feel it — not just know it happened, but carve it into himself, proof that this was real, that this was his, that this was the answer to every second of frustration that had followed him through the league.
The brilliance of that goal hung in the air like a shockwave that refused to fade.
The audience was stunned.
The commentators were stunned.
Even the players on the field — hardened, elite, battle-tested — stood caught between disbelief and dread, eyes still locked on the path the ball had taken, trying to replay it, trying to understand it.
Trying — and failing — to accept it.
"Wh–what the hell was that trajectory…?"
Sendou's voice slipped out through clenched teeth, his gaze tracing the empty space where the ball had curved through.
"So that's what he was aiming for…"
Niko spoke more quietly, but the weight of his realization hit just as hard.
"Is that even possible to stop…?"
Sendou muttered again, this time not even directing the words at anyone, just letting them fall into the noise around him as the thought gnawed at his chest.
Because if that trajectory was intentional…
if that curve was reproducible…
Then this wasn't just a goal.
It was a declaration.
Carved into the match with the violence of an undeniable truth.
That Isagi was not the only monster on the Bastard München team.
That Michael Kaiser could produce shots just as impossible, just as insane, just as violently outside the logic of normal football — shots that now stood frighteningly close to Isagi's own realm of absurdity.
Another calamity that could tear open a game all by himself.
Which meant something far more terrifying for the side standing across from them.
That stopping Isagi alone…
was not enough anymore.
All the calculations, all the layered traps, all the carefully engineered pressure points that Ubers had built around isolating and suffocating Isagi's influence — every design that Snuffy had stacked with ruthless precision — had just been torn apart by Michael Kaiser's strike.
It tore straight through the heart of their system and left only one message behind:
You can shut down one monster.
But Bastard München…
Now has more than one.
"Ka–Kaiser…"
Ness's voice slipped out before he even realized he had spoken, his hand lifting on instinct, reaching toward Kaiser's back as if trying to confirm that the figure standing there was real, that what had just happened wasn't some cruel illusion born from adrenaline and noise.
Kaiser turned slowly.
His gaze met Ness's, sharp and steady, still burning with the aftermath of the shot that had just torn the match open.
"You really are… an extra-ordinary person…"
The words left Ness almost breathlessly, his thoughts spiraling out of control, crashing over one another, because the move Kaiser had just performed wasn't just difficult — it was something Ness himself didn't even fully understand.
Something he had never once seen Kaiser use before.
And that alone terrified him.
At the same time…
He was beyond astonished.
Because this version of the Magnus — this inside-foot variant — was far harder to master, for reasons that went far beyond simple technique.
Inside-curve shots required absurd levels of control.
The inside of the foot had a much larger contact surface, which meant the spin couldn't concentrate the same way it did off the outside of the boot.
The rotation became harder to tighten, harder to sharpen, more likely to spread out and fade — to let the ball float away instead of staying light, violent, and razor-clean like Kaiser's shot had just done.
And power…
power bled away even faster.
With the outside of the foot, the ball stayed closer to the instep, letting you maintain force while still wrapping spin around it.
But with the inside foot, that balance collapsed. It was like trading raw power for precision — except here, Kaiser hadn't sacrificed either.
He had taken both.
Which meant the whip motion alone had to be trained to an insane degree.
Not just practiced.
Conditioned into muscle and bone.
And then there was the true core of this attack.
The Magnus effect.
Creating a stable Magnus effect with the inside foot was exponentially harder than with the outside. Inside-foot strikes were prone to wobbling, to losing air-pressure consistency mid-flight, to breaking their own spin if the strike angle was even slightly off.
They demanded an almost cruel level of striking precision.
Meanwhile, outside-foot shots traveled lower, rolled cleaner off the boot, and naturally produced more stable airflow patterns — which was why most players relied on them when attempting extreme curves.
Which meant…
In every possible sense, what Kaiser had just performed was inefficient.
Unforgiving.
And yet… he had made it beautiful.
So when all of that stacked together in Ness's mind — the control, the power, the airflow, the strike angle, the whip motion, the execution under pressure —
There was only one conclusion left.
What Michael Kaiser had just unleashed…
Was something that deserved to stand beside Isagi's otherworldly shots.
Not beneath them.
But right there, in the same impossible domain where logic stopped being enough.
"I can't believe that the ball stopped and all things lined up even better than in practice…"
Ness continued, words spilling out as the shock finally gave way to excitement, his smile slowly returning, stretching wider and wider as his body caught up to what his heart was already celebrating.
He leaned closer, hands moving as he spoke, unable to keep still, unable to contain the rush flooding through him.
"Your effort and tenacity brought chance and with luck onto your side, Kaiser!! You really are going to be the best striker in the world!"
His voice rang with certainty, not admiration alone, but faith — the kind that had followed Kaiser through every match, every loss, every moment when the world tried to tell him he hadn't done enough yet.
"Yeah… Ness…"
Kaiser muttered.
Like the storm inside him hadn't fully settled yet.
