A Few Minutes Back
"Piss off!"
Kaiser's voice cut through. His expression twisted into one of pure disgust as his icy blue eyes narrowed at Isagi, unable to tolerate what he'd just heard.
"Huh? You don't want to?"
Isagi tilted his head slightly, his tone laced with feigned innocence. it was an obvious reaction coming from Kaiser.
"There's no way in hell I will ever team up with you."
Kaiser's glare intensified, his words burning with conviction. The air between them thickened with the weight of his pride, his ego refusing to entertain the thought.
"But we're already on the same team… Oh!"
Isagi's eyes widened dramatically, as if struck by sudden realization. His hand snapped lightly as he leaned back with an exaggerated grin, mocking.
"I get it now."
He turned his gaze back to Kaiser with a smile that wasn't warm, cutting to the core of Kaiser's insecurities.
"Are you still playing that little competition with me? Sorry, I must've forgotten."
His voice dropped slightly, casual yet piercing.
"Since I haven't exactly felt any competition from you yet."
The words hit Kaiser like a slap. His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding in silent fury. His pride—so carefully built, so loudly declared—was being dismantled right in front of him. Humiliation slithered up his spine like a cold serpent.
And the worst part?
He couldn't deny it. So far, he hadn't produced anything worthy of challenging Isagi. Nothing to make the world remember Kaiser.
His lips parted, ready to spit venom back at Isagi, to hurl an insult that could claw back his dignity—but Isagi was already turning away.
The ball sat neatly under Isagi's boot at the center of the field. He stood there with his back half-turned toward Kaiser, shoulders loose, posture dripping with confidence that bordered on arrogance.
"How about this for a challenge?"
Isagi said, glancing at him over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with provocation.
"You've seen my pattern. My playstyle, right?"
I don't really care who scores, as long as the play is great."
He continued.
"Something challenging… or entertaining."
His foot nudged the ball slightly, the motion casual yet commanding.
"So…"
He paused, just long enough for the tension to coil between them.
"For that, make me pass to you. Become the most challenging and entertaining option for me."
The words hung in the air, deliberate and merciless. Isagi wasn't just talking to Kaiser—he was poking him, prodding at the fragile core of his pride.
It wasn't just a challenge.
It was a provocation.
And an undeniable reminder of the shifting power on this field.
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Present
'Yoichi… you're a monster.'
The thought ripped through Kaiser's mind as his eyes locked onto the spiraling trajectory of his own strike—Kaiser Impact - Magnus.
But it wasn't the shot that froze him.
It was the realization.
'He predicted all of this.'
The moment the idea crystallized, a storm of thoughts exploded inside Kaiser's head. Each piece of the puzzle slammed together with terrifying clarity.
He knew Isagi's playstyle. By now, he had studied it and planned for it.
And after Isagi's offer, he had made this run to overlap Isagi's genius with his own.
And finally score his first goal in the Neo Egoist League.
To prove that Michael Kaiser was still the axis around which this team revolved.
And yet… the truth was merciless.
The weight of that truth pressed down on him like a vice.
A shiver shot down his spine, relentless and cold, as if his body itself was struggling to contain the scale of what Isagi had just done.
For a fleeting, poisonous second, he felt small.
Insignificant.
It was a feeling Kaiser was not built to handle. His pride clawed against it like a trapped a animal, but the realization had already sunk its teeth in too deep.
And he wasn't the only one.
A few meters away, Reo's eyes were blown wide with the same dawning horror. His sharp mind—so quick to read patterns and anticipate intentions—had pieced it together too. Not in time to stop it, but just enough to understand the terrifying brilliance he was witnessing.
Kaiser and Reo stood frozen—two great players, reduced in this instant to nothing more than spectators—as they stared at the ball Kaiser had just struck.
Their bodies unwilling, or perhaps unable to move.
The ball climbed higher into the air, its rotation carving into the wind with a vicious, almost unnatural intensity. Then—
The Magnus spin took hold.
The sharp spiral of Kaiser's strike began to bite against the air, dragging the ball out of its straight trajectory. What had looked like a shot veering harmlessly wide suddenly came alive, bending back toward the net to continue its fierce hunt.
From the backline, defenders twisted their heads in disbelief as the ball's path curved harder, faster, meaner.
Manshine City's players scrambled, their formation fracturing under the pressure of something they couldn't predict, couldn't calculate.
The goalkeeper's feet shifted uneasily, his balance faltering as he tried to track the impossible arc.
It's coming back.
The spin was ruthless.
The speed—terrifying.
The shot—unstoppable.
From behind, Ness's eyes gleamed with delight. The loyal puppy of Kaiser recognized this sight instantly. His breath caught as he watched the Emperor perform his best move, a strike so technically demanding it bordered on madness to attempt it in the chaos of a real match.
"This is it…"
He whispered to himself, trembling with exhilaration.
The ball bent, carving its deadly path toward the net.
But the curve… wasn't sharp enough.
The Magnus effect faltered by a few fractions.
CLANG!
The sound rang out like a gunshot as the ball slammed into the left post. A sharp metallic reverberation echoed through the stadium, followed by a heartbeat of stunned silence.
"Hnghh…"
Kaiser's chest tightened.
His heart sank.
This was his first attempt at this move in an official match. Even as he struck it, a thin thread of doubt had coiled in his mind—Magnus was a fickle technique, one that didn't forgive imperfection.
But Isagi's pass had been perfect. It had given him the exact setup, the precise angle, the weight he needed to believe.
For a moment, that belief had drowned out everything else.
It gave him the confidence he needed to perform this move.
And yet… it still wasn't enough.
His head turned slowly, almost unwillingly, tracking the ball as it ricocheted away from the post. It bounced sharply into open space—a loose ball.
Kaiser couldn't hear. He couldn't hear the defenders' panicked shouts or the scuffle of boots as Manshine City scrambled to recover.
His mind was blank.
All he could do was see.
His eyes snapped to the left, locking on the patch of turf where the ball was bouncing back into play—and on the figure standing there.
Perfectly positioned.
Exactly where the rebound had landed.
"Backup's here!"
The shout cut through the stunned silence like a flare in the night.
The blue-haired kid—Hiori Yo—wore a sharp smile.
There was no hesitation in his movement.
His body tilted slightly as he swung through the strike, eyes locked on the target.
THWACK!
His foot connected, and the ball exploded off his boot. From the left side of the field, it tore through open space like a laser, cutting across the air toward the far post.
Kaiser caught the moment in a blur. The ball screamed past in front of his eyes, moving so fast it left a ghostly trail in his vision.
The goalkeeper barely had time to react. His body shifted, arms shooting up desperately, but the shot was already gone.
Top-right corner.
The net bulged violently as the ball slammed into its target.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to stretch thin.
Kaiser stood there, watching the aftermath—the spinning ball lodged in the corner, the rippling net, Hiori lowering his leg from the follow-through, still wearing that quiet, confident smile.
The Rebound Goal.
Scored not by Kaiser, nor by any star striker.
But by Isagi's lackey—Hiori Yo.
Hiori spun around sharply, his chest rising and falling with each breath as the adrenaline surged through him like wildfire. For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to shrink down to the sound of the net still rippling from his shot.
His blue hair clung slightly to his forehead with sweat, his eyes gleaming with the fierce satisfaction of a perfectly executed strike. And then—unable to hold it back—his face split into a wide, triumphant grin.
"YEEEEAAAAAAHHH!!"
His roar tore through the noise like a spark in dry grass. Hiori pumped his fists as he sprinted forward, every step charged with unfiltered joy.
And ahead of him—charging forward from the other side of the field—was Isagi Yoichi.
The moment their eyes met, something wordless passed between them. A surge of recognition. A shared victory.
Isagi's face mirrored his own—wild, elated, alive. His grin was sharp, his eyes blazing with that unshakable hunger that dragged everyone into his orbit. His arms spread slightly as he accelerated, feet pounding the turf with purpose.
They collided in the center like two comets meeting midair, leaping toward each other at the last second.
Their shoulders slammed together with a heavy thud, but neither cared. Their roars merged into one primal, victorious sound that rolled through the stadium stands. Isagi threw his head back, laughing breathlessly, while Hiori's hands gripped his teammate's shoulders tightly, as if grounding himself in the reality of what they'd just done.
From the right, Kurona rushed in with an exhilarated grin plastered across his usually composed face, his steps light despite the grueling match. Without hesitation, he threw an arm around both of them, dragging them into a tight three-way huddle.
"YEEEEAAAAAAHHH!!!"
Their voices overlapped—shouts, laughter, raw emotion—melding together into a single sound that pierced the chaos. Their chests heaved, their eyes sparkled, and for that brief, explosive moment, they stood there not as individual players, but as the spearhead of Bastard München's assault.
