A subtle sense of excitement hung in the air.
For this group of teenagers who had been locked inside Blue Lock for several months, living a life almost entirely cut off from the outside world, the words “going abroad” carried a fatal allure all on their own.
“Hey, Isagi!
What good food do you think they have in Germany?” Raichi Jingo surprisingly didn’t blow his top, tugging at his collar with a face full of anticipation instead.
“I heard the sausages and beer over there are amazing!
Even if we can’t drink alcohol, at least we can get a good meal, right?”
“I have no idea…” Isagi Yoichi couldn’t quite hold back the excitement inside him either, though he was drawn far more to the so-called “holy land of football” than just the food.
“Still, we’re heading to Bastard München’s youth academy camp, right?
I wonder if we’re flying straight over on a private jet?
I think my passport is still back home…”
“Me too, I didn’t bring my passport.” Standing behind him, Igarashi Gurimu (Monk) rubbed his bald head with a worried look.
“If we get stopped at the airport, that’d be way too embarrassing!”
The crowd was filled with all sorts of fantasies about foreign lands.
Even the usually cold Yukimiya Kenyu couldn’t help pushing up his dark glasses, seemingly looking forward to Europe’s fashion scene.
Only Rin Kazuki, walking at the very rear of the group with both hands tucked in his pockets, listening to these chattering discussions around him, couldn’t refrain from rolling his eyes hard.
“Listen to you guys…”
Kazuki stopped in his tracks, sweeping his eyes over these excited teammates like he was looking at a group of fools, the corners of his lips curving into a mocking arc.
“Are the potholes in your brains filled with footballs?
Use your brains and think for a second—would that four-eyed guy Ego spend a fortune charting a private plane to send a couple hundred people on a European vacation?”
“Huh?” Raichi Jingo froze.
“What do you mean?
Didn’t he say we’re going to the Top Five Leagues?”
“That’s ‘environment,’ not ‘tourism.'” Kazuki pointed at the shut alloy gate at the end of the tunnel, his tone icy cool.
“Stop dreaming.
Get ready to welcome an even more brutal cage.”
Right as the words left his mouth, the broadcast at the end of the tunnel suddenly crackled to life, Ego Jinpachi’s iconic, playful voice echoing across the narrow space.
“Ah, mic test…
forgot to inform you guys about one thing.”
“Regrettably, I must inform you that you are going nowhere.
You are still inside Blue Lock.”
“Wh-What?!” Everyone’s faces fell instantly.
Falling from heaven straight into hell couldn’t be any faster than this.
“I said it before, didn’t I?
I am going to place you into the ‘environment’ of the Top Five Leagues.” The corners of Ego’s mouth hooked upward into a fanatic smile.
“For this exact moment, I used Blue Lock’s budget and the capital behind us to perfectly recreate the top-tier training facility environments of five countries inside these premises: Germany, England, Spain, Italy, and France.”
“Not only that—since it’s an ‘environment,’ it naturally can’t lack ‘people.'”
Following Ego’s words, the image on the screen began to switch, displaying five luxury locker rooms and training pitches of vastly different styles.
“I specifically used heavy funds to ‘recruit’ 11 supernovas of your same age group from the strongest team of each of the Top Five Leagues.
In other words, the official U-20 starter squads of those major clubs.”
“Which means your upcoming opponents and teammates are no longer these half-baked players from Japan, but real, first-line European professional reserves!”
True European standards…
right here?!
“We’re not done yet.” Ego seemed to thoroughly enjoy the shift in everyone’s expressions. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
He pushed up his glasses, his tone growing even more serious.
“Starting now, the person instructing you will no longer be me.
To make unpolished raw stones like you evolve to a world-class level, I’ve invited five ‘monsters’ who stand at the pinnacle of the world.”
“Allow me to introduce the absolute trumps of the Top Five Leagues who will reign over your respective teams as ‘Master Strikers’!”
The main screen instantly split into five sections.
First was the top-left corner—a blonde man boasting perfect muscle lines that looked like a steel sculpture.
“From England’s Manshine City.
He is the ‘perfect body’ forged using the latest science, an all-around monster of speed, power, and technique.
The only superstar in the world who can stand on equal footing with Noa, the world’s number two striker—Chris Prince!”
That man struck a pose on screen displaying his biceps, a confident smile on his face: “Hey, Blue Lock boys, ready to witness a real ‘hero’?”
Immediately after was the top-right corner—a dark-skinned man with a unique hairstyle, feet stepping on a football as if he were dancing the samba.
“From Spain’s FC Barcha.
He takes the ball feel and dribbling that Brazilians pride themselves on to the absolute limit, the free dancer on the pitch, the current top scorer in La Liga—Lavinho!”
