Chapter 258: [258] "CANNON HEADER"

The keeper was preparing to launch himself at the dropping ball.

If Luc attempted to extend his leg and trap the ball with his laces, the deceleration required to cushion it would consume a full second. That single second would provide the charging goalkeeper the exact window necessary to arrive, throw his body into a sliding challenge, and clear the ball.

Taking a touch was not an option. The margin for error was non-existent.

He had to strike the ball first-time.

But the ball was dropping from a height of many feet. It was going to arrive at head height just as Luc reached the edge of the penalty arc. Attempting a standard volley with his foot would require him to execute a dangerous, high-kicking maneuver that would likely result in a foul or a severe miss-hit.

He needed to head the ball.

However, generating enough power on a header from twenty yards out to beat a charging goalkeeper was not possible. Standard neck muscles simply could not produce the necessary force to turn a dropping ball into a lethal shot from that distance.

A normal header would simply loop weakly toward the net, allowing the keeper to recover...

... Luc’s mind snapped to the dormant TES interface resting in his subconscious. He accessed the store inventory he had meticulously loaded just days prior.

[INVENTORY ACCESSED]

[VACUUM TRAP (X2)]

[CANNON HEADER (X1)]

[PHANTOM STEP (X1)]

[ABSOLUTE STRIKE (X1)]

[PREDATORY AURA (X1)]

Luc ignored the Absolute Strike. He did not need a it for this because his legs couldn’t reach the ball in time. He needed raw, terrifying heading force.

He targeted the second consumable on the list. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

[CANNON HEADER]

TES processed the command without delay.

[CANNON HEADER X1-ACTIVATED]

[REMAINING X0 USE]

The blue interface dissolved.

Luc felt the change initiate in the center of his core. An unnatural tension gripped his abdominal muscles, locking them into rigid, highly pressurized coils. The sensation traveled upward rapidly, spreading across his chest and locking into his shoulders.

The muscles in his neck up to the base of his skull, thickened and tightened, feeling less like organic tissue.

The system was overriding his muscular limits, artificially amplifying his rotational capacity by large percents. The pressure building inside his upper body was immense, demanding immediate release.

He crossed the twenty-two-yard line.

The ball entered his immediate airspace, dropping perfectly into the designated strike zone.

The C?te d’Azur goalkeeper arrived at the edge of the eighteen-yard box simultaneously. The keeper planted his feet and launched his body into the air, throwing his arms wide, attempting to make himself as massive as possible to block the impending header.

Luc did not slow down. He utilized his forward momentum to generate the base energy needed.

He planted his boot firmly into the grass, feeling the turf compress under the force. He drove his knee upward, launching his entire six-foot-plus frame into the air.

He hung suspended above the pitch, his eyes locked dead onto the center of the ball.

Luc snapped his shoulders forward. The artificially amplified muscles in his neck fired with terrifying synchronization, executing a whipping motion that defied standard human biomechanics.

He drove his forehead directly through the center of the ball.

The point of contact did not produce the standard, muffled thud of a headed clearance. The impact generated a sharp, percussive crack that echoed loudly enough to reach the broadcast microphones stationed on the touchlines.

The ball did not loop or float. It reacted exactly as if it had been struck by the laces of a powerful volley.

It rocketed forward with unnatural, blistering velocity. The trajectory was completely flat, skimming through the humid air at an altitude of barely six feet.

The C?te d’Azur goalkeeper, suspended in his jump, had anticipated a standard looping header. He had positioned his hands to tip the ball upward. When the ball left Luc’s forehead with the speed of a bullet, the keeper’s reflexes simply could not process it in time.

The keeper blinked.

Before his brain could command his arms to adjust their angle, the ball had already passed him completely. It tore through the empty space to his right, leaving a trail of displaced air in its wake.

Luc’s body, having expelled the amplified energy, immediately suffered the backlash of the jump.

The unnatural tension in his core and neck vanished the moment the ball separated from his forehead, leaving his muscles instantly fatigued and incapable of maintaining stability. He lost his aerial balance.

Gravity reclaimed him.

Luc plummeted toward the turf. He did not have the coordination to brace his fall with his hands or execute a rolling landing. He crashed heavily onto the grass, his right shoulder absorbing the brutal impact. The momentum sent him tumbling across the turf, sliding uncontrollably toward the edge of the penalty area.

He ground to a halt, lying flat on his back, his chest heaving aggressively as his normal functions attempted to reset from the system’s interference. His neck ached from the residual cost of using the Cannon Header for the first time ever.

He did not immediately stand up. He kept his head resting against the cool grass, waiting for the auditory confirmation of his certain goal.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A snapping sound echoed across the penalty area. The ball slammed into the back of the net with such immense force that the thick white mesh stretched tight, pulling the support ropes before rebounding the ball back out into the six-yard box.

The home stadium was instantly plunged into profound silence.

The thousands of local supporters, who had been screaming for an equalizer just moments before, were rendered mute. They had watched their team execute a flawless offensive overload, only to see the opposing backup goalkeeper claim the cross, punt it upfield, and the opposing captain bury a header from twenty yards out with the velocity of a cannon shot.

The psychological devastation was very well absolute.

From his position on the turf, Luc slowly pushed himself up.