"Watch out—Shinichi has the ball!"
The moment Shinichi received the pass, everyone on the field tensed up.
Even those who had doubts about this young player—who, despite having no international accolades, stood alongside top-tier stars as a mentor—couldn't deny the truth staring them in the face: Shinichi wasn't like them. His track record made that brutally clear. So regardless of how much anyone resented him, no one dared to take him lightly.
But the harsh truth remained: they weren't on his level.
And so, despite their focus, it didn't matter. With a single push forward, Shinichi had already burst past several wary defenders.
One touch with the outside of his foot, and the ball was swept horizontally across the field. He sprinted past what looked like a wall of defenders, using off-ball movement to disappear from their vision.
Moments later, the ball was returned to him perfectly—delivered by none other than the player with lightning arcs flickering in his eyes.
From the sidelines, Isagi watched in disbelief.
"It feels like Shinichi didn't even do anything—and yet he's already at the edge of the box. It took me, Hiori, and Chigiri together to get this far!"
"We can't let him go any further! Kurona, help me double up!"
Aryu called out in desperation, rallying the teammate he was most in sync with. Meanwhile, Sae Itoshi and Isagi also began collapsing toward Shinichi from their flanks. As for the others—they couldn't move. If they did, it'd be the same as abandoning their assignments entirely.
"Maybe if you had all converged on me from the start, you might've stood a chance," Shinichi said flatly.
Then his body began to sway—a massive, pendulum-like motion that threw off all sense of timing. His legs hovered and shifted above the ball, faking contact but never quite striking.
To Kurona, every twitch, every movement looked like the prelude to a breakthrough, but each one ended up being a feint. The mental strain of processing each deceptive move overloaded his senses—until the world spun sideways and all he could see was the blinding ceiling light above.
Shinichi had broken his balance and dropped him flat.
With the double team broken, the defense crumbled instantly. Shinichi didn't waste a breath—his right leg kicked off the turf and in a flash, his pendulum dribble morphed into an explosive dash.
Aryu, reacting late, raised an arm to stop him, but his attempt was weak and misaligned.
Shinichi didn't need to power through it—he simply turned his body mid-sprint and slipped past with ease.
"Damn... I let the most dangerous guy through!"
Aryu shouted in warning, but there was little anyone could do now. Fortunately, Sae had never expected anyone to stop Shinichi. He'd already pre-read Shinichi's next move—and got into position before the shot could be taken.
Sae's defensive angle was razor-sharp. Even Kaiser would've found it difficult to take a clean shot from there. The spectators could only marvel at his positioning—every step perfectly calculated.
"Your positioning's flawless. 100% accurate as always… but 100% isn't enough for me."
Shinichi frowned, finally showing the slightest hint of frustration.
"If this is all you've got, then I'll consider my invitation to you a waste. If you want to chase the same dream as me…"
"Then unless you're willing to die on the field, and keep your passion burning at 200% at all times—
you'll end up as nothing more than bones in my wake."
BOOM!
It was as if the entire world had glitched in the wake of that deafening roar.
Shinichi's movement—before and after the shot—looked completely disconnected, almost like a broken, low-frame-rate video.
It was so unnatural that Sae didn't even get a chance to react. By the time he realized what had happened, the ball had already screamed into the back of the net.
The entire field fell into stunned silence. Only the referee's automated whistle system—unfazed by emotion—mechanically acknowledged the goal.
Everyone else was too overwhelmed by that outrageous shot to speak.
"A high-speed... power cannon shot…"
From nearby, Isagi, who had witnessed the full motion of Shinichi's strike, stood frozen. As a bystander, he had a unique angle on just how terrifying this new move truly was.
"Did he combine Kaiser's strike with his own cannon shot? But... how?"
Isagi's mind raced.
"The most important element of a cannon shot is the wind-up—the sheer force behind the kick. Even Shinichi can't skip the full setup; that's why he usually rushes deep into the frontline, shakes off defenders, and then shoots."
"Kaiser's 'Kaiser Impact,' on the other hand, is all about snap acceleration—its strength lies in the rapid release of the ball, not raw power. That's why, while fast, the shot itself isn't particularly devastating. I've even seen Kaiser secretly practicing diagonal strikes to strengthen his finishing ability."
"But this… these two styles shouldn't be compatible."
To Isagi, the logic didn't make sense.
From a footballing philosophy standpoint, this kind of shot was impossible.
And yet—Shinichi had done it. And not just done it, but unleashed a shot so unreasonably fast and powerful that Isagi immediately recognized it as an unstoppable technique, on par with his own Two Gun Volley.
If Isagi's volley was like playing rock-paper-scissors after seeing the opponent's move, ensuring a counter every time, then Shinichi's shot was like throwing your hand before the game even started—and declaring your opponent lost before they could react.
What made it even more infuriating was that Shinichi could choose any moment to shoot: mid-move, post-dribble, out of nowhere. His opponent, on the other hand, had to perfectly guess the exact frame Shinichi would pull the trigger.
Misread it even slightly? Too early, and you'd expose yourself. Too late, and the shot would already be past you.
"My volley has clear limitations," Isagi admitted to himself.
"I can't trigger it off my own dribble—I need a perfectly timed pass from a teammate, and it has to be at the right height. If a defender stops me before the motion completes, I lose the chance to shoot. But Shinichi's version… he can fire it anytime, anywhere. That's what makes it truly unstoppable."
He suddenly recalled a phrase Ego Jinpachi had once casually thrown out during Blue Lock's first phase:
"The ultimate technique is one that can score 100% of the time, regardless of defense or position."
Shinichi had etched that idea into his heart. And now, in the second phase of the New Hero Battle—with several of his key stats, especially Power, maxed at 100—he had finally given form to that idea.
It wasn't perfect.
Not yet.
But a seed had sprouted.
And it was already bearing fruit.
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