Chapter 286: [286] "FRESKO WINS A PENALTY"

The Phocéen center-backs scrambled, terrified of committing to the dribbler and leaving Luc unmarked. Max chopped the ball onto his left foot, drew the opposing defensive midfielder toward him, and slipped a no-look pass to Hugo Blanc operating in the right space.

Hugo received the ball in stride. He didn’t hold it. He played a first-time pass back to Max, executing a flawless give-and-go.

SC Valois took control.

Without Neji to anchor their structure, Stade Phocéen lost the ability to retain the ball. Max and Hugo operated like twin surgeons, dissecting the blue shirts with rapid, triangular passing sequences. Klaus sat behind them, sweeping up any chaotic clearances and recycling possession instantly.

Minute fifty-four.

Max received the ball near the right touchline. He was immediately cornered by the Phocéen left-back and the recovering left-winger. It was a tight two-on-one trap.

Max dragged his boot over the top of the ball, utilizing a rapid sequence of step-overs that forced both players to freeze. He shifted his weight, feinting a drive down the line, before pulling the ball back with his heel and threading a pass through the gap between the two players.

The ball rolled into the center of the pitch. Luc trapped it, holding off the veteran center-back pressing against him. Luc laid it off to Hugo. Hugo swept a sweeping diagonal pass out to the left flank.

Sordell was running.

The Valois left wing-back had pushed high up the pitch, recognizing that Phocéen’s right side had tucked inside to compensate for Max’s dribbling ability.

Sordell collected the diagonal pass in acres of space. He drove into the penalty area. The Phocéen right-back scrambled across the box, attempting to recover his position and close the shooting angle.

Sordell possessed the technical finesse to attempt a curling shot but this time he relied on raw power.

He didn’t break his stride as drew his right leg back, and struck the ball with venom.

The shot was a missile. It rocketed off his laces, carrying zero curve and zero subtlety. The ball tore past the Phocéen goalkeeper, who barely had time to raise his hands, and slammed into the roof of the net.

Goal.

3-2.

The SC Valois away fans, tucked into the corner of the stadium, erupted. They waved their scarves, their voices echoing through the stunned silence of their home counterparts.

Sordell let out a scream, pumping his fists as he sprinted toward the corner flag. Max Caster jumped onto his back, followed immediately by Hugo and Luc.

"That’s it dammit!" Luc yelled over the noise, slapping Sordell hard on the chest.

"He gave me thirty yards of space!" Sordell shouted back, pointing at the retreating Phocéen fullback. "I’m not missing from there!"

The squad broke the huddle, jogging back to their own half. The scoreboard above the stands glowed. SC Valois had reclaimed the lead. The substitution by Henri had broken the match wide open.

Fresko stood near the center circle, waiting for the restart. The Phocéen striker was visibly furious. He shouted at his midfield, demanding they press higher, demanding they disrupt the Valois possession.

The referee blew the whistle.

Phocéen took the kickoff. Driven by desperation and the anger of their striker, the home side abandoned their discipline. They pushed bodies forward, launching long, direct balls toward the Valois penalty area, trying to bypass the midfield.

They were hunting for chaos.

Minute sixty-one.

A Phocéen midfielder collected a loose ball near the halfway line and drove a high pass toward the right corner flag. The Phocéen winger chased it down, keeping it in play just before it crossed the byline.

Zack Florez stepped up to contain him. The young Valois defender jockeyed the winger, refusing to lunge. The winger feinted inside, then chopped the ball toward the touchline, attempting to force a cross. Zack timed his block perfectly, extending his leg and deflecting the ball out of bounds.

The linesman pointed his flag at the corner flag.

Stade Phocéen loaded the penalty area. Both of their center-backs jogged up from the defensive half, adding massive aerial threats to the box. Fresko positioned himself near the penalty spot, his eyes locked on the corner taker.

Pinto stood on his goal line, organizing the defense.

"Mark tight! Do not let them get a running start!" Pinto commanded, pointing at the incoming center-backs.

Hadj stepped up to Fresko. The massive Valois defender initiated physical contact immediately, pressing his forearm against the striker, establishing his leverage before the ball was even kicked. Fresko pushed back, utilizing his own significant mass to carve out space.

The corner was taken.

It was an in-swinging delivery, aimed at the cluster of bodies near the penalty mark.

Hadj and Fresko launched themselves into the air simultaneously. The physical combat escalated as both men fought for vertical dominance, their eyes tracking the flight of the incoming ball.

Hadj extended his arms, utilizing them for balance and upward leverage. It was a standard motion for a jumping center-back, but the proximity to the striker made it dangerous.

As Hadj peaked in his jump, he snapped his head forward to clear the ball. His right arm swung outward.

The point of his elbow connected flush with the side of Fresko’s jaw and neck.

It was a brutal, bone-on-bone impact.

Fresko’s head snapped sideways. The Phocéen striker abandoned any attempt to head the ball, his body twisting unnaturally in the air before crashing onto the turf. He hit the ground clutching his face, rolling onto his side in agony.

The ball sailed past them, eventually cleared out of the box by Amadou Fall.

But the referee had already blown the whistle.

The official pointed emphatically at the penalty spot.

The stadium went into a frenzy of cheers and vindication. The Phocéen players swarmed the referee, demanding a card, while the Valois defenders surrounded the official to protest the call.

"He jumped into my space!" Hadj roared, towering over the referee. "I was playing the ball! It was natural leverage!"

"You led with the elbow. It is a penalty. Step away," the referee stated coldly, waving the Valois players back.