The air around them practically vibrated with the thrill of triumph, like the entire world had tilted in their favor.
The commentators shot out of their seats, the sudden movement so wild that one nearly knocked his chair backward. His microphone almost slipped from his grasp, dangling by the cord for a second before he clutched it desperately and screamed into it with unrestrained emotion.
"TH–THERE IT IS!!! BASTARD MÜNCHEN SCORES ITS THIRD GOAL!!!"
His partner didn't even wait for him to catch his breath. He was half-standing on the commentator's table now, eyes bulging, voice cracking as he shouted over him:
"A REBOUND GOAL!! HIORI YO APPEARED IN THE PERFECT SPOT AFTER KAISER'S SHOT SMASHED INTO THE POST!! THIS ATTACK—THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE—WAS ABSOLUTE MADNESS!!!"
Cameras zeroed in on the celebrating trio—Isagi, Hiori, and Kurona—each shot capturing their radiant expressions in high definition.
Around them, Bastard München's bench erupted. Teammates jumped over their seats, waving fists in the air.
And above it all, the scoreboard flickered.
Bastard München 3 – 2 Manshine City
The commentators' voices continued to boom through the stadium, their excitement swelling over the speakers like a wave that refused to settle.
"Bastard München have done it again—They took the victory against Manshine City!"
"What an absolutely devastating offensive display!!"
Their voices overlapped in breathless awe, replay screens flashing the sequence of plays from every angle.
Meanwhile, on the pitch, Manshine City's players stood motionless.
The adrenaline that had kept their bodies moving until now drained away all at once, replaced by the crushing weight of exhaustion. Shoulders slumped. Steps slowed. One by one, most of them began trudging back toward the bench in silence, their faces drawn tight with the bitter taste of defeat hanging in the air.
But some remained rooted where they stood.
Reo Mikage.
Michael Kaiser.
Chris Prince.
The three of them stared across the field, their gazes fixed on Bastard München's celebration—but their minds were far elsewhere.
For Chris, it was bitter disbelief. His jaw was clenched tight, his teeth grinding audibly as he tried to process it. Even without Noel Noa on the pitch, he hadn't been able to impose his will. He had gone head-to-head with Isagi Yoichi, and somehow… the upstart had matched him blow for blow.
He wasn't used to this. He was Chris Prince—one of the best in the world.
And yet, here he stood, stunned, his rhythm broken.
Reo and Kaiser, however, were frozen for an entirely different reason.
They were shaken.
They understood exactly what had just unfolded on the pitch—and the realization sent a chill down their spines.
Isagi hadn't just predicted the play.
He had goddammed orchestrated it from the ground up.
He had led Chris toward the right midfield deliberately, pulling him out of the play.
He'd given Reo that tiny, calculated glance earlier, planting the idea of a pass to Kaiser, knowing Reo's sharp brain would take the bait.
He'd dragged Kaiser forward into the backline pressure zone—by weaponizing Kaiser's own thirst to rise for the challenge, tempting him to become 'the most entertaining option.'
And Kaiser had taken it.
Exactly as Isagi expected him to.
In that moment, both Reo and Kaiser could see it clearly.
They had been puppets.
Every movement, every reaction, every 'choice' they made had already been woven into Isagi's blueprint before the play even began.
Reo's fingers twitched at his sides, his mind racing back through the moments, replaying each step until the horrifying precision became undeniable.
But Kaiser—Kaiser felt it on a deeper level.
Because for him, it wasn't just about being pulled into the scheme.
It was the pass.
The pass Isagi had sent him was perfect—not just in timing and weight, but in a way that felt personal.
It was tailored for Kaiser Impact—Magnus.
And that's what made his stomach twist. He hadn't shown that move to anyone—except for Ness. He'd never unleashed it on the field before today.
And yet Isagi's pass had arrived as if it were made for that exact strike. The setup, the spin, the distance—it all lined upflawlessly.
As if Isagi Yoichi had seen straight through him.
'He forced it out of me…'
Kaiser realized, breath catching.
The thought slammed into him with brutal weight.
'He's been watching me. He saw me train this move. And he… predicted I'd use it here.'
His head slumped forward, bangs falling over his eyes as the world seemed to narrow around him. His teeth ground together, jaw tight enough to ache.
'Did he also… predict me to miss…?'
The question lingered in his mind. It wasn't anger that burned in him—it was something far heavier.
