The Beast Awakens

The chill air stabbed into his lungs the moment he stepped onto the field.

December winter. Weather where snow wouldn't have been surprising.

"Whew."

His breath swirled out through the helmet, and the field shimmered white in its glow.

Tap, tap.

He felt the texture of the grass once, then—

Squeeak—.

Stamped down hard on it.

Not a bad feel. He could run well on this.

"Hut hut!"

"One-eighty! One-eighty!"

The air around him was thick with the players' incomprehensible shouts. He used to wonder what the point of it all was, but by now it had grown familiar.

The opposition and his own team bustled about, shifting positions again and again, doing their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠utmost to hide their plays from one another.

But no matter how much they scrambled, his job came down to exactly one thing.

Stop Hopkins. That was all.

"One-eighty—! Eighty set! Hut!"

THUD!

The play began in an instant, and he shot forward.

Tatadak!

Hopkins was now a bona fide five-star talent. He tore into their territory at a terrifying pace.

"Hooh!"

That rough breathing echoed at his ear.

At the same time, the Gift rose up, seeping out of him.

Ssssssss—.

Black.

This much was enough.

"Hnngh!"

"Hup."

PAK!

A change of direction in a single heartbeat—and Jaehyuk chased right after him.

As if predicting where Hopkins would move next, the black line kept shifting, flowing ahead of him.

Thud!

Hand met hand for a brief collision—Hopkins's fierce, twisting body fighting to shake him off, Jaehyuk's movements lightly brushing it all aside.

And then, at last—

WHISH!

The ball flew.

Toward their side!

"Hahp."

He could hear Hopkins squeezing out his last breath, gathering every ounce of strength before the jump.

'You little—'

In that instant, Jaehyuk saw straight through the boy's trick. To think he'd try to fool him with his breathing.

Hopkins's acting was good enough that even Jaehyuk would have been fooled without the Gift.

But unfortunately for him, the Gift was already shifting from black into a deep, dark crimson. And it was pointing to the side.

PAANG!

PAANG!

Hopkins burst out with his breath—and Jaehyuk's two legs chased him down.

And naturally—

His speed was a step above!

THUD!

He overtook Hopkins and cut him off.

The ball sailed far over their heads and settled onto empty grass. And so the first exchange ended in Jaehyuk's victory.

"WAAAAAAH!!!"

"Son of a—! How is this so much fun!"

"REDLINE WOOOON!!"

"That was close though! Seriously heart-pounding stuff!"

Cheers and applause poured down the moment the ball touched the ground. But the game was only beginning.

The opposition still had three more downs left, and at least one of them would surely be another attempt to Hopkins.

"······."

Hopkins, denied the catch, said nothing and simply returned to his position.

The boy who had come charging like an angry boar back at camp had become a cold, calculating warrior when it came to the contest itself.

Pfft.

'This is fun.'

The game was only just starting.

Let him make his final high school game as spectacular as possible.

'As expected······.'

Coach Steve of Derby stared out at the field, his face locked tight.

When he'd sent Hopkins out as a receiver, he had predicted something like this.

Hopkins himself had said it, after all.

'That guy's a stamina monster. If I go out there, he'll come out after me. And he won't get tired either.'

But he'd committed anyway.

Hopkins had agreed to it too.

To take down Wichita North—

No, to be precise, to take down Jaehyuk—

He'd had no choice but to gamble.

Coach Steve raised his headset microphone to his lips.

"Evan."

—Yes.

"Good work. You know we anticipated this, so don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beat yourself up over it."

—Of course.

"Next play is 'Slant and Go.' Target is still Hopkins—but this time it's bait."

—Bait?

Confusion bled through Evan's voice over the speaker.

"That's right. When Hopkins cuts inside on the slant, Redline will latch onto him. That's when you look for Miles, the slot receiver breaking out toward the far sideline. Odds are only one corner will be covering him."

Coach Steve paused for a beat, then added in a low voice.

"And if Redline actually anticipates Hopkins's 'go' route and drops back, then go ahead and hit Hopkins short. What matters is keeping Redline moving at all times. Understood?"

—Understood.

Fifteen seconds had already slipped by.

Steve, who had barely managed to relay the play call before the comm cut off, fixed the field with cold, steady eyes.

They said you couldn't beat Jaehyuk?

Then he would simply keep trying until he could.

"One-eighty—! Eighty set! Hut!"

With the cadence, the offense launched again.

Hopkins ran his lateral slant route, and Redline chased him down.

PAT!

Hopkins cut inside—and Redline stuck to him like a magnet.

'Tch.'

A running back playing corner this well. He'd noticed it before, but that boy wasn't just playing football—he was football. At this point, you'd think he'd been born for the sole purpose of playing it.

But disappointment was a luxury Steve couldn't afford.

THWIP!

A crisp, precise short pass—

To the other receiver on the far sideline.

The defenders swarmed him almost immediately, but he'd gained seven yards.

Just three more and they'd renew the first down and earn a fresh set of four downs.

So Derby ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ground forward, wringing every drop from their brains, inch by inch.

But in the end the touchdown never came, and they settled for a three-point field goal.

