Chapter 290: [290] "CONQUER ALL"

"That was a dismantling," Valérie continued, her pacing rapid. "I am currently watching the post-match analysis. The networks are tearing Stade Phocéen apart. Their defensive structure is being analyzed frame by frame, and your goal is currently trending globally."

"We really just executed Henri’s gameplan," Luc replied smoothly. "The shift in the midfield after Neji went off gave us the control we needed."

"Do not give me humility right now, Luc," Valérie countered, a sharp laugh escaping her. "You broke their playmaker’s ankles without touching him. The commercial potential from this fixture are going to be astronomical. Our merchandise sales spiked forty percent in the last ten minutes of regulation alone."

"I am glad it is paying off."

"The twin house was a minor expenditure compared to what you delivered tonight," Valérie stated, her voice dropping the corporate edge for a brief second. "Honestly, Luc, I could kiss you right now."

Luc blinked, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic display of emotion from the owner. The formidable ice queen of Ligue Alpha CEO’S.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Valérie," Luc responded, a smirk fighting its way onto his face. "But Juliette might have something to say about that."

Valérie laughed again, a commanding one. "Tell Juliette her guy is safe. But understand the magnitude of what you accomplished tonight. You have eliminated the rear threat. Paris Royal is the only obstacle remaining. I expect this exact level of ruthlessness for the remainder of the calendar."

"You will get it," Luc promised.

Before he could continue the conversation, a heavy hand tapped his shoulder. He turned around. A Ligue Alpha media official, wearing the standard branded vest, was standing there with an urgent expression.

"Mr Beaumont," the official said quickly. "The broadcast networks need you and Gabriel at the media station immediately. They are holding the live feed."

Luc nodded at the official. "I have to go, Valérie. Media obligations."

"Go," Valérie ordered, her professional tone instantly returning. "Control the narrative. Make them understand exactly who we are."

The line clicked.

Luc shoved the phone back into his pocket. He turned and spotted Gabriel Assis walking toward the tunnel entrance. He jogged over, catching up to the Brazilian winger.

"They want us on the mic," Luc informed him as they navigated past the security barricades and approached the designated interview zone set up near the touchlines.

Julian Rossi, the veteran lead broadcaster, was standing in front of the sponsor-branded backdrop. A cameraman was checking the lighting, while a sound technician stood ready with two lapel microphones.

Gabriel looked exhausted but wired on adrenaline. His jersey was stained with grass from his defensive tackles, but his eyes were bright.

"Gentlemen, step right up," Rossi greeted them, his professional smile locked in place. "Good to see you again, we are live in fifteen seconds. Gabriel, you will be first. Luc, I will pivot to you."

The sound technician clipped the microphones to their collars. Luc adjusted his breathing, shifting his mindset from the pitch to a state ready for the media.

"Live in three, two, one," the cameraman signaled, pointing at Rossi.

"Welcome back to our post-match coverage here at Stade Phocéen," Rossi broadcasted, his voice projecting. "I am joined by SC Valois captain Luc Beaumont, and the man who undeniably sealed the victory tonight, Gabriel Assis."

Rossi turned his attention to the Brazilian winger.

"Gabriel, an extraordinary performance tonight operating in an unconventional right-back role. You defended resolutely against a relentless Phocéen attack. But the moment everyone is talking about is the final counter-attack. The league’s tracking data has just confirmed..."

Rossi paused for dramatic effect, looking at the camera before turning back to Gabriel.

"You hit a top sprint speed of 37.8 kilometers per hour on that run," Rossi revealed. "That is officially the fastest recorded speed in Ligue Alpha, shattering the previous record by a kilometre. And to cap it off, you have been voted as tonight’s official Man of the Match."

An assistant stepped forward from off-camera, handing Rossi a glass trophy engraved with the league logo. Rossi presented it to Gabriel.

Gabriel took the trophy, staring at the glass for a second before looking up at the interviewer. The Brazilian could not hide his grin.

"Thank you," Gabriel said, his chest puffing out slightly. "The speed... honestly, I didn’t even think about it. I just saw the ball dropping, and I knew if I committed to the sprint, nobody was going to catch me. The team worked hard defensively today. I had to track back all night, so when the space opened up, I just emptied the tank. Winning this award means a lot, especially in a match of this magnitude."

"A well-deserved recognition for a phenomenal shift," Rossi praised, before pivoting his posture to face the Valois captain. The veteran journalist’s eyes sharpened. It was time for the headline.

"Luc," Rossi began, his tone shifting to a more serious register. "You walk away from tonight’s fixture with another goal added to your tally, extending your lead in the Golden Boot race. Meanwhile, your direct rival in this stadium, Fresko, scored an incredible overhead kick but crucially missed a penalty that could have altered the entire outcome of the match."

Rossi leaned in slightly, holding the microphone steady.

"You are now sitting at thirty-three goals. Fresko is at thirty-one. With Phocéen dropping points today, the narrative suggests that the personal rivalry between you two might be the deciding factor in the season. How do you assess Fresko’s performance today, and do you view him as your primary obstacle moving forward?"

Luc stared into the camera lens. He did not blink. He remembered Valérie’s instruction from the phone call. Control the narrative. Make them understand exactly who we are.

He did not offer a typical diplomatic response.

He did not offer the standard PR-trained respect that players were expected to deliver to their opponents.

He opted for disrespect instead.

"Fresko scored an acrobatic goal," Luc stated without a hint of validation in his tone. "It was a good one, spectacular even. But if you are asking me to evaluate him as a rival for the Golden Boot, the conversation is fucking flawed."

Rossi’s eyebrows raised slightly, sensing the incoming soundbite. He was about to say ’no cursing on live’, but his headline grabbing opportunity was about to present itself.

"A true rival dictates the outcome of the match when the pressure is at its peak," Luc continued, his tone cold and unyielding.

"When the penalty was awarded, he had the opportunity to score again in the game and shift the momentum. He failed. He stepped up to the spot and he missed. That is not the hallmark of an elite striker. That is a player crumbling under the weight of the occasion."

Luc paused, letting the silence stretch out, ensuring the microphones captured the finality of his words.

"If you want to talk about rivalry," Luc said, "I honestly prefer Olivier Fontaine. Fontaine WAS s a genuine threat. Paris Royal is a genuine threat. At least they executed under pressure. Fresko and Phocéen haven’t beat us once this season, they have not shown anything worthy of being considered as equals. Fresko, to me, is just another participant in this league. He is not a contender for anything I’m gunning for."

The silence from the camera crew standing behind the lens was palpable. They knew they had just recorded a quote that would dominate every sports network, podcast, and newspaper in the country for the rest of the season. Luc had just publicly dismantled the Phocéen striker.

"A remarkably candid assessment from the Valois captain," Rossi recovered, his professional composure masking his shock. "With Phocéen now distanced in the table, your sights must surely be set on the top spot."

"We still have a long way to go this season," Luc concluded, staring into the lens with unwavering certainty. "Champions League qualification is confirmed. We have ten league matches left, and a cup to play for... practically almost won. Valois will conquer all. Trust."

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[OBJECTIVE COMPLETED: WIN MD28. SCORE AGAINST STADE PHOCéEN.]

[REWARD APPLIED: +7 GENERAL POINTS. +5 SKILL POINTS. ALL STATS GAIN +2 PERMANENTLY.]

[BALANCE: 13 GENERAL POINTS. 10 SKILL POINTS.]