"He blocked my line of sight with his body, then nutmegged me with a diagonal heel pass... That was basically the exact move I was just thinking about. So… he already saw through me?"
After getting nutmegged by Shinichi's pass and failing to block it with a heel stop—falling to the ground in the process—Nagi surprisingly felt no shame or anger. Instead, he lowered his head in deep thought.
"So I guess that plan of mine won't work anymore either... Hm... Yeah, figures. If that arrogant king Barou has already mastered Meta Vision, there's no way the final boss hasn't."
Frustrated for once, Nagi looked up at the massive scoreboard on the side of the field, eyes locked in a rare intensity.
"Just one more point behind… which means, if we lose this one, there's no more chances…"
"What are you mumbling about, Nagi?"
Suddenly, a hand landed on his shoulder. Reo appeared beside him.
"So we failed this time—big deal. All we have to do is stop their next attack. Even if we don't, there's still the second stage of the New-Heroes match. And if we lose that too, there'll be plenty more chances once we go pro to challenge him again."
"Don't be afraid of failure. That's the clearest truth I've realized since embracing my egoism. So Nagi—think about what you can do right now, and just start moving toward that. That's all it takes."
"Reo…" Nagi stared at him blankly. "But didn't you say…"
"That if you couldn't keep up, I'd leave you behind."
Reo cut in, tone flat.
"That wasn't a joke, Nagi. But…"
Now that Nagi had calmed down, Reo stood up and started walking toward midfield for the kickoff. His voice, however, echoed clearly as he went.
"If there's anything—or anyone—that helps me reach my personal ambition, I'll do it. No matter what it is. Even if…"
"Even if it means helping some foolish genius who's failed time and time again."
At that, Reo turned back and looked directly at Nagi.
"I think handing Shinichi—the damn monster himself—his first real defeat could be the kind of achievement I'd be proud of for the rest of my life."
"So… Nagi—are you really going to stop here?"
....
Nagi stood frozen, his eyes blank as he watched Reo walk away.
In that moment, it was as if he'd been transported back to a year ago—back to that stairwell, where a bold, talkative guy suddenly grabbed his hand and told him they'd win the World Cup together… that they'd become the best in the world.
"Just because a game's too hard, I'm supposed to quit halfway and delete it? Like hell I'd ever be okay with that."
With a lazy voice, Nagi responded to Reo's challenge. He patted the dust off his shorts, got up, and quickly caught up to Reo's stride.
"Don't let the way I act fool you—I'm actually pretty into those games with ranked ladders and leaderboards."
"Let's go—time to go all out!" x2
...
BEEP—!
The whistle blew.
Reo received the pass and bolted forward. A new phantom silhouette began to form, overlaying half of his body—
It was... a simulation of Bachira Meguru!
"He can still copy new playstyles? This guy's a real handful…"
Seeing Reo's sudden burst, Aiku quickly shifted to intercept, cutting off the counterattack. His furrowed brows revealed just how seriously he was taking the threat. Eyes locked on Reo's movements, he didn't relax for even a second.
But when Reo started weaving left and right before suddenly flicking the ball into the air, Aiku instinctively took a step back to better read the motion and buy himself more reaction time.
Exactly what Reo had been waiting for.
The phantom on his body suddenly dispersed, only to reassemble into an entirely new form. As Aiku backpedaled, Reo flicked the ball with the outside of his foot—
A blisteringly fast cut outward, so sharp it left behind a faint red afterimage.
Chameleon Mode—Chigiri Hyoma!
"Unbelievable! Reo's always had solid offensive ability, but wasn't he more of a support type? I can't believe he just broke through Aiku so cleanly!"
On the bench, Igarashi couldn't help but shout, watching as Reo instantly blew past Aiku by several steps.
Beside him, Snuffy stood like a mentor, using the moment to lecture the substitutes—young players who hadn't seen any time during the New-Heroes match.
For many of them, missing this opportunity might mean forever becoming fringe players. But Snuffy still hoped they could learn something, anything to keep them growing—so they wouldn't end up like his old teammates, who'd been left behind.
"For most players, offense revolves around maximizing their personal weapons. Take that winger Chigiri Hyoma—his weapon is speed. So all his techniques are built to make use of that advantage. Because of that, defenders can usually gain an edge by tailoring their strategy to counter that specific weapon."
"But Mikage Reo is different. His learning ability is incredible. He can master multiple completely different playstyles and use them effectively. That makes him unpredictable. For someone like Aiku, who relies more on structured, by-the-book defending, Reo's adaptability is a nightmare—he can switch styles mid-attack and render all your experience and predictions meaningless."
"That's what makes all-rounders so terrifying. They always have a new answer depending on how the game shifts. In fact, Shinichi is technically this kind of player too. But to this day, there's only one Shinichi in the entire world… which means this path comes with fatal flaws."
Snuffy glanced back toward the pitch, his voice low and calm:
"And look—he's about to hit a wall."
Hearing Snuffy say that, Igarashi and the others immediately turned their eyes to the pitch—
only to see Reo, after that wide cut, caught in a highly awkward position.
Aiku had recovered and was now blocking off any angle to cut back inside. Reo didn't have the technique to immediately burst past the opposing fullback either, and if he kept pressing forward, he'd just end up trapped between the two defenders.
Unlike Chigiri Hyoma, he couldn't shoot from this angle and still expect to score.
"And this… is the downside of being an all-rounder," Snuffy continued.
"When you develop in every direction, you end up not investing as much into any one specialty. So unlike Chigiri, who's poured everything into speed, an all-rounder rarely has a single, decisive edge. That's why we sometimes call them 'good at everything, great at nothing.'"
"That said, all-rounders do excel at adaptability, so you've probably noticed Reo shines more as a team-oriented support. But someone like Shinichi? A true anomaly. Not only is he an all-rounder—every single one of his attributes surpasses your specialty. That's what makes him a monster."
"And even then, Shinichi still has a few skills that aren't top-tier. But his other stats are so high, they cover for those flaws completely."
Watching Reo now trapped in a dead-end, Snuffy didn't look surprised—nor did he declare the play over.
"And yet, Mikage Reo is still a bit different from your average all-rounder. His flaws may run deeper… But those kids on Manshine—they never planned to win this through Reo alone."
"What comes next... is the real highlight."
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