Lincoln pushed forward, touches snapping in rhythm. Riku threaded a pass to Noah, who killed it with a velvet first touch before slinging it back inside. Blue and white shirts moved like sparks across the pitch, a surge of momentum building.
But the moment they crossed midfield—Victor was there.
Not chasing. Not lunging. Shadowing. A mirror to Julian's presence, step for step.
Their shoulders brushed, their gazes locked over the rolling ball. Julian's eyes widened. The strength radiating from Victor's frame—raw, coiled power.
[Rule The Pitch – Lv.2: +10 To All Attributes]
Julian flooded his body with soul force, muscles tightening to meet the pressure. Only then could he hold his ground.
The air between them thickened, like iron scraping against iron. Julian felt the ghost of another battlefield—his past life, facing a rival cultivator whose aura bent the ground itself.
Victor's aura wasn't spiritual, but the sensation was the same: suffocating, unshakable.
