The Unforeseen Collapse

An unforeseen development.

The Tigers' players could only stare blankly at the Asian athlete standing before them.

"Why the hell are you standing here?"

One of the LSU linemen finally barked the question everyone was thinking.

Jaehyuk shrugged and answered.

"Came to play defense."

"That's my point—why are you playing defense—"

Facing the lineman's relentless prying, Jaehyuk cut him off flatly.

"If he can do it, why can't I? Shut up and do your job, you wild boar."

"The hell did you say, you little runt?!"

With that, Jaehyuk turned and trotted back to his position. From the look of it, he intended to stop Elijah as a cornerback.

"What on earth is Alabama thinking?"

"It's not like playing two-way just works because you want it to..."

"And he's going to cover Elijah of all people?"

But whatever doubts the Tigers nursed, Alabama's players took their stances as if nothing in the world were wrong.

It was almost startling, the boundless trust they placed in a mere freshman.

There's no way he can stop Elijah.

Henry, the Tigers' quarterback, was certain of it. No matter how extraordinary this kid was said to be, three or four years of college experience could never be caught up to in a season. A running back who'd done nothing but run the ball, suddenly daring to play cornerback?

Elijah's been playing two-way since high school!

And this upstart had the gall to look down on that? It was time to put him in his place.

"Eighty-eight! Luigi! Luigi!"

He immediately signaled for a pass and readied himself to take the snap.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Hut!"

Tap!

LSU's receivers tore down their assigned routes. Standing in the pocket, ball in hand, Henry watched for the timing to release.

Elijah—!

Smash that freshman to pieces!

But in that very instant—

Crack!

A player suddenly burst out from his blind side. Startled, Henry stumbled backward in alarm, but the Alabama defense kept coming, relentless.

Where the hell did he come from?!

There was no time to think. Stay here any longer and he'd be sacked. Henry scrambled, scanning the field as he set his feet.

Forget it! He'll catch it!

The other receivers were nowhere in his vision. Only Elijah filled his mind, and so the ball left his hand toward him almost by instinct.

Whoosh—!

Thud!!

Impact, the instant the ball left his fingers. Thrown off his perfect mechanics, Henry watched the pass sail just slightly off target at the end of its arc.

"Nnngh."

He looked up at the player who'd tackled him. A white athlete with the chiseled face of an action movie star—looked like he'd been rotated in when the defense took the field for the second half. But whatever he was, the pressure he'd brought was far too frightening for a mere substitution.

"You're screwed."

"What?"

That was when the opponent grinned and said it. Henry was still puzzling over what that was supposed to mean—

"I-INTERCEPTION!!"

"STOP HIM!!!"

Chaos erupted around him all at once. His thoughts couldn't keep pace; Henry simply collapsed onto the turf and looked around in a daze.

Players were sprinting everywhere in a frenzy.

But why are they all running the wrong way?

"Wh-what's going on..."

He'd been tackled the moment he released the ball and hadn't seen a thing. The hit had scrambled his body, too—Henry could barely hold himself upright.

And then, beside him—

Shaaa—!!

A streak of red flashed past in a heartbeat. In the split second he wondered what it was, a familiar jersey number trailed right behind that crimson blur.

Number 0.

"Huh? Wha—?"

What is even happening right now. Why is Elijah running toward OUR end zone...

As he stared, numb, he could see it plainly now: number 0 simply could not close the gap.

Elijah... lost a footrace? Then that guy is—!

Beep!

The whistle sang out, the touchdown signal rang across the stadium, and the scoreboard changed.

34:24.

Alabama Crimson Tide on the board.

"WAAAAAAH!!"

"That's it, Luke! Hell yeah!!"

"Say it, do it, deliver it!"

"Hahaha! Now THAT'S what I'm talking about! C'MON!!"

Nearby, the player who'd taken Henry down let out a roar, and the Alabama players swarmed him with cheers.

"Ah..."

Only then did the situation slowly begin to make sense.

I... got picked off.

He hadn't doubted for a single second. Which made the mistake all the more fatal.

