Author here, and I’d like to point out that this chapter may contain errors in cohesion or ideas.
I was incredibly busy while writing, basically doing three things at once: writing, reading manga, and working a part-time job.
Então espero que gostem do capítulo, até a próxima.
______________________________________________
[TIME OVER]
The timer hit zero.
And the silence that overtook the room was immediate and absolute, as if the air itself had decided to stop alongside time.
For a few seconds, the only sound that existed was the heavy breathing of the survivors, uneven and ragged, echoing throughout the room as proof that they were still standing.
Hiori remained still, staring ahead without any real focus.
His heart was still pounding.
Then Ego’s voice cut through the silence from the speakers, calm and precise as always, carrying no urgency at all, as though what had just happened was exactly what he had expected from the very beginning.
“Congratulations.”
The screen above them lit up once more, and Ego’s face looked down at them with that expression that never fully revealed what he was thinking.
“You have just taken the first step toward abandoning common sense.”
He paused briefly, letting the words settle, before lightly adjusting his glasses with a finger.
“I hope you realized something just now.” His voice dropped slightly, more direct this time.
“Blue Lock only cares about results.”
His eyes then shifted across the screen, and Hiori realized where they were headed even before Ego spoke.
“Tell me, Haise Sasaki.” Ego looked at him with that particular attention he reserved for only a select few things.
“Why did you keep taking the ball over and over again?”
Haise remained silent for a moment — not the silence of someone searching for an answer, but of someone deciding whether the question deserved a complete answer.
“Ah…” he began, his voice casual, almost bored.
“Because I wanted to take control of my own future.”
?!
Hiori glanced at him from the side, something cracking within the theory he had built over the last 136 seconds.
He had watched Haise assume the role of judge so naturally, deciding who stayed and who was eliminated, handing out eliminations like sentences, that he had concluded that was exactly what was happening.
A man who wanted to control the fate of others.
But that wasn’t it.
Or at least, not only that.
“Elaborate.” Ego’s voice rang out like an order, dry and direct.
Haise let out a short breath through his nose.
“To secure my future, I turned it into a hunt.” Haise began, his voice carrying that calmness that never asked permission to exist.
“A hunt centered around the other players. If they truly tried to survive, whether by running or hiding in some corner, it would mean one of two things: fear, or the pure instinct to survive.” He paused briefly.
“And only someone with Ego would consciously choose either one. But a true egoist would have fire in their eyes. Even knowing they’d get caught, they would still kick the ball at someone else to bury them without hesitation.”
His eyes met Ego’s on the screen.
“Does that satisfy you?”
Ego watched him for a moment with that expression that revealed exactly enough to be irritating.
“Yes. That’s good enough for now.” He said, before deliberately allowing a pause to settle in.
“Besides that mediocre perception of yours, did you notice anything else?”
Haise felt something tighten inside him.
‘Mediocre.’
He was doing the same thing as in Phase Zero.
The same strategy, using open-ended questions that seemed simple until you actually tried to answer them, only to reveal an abyss between what you thought you knew and what you had truly understood.
Ego had the specific talent of making him feel two steps behind even when he had just done something right.
“…I cast common sense aside.” Haise began, building the answer as he spoke, trying to find coherence midway through it.
“I only thought about my future. I threw everything else straight into hell, and…” A pause.
“I thought about winning?”
The last part came out more like a question than a statement, and he knew it.
Ego smiled.
“That’s right, rough diamond.” The approval in his voice was genuine, yet restrained — the kind that feeds you without ever satisfying you.
“You and Hiori Yo were prepared to cast the others into oblivion for your own sake. That is the beginning of developing a true Ego, and of interpreting your own reality the right way.”
He adjusted his glasses with that characteristic calmness before continuing.
“Congratulations. You, along with nine other players, have become Team Z.”
‘Annoying four-eyes bastard.
Always putting me down.’
Haise looked at the screen with an expression that wasn’t quite anger, but was definitely far from gratitude.
