The disdain in Ryu's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Across from him, Baro's forehead twitched—a vein bulged visibly. Rage swelled beneath his cold exterior.
Only five meters separated them now.
Ryu's crimson eyes gleamed with a glint of wicked delight. His grin stretched wide, sharp as a predator's.
"Ants," he whispered, "should look up when a miracle walks by."
Then—flick.
The ball rose skyward in a single motion.
Ryu's body twisted like a spring uncoiled.
BANG.
The ball screamed past Baro's face like a bullet.
A sonic gasp burst from behind him.
The giant screen lit up:
1 - 0
From the sideline, Bachira Meguru smiled faintly.
Before meeting Ryu, he'd been alone in his madness—a boy who saw monsters on the field while the world laughed at him.
But now?
Here was a real monster.
And that monster had just bared its fangs.
"Great shot!" Isagi shouted, eyes wide, leaping to his feet.
He'd seen the whole thing—the recovery, the solo sprint, the clean finish.
The goal belonged to one man.
This match belonged to Ryu.
On the bench, Raichi spat out a growl.
"If Kunigami hadn't gotten in my way, I would've scored that."
Kunigami's eyes narrowed, his voice low and cold.
"It should've been mine."
Their fractured team began to splinter further—bonds cracking under the weight of pride.
Ryu said nothing.
His gaze locked on Baro.
The so-called king hadn't even moved yet.
Hadn't had the chance to retaliate.
But the fury bubbling in his eyes?
It promised the next clash would be nuclear.
Little Monk hesitantly walked toward Ryu, guilt dripping from every movement.
He knew he'd made things harder by stealing that earlier possession.
But before he could open his mouth—
"Chestnut Head," Ryu said softly.
Little Monk froze.
"If you try that again…"
His tone dropped to ice.
"…I'll kill you."
The threat wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Little Monk stood paralyzed, only relaxing once Ryu turned and walked away.
But the rest of the team had heard it too.
And the whispers started again:
"Disgusting… Your Ryoushuu should've cut him already."
"Trash like him just clings to the strong."
"Lowest rank in the whole team, can't even pass properly."
"A parasite."
"Chestnut Head should just die already."
The venom spiraled fast.
But Ryu's faint smirk didn't falter.
He'd already considered eliminating Little Monk.
The scheming. The cowardice. The weakness.
But still, he kept him around.
Because Ryu didn't waste pieces—not even flawed ones.
Even pests had their purpose.
After the goal, the atmosphere shifted.
Team X's confidence wavered. Their formation was cracking.
Bachira jogged over, voice light.
"Yoru, do you want me to pass next time?"
Ryu nodded slightly.
"Yeah. Keep 'em low. No sky passes—I'm not trying to knock anyone out."
The ref's voice crackled over the speakers:
"Team X, resume play."
Everyone repositioned.
Baro's face was carved from stone.
His gaze—locked on Ryu.
The whistle blew.
And then—
Baro moved.
A bolt of black lightning surged forward—cutting past teammates, ignoring everything.
He was coming for Ryu.
Direct.
Brutal.
No detours.
Raichi jumped.
"Ryu—?! Why aren't you stopping him?!"
But Ryu… stood still.
His expression was unreadable.
Baro tore through the chaos, slicing past defenders like paper dolls.
No one could stop him.
And still—Ryu didn't move.
Why?
At the goal, Barou Shouei grinned with venom and fired.
BANG.
Too fast.
Iemon missed the block entirely.
Score tied: 1 - 1
Raichi exploded.
"You think you can just score once and sit pretty?!"
"Get back on defense, you damn showoff!!"
"I swear I'll kill you!"
Then the rest of the team joined in—
"Don't pass to him."
"I'm the finisher."
"He's dead weight if he doesn't move!"
Chaos.
Again.
And at the eye of the storm—Ryu.
Still expressionless.
Baro walked up to him, slow, sharp, and coiled like a blade.
"What are you doing?" he hissed.
"Why let me score?"
Ryu didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
"If a team's already breaking from within," he said calmly,
"Then dragging it forward is just wasted energy."
His next words were quiet.
But absolutely.
"I don't have mercy."
"Trash belongs in the ruins."
Baro's jaw twitched—stunned not by the cruelty… but the certainty.
This wasn't arrogance.
This was conviction.
The kind of ego that rivaled his own.
The kind of player who would leave the world behind—just to stand alone at the top.
And Ryu's message was clear:
If this team sinks, I'm not sinking with it.