Blue Lock. Central Junction.
The Entrance to the Second Selection.
The metal gates hissed shut, sealing the fate of the 265 players who had failed the First Selection. Only the survivors remained. Team Z, having finished top of the group, walked through the brightly lit corridor leading to the next stage.
The air was different here. In Building 5, there was a sense of camaraderie, however fragile. Here, the air was sterile, cold, and heavy with the scent of unadulterated ego.
"We made it!" Igarashi cheered, looking around the sleek, futuristic hallway. "I wonder what we do next? Maybe a training camp? Or a tournament?"
"Whatever it is," Kunigami said, tightening his fists, "we do it as Team Z. We're undefeated."
Isagi Yoichi walked slightly ahead of the group. He heard their optimism, and it sounded like noise.
Team Z... Isagi thought, his eyes focused on the single door at the end of the hall. That concept is dead.
The First Selection forced us to cooperate to survive. It was a test of 'coexistence.' But Ego Jinpachi doesn't care about teams. He cares about the One.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the hologram of Ego Jinpachi flickered into existence in the center of the hallway. He was slouching as always, looking like a man who hadn't slept in a week.
"Congratulations, diamonds in the rough," Ego's voice droned. "You have survived the First Selection. You have learned the joy of winning and the pain of crushing others."
Ego pushed his glasses up his nose.
"But throw all that away."
The players gasped. "What?"
"Team Z. Team V. Those bonds are trash," Ego stated ruthlessly. "The Second Selection consists of five stages. And the First Stage... is a solo battle."
"If you cannot fight alone, you are not a striker. You are a parasite."
The door at the end of the hall opened. Beyond it lay total darkness.
"Enter," Ego commanded. "One by one. Discard your friends. Discard your reliance on others. If you want to change the world, you must first be able to stand alone in it."
The group hesitated.
"Solo?" Bachira whispered. "So we can't play together?"
Isagi didn't hesitate. He didn't look back at Bachira, or Kunigami, or Chigiri.
He stepped forward.
"Isagi?" Kunigami called out.
Isagi stopped for a fraction of a second.
"Don't wait up," Isagi said, his voice cold. "If you're strong, I'll see you on the other side. If you're weak... goodbye."
He walked into the darkness. The door slammed shut behind him, severing the connection to Team Z forever.
The Blue Lock Man
Isagi stood in a massive, cubic room. The walls were lined with black panels. The floor was synthetic turf, marked with a digital grid that glowed faintly.
"Welcome, Isagi Yoichi," Ego's voice echoed from hidden speakers.
"Rank: 1. You are the first to enter from Building 5."
SNAP.
Bright lights flooded the room, blinding Isagi for a moment.
When his vision cleared, he saw it.
Standing in the penalty box was a hologram. It was blue, translucent, and flickered with streams of binary code. It was shaped like a goalkeeper, but its size was exaggerated—wider, taller, more imposing than a human.
"This is Blue Lock Man," Ego introduced. "An artificial intelligence goalkeeper programmed with the movement data of every world-class keeper in history. He doesn't feel fear. He doesn't get tired. He calculates probability."
A ball rolled out from a slot in the wall and stopped at Isagi's feet.
"The test is simple," Ego continued. "Score 100 goals in 90 minutes. The difficulty will scale with your progress. If you fail to score 100, you are eliminated immediately. There are no second chances."
Isagi looked at the hologram. He looked at the ball.
In the original timeline, Isagi felt anxiety. He worried about his "weapon."
But this Isagi?
He smiled. A terrifying, arrogant smile.
"100 goals?" Isagi scoffed. "Against a computer program? You're insulting me, Ego."
Level 1: The Calibration
START.
Isagi kicked the ball. He didn't aim for the corners. He aimed dead center, just to see how the AI reacted.
The Blue Lock Man reacted instantly, its digital hand snapping out to block the shot.
Fast, Isagi analyzed. Reaction time: 0.2 seconds. It tracks the ball's trajectory the moment it leaves my foot.
Isagi picked up the rebound.
If it tracks trajectory, then I just need to create a trajectory it can't reach.
He shot again. This time, he aimed for the bottom right corner. A low, skipping shot.
GOAL.
The hologram shattered into blue pixels before reforming.
1/100.
"Too easy," Isagi muttered.
He fell into a rhythm. The wall fired balls at him. He trapped, he shot.
10/100.
20/100.
The difficulty was pathetic. Stationary shots. Isagi was a machine.
This is just a warm-up, Isagi thought. It's calibrating my range. It's learning my kick power.
Level 2: The Moving Variable
30/100.
The room changed.
"Level Up," the automated voice announced.
Holographic panels emerged from the ground. They weren't static; they moved. They were defenders.
Digital avatars moving in pre-set patterns, blocking shooting lanes.
Simultaneously, the ball cannon began to fire balls at higher speeds and unpredictable angles.
Isagi received a fast pass. A holographic defender slid across his vision.
Obstacle, Isagi noted.
Most players would dribble.
Isagi didn't. He saw the path before the defender moved.
Metavision: Projectile Path.
He didn't trap the ball. He hit it first time.
Direct Shot.
The ball whistled past the hologram's ear and buried itself in the net.
31/100.
Isagi realized something.
This training... it's designed to force the 'Direct Shot' evolution. If you trap the ball against these fast holograms, the passing lanes close. You have to shoot instantly.
Ego is trying to teach us the value of time.
But I already know it.
Isagi moved through the chaos.
Ball incoming. High arc.
Holograms closing in. Pincer movement.
Isagi jumped.
He didn't panic. He didn't think about "what if I miss."
He calculated the angles.
The keeper is cheating to the left because of the defender's position.
Isagi volleyed the ball to the near post.