Because Isagi hadn't robbed him of the goal.
He hadn't set him up to fail out of malice.
He had given him the chance.
The perfect chance.
And Kaiser hadn't been enough to seize it.
The bitter taste of inadequacy settled on his tongue. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, trembling faintly.
For Kaiser, who had been the sun around which others revolved, that truth cut deeper than any insult could.
As the celebration continued on the pitch, a sudden buzzing crackle cut through the noise.
"Bzzzt… Bzzzzzttt…"
The celebratory chants faltered slightly as the loudspeakers came alive.
"Match 3 and Match 4 have both ended.
Now, throughout the facility and on live broadcast, we will announce the new salary auction rankings."
Players on both sides—Bastard München and Manshine City alike—turned their attention toward the giant digital screen looming over the stadium.
The flashing lights that moments ago illuminated the trio's goal celebration now turned cold and blue, as the massive display prepared to reveal the rankings.
Names appeared one by one, accompanied by crisp digital chimes.
20th Ranking — Karasu — 12,000,000 ¥
19th Ranking — Hayate — 13,000,000 ¥
18th Ranking — Darai — 16,000,000 ¥
17th Ranking — Sendou — 17,500,000 ¥
16th Ranking — Kira — 19,000,000 ¥
"Whoa…"
Isagi muttered, seeing Kira in the ranking felt... weird.
"…He actually made it."
He wasn't supposed to be here, but his intervention helped Kira make significant progress.
Names continued to appear on the screen.
15th ranking - Shidou - 20,000,000 ¥
14th ranking - Otoya - 22,000,000 ¥
13th ranking - Niko - 23,500,000 ¥
12th ranking - Aryu - 25,000,000 ¥
11th ranking - Aiku - 27,000,000 ¥
10th ranking - Nagi - 30,000,000 ¥
Down on the field, Nagi tilted his head back lazily, his half-lidded eyes reflecting the glowing scoreboard. There was no spark of joy or frustration on his face.
His arms hung loosely at his sides, and he let out a soft sigh.
'10th place, huh…'
His name sitting there didn't seem to faze him. But for those who knew Nagi, that lack of reaction meant something.
Once, back during the height of Blue Lock's rankings, Nagi Seishiro had stood near the summit—4th overall, a prodigy with natural talent and effortless skill.
To see him now, six places lower among his own peers… it was a quiet but undeniable shift.
Somewhere in the stands, a few murmurs broke out.
"Wasn't he ranked higher before?"
"He's still top 10 though. Thirty million yen, that's insane."
Beside him, Reo Mikage's eyes flickered sideways, catching Nagi's reaction—or rather, the lack of it. His expression was unreadable, but somewhere beneath that composed exterior, a familiar tug stirred.
Reo forced his eyes back to the board.
9th ranking - Chigiri - 32,000,000 ¥
Chigiri saw his name and number appear, a bright smile spread across his face.
To his left, Reo turned toward him.
"Nice one."
He said with a spark of genuine camaraderie.
Chigiri lifted his hand, and Reo met it mid-air.
Smack!
8th Ranking — Hiori Yo — 34,000,000 ¥
7th Ranking — Kurona Ranze — 35,000,000 ¥
The names lit up.
For a heartbeat, both players simply stood there, letting the numbers sink in.
Slowly, the two of them turned toward each other.
Then, almost in perfect sync, they turned their heads back.
Behind them stood Isagi Yoichi, hands on his hips, his grin unmistakable—sharp and alive with satisfaction. His eyes flickered between the two.
"Congratulations."
Isagi lifted both of his hands high into the air, palms open.
Without hesitation, they rushed forward.
SMACK!
SMACK!
Their palms met his with two thunderous high-fives that echoed through the air.
Both Hiori and Kurona had found the net tonight.
Both had risen in value because of it.
And both knew, deep down, that Isagi's presence had been the spark that set it all ablaze.
6th Ranking — Rin Itoshi — 36,000,000 ¥
5th Ranking — Kunigami Rensuke — 40,000,000 ¥
Kunigami's name confused many players and spectators alike.
Even though Kunigami hadn't scored tonight, the number beside his name was immense.
Kunigami's rebirth into the 'wild card' had turned him into a prized asset for clubs. His explosive strength and refined athleticism, to be made Noel Noa's vessel, made him a strategic weapon.
Teams were salivating at the idea of molding that raw physicality into their own system.
