The ball bounced once.
Then twice.
Then a third time.
Yusuke ran.
Not jogged.
Not sprinted.
Ran.
Everything he had left poured into every step.
His legs burned.
His lungs felt like they were tearing apart.
His vision blurred slightly around the edges.
None of it mattered.
The ball was in front of him.
And for the first time since the match started—
there was space.
Real space.
No defenders immediately beside him.
No pressure.
No walls.
Just grass.
The crowd realized it.
The stadium rose to its feet.
"GO!"
The scream echoed from somewhere in the stands.
Then another.
Then hundreds more.
Yusuke pushed harder.
The ball bounced again.
He reached it.
Controlled.
Kept running.
The goalkeeper stood near the edge of his box.
Watching.
Waiting.
A one-on-one.
The biggest chance Southside had created all day.
And then—
A shadow appeared behind him.
Fast.
Very fast.
The crowd gasped.
Aka.
He was coming.
Yusuke heard the footsteps.
Getting closer.
Closer.
Closer.
No.
He wasn't letting this chance die.
Not after everything.
Not after seventy minutes of suffering.
Not after chasing Aka across the entire field.
Yusuke planted his foot.
Shot.
BOOM.
The strike exploded toward goal.
The goalkeeper dove.
Full stretch.
Fingertips reached.
Missed.
The ball flew past him.
The crowd exploded.
GOAL.
1–3.
The net shook violently.
The stadium erupted.
For the first time all match—
Southside had scored.
Yusuke slid across the grass.
Not celebrating.
Just screaming.
Every ounce of frustration.
Every ounce of anger.
Every ounce of helplessness.
Gone.
The team rushed toward him immediately.
"YES!"
"COME ON!"
"We're alive!"
Even Hiroto was yelling.
Even Takumi.
Even Ren.
The energy returned instantly.
Not because they were winning.
Because they finally had hope.
One goal.
Just one goal.
Yet somehow—
everything felt different.
Across the field, Nocturne stood quietly.
Theo frowned.
Marc clicked his tongue.
Lucien looked annoyed.
The crowd kept roaring.
The noise refused to die.
Then everyone's eyes shifted toward Aka.
Waiting.
Wondering.
How would he react?
Aka stood near midfield.
Breathing steadily.
Expressionless.
Then—
he smiled.
A real smile.
The dangerous kind.
"Interesting."
Réservoir walked beside him.
"You gave them life."
Aka nodded.
"I know."
"You seem happy about it."
Another nod.
"I am."
Réservoir sighed.
Of course he was.
The match restarted.
Southside pressed immediately.
Aggressively.
Desperately.
The entire field felt different now.
Yuma flew into challenges.
Takumi pushed further forward.
Hiroto demanded the ball constantly.
Pambara kept shouting instructions despite barely being able to breathe.
Everything accelerated.
The match became chaos.
Exactly what Southside wanted.
Exactly what Nocturne didn't.
For several minutes—
Southside actually controlled possession.
The crowd fed into it.
Every pass.
Every tackle.
Every recovery.
The stadium grew louder.
Momentum.
Real momentum.
Then Pambara noticed something.
Something terrifying.
Aka wasn't participating.
Not really.
He was moving.
Passing.
Positioning.
But he wasn't attacking.
He was watching.
Watching Southside burn energy.
Watching them chase.
Watching them believe.
Pambara's stomach tightened.
"...No."
Nobody heard him.
The crowd was too loud.
The game was too fast.
Pambara looked toward Réservoir.
And immediately understood.
The French midfielder wasn't worried either.
In fact—
he looked relaxed.
Comfortable.
Like this was expected.
Like this was part of the plan.
Then Réservoir looked directly at Pambara.
And smiled.
A calm.
Confident.
Terrible smile.
The kind of smile that said:
You finally think you're back in the match.
That's when it hurts most.
Pambara felt cold.
Very cold.
Because suddenly—
he realized something.
The goal hadn't scared Nocturne.
Not at all.
And somehow—
that was far more frightening than being down three goals.
The clock continued ticking.
Seventy-eight minutes.
Seventy-nine.
Eighty.
Ten minutes remained.
And the true end of the match was only beginning.
To Be Continued.