The match surged on, San Dimas tightening their grip on the early tempo. Gold and silver shirts moved like a tide, flowing, pressing, crashing against Lincoln's lines.
But Lincoln didn't fold.
Cael, reborn, guarded the net with fire in his veins. Every shot that whistled through the air found his gloves, his fists, his frame. His voice cracked like thunder as he commanded the box. Each save steadied Lincoln's pulse.
And in midfield—Leo.
Julian saw it before anyone else. That light. A golden hue bleeding into his captain's eyes, radiant and unshakable. His steps slowed but sharpened, every motion deliberate, as if the whole field bent to his tempo.
The Maestro's state.
Passes snapped with unnatural precision. One touch, two, three—and suddenly Lincoln were alive. The others moved as if strings had been tied to their boots, their rhythm pulled by Leo's silent baton.
Julian's gaze narrowed. He triggered the scan.
[Activating Scan Lv.2…]
…
User: Leonardo Luz
Position: CAM
