Capítulo 241: The declaration (241)
The final whistle pierced the air, a sharp retort to the ecstatic roar of the Barcha faithful. The Manchine players, faces etched with a mix of exhaustion and despair, crumpled onto the field like deflated balloons. Their reserves, both physical and emotional, had been utterly depleted.
This match hadn't simply been a loss; it had been an ordeal. Facing Nakada, the data-powered prodigy, had felt like staring into the blazing sun. His calculated movements, his audacious gambles, it had all been too much. They were left feeling utterly impotent, like pawns on a chessboard manipulated by a grandmaster.
Across the field, the architect of their devastation stood bathed in the golden afternoon sun. Nakada, a triumphant smile playing on his lips, spread his arms wide. The roar of the crowd washed over him, a sweet symphony in his ears. This wasn't just victory; it was validation. He had pushed himself, embraced improvisation, and emerged stronger, his brilliance even more potent than before.
As the wind whipped through his hair, a sense of exhilaration coursed through him. He had redefined the game in his own image, blurring the lines between data and instinct. He wasn't just a player; he was a force of nature, a living legend in the making.
Nagi lay sprawled on the field, the sting of defeat a bitter pill on his tongue. The final whistle echoed in his ears, a death knell for Manchine's hopes. He stared blankly at the scoreboard, the glaring red 7-4 mocking him. This wasn't just losing; it was utter annihilation. Against Nakada, he hadn't just been outplayed; he'd been outclassed in every aspect of the game.
A gust of wind swept across the field, carrying with it the distant echoes of the Barcha victory chants. Nagi closed his eyes, the frustration a physical weight pressing down on him. He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. This wasn't supposed to happen. He, Nagi, the prodigy, the one destined for greatness, had been thoroughly dominated.
But amidst the crushing disappointment, a flicker of something else ignited within him. It wasn't a flicker of acceptance, not yet. It was a spark of defiance, a tiny ember refusing to be extinguished. As Nagi opened his eyes, a single word escaped his lips, a guttural growl more than anything else.
"Frustrating," he spat, the word laced with venom. This wasn't the end. This was a setback, a harsh lesson delivered with brutal efficiency by Nakada. But Nagi wasn't one to give up. No, this crushing defeat would only fuel his resolve. He would train harder, push his limits further, find a way to surpass Nakada's data-driven brilliance.
A wry smile, tinged with bitterness, played on his lips. This loss hurt, but it also opened his eyes. Nakada wasn't just a rival anymore; he was an obsession. Nagi would dedicate himself to understanding Nakada's strengths, his weaknesses, his every move. He would become Nakada's shadow, his nemesis, a constant thorn in his side.
The roar of the crowd had barely begun to recede when a swarm of reporters descended upon the field like locusts. Microphones thrust into his face, a cacophony of questions assaulted Nakada. "What does this victory mean for you?" "How did you manage to adapt your strategy so effectively?" "Are you aiming to break any records this season?"
Nakada, a mischievous glint in his eyes, snatched a microphone from an unsuspecting reporter. His smile, though it appeared charming on the surface, held a hint of steel. He surveyed the sea of faces, his gaze lingering for a moment on the bewildered journalists.
"I trust you all enjoyed the show during my… absence," he began, his voice a smooth baritone that carried across the field. "But let's not forget," he continued, his tone hardening, "who truly reigns supreme on this pitch."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. This wasn't the Nakada they were used to – the confident but seemingly humble prodigy. This was a Nakada shrouded in an aura of dominance, a king reclaiming his throne.
As his words were translated and broadcast live around the world, the impact was instantaneous. In a training facility across the ocean, a young prodigy with fiery red hair scoffed, a look of amusement dancing in his eyes. "So, the data tyrant returns," he muttered, a playful challenge in his voice.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room filled with trophies, a seasoned veteran clenched his fist, his face a mask of disapproval. This arrogant display left a bitter taste in his mouth. (call him Veteran because he is the oldest still in the U-20 thought)
Somewhere else, a group of rising stars gathered around a screen, their eyes wide with excitement. Nakada's audacious claim had ignited a spark within them, a yearning to test their own skills against his data-driven brilliance.
But perhaps the most intense reaction came from a solitary figure shrouded in darkness. A scowl contorted his face, a flicker of pure rage burning in his eyes. Nakada's words were a direct challenge, a gauntlet thrown down. The fire of rivalry had been stoked, and this individual, whoever they were, was ready to answer the call.
The world held its breath. Nakada's proclamation had reverberated like a thunderclap, igniting a storm of anticipation. The game had just ended, but the true battle had only just begun.
A/N chapter late because I forgot to program it to auto sent at 4:30 and by the time I realize it it was already like 8:56….
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder