Hunt the Last Boss
“Touchdown! Cap, that's a touchdown!”
Russell shouted, absolutely beside himself with excitement.
But his voice was all but swallowed by the roar of the crowd.
“Ahem. Well, naturally.”
He'd caught it somehow anyway, and David nodded along, doing his best to hide the smug satisfaction on his face.
Once again, Alabama's David and Russell had come to watch the game in person. Both had been watching with their hearts in their throats right up until the moment Jaehyuk crossed into the end zone — and then all that tension drained out of them at once.
“I honestly couldn't tell what just happened, though. Rodriguez threw such an out-of-nowhere pass that...”
“Jaehyuk was deliberately lying in wait from the far side. He'd been peeling his presence away bit by bit, play by play. And catching that ball at all — that alone was astonishing. Running that entire distance and pulling it out of the air? Unbelievable.”
“Which means the defense has a real problem now, doesn't it? They know Jaehyuk can take a pass like that.”
“One more option added to the arsenal. Until now, Jaehyuk had been solving everything on the ground.”
Still — was he imagining it, or did Jaehyuk look even faster than before?
David filed away a mental note to re-time his 40-yard dash someday, then turned his attention back to the game.
The extra point sailed through. The score stood at 7–3, and possession changed hands.
And Jaehyuk and Hopkins were still grinding away at two-way duty.
Can he really hang on until the end?
What worried David was Hopkins, plain and simple. Jaehyuk's monstrous stamina had been the talk of the camp, and everyone knew it. Hopkins had clearly bulked up since then, but whether he could endure two-way play against Jaehyuk was another question entirely.
If he did manage to hold out, that alone would make him worth every ounce of effort. He was, after all, the very player Russell was working so hard to recruit. If Alabama could land both Jaehyuk and Hopkins next year, the synergy between them could be something special.
Thud!!
“Haha! He batted it down! Jaehyuk broke up another pass, sir!”
“Ohhh.”
By this point, one thing had become all but certain.
Victory belonged to Jaehyuk.
Nobody was saying it out loud, but clearly most everyone in the stadium was thinking it.
If it were Jaehyuk alone, fair enough. But Wichita North also had Mateo, an elite quarterback, on top of him. There didn't seem to be any way Derby was turning this around.
And yet...
Their eyes hadn't gone dead.
Derby's players were still radiating that feral, hungry intensity. Those boys wouldn't quit until the final whistle, no matter how wide the gap grew.
“Ah, youth.”
It was a heat you only found in high school football, maybe. An unspoiled, unjaded passion he could feel radiating off the field.
“Oh! Touchdown! Derby just scored a touchdown!”
“So they broke through after all. Well, you can't shut down an entire offense just by keying on Hopkins.”
The score: 10–7.
Derby was clearly in a favorable position now.
Before long, it was Wichita North's turn on offense.
Whoosh!!
A surprise run the instant the play began.
Jaehyuk took the ball and tore downfield at the speed of light.
“...”
“...”
The crowd held its collective breath.
Having steamrolled everything in his path, Jaehyuk sidestepped the oncoming Hopkins and stepped out of bounds along the sideline.
A single run had devoured fifty yards.
It was a refreshingly clean drive, a stark contrast to Derby's grinding, laborious offense.
“He's playing a different sport entirely.”
“At that level, he could already start in the college ranks.”
“Might even take home the Heisman, don't you think?”
“Oh come on, that's a stretch. A running back winning college MVP? Practically unheard of.”
Listening to the murmur of the crowd, David was thinking: Jaehyuk would soar in the college game too.
Of course, David knew better than anyone that the college ranks were a gathering place for monsters.
College football operated at a level far beyond any other collegiate sport. It was a place where physical freaks pulled off jaw-dropping performances as routinely as eating breakfast.
And even so —
Jaehyuk was different.
Different from every single one of them.
“I can't wait for next year.”
“It'll be here soon enough!”
Yes. Soon.
Soon, the true monster would descend upon the college game.
Wham!
A vicious tackle came crashing down on him.
But he didn't drop the ball.
Beep!
The referee's arms crossed overhead — the catch stood. Quinton, the victim of the tackle, picked himself up slowly, joint by joint.
“You good?”
At my question, he only nodded. His complexion didn't look great.