“Yahoo~♪” Lavinho pulled a funny face at the camera.
“If you don’t play with joy, football’s gonna cry, you know!”
In the bottom-left corner of the screen appeared a long-haired man with deep eyes and a calm, slightly melancholic aura.
“From Italy’s Ubers.
No matter how weak a team is, as long as he’s there, they win championships.
He is the ‘contractor of victory,’ and the ‘crown supplier’ laden with countless honors—Marc Snuffy!”
Snuffy merely gave a faint nod, those eyes appearing as though they had seen through every tactical shift on the pitch.
In the bottom-right corner of the screen was a black youth who looked younger than everyone else, yet possessed a presence not a single bit weaker.
“From France’s Paris X Gen.
He is the new-generation No.
1 supernova capturing the attention of football fans worldwide today, possessing god-like speed that makes time stand still—the hyper-speed striker, Julian Loki!”
That young genius who had made a brief appearance in the previous round was currently wearing a composed smile: “I’ll teach you all what speed that even the wind can’t catch looks like.”
Finally, the image locked onto the center.
That figure everyone was familiar with, that idol Isagi Yoichi longed to emulate, that target Rin Kazuki swore to defeat.
“And, from Germany’s Bastard München.
I won’t waste words on nonsense—he is the active world’s strongest, the ultimate benchmark for all strikers—Noel Noa!”
Five world-class superstars, standing like five towering mountains pressing down on everyone’s hearts, making them breathless, yet getting their blood boiling all the same.
“This lineup…
is utterly insane…” Isagi Yoichi muttered to himself, his entire body trembling.
Ego Jinpachi’s voice continued to carry over, bearing a passionate surge that signaled the opening of a grand era:
“They will maintain their respective football philosophies as your instructors.
Placed in such extreme environments, even if your body doesn’t want to evolve, it will be forced to make changes.”
“Next are the detailed rule explanations regarding Phase Two—the ‘Neo Egoist League’.”
A few lines of massive red text popped up on the screen.
“First, you must undergo the training of your respective team’s instructor, demonstrate your value, and fight for a spot in a mixed 11-man starting lineup alongside the recruited U-20 members.”
“In other words, if your strength isn’t enough, you won’t even qualify to step onto the pitch and can only sit on the cold bench to watch the show.”
Hearing up to here, Rin Kazuki let out a soft snort: “Just to my liking.
Kicking the original starters down is where the fun of stealing a seat lies.”
Ego continued his explanation: Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“Next, the five teams will engage in a single round-robin tournament.
To make the matches faster and more dramatic, the rules are as follows:”
1.
First to three points wins.
“There is no 90-minute time limit, nor are there draws.
Whichever team scores 3 goals first, the match ends immediately.
This is the extreme pursuit of ‘offensive efficiency’.”
2.
Unlimited substitution system.
“As long as the instructor deems it necessary, personnel changes can be made at any time.
There is no quota limit.
This means you not only have to fight for a starting spot, but must also stay vigilant against the risk of getting subbed off at any moment.”
3.
Superstar Entry System.
Ego’s tone grew heavier here.
“This is a trump card a team can use only once during a single match.
As long as the instructor presses the button, these five world-class Master Strikers can enter the pitch as players, but the time limit is only—3 minutes.”
“In these 3 minutes, you will have the chance to fight side by side with the world’s strongest, or…
face the crushing pressure of the world’s strongest head-on.”
3 minutes.
Those were 3 minutes where mortals danced with gods, and 3 minutes that could instantly decide victory or defeat.
“This is the final selection for the U-20 World Cup—the Neo Egoist League!”
Ego Jinpachi spread his arms wide.
In that moment, he looked like a devil opening Pandora’s box.
“Go, raw stones!
Convert your value into an ‘annual salary’ and show your egoism to the entire world!
This is the highest level, most insane new-generation survival competition in football history!”
“Also, raw stones of the German team—an acquaintance is waiting for you over there.”
Along with Ego’s final shout, the shut alloy gate at the end of the tunnel crashed open.
Blinding white light shot in, casting long shadows of everyone’s figures.
Rin Kazuki took a step forward, entering the light first.
Not a single trace of fear for the unknown was on his face—only a wild, predatory smile ready for the hunt.
“Unlimited substitutions?
First to three points?
And that damn 3-minute ‘superstar’ moment?”
He licked his lips, a dangerous glint flashing beneath his eyes.
“Rules like these are practically tailor-made for a ‘disrupter’ like me to go wild.”
“Let’s go, Isagi.
Time to go meet our ‘world number one’ mentor, and tell him along the way—his throne, I’ve reserved it.”
Carrying their respective surging emotions, the group stepped into the steel domain belonging to Germany’s Bastard München.