Chapter 283: [283] "ANKLE BREAKER ON NEJI"

Neji intended to close the distance before Luc could turn, applying immediate pressure to force a backward pass or trigger a turnover.

Luc watched the ball approaching his right boot. He tracked Neji’s movement in his peripheral vision. The Phocéen midfielder was closing in fast, his center of gravity lowered, preparing to establish leverage against the striker.

Luc did not plan to engage in any shielding with anyone. He needed to break the lines now.

He accessed the TES interface resting in his subconscious.

[INVENTORY CHECK]

[VACUUM TRAP (X1)]

[PHANTOM STEP (X1)]

[ABSOLUTE STRIKE (X1)]

[PREDATORY AURA (X1)]

Luc isolated the final consumable on the list.

[PREDATORY AURA X1 - ACTIVATED]

[REMAINING X0 USE]

The blue text flared in his vision before dissolving out.

The shift was instantaneous. The hostile roar of the twenty-nine thousand fans muted into an insignificant hum. The ambient temperature of the stadium air vanished. His vision sharpened, focusing on the biomechanics of the man charging toward him.

He saw Neji’s weight distribution. The Phocéen playmaker was committing some percent of his mass to his front left leg, anticipating that Luc would attempt to trap the ball and shield it with his back to goal. Neji was preparing to plant his cleats and drive a shoulder, to hussle the Valois captain off the ball.

Luc did not trap the ball as expected.

The exact moment the pass reached his feet, Luc allowed the ball to roll across his body, lightly brushing it with the inside of his right boot to keep the momentum active. Simultaneously, he executed a fluid body feint.

He dropped his left shoulder, dipping his hips and throwing his entire upper body toward the left. It was a simple dribble, without complex step-overs or flashy footwork, but the execution under the influence of the Aura was flawless. It perfectly mimicked the phase of a player preparing to explode into a sprint.

Neji bit on the feint.

Operating purely on defensive instinct, the Phocéen maestro shifted his momentum to match the perceived drive. He planted his left foot, attempting to halt his forward charge and push his body to cut off the angle.

But Luc was not going that direction.

The moment Neji committed his weight, Luc snapped his ankle, pushing the ball sharply in the opposite direction.

Neji’s brain registered the deception, sending a desperate command to his lower body to reverse the momentum. The position of his leg simply could not process the conflicting instructions. His cleats remained anchored in the grass while his upper body attempted to twist in the opposite direction.

The torque applied to his planted ankle was immense.

The joint practically gave way. Neji’s ankle buckled, folding under the weight of his own sudden shift. The Phocéen playmaker collapsed, his balance shattered.

He hit the turf hard, tumbling onto his side, a sharp stint of pain flashing across his face as he grabbed his lower leg.

Luc did not look down at the fallen midfielder. He accelerated forward, surging past Neji and carrying the ball into the massive void that had just been torn open.

The Phocéen defensive line was thrown into panic.

The left-sided center-back, who had been tasked with marking Luc all evening, saw his midfield shield destroyed in a single motion. Reacting to the immediate threat of the Valois captain driving toward the penalty arc, the defender stepped up.

He abandoned the defensive line, rushing forward to close the gap and execute a standing tackle.

Luc saw the center-back committing. He did not attempt to beat the defender with pace. He utilized the gravity of his run to draw the defender out of position, focusing on the space the center-back was leaving behind.

He knew Hugo would be there. He had told the teenager to watch him.

Luc chopped the ball, slowing his sprint for a fraction of a second, drawing the center-back within two yards. Just as the defender planted, ready to lunge for the ball, Luc opened his hips and played a perfectly weighted layoff into the vacated space on the right side of the penalty arc.

Hugo Blanc arrived at a sprint.

The teenager had not stopped moving since delivering the initial pass. He had tracked Luc’s movement, calculated the spaces of the collapsing Phocéen defense, and timed his run to perfection. He breached the edge of the eighteen-yard box as the ball rolled into his path.

The Phocéen goalkeeper, recognizing the catastrophic breakdown in his defensive line, scrambled off his line. He charged toward the top of the six-yard box, attempting to narrow the shooting angle and make himself as large as possible.

Hugo did not take a touch to settle the ball, nor did he even think about breaking his stride.

He planted his left foot firmly beside the rolling ball, kept his chest low over his knee, suppressing any upward trajectory, and drove the instep of his right boot straight through the center of the ball.

The technique was clinical. It lacked raw, reckless power, relying on precision and velocity.

The low driven shot rocketed across the grass. It did not elevate off the turf, skimming the blades of grass with lethal speed, angling sharply toward the bottom left corner of the net.

The Phocéen goalkeeper launched his body into a full-length dive. He extended his arm to its maximum limit, throwing his gloves toward the base of the post in a desperate bid to tip the ball wide.

His fingertips brushed the exterior of the ball.

The microscopic contact altered the spin, but it was not enough to kill the momentum or change the trajectory of the strike. The ball powered through the keeper’s outstretched fingers, skipped once off the grass, and slammed into the inside of the side netting.

Goal!!!

2-2.

The deafening wall of noise inside Stade Phocéen vanished. The twenty-nine thousand home supporters, who had spent the last several minutes riding the high of Fresko’s spectacular overhead kick, were plunged into stunned silence now.

They stared at the pitch, struggling to comprehend how their midfield anchor had been toyed with and their lead erased in the span of nothing.