GOAL.
45/100.
Level 3: The Overclock
60/100.
The speed increased drastically. The balls were now being fired at 60 km/h. They were spinning. Some were bouncing.
The holographic defenders were faster, sliding in with lethal precision.
Sweat began to pour down Isagi's face. His breathing became heavier.
The physical load is increasing, Isagi noted. My lungs are burning. My legs are getting heavy.
He missed a shot. It hit the post.
"Tch," Isagi clicked his tongue, glaring at the Blue Lock Man. "You got lucky, pixel-face."
Isagi wiped his eyes.
Focus. The fatigue creates lag in the brain. The AI relies on me slowing down.
I need to process faster. I need to see the goal before the ball even arrives.
He entered the "Flow State."
The world slowed down. The grid lines reappeared, sharper than ever.
He saw the cannon swiveling. Targeting left foot.
He saw the holograms shifting. Blocking the center.
He saw the Blue Lock Man's weight distribution. Center-low.
Isagi ran.
He didn't run to where the ball was. He ran to where the ball would be.
He met the ball at the exact moment it reached the edge of the box.
Three holograms slid at him.
Isagi didn't fake. He didn't dribble.
He used the "Black Hole Trap" he had seen Nagi use.
He killed the ball dead. The defenders slid past him.
Then, calmly, he rolled it into the corner.
GOAL.
75/100.
"I can devour anything," Isagi whispered, adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Nagi's trap. Chigiri's speed. I will use it all."
Level MAX: The Final Exam
90/100.
The room turned red.
"Final Phase," the voice announced. "Extreme Difficulty."
The ball cannon fired rapid shots. The holograms were aggressive, practically fouling him. The Blue Lock Man was saving everything that wasn't perfect.
Isagi was exhausted. His legs felt like lead.
This is the true test, Isagi realized. Can you execute your formula when your body is screaming 'stop'?
Ball comes in. Fast. Bouncing.
Isagi wound up for a Direct Shot.
But the Blue Lock Man moved early. It predicted the far post.
Isagi's brain overclocked.
Rewrite formula.
Mid-swing, Isagi adjusted his ankle. He didn't shoot with his instep. He sliced across the ball with the outside of his boot.
Trivela Direct Shot.
The ball curved violently away from the keeper's dive.
It spun into the side netting.
91/100.
"More!" Isagi screamed. "Give me more!"
He was a demon now. He wasn't thinking about technique. He was purely reacting to the logic of the field.
92.
93.
94.
He missed one. 94.
He scored again. 95.
99/100.
The final ball.
It was a high, spinning cross. A nightmare ball.
Isagi was at the edge of the box.
The Blue Lock Man grew in size (or so it seemed). The goal looked tiny.
Isagi jumped.
He saw the trajectory.
If I volley this, it goes over.
I need to drive it down.
Isagi twisted his body in the air. He scissored his legs.
Bicycle Kick.
It wasn't flashy. It was mechanically perfect.
He connected with the ball at the highest point.
BOOM.
The ball smashed into the ground, bounced over the hologram's hand, and hit the roof of the net.
GOAL.
100/100.
CLEAR.
Time Elapsed: 42 Minutes.
The holograms shattered into a million particles of light. The red alert stopped. The room returned to a calm white.
Isagi landed on his back, gasping for air.
"Hah... hah..."
He stared at the ceiling.
He checked the time. 42 minutes.
The average clear time is probably 60-70 minutes, Isagi estimated. I crushed it.
"Congratulations," the voice said. "Stage 1 Cleared. Proceed to the waiting room."
Isagi sat up. He grabbed his water bottle and drank deeply.
He looked at the empty penalty box where the Blue Lock Man had stood.
"You were better than Nagi," Isagi insulted the absent genius one last time. "At least you didn't complain."
The Waiting Room
Isagi walked through the exit gate.
He entered a large, lavish waiting area. Leather couches, a cafeteria, screens showing the other matches.
It was empty.
I'm the first? Isagi thought.
No.
In the far corner, someone was sitting in a meditative pose.
A boy with dark hair and turquoise highlights.
He radiated an aura so cold it dropped the room temperature.
Rin Itoshi.
Isagi stopped.
Him.
The Number 1 player of the First Selection. The brother of Sae Itoshi.
Rin opened his eyes. They were teal, sharp, and utterly unimpressed.
He looked at Isagi.
"You're loud," Rin said quietly. "Your breathing is annoying."
Isagi smiled. The fatigue from the 100 goals vanished instantly, replaced by the thrill of a new hunt.
He walked over to Rin.
"Sorry," Isagi said, not sounding sorry at all. "I just finished slaughtering some holograms. It's tiring work being a god."
Rin narrowed his eyes. "A god? You look like a lost puppy."
"Isagi!"
Before the tension could explode, the door opened behind him.
Bachira Meguru burst in, followed closely by Nagi Seishiro.
"We cleared it!" Bachira cheered. "That was crazy!"
Nagi walked in, looking more awake than usual. "That goalkeeper was tough. But not as tough as you, Isagi."
Isagi looked at the new arrivals.
Bachira. Nagi.
Then he looked at Rin.
The stage is set, Isagi thought. The monsters are gathering.
"We need a team of three," Bachira said, running up to Isagi. "Obviously, it's us, right? You, me, and Nagi! The strongest team!"
Isagi looked at Bachira. Then at Nagi.
Then he looked back at Rin.
In a normal story, I'd team up with my friends, Isagi thought.
But this isn't a story about friendship. It's a story about dominance.
Isagi's eyes gleamed.
"Hold on, Bachira," Isagi said.
He turned to face Rin fully.
"Hey, Number 1. Are you waiting for someone? Or are you scared to fight me?"