HIBARI POV
I slammed the heavy door to the resting room shut and leaned against it, breathing deeply. Shidou's laughter was already a distant, annoying echo down the corridor.
Idiots.
I straightened my clothes, adjusting my hair back into its sharp lines. That brief, ridiculous tangent had been enough. The game was far too interesting now to waste time on petty violence with a damn hypersexual meathead.
Plus there was probably some way he would be into that sort of thing.
I looked at the three remaining figures. Reo was flat on his back on a mattress, rubbing his temples, probably regretting all his recent life choices. Hiori was already glued to the massive screen, his eyes scanning the profiles of the five world-class players, a subtle smile of anticipation on his face. Kurona, our newest acquisition, stood slightly apart, silent and observing.
"If anyone else feels the need to make terrible jokes about French minors, they can join Shidou in the showers," I stated, my voice low and completely flat.
Reo straightened up instantly. "Glad you're back. That was...quite-"
"Entertaining?" I said, presumably finishing Reo's sentence for him.
"Inefficient. But I guess entertaining works too." Reo shrugged.
"It was a necessary release of tension," I countered, though the tension was entirely Shidou's fault. I walked over to the screen, where the shadowy, figures of the World 5 loomed. "This is no longer a game of cannibalism against our peers. This is a true test."
I pointed to the five players displayed on the screen: Blake, Cavasoz, Luna, Silva, and Loki.
Hiori nodded, his focus unwavering. "The ultimate proof of our ego. We have to devour a world-class skill to prove where our egos can take us."
"Exactly," I affirmed. "We have limited time against the absolute top echelon of the sport. We need to identify the key technique of each player and determine which one offers the greatest exponential growth for our five-man unit."
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We abandoned all notions of rest. Hiori established himself as the team's nerve center, running complex simulations on the tactical display boards, tracking the movement patterns of the World 5.
Reo was the laboratory. He devoured footage of Pablo Cavasoz, trying to reverse-engineer the passing genius that allowed the Argentine to see passes before the lanes even opened. Reo also worked on Leonardo Luna, attempting to synthesize the effortless precision the Spanish Scion exhibited when controlling the ball in traffic.
The four of them worked in a state of total exhaustion, but driven by the intellectual challenge. Kurona was efficient, silently fetching data and acting as a physical shield against Shidou's more disruptive tendencies.
When the analysis was complete, we had identified four of the five players main abilities.
But the final profile remained almost blank.
I stared at the image of the French prodigy.
"I'm stumped man,"
"I got nothing"
"Same"
Reo, Hiori, and Kurona said in frustrated unison.
My eyes narrowed, the decision solidifying in my mind. "I'll take him. I will devour his career before it even starts and prove myself a world class player here and now."
Shidou, who had just sauntered back into the room, opened his mouth, a wicked, leering smile spreading across his face.
"Don't even try it," I said, cutting him off before the first syllable was out.
Shidou stopped, his smile merely shifting into a cunning, amused expression as he zipped his mouth shut with an imaginary zipper.
A moment later, the lights in the room flashed, and the VAR speaker crackled to life.
"Attention. Your preparation time is concluded." The digital voice was sharp and unforgiving. "Clear the resting area and proceed immediately to the Final Stage."
This wasn't a game for heroes or idols. This was a direct confrontation between the world's established hierarchy and my emergent, perfect machine. My ego demanded that I not just compete, but completely dismantle the illusion of their superiority.
The end of the tunnel was a glaring, brilliant white light. Stepping through, into the turf, 5 players stood at the center.
They were exactly as depicted on the screen, only more imposing in person. Dada Silva looked like a statue carved from granite. Luna had a relaxed, almost regal posture. Blake stood unmoving, but still radiating a cold, aggressive energy. Cavasoz was smiling, a look of amused curiosity on his face.
And Julian Loki, the seventeen-year-old French prodigy, stood slightly behind the rest, his expression a sly smile.
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THIRD PERSON POV
The World 5 were clustered together, talking amongst themselves in a rapid, easy flow of English.
Adam Blake stretched his neck, cracking it loudly. "Right, this is the last one, yeah? I'm ready for the money they promised."
Dada Silva grunted, flexing his arms. "Let's make this one quick."
Pablo Cavasoz chuckled, adjusting his wrist tape. "Patience, primos. Don't scare the children. We promised Ego we'd let them get a feel for a real game. Twenty minutes, max. I need to practice my no-look scoop pass."
Leonardo Luna didn't even look at the Blue Lock team, addressing the turf. "Ensure it's efficient. We have reputations to maintain. Don't let them touch the ball too much."
The Blue Lock players could only hear the foreign cadence and the dismissive tone, relaxed, conversational, and utterly excluding them.
Reo leaned toward Hibari, his brow furrowed with annoyance. "They're talking about us. Can anyone understand what they're saying? Is anyone fluent in English?"
Hibari shook his head curtly. "No."
Shidou scoffed. "Who cares? The language of explosions is universal."
Hiori shifted uncomfortably, realizing the depth of the disadvantage. "No. I only know Japanese."
Kurona, his eyes narrowed, simply stated, "No no."
Team Blue Lock quickly took their positions as the World 5 did the same.
KICKOFF START
TEAM BLUE LOCK vs. TEAM WORLD 5
Hibari tapped the ball back to Reo with a slight peel.
Reo received the pass and, without a single wasted touch, struck the ball. His pass was low, and driven out toward the opposite flank, finding Hiori already sprinting into position.
He immediately launched a precision cross downfield, firing the ball across the wide, exposed space created by the World 5's initially slow retreat. The cross was aimed toward the space where Hibari was already rocketing into the zone.
Dada Silva and Adam Blake, the physical pillars of the defense, reacted belatedly but with professional speed. They converged instantly on Hibari, intent on neutralizing the presumed shot.
The ball arrived at the edge of the box. Hibari, knowing he couldn't win the collision with the two converging world-class players, performed a masterful feint.
He didn't shoot, nor did he receive the pass cleanly. Instead, he made a subtle, final flick with the outside of his boot, intercepting the cross and instantly redirecting it. The ball spun away from the feet of the two defenders and landed perfectly in the center of the penalty box.
It landed right in front of Shidou, who had used his erratic, chaotic movements to slip past Luna's defensive shadow. Shidou needed only one touch: he crushed the ball with a thunderous strike, hammering it into the back of the net.
TEAM BLUE LOCK vs. TEAM WORLD 5
1 - 0
HIBARI POV
He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me hard.
"World class assist! That was a world class assist, Prince Charming! Did you see how the pass curled around that bulky statue's shadow right to me? You're a maestro, baby!"
"Don't get used to it," I snapped, pushing him away, though the efficiency of the opening goal gave me a flicker of satisfaction. I looked across the field at the World 5.
The five players of the World team were already lined up for the restart. They didn't even look at us. They simply stood there, their expressions neutral, radiating a cold, clinical dismissal that was more insulting than any taunt.
"Do you think they liked my world class explosion?" Shidou muttered, running a hand through his hair, his earlier mania replaced by a predatory eagerness.
"They didn't see it," I replied, watching them restart. "To them, it was a random, statistically improbable event."
Dada Silva took the kickoff. The whistle blew, and the World 5 moved.
The change was instantaneous. It wasn't just speed; it was a fundamental shift in the pitch's geometry. Luna received the ball and faced Kurona. I watched, anticipating Kurona to read the subtle shifts in Luna's hips, but the duel was over before it began. Luna's footwork was a blur of seamless motion, his control utterly absolute. He dismantled Kurona with a feint that was too subtle, too fast, and too flawless to track, leaving our newest addition sliding past empty space.
Luna was through, and his shot was a curl that tucked just inside the post.