Looking out across the field, the end zone was now just within reach. With the score at 10–7, we had to punch in a touchdown. No two ways about it.
Still, though...
Had the whole other team bathed in some kind of battle tonic? They were playing with murder in their eyes — this wasn't a game or a match anymore, it was a warzone.
Violent scuffles kept breaking out all over the field, and in this short stretch alone we'd racked up no fewer than three penalties. Maybe that was why my teammates looked daunted, their fire dimmed. Without quite realizing it, they'd gotten scared — the thought of getting seriously hurt had crept in under their guard.
“Mateo.”
“Yeah.”
“Give me the ball.”
Wasn't this exactly why I'd been made captain — to handle moments like this?
Time to show them how it's done.
These disrespectful little bastards.
I stood at my position and picked out the handful of players who'd been playing especially dirty. Then I looked each of them dead in the eye, one by one, and spoke.
“Hey. You trash talkers over there.”
“??”
Every head snapped toward me in shock.
“This time I'm the one carrying the ball. So go ahead — talk all the shit you want. Try me.”
The whole defense stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Even Hopkins, who was covering Quinton, stood there gaping at me.
“Mateo. Let's go.”
“Pff-hah.”
Even in that moment, Mateo couldn't hold back his laughter. What could possibly be that funny?
The play call came down, and the players snapped into motion.
“Hut! HIKE!”
So — who was really walking into the trap here?
Watch closely. I'll show you exactly how it's done.
Just as planned, I ran my route toward Mateo.
Shhh—
The Gift was already rippling with crimson — it must have known I was about to carry the ball. The defenders were charging toward me with everything they had, taking my taunt not as a bluff but as gospel.
Which, fair enough. I'd never once used my word as a bluff.
But.
It didn't matter in the slightest.
Whatever you try — against me, it's worthless.
Thump!
I caught the ball.
The Gift was pulsing. My calves pumped like pistons. Eyes wide open, I unleashed the power boiling up inside me.
Whoosh—!!
My leg drove off the ground like it had a spring coiled inside it, and I shot forward in an instant. Players came swarming in from every direction.
Screeech.
At the same moment —
A brutal brake, defiance of pure inertia. I cut my direction in a blink.
Following the Red Line!
“Jesus...”
I heard a teammate mutter it — the one whose body I'd just used as a wall. I shoved off him with my hand and used the recoil to launch myself again.
“Hup!”
A defender burst out from my side, out of nowhere.
One of the bastards who'd been lunging like he wanted to kill me.
Yank!
I seized him by the collar with one hand.
Then lifted him clean off the ground — and slammed him into the turf.
CRASH!
There went the Strength Increase I'd been holding in reserve.
A thunderous boom rang out like his helmet had detonated. And the next defender, mid-lunge, tripped over the fallen man and went sprawling face-first.
Three lost to the cutback, two more just now.
I'd shaken off five players in total as I crossed into the end zone.
“Whew!”
The moment I entered the end zone, I spun around to face them.
As my celebrating teammates came charging toward me, I beckoned to the defenders.
“Come and get some.”
Under normal circumstances, they'd have flown into a rage and taken the bait — fights broke out on the football field as regularly as sunrise. But every one of them ignored me.
Probably because of the little performance I'd just put on — hoisting a full-grown player one-handed and planting him in the dirt.
They just checked on their fallen teammate, studiously refusing to look my way.
“Tch. A bunch of nobodies.”
“WOOO! Cap! Fuck, you ended them!”
“I already thought they were playing too rough, but that should scare the hell out of them now. Haha!”
“Hey, Jaehyuk, do you do separate strength training or something? Where the hell does that power come from?”
As I headed for the bench listening to my teammates chatter, the crowd's roar came crashing down on us — a wall of near-hysterical screaming, so loud I could barely make out a word.
From what I could gather, they seemed to be saying I'd done well.
“HYUAAAH! Fuck, CAP!!”
Just then, Quinton came sprinting over from far down the sideline, hamming up the most over-the-top reaction imaginable, barely able to contain his own body.
“Thanks to you, all those bastards have lost their nerve! You saw that, right?!”
“That was the whole point.”
“I mean, you know I already respected the hell out of you, Cap. But as of today, you're my idol!”
“Save the speeches. Go sit down.”
