The crowd at Tokyo Stadium was electric. With Ironheart leading 2–0, many had already counted Phantom Force out. But then, Alex stepped forward—calm, collected, and confident.
He turned to Ironheart's captain, Daigo Renshiro, and said with cold determination,
"We're not done yet. This is just the beginning… the start of our era."
Daigo smirked, unconvinced. "Big words. Let's see if you can back them up."
Alex didn't reply. Instead, he turned to his teammates, voice rising with purpose.
"Let's show them who we are. Let's show them our level."
The ball rolled into Phantom Force's possession. Alex's eyes lit up as he activated his Blue Dragon sprite. Lightning cracked in the air, and in the blink of an eye, he darted forward like thunder unleashed. With barely any build-up, he launched a shot from midfield.
The stadium fell silent—then exploded as the ball soared into the net.
Goal!
Volt sprinted over, yelling in excitement. "THAT WAS INSANE, BRO! WHAT A SHOT!"
But Alex simply shrugged.
"I'm a striker. This is my job."
The halftime whistle blew. Score: 2–1. Phantom Force was still trailing, but their spirits were soaring.
Inside the Locker Room
The team poured into the dressing room, chugging energy drinks and catching their breath.
"I swear, we took Ironheart too lightly," one player muttered.
"Forget it," said another. "With Alex around, we're chill. He's our shield."
Alex, still calm, sat in the corner with his headphones on, nodding to his music like nothing had happened.
Jim approached him, eyes filled with concern.
"Hey… how are you so calm? You and I both know the second half won't be the same. They'll change tactics. They'll come back stronger."
Alex cracked one eye open and smirked. "Exactly. So let them. We'll still crush them."
Just then, Volt burst in, energized. "Alex! That goal from midfield—how did you even—?!"
Alex chuckled. "Stop jumping like a monkey."
Volt frowned. "Tch… acting like that goal was no big deal, huh? Trying to look cool again."
Their banter was cut short as Coach Tenjo stepped in.
"Well done, boys," he said, voice firm but proud. "But this is just the first half. Keep this momentum—not just for today, but for the whole tournament."
He turned to Jim.
"Jim, be ready. I've got a feeling you'll be making your debut tonight."
Jim blinked in surprise. "Wait—what? Me?" he thought.
But he didn't say anything. Maybe Coach was joking. Maybe not.
Back on the Field
The second half began. But the mood had shifted. Both teams were now giving everything.
Volt activated his Griffin sprite, and the change was immediate. He danced across the field with unreal footwork, dodging defenders left and right.
The crowd roared as the commentator shouted,
"Volt is UNSTOPPABLE! Like a Ferrari on a runway—nobody can touch him!"
He stormed towards the goal, defenders closing in. No teammate was open. No passing options.
"He's heading for the corner! What's he doing?!" the commentator exclaimed.
"That's a zero-angle shot—impossible to score from there!"
Alex stood calmly near the center circle. "It's not impossible," he said. "Not if it's Volt."
Volt adjusted his body, took aim, and fired.
The ball spun mid-air, doing a 180-degree curve, smashing into the net with a violent hiss.
Goal!
Alex ripped off his jersey in celebration. The referee rushed over, flashing a yellow card.
Alex rolled his eyes. "Idiot," he muttered at himself.
Score: 2–2.
But Ironheart wasn't done. Ayato, burning with rage, surged forward and struck back, scoring another goal within moments.
3–2. Ironheart retakes the lead.
Alex took possession and charged… until he suddenly stumbled.
He collapsed.
The stadium gasped as he clutched his knee, pain etched on his face. The team ran over—Alex couldn't even stand.
The Final Gamble
Coach Tenjo turned toward the bench. Only one striker remained.
Jim.
A boy with no sprite.
A boy most of the stadium had never even heard of.
Tenjo placed a hand on Jim's shoulder.
"You're up. Go out there and show them what raw skill looks like."
Jim's heart raced. "Coach… me? I'm not ready—"
Alex grabbed his arm.
"You're the best raw talent in our academy. Don't think—just play. This is football. Win it… for all of us."
Jim nodded, eyes burning with resolve. "For you. For our dream."
He stepped onto the field, trembling but determined.
Commentators quickly pulled up his stats.
"This kid… he has no sprite? What is Phantom Force doing? This is suicide!"
The mocking tone didn't bother Jim. He tuned everything out.
And then…
A sudden green flash burst from his back.
The field trembled. The stadium screens flickered.
A shadow formed behind him—reptilian, long-tailed, razor-clawed.
It wasn't a lizard. It roared, sending a shockwave that shattered glass, phones, even shaking the commentary box.
"W-WHAT IS THAT?!?!" one commentator yelled.
Analysts scrambled through databases. Nothing matched.
And then, silence… until one commentator whispered:
"This… this isn't a lizard. It's a… dinosaur?! No one in football history has ever had something like this."