"A decent start. Good work, everyone."

Yes, they'd lost the one-on-one against Jaehyuk—but unlike before, they weren't helpless.

Coach Steve called Hopkins over.

Thankfully, the boy still looked fresh.

"Mark Quinton."

"And Jaehyuk?"

"Trust your teammates."

Hopkins turned at Steve's words—and the teammates who met his eyes answered with gazes full of resolve.

Coach Steve spoke to those players.

"Just once. Not many times—once. Stop him once, that's all I'm asking."

"······."

"Leave the scoring to your teammates. If you can just hold him one time, we will do this—as long as nobody gives up!"

"OOOOH!!"

The mood surged at Steve's words. Fighting spirit came to a boil.

The helpless Derby High School of the past no longer existed.

Now was the time to repay that humiliation in full.

The players were ready.

And soon Derby's defenders took the field.

Derby High School—the iron wall.

Their time to prove it had come.

The first change of possession.

The stadium grew hotter still.

The broadcast booth was no different—all eyes fixed on the imminent clash of the ultimate spear against the ultimate shield.

"Derby High School is renowned for its defense, folks. Fewest points allowed in the entire season."

"They won their last game 17-0. Six shutouts this year alone. This team is even stronger than last season's squad."

"And their record from last year is quite interesting, too. They were placed in the same district as Wichita North—the very team they're facing in this championship—and narrowly missed the playoffs."

"Head-to-head record: two games, two losses. Both times they were run through by that sharpened spear called Redline. But this year—! I don't think they'll be pierced so easily."

Opinions clashed even in the chat—

And at last, the game began.

"Mateo takes the snap."

"Ahh, smooth as silk. As expected of a quarterback rated five stars since his freshman year—a player with an even brighter future ahead."

"Not a run, is it. A pass, then?"

"Oh! A no-look pass! Mateo threw it in a completely different direction from where he was looking!"

"The ball goes to #8, Patrick! Ooh, a perfect strike that caught the defense completely off guard!"

But after that first play—

Derby's counterattack was ferocious.

Quinton was indeed a promising talent beyond his years, but he was still no match for Hopkins, a five-star corner.

One pass after another got swatted away.

And throws to the other receivers were hardly any easier.

They hadn't given up a sack yet, but the vicious edge rushers hunting Mateo were racking up meaningful results all the same.

There was no denying it—the iron wall's reputation was well earned.

"Ah, but for some reason, Redline isn't running."

"Is it because it's a championship game? Or did something happen during that defensive series just now?"

"Surely his stamina isn't already drained, is it?"

Along with the broadcasters' concern, flames began to rise in the chat window too.

As everyone voiced their bewilderment—

Wichita North, just as Derby had done, found themselves grinding their way up the field.

Now they'd entered the red zone.

Nineteen yards to the end zone.

With Mateo's ability, a single pass could finish it.

Everyone watched the game, hearts tight with tension.

"Ah, it looks like they're attempting a pass yet again."

"Redline runs straight past. Mateo, where will he throw this time······."

"WHOA! Blitz! It's a BLITZ! Did Derby predict the pass? Three—count them, THREE players are charging straight at Mateo!"

A sudden blitz from Derby.

After playing textbook defense all game long, it was an utterly out-of-nowhere call.

The offensive line collapsed in a heap.

And then the claws reached out for Mateo.

"AAAH! There's no stopping this one!"

"Is it a sack?! Or a fumble?!"

But something was off.

Yes, the attack had been sudden—but the offensive line had crumbled far too easily, and Mateo's movements were nothing short of serene.

As if he'd expected it all along.

And Mateo, after taking a few leisurely steps, threw the ball.

WHIIIIISH!!

The trajectory of the flying ball was anything but ordinary.

It was headed for a patch of empty field with no receiver anywhere near it.

"Ah, Mateo! Is this his first mistake of the game?!"

"The ball is sailing toward absolutely NO ONE!!"

In the moment everyone was still reeling—

PABABAK!!

A violent set of footsteps, out of nowhere.

Along the arc of the flying ball, a red line appeared.

PSSSSSSS!

Every soul watching felt goosebumps crawl up their skin.

Something crimson had erupted onto ground where, mere seconds before, there had been nothing.

A savage aura.

A presence so overwhelming it seemed to declare that this field had one master, and one master only.

The Redline, silent for so long, had finally unleashed the fury of a beast.

"REDLIIIIIIINE!!!"

"Redline appears out of NOWHERE!! Don't tell me—was this the planned pass route all along······!!"

And as if to answer everyone's expectations—

Jaehyuk, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sprinting at monstrous speed, brought the ball down with a hair's breadth to spare, just before it kissed the ground.

A catch bordering on divine artistry.

A feat no one but Jaehyuk could ever hope to imitate.

"HE CAUGHT IIIIIT!!"

"Redline! All that quiet was for this one moment!"

"Derby's defenders can only stare, faces blank with shock! And he keeps going—!"

"TOUCHDOOOWN!! TOUCHDOWN! Wichita North High School! Early in the second quarter, the game's first touchdown finally goes on the board!!"