Even without finding the back of the net, clubs saw immense value in him.
And then—the fourth ranking flashed onto the screen.
4th Ranking — Reo Mikage — 44,000,000 ¥
For a moment, Reo froze. His violet eyes widened as if his brain needed a second to process what he was seeing.
'Fourth? Me?'
There was no mistaking it—his name, his ranking, and that staggering number were displayed for the entire world to see.
All at once, a grin broke across his face, unrestrained and radiant. The weight of everything he'd done in this match—the intelligent passes, the seamless transitions, the audacious plays that had cracked defenses wide open—hit him like a tidal wave.
He was being acknowledged.
Before he could fully soak it in, a sharp THWACK landed on his back.
Chigiri stood there, grinning from ear to ear.
Reo couldn't help but laugh too.
His performance today hadn't been about scoring goals—it had been about shaping the match. His creativity and game sense had elevated Manshine City's attacks. Midfielders like him were rare, and clubs all over the world had taken notice.
A midfielder with his vision and versatility was a dream acquisition for any team.
The screen above them continued to glow, the list creeping ever closer to the Top 3.
3rd Ranking — Meguru Bachira — 66,000,000 ¥
Bachira's evolution had been nothing short of explosive. His recent performance had catapulted him into another stratosphere.
Bachira had scored against Italy's defense.
That single strike had sent scouts into a frenzy, exploding his value.
From 32 million to 66 million.
Then, the second ranking flashed onto the screen—and the entire stadium exploded.
2nd Ranking — Shoei Barou — 100,000,000 ¥
The number appeared, almost as if mocking everyone below it.
A 100 million yen.
The commentators nearly tripped over their words trying to keep up.
"ONE HUNDRED MILLION YEN!!"
"Shoei Barou's first salary offer is a staggering nine-figure number! This is insane!!"
In the same match where Bachira had doubled his value, Barou had unleashed an absolute carnage.
A hat-trick against Barcha.
Barou had always carried himself like a king, but now the world was treating him like one too.
The world had rewarded his arrogance with a number that made everyone else's offers look pale in comparison.
However, the screen didn't fade to black after Barou's number.
Because even that jaw-dropping100 million wasn't enough to claim the throne.
There was still one spot left.
One name that everyone was waiting for.
A hush swept through the stadium like a sudden gust of cold wind. The buzz of conversation, the scattered cheers—it all began to fade.
Every set of eyes turned toward the massive scoreboard.
1st Ranking — Isagi Yoichi — 250,000,000 ¥
The screen flashed, and the number dropped like a thunderclap.
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Absolute, stunned silence.
And then—
The world erupted.
The sound that followed was a chaotic collision of disbelief and awe. Gasps, shouts, cheers—thousands of voices colliding at once allover the world.
250 Million.
Even the commentators struggled to keep up, their voices crackling with excitement through the microphones:
"TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION!! ISAGI YOICHI TAKES THE NUMBER ONE SPOT WITH AN UNPRECEDENTED OFFER!!"
"From 78 million… to THIS! This is a staggering leap in value!!"
The camera panned to Isagi, standing near the midfield with Kurona and Hiori still beside him. For once, even he looked slightly taken aback. His eyes blinked at the screen, brows lifting just a fraction as the golden numbers blazed overhead.
"Damm…"
His last bid had been 78 million—a remarkable figure then, but nowhere near the realm he now occupied. This wasn't just a step up.
It was a skyrocket.
Clubs had been watching him carefully since the first match.
His goal-scoring ability, his skill to bend the flow of the game to his will, had impressed them.
But they'd wanted proof that it wasn't a fluke.
And tonight… they got it.
A goal.
An assist.
Countless decisive interventions.
A tactical stranglehold on the match.
And above all—his head-to-head duel with Chris Prince, one of the world's best.
Isagi hadn't just shone tonight. He had commanded the field.
And the clubs responded in kind.
The bidding war that unfolded behind the scenes had been frantic, multiple giants of the football world throwing numbers at the board. But in the end, one name had risen above the rest.
Barcha.
The Spanish titan had placed the winning offer: 250,000,000 yen for Isagi Yoichi.
The sheer size of the number overshadowed everything else on the board. Even Barou's 100 million—which had seemed untouchable seconds ago—now looked distant in comparison.
The image of Isagi standing beneath that glowing number burned into every viewer's mind.
250,000,000 yen.
Isagi Yoichi — Rank 1.
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