Beside him, Hiori let the silence linger for exactly two seconds before opening his mouth.
“Well, that’s bad.”
Haise slowly turned his head toward him.
The look he gave him didn’t need words.
It clearly said, with the particular eloquence only someone truly exhausted could achieve: ‘Are you serious right now?’
…
The next day, the training regimen began early.
Haise, Hiori, and the rest of Team Z who were still physically capable of moving were thrown into the program established by Ego without concessions or any adjustment period.
The body had to learn there was no time to learn slowly.
For most of the players, that first day of training felt like slamming into a wall.
For Haise, it was different — not easy, but different.
The extreme training of Phase 0, those thirty-one days that had felt like the longest of his life, had built something inside him that the others still lacked.
A foundation.
A kind of endurance his body carried naturally, without him even needing to think about it.
Even so, his lungs burned.
His muscles burned.
The strain was real, and it was demanding its price regardless.
‘Even after going through the Legend Prospect, my body still burns like this?’ Haise wondered, a towel hanging around his neck as he steadied his breathing and regained his rhythm.
‘What the hell is wrong with me?’
He stood still for a moment, letting the thought settle.
‘I need to think for a bit.’
Without any more deliberation than that, he stepped away from the others and walked toward one of the indoor training fields in Building 5.
The space was similar to the one from Phase 0, yet there was something different about standing there now.
That field belonged to the stratum teams.
It belonged to them.
Haise stopped at the center of the field, tossed the towel aside, and stood there for a moment with nothing but his thoughts and the silence surrounding him.
‘Even I know I didn’t fool that damned four-eyes.’ The conclusion was honest and free of dramatics.
‘I don’t have a weapon.’
He picked up a ball from the ground and dropped it, instinctively controlling it with his right foot, feeling the contact, the texture, the weight.
He flicked the ball into the air with a smooth touch and switched to the other foot, controlling it again, letting the movement flow naturally without forcing anything.
‘But what can I even do about that?
I can try to figure out my weapon, but what’s the point?’ The ball continued to rise and fall between his feet as he thought.
‘I don’t even have an ego.
I only have a dream.’
The difference between the two sounded small when phrased like that.
But there was a real distance between wanting something and being driven by something.
Ego understood that better than anyone.
‘Should I consider my dream an ego?’
The question lingered unanswered as footsteps echoed across the indoor field.
Haise lifted his eyes.
Hiori Yo stepped onto the field with that calm presence of his that never seemed to occupy more space than necessary.
For now, Haise pushed the thought aside and watched him approach.
“Hey, cool head.” Haise greeted him naturally.
Hiori paused slightly, frowning.
“Cool head?”
“You stayed pretty calm during the elimination phase.” Haise explained casually, his eyes returning to the ball at his feet.
“Seemed like you had a really cool head. So, cool head.”
“Hmm.” Hiori considered the nickname for a second without protesting.
Then: “I wanted to ask you something.”
“A question? Then ask.” Haise said, glancing over his shoulder at Hiori without stopping the rhythm of the ball work.
“Why do you play football?” Hiori began, his voice carrying a seriousness that wasn’t aggressive, just direct.
“I mean, you’re strong and completely abnormal. People must have ridiculously high expectations for you, right?”
Haise looked at Hiori for a moment with an expression of genuine surprise — not the pleasant kind.
Was he serious?
Something didn’t fit.
When the fire of Ego had manifested in Hiori’s eyes during the elimination, Haise had formed an image of him.
Someone passionate about the sport.
Someone who played because he felt something real whenever he touched a ball.
That flame wasn’t the kind carried by someone cold or empty.
But now, with that question leaving his mouth, Hiori sounded like a nuisance.
Haise clicked his tongue dismissively and let the irritation seep into his voice without bothering to hide it.
“Other people’s expectations?” he repeated, as though the words themselves tasted bad.
