บท 43: Chapter 43 – Second Selection
Team Z arrived at their destination: a sterile, pentagon-shaped room bathed in a stark, clinical white. Players from other wings had already gathered, filing in through various doors that opened seamlessly into the chamber. The exhaustion was palpable—faces drained, eyes rimmed with dark circles, the clear toll of Ego's brutal strength training etched into their expressions.
Without warning, the largest monitor in the room flickered to life, revealing Jinpachi Ego. His familiar smirk greeted them, and with a casual wave, he began his address. "Hey there, you lumps of talent," Ego greeted, the same nonchalant tone they remembered from their first introduction to Blue Lock. "Good job surviving the physical training."
The crowd's murmurs fell silent, their attention locked onto the screen. Ego's eyes gleamed with ruthless amusement as he continued, "Gathered here are twenty-five players from all five wings. Congratulations—you're among the 125 who cleared the first selection round."
As the players processed the information, a few glanced around, counting the bodies. Confusion spread quickly. "Wait, where are the others?" someone whispered, as if realizing for the first time.
"I'm sure you've already noticed that there aren't any players from Wings 1, 2, 3, or 4," Ego said, an edge of mischief creeping into his voice. "That's because they don't exist."
A ripple of shock shot through the crowd. Faces twisted with disbelief as the players exchanged bewildered looks. "What!? You tricked us!?" someone shouted angrily.
Ego didn't flinch. His smile widened as he dropped the bombshell. "By making you think you were in the lowest-ranked teams, V through Z, you fought like madmen, clawing for survival. And that's exactly what I needed to see."
The revelation ignited fury in the room. "You used us!?" one player roared, fists clenched. "Are you trying to kill us with all that training!?"
"That's right," Ego responded, utterly unphased. His voice darkened, devoid of sympathy. "I'm killing your false confidence. Breaking down the weak parts of you to unleash a hunger powerful enough to take on the world."
The atmosphere became charged with tension, as angry muttering and shouts rippled through the group. Players felt used—like pawns in some elaborate game for Ego's amusement. "We're not your toys!" another voice spat, eyes blazing with frustration.
Ego's grin faded into cold indifference. "Those pathetic, tepid complaints are exactly what I'm talking about." He cut through the outrage with sharp words, delivering a brutal reminder of the stakes. "This is the mindset that will only hold you back from becoming the best."
He then pivoted, recounting the tale of Noel Noa, the legendary striker, born into the slums of France, where crime, poverty, and violence were a constant. Noa's hunger to rise above his surroundings fueled his success. "The greatest strikers on the world stage aren't measured by talent alone, but by their unrelenting hunger for goals," Ego declared, his voice rising with conviction. "That hunger is the core of Blue Lock's existence."
The room fell silent, heavy with the weight of Ego's words. The outrage that once consumed the crowd simmered down into something else—determination.
"Now then," Ego continued, as a holographic pentagon appeared in the air beside him, rotating slowly. A large number "1" glowed at its center. "Let's begin the second selection." His tone was casual, as if announcing something routine, yet everyone in the room could feel the shift in intensity.
"This selection will have five stages. Only those who clear each stage will advance." The hologram flickered, expanding to reveal five smaller pentagons, each representing a stage with escalating difficulty. "Those who pass all five stages will earn the chance to participate in a special training camp with some of the world's top players."
The room buzzed with a renewed sense of urgency. A few players exchanged glances, their previous complaints now eclipsed by the prospect of testing their mettle against world-class athletes.
Ego dismissed the hologram with a flick of his wrist. "Warm up however you like," he said coolly, pressing a button on his computer. The walls slid open, revealing baskets of soccer balls, waiting for the players. "Enter the gate one at a time when you're ready."
The moment Ego finished, Kira wasted no time. Without so much as a word to his teammates, he strode straight toward the gate. "Kira, what are you doing?!" Naruhaya called after him, stunned by his abrupt departure. The rest of Team Z stared, confused by Kira's haste.
Without looking back, Kira simply raised his hand in a half-wave. "Ego-san, open the door," he said.
The door slid open with a mechanical hum, revealing a long, narrow hallway that led into the unknown. "Good luck, guys," Kira called, his voice casual as he stepped through, disappearing from sight.
Raichi clenched his fists, eyes blazing with irritation. "That bastard, always acting like he's above everyone else," he grumbled.
"I was going to suggest we do a group chant," Isagi muttered.
"We can still do it," Bachira piped up. He quickly pulled the rest of Team Z into a huddle. "Let's all meet in the next round!" he said, his grin infectious.
"YEAH!" the team shouted in unison, their spirits lifted. Despite Kira's solo act, their belief in each other remained unwavering, and they were more determined than ever to crush the next challenge together.
.
.
.
Kira stepped into an enormous square room, the sheer size of it vast enough to hold a hundred people comfortably. The walls were sleek, lined with strange metallic panels that glistened under the artificial light. As he ventured further in, one of the panels slid upwards with a sharp hiss, revealing a mechanical cannon. Without warning, it launched a football directly toward him with pinpoint accuracy.
Kira's instincts kicked in immediately. His right foot moved with precision, stopping the ball dead in its tracks beneath his sole and the earth, perfectly controlled. The ball, once charged with momentum, now lay lifeless at his feet, obedient to his touch.
As he stood there, the wall ahead flickered, and a hologram began to materialize. It took the shape of a human figure, but its face was replaced by the unmistakable Blue Lock logo. At the top of its holographic form, the words "Blue Lock Man" glowed brightly, and underneath, its role: "Goal Keeper." Chains hung from its neck and ankles, giving it an eerie yet playful appearance.
Behind the figure, a goal zone appeared, the exact dimensions of a professional goalpost during a match. The Blue Lock Man raised its right hand, curling its fingers toward Kira in a beckoning motion, taunting him to take a shot. Then, with a confident smirk, it brought its fist to its palm, signaling that it would stop any ball he sent its way.
Kira raised an eyebrow, impressed by the advanced technology. "This is some expensive shit," he muttered, marveling at the realistic movements and responsiveness of the hologram.
Not one to waste time, Kira set his sights on the goal. With a fluid motion, he struck the ball just below its center, sending it curling toward the far-right corner. The Blue Lock Man lunged, its form stretching to block the shot, but the ball sailed past its grasp, hitting the back of the net with precision.
The room responded instantly. A large screen blinked to life, displaying a countdown timer of 90 minutes. Beneath the ticking clock were the conditions to clear the challenge: 99 Goals.
Kira's eyes narrowed as he took in the task at hand. "99 goals, huh?" he thought out loud, his mind racing. Instantly, he understood the purpose of this phase. While it was designed to test him, it was also the perfect opportunity to hone his skills, especially his weaker left foot.
"Alright, GG," Kira said with a smirk, naming the Blue Lock Man while adjusting his stance and flexing his shoulders in anticipation. "Looks like it's just you and me."
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