TEAM BLUE LOCK vs. TEAM WORLD 5
1-1
Kurona jogged back, his face grim. "What happened?" I demanded internally, surprised he'd been beaten so easily. I had calculated he had a good read on that type of footwork.
"His dribbles are much more difficult to track in person," Kurona admitted, his eyes wide with grudging respect. "The precision...the ball never leaves his control zone, even at top speed."
KICKOFF RESTART
We restarted the game. Reo kicked off to Hiori.
Hiori's eyes immediately went up, scanning for the best route to exploit the newly formed space. He was looking for either me or Shidou sprinting downfield. But before he could even release the ball, Pablo was in motion.
Cavasoz hadn't moved to mark Hiori; he had moved to mark Hiori's idea. He had already deciphered Hiori's passing tree, the instinctive, high-value through ball Hiori favored. Cavasoz cut sharply into the intended lane, forcing Hiori to change his trajectory mid-swing.
Hiori made a split-second adjustment, pulling the pass wider toward my flank. I sprinted to receive it, but before the ball could reach my boot, a mountain rose in front of me.
Dada Silva, using his height and explosive jumping power, intercepted the pass effortlessly. He looked like he was merely reaching for a high shelf. The ball didn't even slow his momentum.
Silva immediately drove the ball forward to Adam Blake, who turned on his heel flawlessly and made his way upfield. Shidou and I struggled to play catch up, our acceleration looking slow compared to his fluid, massive strides.
Reo tried to contest Blake, throwing himself in front of the English striker, but the attempt was futile. Blake's strength made physical contact impossible; Reo bounced off him as if hitting a stone wall. Blake merely shielded the ball with his broad back, winding up for a shot that Reo couldn't even get close to blocking. The force field around Blake's physique ensured Reo's presence was irrelevant.
TEAM BLUE LOCK vs. TEAM WORLD 5
1-2
KICKOFF RESTART
I pushed the ball immediately to Shidou, trying to exploit the chaos. He took the ball and tried to weave through the midfield, but Luna and Blake didn't commit to a tackle. They simply shifted their formation, creating a defensive net that left Shidou with nowhere to go except into the waiting, immovable wall of Dada Silva. Silva didn't even tackle; he simply extended his enormous leg, deflecting the ball away from Shidou's reach with the weight of a tree trunk.
The ball was recovered by Pablo Cavasoz. He stood at midfield, taking his time, his head up, his casual smile suggesting he was watching a play unfold on a screen, not participating in it.
Hiori immediately sprinted toward him, applying the kind of intelligent pressure that usually forces a mistake or a predictable pass. I watched Hiori close the space, believing we finally had the Argentine playmaker in a pinch, forcing him toward the sideline.
Cavasoz didn't falter. He didn't rush his touch. As Hiori reached him, expecting the predictable lateral pass, Cavasoz drew him in, then, with an almost bored flick of his ankle, he launched a lobbed cross.
The trajectory was perfect, bypassing the entire Blue Lock formation. Hiori's expression, which I saw clearly in my peripheral vision, shifted from focused anticipation to stunned confusion. Cavasoz had simply ignored the pressure and delivered an assist of such precise weight and angle that it created a scoring chance out of nothing.
I knew exactly where the ball was going: high into the air, right to Dada Silva, who was surging into the box.
I abandoned my position and sprinted toward the ball's landing spot, leaping to contest the header. I gave every ounce of vertical leap and core strength I possessed, trying to intercept the pass before Silva could reach it.
But my effort was meaningless.
His body seemed to hang in the air for a devastating half-second longer than mine. As our heads met the ball, the difference in muscle mass and sheer force was comical. Silva's enormous neck muscles didn't even tense as he slammed the ball down toward the net.
TEAM BLUE LOCK vs. TEAM WORLD 5
1-3
I landed hard on the turf, the futility of relying on physical force against such a monument of power sinking in. Silva hadn't scored because of a trick or a blind spot; he had scored because he was physically insurmountable, and Cavasoz had the intellectual capacity to put the ball exactly where that insurmountable physical advantage mattered most.