“As if I even had anyone for that. And even if I did, I wouldn’t care about that kind of thing. There’s already more than enough of that nonsense out there, so go ask someone who actually has an answer for you.” A brief pause.
“Besides, why would my life revolve around something like that?”
He flicked the ball upward with a precise touch, shifting control to the other foot and keeping it suspended in the air with the ease of someone who thought better when their hands — or in this case, feet — were occupied. New chapters come out on NovelPing first.
“I want to become the best and stand at the top of the world. That’s my dream.” he said, his voice calmer now, though no gentler.
“And my ego? Hell if I know. Maybe I’ll discover it, maybe I won’t, and I’ll still make it far either way. But I don’t want to live my life chasing the discovery of my Ego. I want to live in a way where the thing that matters least is other people and their expectations.”
“But…” Hiori didn’t completely back down.
“That dream you have now — isn’t there something, or someone, that gave you that expectation? That pushed you to—”
“Stop.” The word came out low, yet carried a weight that sliced through the air.
“Just stop and understand.”
Haise slowly raised a finger, and his violet eyes met Hiori’s with a steadiness that left no room for avoidance.
“Those expectations mean nothing to me. Whether they exist or not, they will never change what I want. I don’t play football to live up to other people’s dreams.” The flames in his eyes flickered, subtle but alive.
“I play to express my dream, my ego, and reach the top through it. Football simply gave me a field where I can prove that everything extraordinary deserves to exist above the rest.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was the kind of silence that happens when something real has been said.
‘Extraordinary…’
The word echoed inside Haise before he had time to contain it.
His heart pulsed strangely, as though it had recognized something that still lacked a proper name.
‘Is that what I am?
Is that my ego?’
He didn’t know.
But there was something there — some loose thread that, if pulled, might reveal something far greater.
And the fire he felt burning in his chest every time he approached that answer was far too real to ignore.
‘I still don’t know what I am.
But I want to see more and more.
I want to feel this fire.
I want answers for the existence of Haise Sasaki.’
On the other side of that silence, Hiori stood still with his own thoughts.
Once, someone had told him to accept the expectations of others and pursue greatness through them.
Words presented as wisdom, as the correct path.
But Hiori felt sick just hearing that word.
Expectations.
Someone else’s expectations.
He had been born into a family of athletes — all of them known, all of them competent, and all of them eternally second place.
The demand placed upon him from an early age had been simple and absolute: become the best.
There had been no affection behind it, no real support, no warmth of a true family.
There had only been raw expectation, built upon the collective failure of those who came before him.
And the moment he stopped meeting those expectations, the family would collapse.
But for the first time in his life, Hiori was standing before someone who simply ignored all of that.
He didn’t pretend to ignore it.
He wasn’t struggling against the weight of expectations like someone swimming against the current.
Haise simply did not see them as relevant, as though they existed on an entirely separate plane of reality, incapable of ever touching him.
Karasu, the friend who had once given him that advice about accepting the expectations of others, had never managed to do this.
Hiori understood that now with a clarity that hurt a little.
And the so-called prodigies he had met along the way?
Blinded by coaches and parents who had dumped their own unfulfilled dreams onto them, they genuinely believed they were chasing something of their own.
But they were wrong.
Deeply wrong.
They were not athletes with dreams.
They were products.
Built, shaped, and directed by expectations that had never belonged to them in the first place.
Only Haise had escaped all of that.
He seemed untouchable by anything that came from the outside, as though he had been born with a natural immunity to the very thing that suffocated everyone else.
And that thought led Hiori to another, quieter and heavier.
If he had never come to Blue Lock, he would never have met someone like this.
He probably would have continued carrying the weight of those expectations alone, exhausted, without even having a point of comparison to realize there was another way to exist within football.
Maybe he would have completely given in eventually, letting the weight crush him with the resignation of someone who no longer saw a way out.
The confidence Haise carried.
The talent he had displayed.
The way he had conducted that elimination as though he were seeing something the others still lacked the vocabulary to understand.
