As the away side, San Dimas stood over the ball.
The referee raised his whistle.
The stadium noise dipped, like a breath caught in a thousand throats.
Prrriiitttt!
Kickoff.
Victor tapped to Miles.
The ball barely rolled before Victor launched forward, body like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.
Lincoln's line jolted into motion.
Riku snapped his head, tracking. Noah shifted his stance. Julian shadowed Victor's run, legs coiled to mirror his stride.
But then—two steps in—Victor broke it off, pivoting sharp, sprinting back.
Miles slid the ball right back into his path.
A neat one-two. Clean. Almost lazy.
Except it wasn't.
Victor flicked the ball off to San Dimas's central midfielder and detonated forward again, this time dragging Lincoln's shape with him. Blue jerseys bent toward his lane, the gravity of his run pulling them left.
Julian's perception surged, a warning bell screaming in his blood.
[Rule The Pitch – Lv.2: +15 To Perception ]