Henry had simply assumed Elijah would win his battle with the Redline and come down with the ball. Even with the throw coming out just a touch off at the end, he'd trusted him—no quarterback in the country had better timing with his receiver than he did with Elijah.

Slide.

A fellow lineman extended a hand toward the fallen Henry. But no one said a word.

A fatal mistake. The entire momentum of the game had just flipped on its head.

"WAAAAH!! THAT'S IT!!"

"He did it! Jaehyuk did it!"

Amid the coaches' gleeful uproar, DeBoer clenched his fist, fighting to keep his composure. A man who'd been staring down the prospect of being fired just last year was now writing a brand-new chapter of history.

Alabama has finished the regular season undefeated fifteen times.

For the program long hailed as the strongest of powerhouses, undefeated seasons were hardly rare. And in the SEC, where nothing but monsters gathered, such records were nothing short of astonishing.

And perhaps—just perhaps—DeBoer was about to join that list. He steadied his racing heart and issued his orders.

"Let's test their quarterback's composure. Send a blitz, see how he reacts."

"Yes, sir."

The defensive coordinator relayed the call over the radio at once. Alabama had scored, which meant the defense was back on the field. The personnel stayed exactly as they were.

Truthfully, Jaehyuk had been only half-sure when he'd volunteered for defense—and no one had dreamed he'd deliver a performance like this.

"Hut!"

Thud!

The game resumed. And just as DeBoer expected, the opposing quarterback was badly rattled. He hesitated, scrambled this way and that, unable to commit the ball anywhere, and finally hurled it into nothing but air.

"Ease off once, then rotate in Luke and the edge rushers only."

"Yes, sir."

DeBoer called plays in real time as the game unfolded before him. The momentum had already swung entirely Alabama's way.

Football was a game where, once a team started to unravel, every weakness came into view at once. And for a man who'd climbed all the way to head coach of Alabama, hunting down wounded prey once he'd drawn first blood was elementary.

He might not have been a legendary tactician, but he was more than worthy of being called a shrewd one.

Wham.

LSU's drive died right there.

They looked like a sinking ship. Fading stamina and collapsing morale had hit them at the same time.

And then there was—

'That number 0 appears to be injured, sir.'

Jaehyuk's words from just before, when he'd raised his hand and said he wanted to take the field on defense, when he'd needed to convince the coaching staff.

'Looks like a leg injury, most likely. Let me cook him.'

They'd let him try it. If it went badly, they could simply pull him back off.

But looking at the field now—

He was locking down Zero. Completely.

And in fact, for reasons no one could quite explain, Zero simply couldn't get anything going.

It was almost as if—

'He knows the injury, and he's exploiting it ruthlessly.'

It appeared Jaehyuk, aware of exactly where his opponent was hurt, was deliberately herding him into the most uncomfortable situations possible.

Say it was a right leg injury. Jaehyuk kept forcing him into right-hand breaks—cuts that demanded the most out of that bad leg. And whenever Zero tried to escape those routes, Jaehyuk would wall him off with subtle shifts of position, denying him the ball unless he complied.

The result: Zero slowing down, just a half-beat late, on every single rep.

And in a football game, that half-beat was precisely where games were won and lost.

"So it really is an injury."

Did the team know and play him anyway? Or were they in the dark?

Either way, DeBoer was cold-blooded about it. A brilliant player's career could be ruined by this—but right now, this team was starving for a win. Everything usable had to be used.

Beep!

Change of possession. Alabama's turn to strike again.

"We finish this. For good."

DeBoer's eyes blazed.

"Ahhh..."

"The deadlock is breaking apart before our eyes! Redline's unthinkable two-way play has become the first crack in the dam!"

The broadcast chat, once blazing hot on both sides, had tilted decisively toward one end.

The game had been dead even through the end of the first half. Then, moments after the second half kicked off, it simply fell apart.

Whoosh—!

Crack!

The Alabama Crimson Tide offensive wave crashed on without pause. Elijah could no longer produce the heroics of the first half, and the Tide drove through the Tigers' defense again and again.