"I made it this far… because of you…"
Ness froze.
His breath hitched, his hands stopping mid-gesture, eyes widening as if he hadn't processed what he'd just heard.
"Huh…?"
For a second, the stadium noise felt distant.
"Since you allowed me to play football freely… I've grown this strong on Bastard München…"
Kaiser continued, his tone steady, and brutally honest.
Like he was stating a fact he had finally accepted.
"Ah, K–Kais—"
Ness's vision blurred.
He felt it before he realized it — warmth gathering at the corners of his eyes, his throat tightening as emotion surged up all at once.
An acknowledgment from his emperor…
from the person he had devoted everything to…
It was priceless.
Tears slipped free despite him trying to blink them back, his chest swelling with relief, with pride, with the overwhelming joy of being seen.
And with that joy came release.
All the fear he had carried since the last match — the anxiety, the dread of being abandoned, of being left behind — it finally loosened its grip on him.
For the first time in what felt like forever…
He could breathe.
"But I can't climb any higher that way."
Kaiser's voice cut straight through him.
Cold.
Final.
Ness's breath caught painfully in his throat.
And in that instant, everything that had just been lifted from his heart came crashing back down — heavier, sharper, more suffocating than before.
Fear.
Anxiety.
Insecurity.
All of it returning at once, amplified by the brief hope he had been allowed to feel.
"I figured it out after the last match… I no longer need the freedom you have given me."
Kaiser kept speaking.
And as he did… he turned away.
Completely.
His back now facing Ness, his shoulders squared toward the field, toward the path ahead, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
"Forget about me, Ness. Find yourself a new king…"
Each word felt like it was peeling something vital out of Ness's chest.
Like a command he couldn't disobey… and couldn't survive.
"It's easier for me to live in restriction."
Kaiser said it without hesitation.
And then he started walking.
Moving forward — away from Ness, away from the bond that had carried him this far, away from the freedom that had once defined his football.
Leaving Ness standing there, frozen between devotion and abandonment, staring at the back of the man he had built his entire world around…
As the emperor chose chains over wings —
and walked toward a future where he no longer needed to be followed.
Ness could only watch from behind.
While Kaiser walked away from him — and straight toward Isagi.
And that alone stabbed deeper than anything Kaiser had said.
Each step Kaiser took away from Ness felt like a deliberate severing, the distance between them widening while the distance between Kaiser and Isagi vanished completely.
Ness's chest tightened as he watched the emperor abandon his side without a single glance, his entire focus narrowing onto one person.
Isagi Yoichi.
Kaiser came up behind him, close enough that Isagi could feel his presence without turning around.
Close enough that the air itself seemed to tense.
Kaiser called out, voice low but charged, riding the high still coursing through his body.
"Yoichi… right now… I'm giving myself chills in the best ways possible…"
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers dragging sweat back as droplets slid down from his forehead, his breathing still heavy from the aftershock of his goal. He stopped just behind Isagi, waiting — expecting — a reaction.
None came.
Isagi didn't flinch.
Didn't turn.
Didn't acknowledge him at all.
Kaiser continued anyway.
"I feel reborn… No…
I feel like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon…"
Kaiser straightened, his tone shifting — the excitement condensing into purpose.
"Now then… let's settle this with one more goal…"
That was the moment.
Isagi finally turned.
His face was empty.
No irritation.
No anger.
No competitive fire leaking through his expression.
Just a flat, unreadable gaze that met Kaiser's head-on.
Kaiser stepped in close — too close.
His finger lifted, stopping just short of Isagi's jaw, not quite touching, not quite pulling back either. It hovered there, an invasion of space meant to provoke, to force something — anything — out of him.
"Let's battle each other… for this generation's throne, Shitty Yoichi."
Kaiser's eyes burned with intensity, pupils sharp, alive with the thrill of conflict and rebirth.
Isagi didn't move.
He simply stared back.
Expressionless.
Kaiser didn't dwell on it.
Isagi's silence didn't bother him enough to slow his steps, and so he simply moved forward, turning his shoulder and starting to walk past him — already burning toward what came next.
That was when Isagi changed.
The emptiness on his face cracked.
Slowly.
A smile began to form.
A thin, unsettling curve of the lips — the kind that carried intent rather than joy.
"Thanks for that, Kaiser."
The words landed calmly.
Too calmly.
Then Isagi's hand flared out.
And in a single violent motion, he grabbed Kaiser by the collar and yanked him.
Hard.
The sudden force shocked Kaiser, his body snapping toward Isagi as the distance between them was erased instantly. Before he could react, Isagi twisted his stance, turning fully to face him.
"Really… really thanks for that…"
Isagi's smile widened, intense and sharp, eyes locked onto Kaiser's with frightening clarity.
Kaiser's hand shot up instinctively, fingers curling to shove Isagi away — but before he could break free, Isagi pulled again.
Another violent tug.
Pulling him in so close their foreheads nearly aligned.
The jolt rattled Kaiser's balance, his breath hitching as surprise flashed across his face for the second time in seconds.
And in that grip — tight, controlling, unavoidable — something old stirred.
Something ugly.
For just a heartbeat, the sensation mirrored another set of hands.
Another presence.
The same suffocating pressure his father used to exert.
Dominance.
Possession.
A reminder of who was being held.
"You're on, Kaiser…"
Isagi said it low.
Certain.
"Let's settle this with the last goal."
Then, just as suddenly, Isagi released him.
The grip vanished.
Kaiser stumbled back half a step, the space between them reopening like nothing had happened at all.
Isagi didn't look back.
He walked past Kaiser instead, shoulders steady, smile still lingering faintly on his face — not as a challenge shouted to the world…
But as a promise only one person needed to hear.
The line had been crossed.
Not by words.
By force.
And now, with one goal left to decide everything, the field no longer belonged to emperors or prodigies.
It belonged to two monsters who had finally agreed on the same thing:
Only one of them was allowed to stand at the end.
"Ha… it's just one after the other…"
The words drifted out from the Ubers bench, worn not with disbelief but with something closer to weary amusement.
Snuffy sat slumped in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, one hand pressed against his head as his eyes remained fixed on the field — on Isagi and Kaiser, standing at the center of a storm they had created themselves.
A breath left him slowly.
"…Is this the awakening for Kaiser you were hoping for?"
Snuffy shifted his gaze to the right as he spoke, already pushing himself up from his seat, the decision forming even as the words left his mouth.
Beside him, Noa rose as well, calm as ever.
"Yeah. Though more importantly…"
Noa's tone was flat, almost casual, but the implication was anything but.
"…aren't you worried about your structures not functioning anymore?"
Snuffy didn't stop walking.
"Well… if we lose, we lose…"
His voice carried no frustration.
No regret.
Just acceptance.
He stepped closer to the sideline, eyes narrowing slightly as the field unfolded in front of him.
"…But before that—"
Noa moved at the same time.
Two figures advancing in parallel, mirrors of authority stepping out of observation and into consequence.
"I'll destroy this team of yours."
Snuffy shrugged off his jacket mid-stride, tossing it aside without ceremony as his posture straightened, the relaxed strategist giving way to something far more dangerous.
Noa did the same, slipping out of his own jacket as he stepped onto the pitch.
"Stay out of this, Snuffy."
His voice carried a quiet warning.
"I really don't want to work more than I have to."
The air shifted the instant both men crossed the line.
And the stadium felt it.
"What do we have here?!"
The commentators' voices surged with renewed shock.
"Both teams' Masters are joining the game!!!"
The cameras snapped toward the field, capturing the sight.
"Will Bastard München continue to press on to victory?!"
"Or will Ubers catch up with a devastating counter?!"
The noise swelled again, louder than before, heavier, charged with the promise of chaos.
"We're entering what's sure to be an explosive endgame!!"
On the pitch, players tensed.
With monsters already colliding — and now the masters stepping in — the match had crossed its final threshold.
There were no more rehearsals.
Only an ending powerful enough to decide everything.
From Ubers, Sendou was taken out.
From Bastard München, Kurona followed.
The moment the substitutions were confirmed, the atmosphere shifted again.
As the masters stepped fully into the match, Barou moved to Snuffy's side, his presence heavy with anticipation, his eyes burning with restrained aggression.
"Now that you are here…"
Barou asked without looking away from the field,
"…are we going with that?"
Snuffy didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped forward, posture straightening as the game restarted, the weight of the next five minutes settling squarely onto his shoulders.
"Yeah."
His voice carried.
"Time for our job, Ubers."
He kicked the ball forward in the same instant Barou surged ahead — their timing perfect.
It was a signal.
"DESIGN CHANGE!!"
Snuffy's voice cut through the pitch.
"BERSERKER FORMATION!!"
The effect was immediate.
Ubers shifted — lines breaking, roles warping, spacing collapsing and expanding in controlled chaos.
In all the theory Snuffy had constructed — every simulation, every layered response — there simply weren't many realistic paths to beating Bastard München over a long stretch anymore.
Not after everything that had happened.
Not with a player like Isagi actively challenging masters without his own master's support.
And with only five minutes allowed for him on the field, there was no time to stabilize the damage. No time to rebuild a broken structure against evolving monsters.
So Snuffy hadn't planned for that.
He had planned for this.
A narrow window.
Five minutes.
Of course… it would've been cleaner if Noa hadn't chosen to enter as well.
If he had done what he did in the last match — stayed out, let Isagi deal with Chris Prince alone — that would've tilted the field sharply in Snuffy's favor.
That would've been ideal.
But football was never about ideal conditions.
Snuffy exhaled slowly, eyes locked onto the unfolding chaos ahead.
Oh well.
It wasn't like he hadn't prepared for this either.
Because if Bastard München had monsters who broke systems…
Then for these five minutes,
Ubers would become one too.
.
.
.
.
.
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