All of it pointed in the same direction.
Haise was looking beyond this place.
Beyond this stratum, this building, these walls.
But there was still something missing.
A piece Hiori couldn’t fit into place.
And the question left his mouth before he consciously decided to ask it.
“Isn’t there someone you do this for?”
Haise looked at him with weariness in his eyes.
“Yes.”
Hiori’s eyes widened.
The answer had been far too simple.
Far too direct.
There was none of the irritation from before, none of the defensive weight of someone protecting something fragile.
Just a clean confirmation, followed by two seconds of silence that felt much longer.
Then Haise finished, his voice steady.
“For myself. And because of myself.”
The center of everything in Haise’s life was himself.
There was no second interpretation to that.
No hidden nuance or contradiction disguised as humility.
It was exactly what it sounded like.
The center of Haise Sasaki’s universe was Haise Sasaki, and everything else existed at the periphery of that fact — including other people, including football, including Blue Lock itself.
Everyone else?
They could all explode for all he cared.
Because with or without a defined Ego, with or without a discovered weapon, Haise was someone who had lived for himself for as long as he could remember living.
And the one time he had tried something different — the one time he had directed a part of himself toward other people — he had been betrayed.
By the ones who had made promises.
By the ones who should have kept their word.
And that experience had carved a simple and permanent truth into him:
It wasn’t worth it.
It never had been, and it never would be.
Hiori listened to all of it without another word being spoken.
But he understood.
The important part was there, laid bare without ceremony.
Haise Sasaki’s life revolved entirely around himself, like a closed and self-sufficient system that required no external input to keep functioning.
And for some reason Hiori could not explain in entirely rational terms, it thrilled him.
More than thrilled him, it ignited something.
A small, persistent madness that had begun during the elimination and now grew with every word Haise carelessly let fall into the air.
An attraction toward that path that had not even been fully drawn yet, but already felt inevitable somehow.
How crazy would it be?
Hiori thought, his eyes fixed on Haise before he fully realized it himself.
How insane?
Would it be rational?
Would it follow any recognizable logic, or would it be the complete opposite of all that?
He wanted to see.
He wanted to be there when it happened, whatever “it” turned out to be.
He wanted to experience it up close, from the front row, with no glass separating him from what was coming.
And it didn’t matter what role he occupied along that path.
Partner, obstacle, stepping stone, something to be trampled underfoot.
If he was present at the moment the existence of Haise Sasaki reached its full realization, that alone would be enough.
Maybe more than enough.
Even if that completely betrayed Blue Lock’s philosophy.
Even if it contradicted everything Ego had preached about selfishness, rivalry, and the necessity of crushing anyone standing in your way.
Hiori knew that, and he still couldn’t resist.
It felt like a temptation deliberately placed before him by something — or someone — with very specific intentions.
Something that smelled like a demon.
…
After the strange conversation with Hiori Yo, Haise returned to the dorm carrying a feeling he still hadn’t managed to properly name.
There was something about that conversation that lingered, not in an uncomfortable way, but persistently, like a thought refusing to be filed away before being fully processed.
The cyan-haired boy had completely stolen the time Haise had reserved for himself — those minutes on the indoor field that were supposed to be spent thinking about his weapon, his ego, everything that still remained unanswered.
Instead, he had spent the entire time answering questions about expectations.
He took a shower, returned to the dorm, and settled in, deciding that rest would be the best option until Ego appeared with the next set of instructions.
No one knew when that would happen.
“Hello, talented rough diamonds. Are you enjoying your lives here in Blue Lock?” The voice was unmistakable.
Haise lifted his eyes toward the screen along with the others, wearing the expression of someone who wasn’t entirely surprised.
Speak of the devil and he appears.
With Ego’s appearance, one of the players didn’t even wait two seconds — or for an explanation.
“Cut the crap already!” The indignation in his voice was genuine, pent up. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“You seriously think we’re gonna improve at football in a shitty environment like this?!”
“Exactly!” another immediately added, rubbing his stomach with a grimace.
“I want better food!”
Ego’s response came without buildup, without diplomatic pause, without the slightest consideration for the effect it would have.
“The environment is shit… because you play football like a little shit, dumbass.”
“HUH?!”
The collective reaction was immediate.
Shock, offense, mouths hanging open.
The kind of silence that comes right before either an explosion or complete paralysis, depending on the person.
Haise didn’t move.
He didn’t blink faster, didn’t change expression, didn’t feel any particular surprise.
He was used to it.
During Phase 0, he had learned that Jinpachi Ego would judge and insult anyone with the same calmness most people used to say good morning.
It was simply the way he functioned.
“Let’s talk a little about Blue Lock.” Ego continued, completely indifferent to the reaction he had caused, his voice steady and almost bored, like someone giving the same lecture for the tenth time and no longer feeling the need to adjust his tone.
“Within this facility, a total of twenty-five teams, from B to Z, are divided into five groups, one per building.”
A brief pause.
On the screen, the footage of Haise’s hunt replayed in full — every kick, every elimination, every second of those 136 moments that had determined who stayed and who was thrown out.
The silence that settled over the dorm this time was different in nature.
It wasn’t indignation.
It was something closer to a collective chill.
“Ah, and by the way…” Ego resumed, in the same tone one would use to remember a minor detail in the middle of a grocery list.
“Each team lost one person after the little game of tag. There are now 275 players remaining.”
The weight of that information settled slowly.
‘And I’m still at the bottom?’ The thought surfaced in Haise’s mind with calm irritation.
‘You’re seriously annoying, four-eyes.’
“Your ranking determines your team.” Ego continued without unnecessary pauses, without paying attention to any specific reaction in the room.
“Players ranked 1 through 11 are on Team B. Players ranked 12 through 22 are on Team C. And so on, all the way down.”
He didn’t stop.
There was no need.
“To put it simply.” Ego’s voice lowered slightly, carrying the surgical precision he reserved for conclusions.
“You of Team Z are the lowest-ranked players in Building 5.”
“Don’t lump me—”
“Shut up.” Haise commented as he stood, his voice carrying that calmness that cut deeper than any shout.
“Your screaming is a waste of oxygen.”
He looked at the player.
His white hair with black and purple roots partially covered his eyes, but between the strands it was possible to see something there — a black spiral-like gaze that wasn’t exactly angry.
It was simply far beyond the limits of patience.
“If you don’t want a repeat of what happened during the elimination, keep quiet.”
The player flinched.
And stayed quiet.
Haise let out a breath through his nose and settled back down.
The weakest team in the stratum, and there still wasn’t a single person willing to challenge his authority with genuine conviction.
It was a pain.
Without adversity within the group itself, there was nothing there to overcome.
“Higher-ranked players eat gourmet meals and train in better facilities.” Ego’s voice continued as a clean, straightforward chart appeared on the screen.
“Good performance during the selection also grants advantages… including the privilege of using a cellphone.”
Several players’ eyes immediately snapped toward the screen, as though pulled by an invisible thread.
1 Point = Cellphone Pass2 Points = High-Quality Meat10 Points = One Day Outside Blue Lock
“Here…” Ego concluded, wearing a faint smile that looked more like judgment than kindness.
“The best football player is king. If you want a better environment… earn your place.”
A brief pause.
“Any questions?”
No one answered.
“Very well, then.” Ego’s tone didn’t change.
“Let’s begin the First Selection.”
Everyone’s attention shifted completely toward the screen, and the atmosphere inside the dorm changed instantly.
“The First Selection will involve all fifty-five players in Building 5. It will be a round-robin tournament between the five teams.” He didn’t pause dramatically; there was no need.
“Only the top two teams will advance to the Second Selection… in this survival match.”
The tension rose immediately.
“Listen carefully.” Ego’s voice cut through every remaining whisper.
