“This goal is mine.”
(smiling coldly) “I see three paths. Two are traps. The third… is your blind spot.”
(whisper) “I want more.”
“That’s what a striker does. We don’t just score. We rewrite the future.”
The rebound falls. Isagi’s foot meets it on the half-volley. No windup. No scream. Just .
Ego presses a button. A new ranking flashes: