Turin, Italy.
The Allianz Stadium (different from the German one). Juventus's fortress.
The air smelled of espresso and defensive discipline.
Zero stood in the goal. He wore all black. His white hair was a stark contrast.
"The Void awaits," Zero murmured, hanging from the crossbar upside down during warmups.
Soccer watched him from midfield.
"He's calm," Soccer said. "Too calm."
Noel Noa laced his boots. "Italian defense is different. They don't chase you. They absorb you. They are a black hole. Once you enter the box, gravity increases."
"Zero Gravity?" Soccer bounced. "I know that one."
***
**Kickoff.**
Juventus played **Catenaccio**. The Door-Bolt.
It was ugly. 11 men behind the ball. Fouling. Time-wasting.
PSG held possession for 20 minutes straight but couldn't get a shot.
"Boring!" the crowd didn't yell. The Italians loved it. They cheered every clearance like a goal.
Minute 35.
Soccer found a crack. A momentary lapse in the Juventus wall.
He slipped a pass to Noa.
Noa shot. Low and hard.
Zero didn't dive. He collapsed. He dropped to the floor instantly, blocking the shot with his ribs.
No rebound. He caught it.
Zero stood up, dusted off his jersey, and rolled the ball out.
"Inefficient," Zero stated.
PSG kept pressing.
Minute 60.
Soccer got the ball. He cut inside.
"Shoot!"
He shot. A Titanium-powered drive.
It deflected off a defender's leg.
It spun wickedly. A looping, falling ball heading for the opposite corner.
Impossible to save.
Zero ran. He leaped.
**The Spectral Reach.**
He seemed to elongate mid-air. His fingertips grazed the ball.
He tipped it onto the bar.
*CLANG.*
Out for a corner.
Soccer stared. "He grew. He definitely grew."
"He calculated the deflection arc," Silas texted (Soccer read it on his imaginary phone HUD).
***
**Minute 80.**
0-0.
If it went to penalties, Juventus wins. Zero doesn't miss saves.
"We need a goal," Noa said, breathing hard. "But we can't penetrate."
Soccer looked at Zero. The Ghost.
*He reacts perfectly.*
*Perfect reactions require seeing the stimulus.*
"Coach!" Soccer ran to the sideline.
"What?"
"Put in Marcus."
"Marcus?" Titan frowned. "The kid is U-19. This is the Champions League Semi-Final."
"He's a Spear," Soccer said. "Sometimes you just need to poke the ghost."
Titan hesitated. Then nodded.
**Sub: IN #44 MARCUS KANE.**
Marcus ran on. He was shaking. "Champions League... oh god... don't puke."
"Don't puke," Soccer slapped his back. "Just run. Run at the goal. When I yell, jump."
"Jump?"
"Trust me."
***
**Minute 88.**
Soccer had the ball. He drove wide.
Marcus sprinted down the center. A tank in a china shop.
"JUMP!" Soccer screamed.
Marcus didn't ask why. He jumped.
He leaped into the air at the penalty spot.
Zero saw the jump. He adjusted his stance for a header. *Trajectory: High Cross.*
Soccer crossed.
But not high.
He drove a low, vicious cross along the ground.
It went *under* Marcus's jumping feet.
Zero froze. The visual cue (jumping) contradicted the ball path (rolling).
For 0.2 seconds, the Void hesitated.
The ball skid past Marcus.
Behind him was **Noel Noa**.
Noa swept it in.
**GOAL.**
**PSG: 1 - Juventus: 0.**
Zero stared at the net.
"Illusion," Zero whispered. "Visual distortion."
He looked at Marcus, who was landing heavily.
"Clumsy," Zero critiqued.
"Effective," Marcus grinned, giving a thumbs up.
***
**Final Whistle.**
PSG wins 1-0. They were going to the Final.
Zero walked over to Soccer.
He took off his gloves.
"You tricked my eyes," Zero said.
"Eyes lie," Soccer tapped his temple. "Instinct doesn't."
Zero nodded slowly.
"Win," Zero commanded. "Or I will haunt you."
"Scary," Soccer shivered dramatically.
PSG advanced. The Final.
**PSG** vs... **Manchester City.**
Wait. City?
Silas was injured. So who was the threat?
Soccer checked the roster.
**Erling Haaland.** (Or the manga equivalent: **Thor**).
A Norwegian cyborg. Bigger than Vincent. Faster than Kai.
"Thor," Soccer looked at the bracket. "The Thunder God."
He looked at his titanium leg.
"Lightning rod," Soccer muttered.
The Final Boss.