There were no flashy moves.
No triumphant shouts.
Only silence.
Every eye on the field was fixed on Ryu.
The goal still rippled from his shot—a cannon blast from beyond the arc. But Ryu stood motionless, soaking in the tension that crackled across the stadium like electricity.
He could feel the fear.
The shift in the air.
And he reveled in it.
"Well done, Isagi," he murmured, voice quiet but dense with gravity—the kind of voice that made even the air freeze.
Not far from the net, Isagi stood in stunned silence.
His breath hitched.
Why… did I pass?
He replayed the moment in his mind.
He had the ball.
The angle.
The open shot.
And yet—his body had moved on its own.
Instinctively.
He passed the ball… to someone else.
In Blue Lock.
Where only one striker survives.
That burning sensation up his spine…
Was it fear of shooting?
Fear of Barou, who loomed like a sword?
Or—worse—fear of Ryu himself?
Suddenly, a hand gripped his collar and yanked.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU PASS TO ME?!"
Raichi's voice was raw and venomous.
His fists trembled.
"I was right there! Closest to the goal!"
"If you're scared to shoot, what right do you have to call yourself a forward?!"
Isagi couldn't speak. His throat was dry.
"I… I didn't want to pass…"
His voice cracked.
"…my body just did it."
Raichi raised his fist—ready to explode.
But before he could swing —
Barou stepped forward.
His words cut like a blade dipped in contempt.
"Standing in front of the goal and trusting others?"
"You're no striker."
"You won't last a minute here."
____
The locker room was tense.
Fractured.
Yet another voice rang out, calm but sharp.
Bachira Meguru.
Eyes cold. Words are precise.
"We scored, didn't we?"
"Why are you fighting over who touched the ball?"
"It's 2–2."
Raichi's teeth ground together, fists clenched so tight they turned white.
"Shut up, Kappa."
"Only the top scorer survives."
"That Hong Ryu only scores to pad his own points!"
He pointed at Ryu, who stood quietly in the corner, unreadable.
"If he keeps scoring, no one else gets a chance!"
"If the team loses, we're all out—but he survives!"
Bachira's grin curled upward.
A dark glint flashed in his eye.
"Then prove it."
"If you want to score, you'll need Isagi's pass."
"The ball's at his feet. He chooses. Not you."
"Why should he pass to you?"
"Honestly? I'd pass to Lemon before I'd pass to you."
Raichi's fury turned to Bachira now.
Before he could lunge, Kuon stepped between them.
His voice was level—a temporary wall between tempers.
"Stop. This isn't helping."
Across the room, Chigiri Hyoma leaned against the wall, arms folded.
An outsider now.
The forgotten one.
But his eyes had seen it all.
He'd seen Isagi's vision—that pass to Ryu wasn't random.
Isagi had read the entire field.
That's not fear. That's instinct. Intelligence.
And yet…
Why did it feel like betrayal?
Kunigami crossed his arms, silent.
Everyone who understood what happened on that field asked the same question:
What is Isagi becoming?
Whistle.
The first half ended.
In the locker room, silence smothered the air.
They weren't a team anymore.
They were eleven pieces of broken glass.
Every eye on its own war.
No one trusted anyone.
Except one.
Ryu, wiping the sweat from his brow, completely unbothered.
Kunigami broke the silence.
"Ryu…"
"What are you thinking?"
"Are you just going to watch us collapse?"
Ryu's crimson eyes shifted toward him.
Dead calm.
"If I were just watching…"
"Would we have two goals?"
Kunigami clenched his jaw.
He had no answer.
Ryu continued—flat, cold, and honest:
"You're all mentally weak."
"You don't even know how to play soccer."
"This world… is ruled by self-interest."
"To survive, you bow to the strong."
The weight of his words was suffocating.
Little Monk muttered under his breath:
"Bow to the strong? What a joke…"
"It's just two goals."
"If I had the ball, I could've scored too…"
But Bachira, arms crossed beside his head, shot him a look.
"No, you couldn't."
"Only Iemon and Kunigami have the leg strength to pull off that kind of long-range shot."
Little Monk shut up fast.
Kuon stood.
His voice shook—but not with fear.
With resolve.
"If what you say is true…"
"Then I'll assist you."
"I don't care about pride. I want to stay."
"I don't want to lose my future."
He bowed his head—once.
The first to kneel to the tyrant.
Ryu tilted his head. A cold smile is forming.
"Some of you get it."
His gaze swept the rest of the room.
"And the rest?"
"Still chasing the skin of a tiger…"
"Without realizing it—you've already stepped into the jaws."