Another touchdown soon followed. The score stretched to 42:24, and the victory was hardening into stone.

"What magnificent chemistry!"

"The Alabama Crimson Tide is playing the most complete football we've seen from them all year. They've more than earned the right to keep their perfect season alive!"

Jaehyuk's presence remained unmistakable at the center of it all—and the coaching staff and Ty Simpson knew exactly how to wield him. The field had quite literally become the Crimson Tide's playground.

And so came the third quarter, the fourth quarter... the clock kept bleeding out until the final minute.

Bleep! Bleep! Bweee—!

49:27.

A 22-point chasm carved out over the second half, and the game ended under the absolute domination of the Crimson Tide.

"WOOOOOOAH!!"

"We're REALLY undefeated!!"

"Keep running straight to the Iron Bowl! Tear them apart!!"

"Nine and oh!! This year belongs to OUR Tide!!"

The home crowd roared themselves hoarse. As for the Tigers' fans—most of them had already filed out of the stadium long before.

Step.

Elijah couldn't open his mouth. This was his first loss of the year—and his worst.

Worse still, his knee had only deteriorated over the course of the game. It had happened because of all people, Jaehyuk had noticed his injury and cunningly forced his movements against him.

It's not that the guy is dirty.

Knowing how to use that knowledge was simply skill in its own right. Honestly, even if someone else had spotted the injury, very few players on earth could have exploited it the way Jaehyuk had.

Had there been physical contact? Almost none—outside of the moment the ball was in the air. And yet Jaehyuk had still managed to restrict Elijah's movement completely.

His positioning, his reads—like he could see exactly where Elijah was going to move before Elijah knew himself.

Thud.

Elijah ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠watched Jaehyuk across the field, celebrating with his teammates. Not celebrating excessively, exactly—but that overflowing confidence was unmistakable in the smile on his face.

"Hm?"

Then Jaehyuk caught Elijah's gaze. He turned, walked straight over, and said:

"Well, your undefeated streak's already broken. Take it easy and go get that knee checked out. I did you a favor, clearing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your schedule for the hospital."

"Ha!"

A laugh escaped him, pure disbelief. What an insufferable thing to say.

But he didn't even have the strength left to get angry. Jaehyuk had overpowered him for every second of every play, from kickoff to final whistle.

If a true ace existed—

wasn't this exactly what one looked like?

"If I had been..."

But Elijah couldn't let it go. No matter how towering the wall before him, he too was an ace carrying an entire team on his back.

"If I'd been at one hundred percent—how would it have gone?"

The question came out raw, desperate. At the sight of him asking it, the LSU players and Alabama players who'd drifted within earshot all fell silent.

Every single one of them hung on the exchange between Jaehyuk and Elijah.

And Jaehyuk answered.

"At the very least, the score would've been dead even."

"...!"

A acknowledgment no one had seen coming. But then he added one more thing.

"But if we're talking about who's the best—then at the end of the day, I'm the strongest."

Jaehyuk said it as if it were the most obvious fact in the world—arrogant, matter-of-fact. And somehow, hearing those words—no joke, but dead serious—every player listening felt a chill down their spine rather than a laugh rising in their throat.

"Damn it. Never thought a line like that would give ME goosebumps."

"Right? That's middle-school trash talk, and it still lands."

The Tigers' players rolled their shoulders and looked away.

He was the enemy ace who'd shattered their undefeated season—but even they couldn't bring themselves to deny him. Judged on this year's form alone, no one on the planet could keep pace with that Asian athlete.

What none of them knew, though, was this:

Jaehyuk only grew stronger the more games he played.

The victory reward. The usage count had gone from one to three, the boost from 30% to 40%.

This wasn't merely a hot streak confined to one season—it was growth. And with that growth, Jaehyuk was dragging his team toward an undefeated championship.

Three games remained.

Aside from the finale against Auburn, every one of them was against a lesser opponent. The conference championship and a College Football Playoff berth were now within arm's reach.