KICKOFF RESTART
The kickoff restarted. This time, Reo grabbed the ball, his previous shock giving way to intense, focused determination. "I have a plan," he stated, his voice tight. He didn't wait for my agreement, simply pushing the ball and ushering me and Shidou deep into the World 5's territory. "We have to break their rhythm. I'm going to replicate the entry pass."
He was going to try and mimic Cavasoz's flawless lofted assist.
He took two steps, planting his foot, attempting to synthesize the weight and spin needed for that unreadable lob.
The ball left Reo's foot with too much power and the wrong axis of rotation. It was fast, but it was trackable for Pablo.
Pablo, who had been standing twenty yards away, took two casual steps forward and intercepted the pass with ease. He killed the ball instantly.
My focus was fixed on Cavasoz, but then I noticed his movement. He didn't immediately launch a counter-attack. He simply stood over the ball and looked at Reo.
Cavasoz spoke a quick phrase in English, his tone entirely instructional, like a bored coach giving a correction. I couldn't understand the words, but Reo's shoulders slumped instantly. The light in Reo's eyes; the confidence that he could copy any skill, died.
I didn't need translation. Cavasoz had just critiqued the foundation of Reo's pass, pointing out the missing ingredient: the nuanced mastery required to apply that synthesized technique effectively. Reo's mimicry was fantastic, but it was just the surface level; he hadn't yet achieved the deep, fundamental understanding and control that turned a world-class technique into an innate skill. He couldn't simply put on the talent; he had to earn the root of it.
That realization, that his Chameleon ability was not yet potent enough to replicate the ingrained fundamentals of the global elite, was a far greater blow than the score itself.
Cavasoz, having delivered his lesson, immediately resumed the attack. He played a quick one-two with Luna, and the ball was instantly launched into the penalty area. The World 5 executed their next goal like a seamless, five-step training drill that we were powerless to interrupt.
TEAM BLUE LOCK vs. TEAM WORLD 5
1-4
Julian Loki was leaning casually on the corner flag, hands tucked into his shorts, a picture of indifference.
I locked eyes with him. My entire being was screaming for a confrontation. "Hey, French Prodigy!" I yelled across the pitch, my voice tight with challenge. "Are you scared, or are you just too good for this match?"
Adam Blake said something sharp to Loki in English, a short, decisive phrase. I didn't understand the words, but Loki's lips curved upward into a sly, knowing smile that chilled me more than any taunt had. He nodded once.
The challenge had been accepted. I knew this was the moment.
The desire to dismantle him, to prove that my intelligence could overcome even this raw, unclassified threat , ignited in my eyes. 'I'm taking this one.'
Hiori kicked the ball gently, setting me up perfectly. I received the pass without once looking down, my feet already moving the ball. I feinted my body wide, suggesting a cut toward the wing, then snapped the ball inward, threading it perfectly through the two-foot gap Cavasoz had left open. I danced around the Argentine playmaker, leaving him flat-footed in my wake.
Blake immediately moved to block my route, utilizing his enormous frame to turn the space into a physical wall. I knew better than to collide with that concrete physique. I used my momentum to execute a tight, controlled spin, grazing the edge of Blake's shoulder as I spun off his physicality entirely, emerging clean on the other side. My stance opened perfectly for a shot.
The goal was in sight. My ego was roaring. I wound my leg back, my eyes focused on the exact, precise strike location I needed to hit to bypass the keeper.
As I looked back down at the precise location to strike the ball - the moment the movement was about to climax, the world vanished.
The ball was no longer under my feet.
A tremendous, violent gust of wind burst past me, rattling the very fabric of my jersey. My eyes went wide with confusion and shock. I spun around, my shooting stance collapsing.
Julian Loki was standing behind me with the ball I had determined to strike a millisecond earlier, his back to me. He turned, his arm lifted, giving me a tiny, amused wave. He was smiling. The sheer, audacious humiliation of having the ball stolen during the apex of my shot sequence paralyzed me.
Shidou, seeing the momentary distraction, instantly lunged, moving to take the ball off Loki. But Loki didn't even turn his body. He moved his leg, a flash of light beneath his shorts, and the ball was instantly ten feet away, under his absolute control. Shidou's predatory gaze turned to pure shock.
Loki accelerated. I didn't see the movement. I only saw the absence of presence, an afterimage of where he had been a split second before.
Hiori, Reo, and Kurona instantly grouped up, a desperate, pre-analyzed trap designed to contain a top striker. But Loki was already among them, maintaining absolute top speed as he carved through the three of them. Kurona's own specialty, speed and maintaining acceleration through cuts, was put to absolute shame. Loki moved with a velocity that defied physics, bypassing all three of our best minds as if they were stationary mannequins.
His leg blazed forward in an instant, a pure, unstoppable flash of white light, and the match was put to rest.
TEAM BLUE LOCK vs. TEAM WORLD 5
1-5
The whistle blew. I stood frozen, my shot never having happened.
Reo stood beside me, his jaw slack. "That speed...no it can't be human," he whispered, the scientific logic draining from his voice.
The World 5 merely collected their star. Cavasoz clapped Loki on the shoulder, Silva nodded approvingly, and they turned as a unit, heading back toward the locker room.
Then, a female voice, crisp and synthetic, cut through the arena's speakers. "Attention, all players. The second selection has now concluded. All remaining players have advanced to the 3rd selection. All players please proceed to the central joint room immediately."
The voice continued, "Thirty-five players from seven teams successfully passed this selection. You will enter the joint room in the order that you cleared the Second Selection."
I finally managed to wrench my focus away from the empty net. Seven teams. That was the total cull.
"Guess we can take our time then," I remarked dryly, rubbing the back of my neck. Being the seventh team meant we were the very last to clear.
We left the vast, quiet arena and made our way through the maze of familiar sterile hallways until we reached a point where the path widened into a long, unassuming corridor. We paused there, waiting for the electronic cue. We could hear the sounds of heavy doors sliding open and closing, signifying the entrance of the six teams before us.
The wait felt interminable, a final, drawn-out punishment for our tardiness in completing the selection.
Finally, the speaker clicked, addressing the empty space where we stood.
"And finally. The seventh team to clear the selection. Please enter."
The large, white door slid open, revealing a burst of light and the muffled sound of voices. Hiori, Reo, and Kurona stood front and center, their analytical determination urging them forward. They entered first, ready to tackle the next phase.
Shidou and I lagged slightly behind. Shidou had his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, adopting his usual posture of arrogant indifference. I just scratched the back of my head, my other hand already resting in my pocket, trying to process the magnitude of the beatdown we'd just suffered.
I looked up as the door closed behind me. The sudden silence was palpable.
I scanned the room, noticing the dozens of other players who had survived the culling, familiar faces from the First Selection, and some I barely recognized. But they weren't talking among themselves. All eyes were on us. They stared with shocked faces, though why, I had no idea. We were the last team in, nothing special about that.
Shidou, sensing the attention, shrugged carelessly. "I guess that's it."
Before I could scan the room properly, a short kid with straight, sloppy dark blue hair stepped forward and spoke directly to Reo, his voice sharp with urgency.
"Hey, Reo. What happened to Kunigami?"
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Sup guys hope you are all doing well and had a nice Thanksgiving!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter about the World 5 and Hibari finally going up against World level players. Of course he got destroyed but in due time he will get stronger. He's already plenty strong for right now though.
Next chapter will be the start of the 3rd selection.
About updates, I'm not even gonna try to tell you when the next update will be cause it won't be right.
Hope ya'll have a great rest of your days!
Ussylliss out