"Man, there's no way you're stopping that."
Lorenzo, who had been coasting through the match, threw out a sarcastic jab as he looked at the shell-shocked expressions of the players around him.
He couldn't help it—without Snuffy's tactical system behind him, he wasn't about to go looking for ways to contribute offensively.
Defensively, he was only half-heartedly marking Dada Silva or Kaiser one-on-one, putting in as little effort as possible.
After all, he'd played with both Uber and Shinichi plenty of times—he knew Shinichi inside and out.
He also knew that this match was mostly Shinichi's way of testing which players, famous or not, were worth picking for Phase Two.
So Lorenzo, being sharp and calculating, chose to intentionally slack off—dragging down either Dada Silva or Kaiser with him, knowing they were unlikely to join Shinichi's team anyway.
Lorenzo could even predict what would happen next: when Shinichi switched teams after the half, he wouldn't kick out the two worst performers.
Instead, he'd likely remove Lorenzo and another decent player to keep both sides balanced for the rest of the scrimmage.
So yeah, slacking off? Totally justified.
"Still… that shot really was something else. Gotta say, defenders around the world are gonna have nightmares now."
Lorenzo whistled low under his breath, eyes still lingering on the goal that had just been scored.
"How much do you think that shot's worth? A few hundred million, maybe?"
He paused, then smirked.
"Nah—doesn't matter. However many millions it is, someone out there will pay it. Because that shot… means one thing. Unstoppable. OK?"
...
"2–0 already… still feels as hopeless as ever."
Chigiri Hyoma let out a wry laugh, but the spark in his eyes only grew brighter.
"Even though they're already that strong… they're still improving faster than we are."
Then his expression sharpened with ambition.
"But in other words… if someone like Isagi can create the Two Gun Volley, and Shinichi can unleash that high-speed cannon shot—heck, even Nagi has that Kagerou scissor-kick... Then it means we also have a chance. If we combine our own strengths properly, we might be able to create our own unstoppable, world-class finisher."
"Yeah… football really is a sport without limits."
Aryu, undaunted by being so thoroughly outplayed, actually seemed even more energized.
"Falling, rising again, smashing past every obstacle—then charging into the unknown… Ah! What a perfectly stylish life story for someone as fabulous as me!"
…
"Geez… I don't know if I should call them fearless or just completely numb," Hiori muttered with a helpless smile, watching his teammates grow more fired up the more Shinichi crushed them.
He turned to Isagi for a reaction—but Isagi didn't respond.
His head lowered in deep thought, eyes shimmering like puzzle pieces as they scanned the field. Every movement, every piece of scattered intel was being absorbed. And as his lips curled into a slow smile, he murmured:
"Incredible… to think something like that's even possible… Just how much of a monster are you, Shinichi?"
"Hm? What was that, Hiori?"
Isagi finally looked up, as if remembering Hiori was there. Hiori just shook his head.
"Nothing really. Just realizing… the 'score' I need to pass for my goal just got raised again." Then, glancing across the field at the handful of players who only got more excited after seeing Shinichi's shot, he sighed.
"And realizing just how many more obstacles we're going to face if we want to reach that level. Guess that's to be expected—from Blue Lock players."
He clenched his fist.
"Even though I've earned a high bid from the New Hero Battle, and I've come a long way… it's still not enough. Not even close. How could I ever let myself get satisfied with just a bit of progress?"
"And how could I make the mistake of setting my goal to just 'catch up to Shinichi'? How could I get discouraged just because the path seems too long to see the end? What I'm truly frustrated about… is that I ever let myself think that way, even for a moment."
"Because my dream… is to change the world with my own hands! Even Shinichi—he's just a stepping stone to that goal. After all, I'm a selfish egoist raised by Blue Lock too."
He stood, grabbing the ball with renewed determination.
"Let's get the next play started already. I can't wait any longer!"
With his passion reignited, Hiori strode to the center circle. The moment the whistle blew, he tapped the ball sideways and sprinted forward.
But before anything else could happen—a flicker of black lightning burst through the field.
No one even had time to react.
In an instant, the ball vanished from Kurona's feet.
"That's enough scouting. No point wasting time anymore."
And with that, Shinichi took off in a full-on sprint. The field suddenly felt like it was caught in a windstorm.
No flash, no flair—just pure, terrifying acceleration. Shinichi didn't need any tricks now. He simply kept speeding up, faster, and faster, until no one could stop him.
Because this time—the gap wasn't in skill or technique. It was in raw talent.
He was faster with the ball than they were without it.
It was that simple. And that cruel.
Of all the players on the field, only Chigiri and Zantetsu had the raw foot speed to match Shinichi's dribbling pace. A few center-backs, who had been lucky enough to position deeper, barely had time to try cutting him off.
But just before confronting Chigiri, Shinichi slammed to a stop.
It was as if momentum didn't exist for him. He went from full speed to zero in a heartbeat.
Then, in the next second—his speed exploded again.
No wind-up. No transition. He just instantly jumped back to max pace. That stop-and-go burst was so unnatural, it nearly rivaled the absurdity of his cannon shot.
But—
"I got him!"
In that razor-thin moment, Chigiri didn't think—he moved. Trusting his instinct, he lunged to block Shinichi's right side.
And he was right.
Shinichi had tapped the ball right…
But only just.
Facing Chigiri once more, Shinichi slammed into another dead stop.
His knees and joints, like reinforced steel, absorbed the brutal strain without hesitation—but Chigiri wasn't built the same.
He managed to brake, barely, but the moment he tried to twist his hips and explode in the opposite direction, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the turf.
His core strength and lower body simply couldn't handle that many high-speed decelerations and re-accelerations in succession.
Worse, his center of gravity had shifted too far forward, leaving him unable to recover for another direction change. With frustration in his eyes, Chigiri could do nothing but fall.
Next came Zantetsu. But Shinichi didn't even bother to feint.
He bulldozed forward.
Their bodies collided—Zantetsu tried to hold firm, keeping pace for a single step… but that was all he had. By the second stride, Shinichi's raw physicality shattered his balance.
Zantetsu's stance crumbled, and he couldn't even take a third step before Shinichi powered through him.
And the moment Shinichi broke free—he unleashed a shot.
The keeper had anticipated it, diving early in the right direction.
But it didn't matter.
The force behind Shinichi's kick, the violent spin of the ball, blew right through the keeper's fully extended hands, flinging them aside like paper as the ball rocketed into the back of the net.
GOOOOOAL!
The final score lit up on the display:
Trial Match 1:
Team Shinichi – 3
Team Isagi – 0
Trial Round One… complete.