At my words, he threw up a double fist-pump and bounded off, and the rest of the team burst out laughing at the sight.
Their morale, it seemed, was fully recharged.
High-maintenance bunch, aren't they?
Can't you figure it out yourselves — buck up, pull it together?
Several of those guys were built twice my size, and they couldn't manage that one little thing.
Then again — coming from someone coasting on his Gift, I suppose I don't have room to talk!
Thwack!
The ball sailed through the uprights.
That made it 14–10.
The gap was now beyond the reach of even a three-point field goal.
And it would only stretch wider from here. For me, this was just the beginning.
The game was already at its midpoint.
The second quarter was drawing to a close.
Before long, Derby's drive stalled out, and that was the first half.
“Hah... hah...”
Halftime. As Hopkins stood there gulping down air, Coach Steve walked over to him.
“The two-way duty. Let's call it.”
“Hnn... hoo. No, sir. I'm fine.”
Hopkins's blazing eyes turned up to Steve. Reading the resolve burning in them, Steve pressed his lips together, hesitated a moment — then nodded.
“...All right.”
“If I think I can't do it anymore, I'll be the first to say so.”
The score: 14–10.
On paper, a single touchdown would tie it. But Steve knew the truth.
The tide had already turned against them.
The second half opens with Wichita North on offense.
They were already behind, and now the opponent would get the ball first. And whatever people said about Derby's ironclad defense, it was obvious they'd give up points eventually.
Even if they only surrendered a three-point kick here, the deficit would swell to seven. Which meant Derby would need an actual touchdown just to scrape back to a tie.
“Hmmm...”
His head was still churning through it when the players suddenly gathered around him.
“Coach.”
“Hm?”
“We're not giving up.”
They spoke with sudden, dead-serious faces. Looking at them, Steve understood.
He wasn't the only one who'd seen how bad the situation was. Everyone had known — they'd simply chosen not to wear it on their faces.
“We're going for the championship. All the way to the end.”
“That's right. We'll die on this field if we have to.”
“Redline? Look, we all felt it — the kid's the real deal. But that's not a reason for us to quit!”
Yes. Redline.
The player who was, for all practical purposes, the author of every disaster that had befallen them.
And yet there was no stopping him.
No matter what scheme they drew up, he bulldozed straight through it like a breakthrough tank. He felt less like a football player and more like a final boss from a video game.
A final boss, huh. Well, he is one. It's the championship game, after all.
But that was exactly the point.
He was the last boss. The opponent you had to bring down.
Who gives up at the final boss? Even knowing you'll lose, the right thing is to fight to the very last breath, isn't it?
“Whoo! Ready, Coach!”
Hopkins sprang to his feet and shouted. One by one, the other players rose with them, eyes smoldering, ready for war.
And every last one of Derby's players fixed their gaze on a single point on the field.
The lair of the final boss — where Jaehyuk stood.
As if he'd felt that furnace of stares on his skin, Jaehyuk looked back at them.
But there wasn't a shred of fear anywhere in his gaze.
If anything, he smirked.
The way one might glance at a horde of nameless grunts.
“Haha. He really does look like a final boss, doesn't he.”
“A final boss? Huh. You're right, he really does.”
“Shouldn't we change his nickname at this point? From Redline to Last Boss.”
Clap! Clap!
“That's it, boys! We're entering the second half of the game! Let's go hunt us a last boss!”
“OOOOH!”
“We bled him some in the first half, at least. If we just take the other half, maybe we can actually bring him down?”
“Hahaha! Boss hunt, let's gooo!!”
Derby would never, ever give up.
When people called them an iron wall, it wasn't just about their play. Their spirit, too, was nigh impenetrable.
And Hopkins, captain of that iron wall —
Clap!
— drove his fist into his palm, his eyes declaring that the real game started now.
“Second half — feed me the ball, early and often! I'm beating Redline. I swear it.”
“WOO! That's right — you've got to take him down at least once in a live game!”
If skill couldn't do it, then strategy.
If strategy couldn't, then momentum.
If momentum couldn't, then pure grit.
Pour out everything you have — and slay the last boss!
“Let's go, Derby! Time to hunt a last boss!”
“Hut! Hut! HUT!”
Halftime was over.
They charged toward the final chapter of the state championship.