“Football was originally a sport centered around scoring goals. Over the years, you’ve been naïvely conditioned with ideas about positioning and tactics… but all of those roles only evolved over time.” A pause.
“In the beginning, football was played with everyone acting as strikers. So play football the way it was originally meant to be played.”
Several eyes widened throughout the dorm.
“Create football from scratch with your own brains.”
‘From scratch?’ Haise stared at the screen as genuine confusion formed inside him.
‘What the hell do you mean by that, old man?’
Beside him, Hiori muttered something that, despite his intentions, everyone in the room heard clearly.
“So… the eleven of us on Team Z are actually going to play as a real team?” he said thoughtfully, almost to himself.
“But we’re all strikers…”
The doubt was enough to open the floodgates.
“Then I’ll play as striker.” one of them declared, stepping forward with a conviction that had absolutely no foundation behind it.
“Huh? No, I will.” another shot back immediately, as if the issue could be decided simply by whoever spoke louder.
Before anyone else could open their mouth, Hiori stepped forward, and his voice carried a conviction completely different in nature from the others.
“None of you idiots. It’ll be Haise Sasaki.”
?!
Haise glanced at him from the side with a surprise even he hadn’t expected to feel.
‘What is this?’ he thought, eyes fixed on Hiori for a second.
‘Your interest in me is starting to get annoying.
But…
thanks.’
The others turned their gazes toward Haise with a uniform, poorly concealed irritation.
They were all strikers.
And no matter how much that white-haired aberration with black and purple roots had knocked every single one of them out with a football during the elimination, it changed nothing in their minds.
They had simply been caught off guard.
That was it.
Nothing more.
That was the belief shared by everyone there, with the clear exception of Haise and Hiori.
Haise recognized those looks without effort.
He read every single one of them with the ease of someone who had seen variations of the same face his entire life.
Then he let out a sigh before stepping forward.
“Listen up, you pieces of trash.”
The insult came out with disturbing naturalness, almost a perfect imitation of Ego’s tone, which, considering everything, made a certain amount of sense.
“Your chances of becoming the kind of striker who does anything other than take up space are below zero. It’s that simple.” He didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
“Because if you lost to me — a striker who doesn’t even have a defined Ego or Weapon yet — then what exactly are you going to do against someone who obviously has a weapon or an Ego strong enough to surpass everyone here?”
One of them stepped forward, irritation having finally reached its limit.
“And what guarantees that you’ll succeed?”
“Nothing.”
The answer came without hesitation and without dramatics.
Completely honest.
“It’s a gamble.” Haise continued, his eyes meeting the player’s without wavering.
“I’m simply more willing to bet than you are. I trust and bet on myself because I know I can evolve and find answers.” A brief pause, and something in his tone changed — firmer now, heavier.
“After all, adversity is necessary for the brilliance of the Extraordinary.”
His eyes were overtaken by purple flames that burned with that familiar irregularity, and around his body, fragments of mirrors quietly appeared, like shards suspended in the air by a will that never asked permission to exist.
Haise looked at every single person there, one by one, without rushing.
Inside the monitoring room, Ego watched in silence.
His speech had been interrupted.
And he had allowed it to happen.
“The Extraordinary stands above all else. And that’s what matters right now.” Haise’s voice was low, yet it filled the room in a way loud voices rarely could.
“And I’m certain that you… aren’t even close to being Extraordinary.”
On the screen above, Ego’s smile appeared — small and precise — immediately noticed by Hiori.
Haise didn’t turn to see it.
He didn’t need to.
“So give up on your dream of becoming strikers.” he concluded, his eyes still sweeping across every face in the room.
“And let me handle everything, you wastes of talent.”
…
With a violet flame, fragments of mirrors, and an overflowing unexplored ego, Haise takes the reins of his destiny once more!
Victory or defeat?
Fate has yet to decide.
PRÓXIMO CAPÍTULO → Ankle Breaker