Chapter 244: [244] "MATCHDAY d’Azur 6"

Beaumont stood with the ball. Twenty yards separated him from the goal line, but the immediate obstacle was the FC Côte d’Azur defensive midfielder wearing the number six jersey.

The player had tracked back just in time.

Luc’s mind briefly accessed his system inventory, seeking the tool to dismantle the man in front of him. He considered the Phantom Step. The consumable guaranteed an instantaneous pivot without any momentum penalty, allowing a devastating change of direction that defied the standard friction of the grass.

But there was a flaw.

He was currently operating at a stop. The Phantom Step required the user to be engaged in a sprint to negate the deceleration phase. Activating a momentum-based consumable while standing still would be dumb.

The consumable was useless in this specific situation. He needed to break the midfielder the traditional way, relying on movement and deception.

He needed something more familiar.

Luc triggered the Predatory Aura.

[PREDATORY AURA X1-ACTIVATED]

[REMAINING X1 USE]

The system consumed one of the two remaining charges instantly. The blue text flared and vanished in his vision, replaced immediately by a radical shift in his senses.

The noise of the hostile stadium, the roaring fans, the shouts of the recovering center-backs, the frantic commands of the Côte d’Azur goalkeeper...all dulled.

He was sharpened, focusing on the movement of the midfielder. He saw the exact distribution of the man’s weight. The number six was leaning most of his mass onto his left leg, anticipating a drive. His breathing was rapid from the recovery sprint, his muscles flooded with visible fatigue.

Luc initiated the sequence.

Without nudging the ball, he hovered his right boot over it, executing rapid step-overs. The movement was a calculated probe, designed to test the player’s discipline. The midfielder twitched, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch, but he held his ground.

Luc immediately followed with his left boot, tracing a second, tighter circle over the ball. The rhythm was hypnotic, a sudden burst of energy originating from a completely static posture.

The number six tightened his nerves, his eyes darting from Luc’s boots to his waist. He was trying to read the intended exit angle.

Luc gave it to him.

He planted his right foot into the turf and threw his entire upper body...shoulders, torso, and hips to the left. It was a flawless body feint, engineered to mimic the exact beginning of an explosive sprint toward the left channel.

The midfielder bit hard.

Operating purely on instinct, the Côte d’Azur player shifted his remaining balance, committing his full weight to his right side to intercept the perceived drive towards goal. He planted his cleats, preparing to initiate a tackle.

The exact second the defender’s weight settled, Luc snapped his ankle outward. He used the outside of his boot to tap the ball sharply in the opposite direction, pushing it to the other direction.

The midfielder realized the error immediately, but his body could not reverse the committed momentum. He tried to halt and push back against the turf, but his ankles crossed awkwardly. The friction of the grass gave way under his desperate adjustment. Gravity took over. The number six collapsed, his knees slamming into the dirt as he fell, reduced to a spectator watching the Valois captain go right through him.

Luc accelerated, surging past the fallen midfielder and driving straight toward the penalty arc.

The landscape changed rapidly. The two veteran Côte d’Azur center-backs, who had been retreating in terror just seconds prior, realized the midfield shield was gone. They abandoned their backward trajectory and stepped up simultaneously, closing the distance to engage Luc before he could breach the eighteen-yard box.

They were massive defenders, built to operate as human walls. The veteran who had elbowed Luc earlier during the possession phase led the charge, lowering his shoulder to initiate contact.

Luc assessed the impending collision.

He was barely yards out. He possessed the pace to attempt a heavy touch past them, forcing a footrace into the penalty area, but the angle would narrow significantly, granting the goalkeeper an advantage.

Instead of treating the center-backs as obstacles to be passed, Luc decided to weaponize their physical mass.

He decelerated slightly, bringing the ball closer to his laces, maintaining a controlled glide rather than a sprint. The two defenders converged, stepping into his path, effectively constructing a solid wall of bodies between Luc and the goal frame.

Through the narrow gap between the veteran defender’s legs, Luc caught a glimpse of the Côte d’Azur goalkeeper.

The keeper was shifting anxiously on his line, bending at the waist, desperately trying to peer around the massive frames of his own center-backs. He was completely blind to the ball. He could not track Luc’s footwork, nor could he anticipate the timing of the strike.

Luc did not bother getting any close after noticing that.

He used the defenders’ bodies as a shield. He planted his left foot firmly into the grass, establishing an anchor point for a shot. He did not opt for a high strike that required a long wind-up. He needed instantaneous release to help him catch the keeper off gaurd.

Luc set his right foot, kept his knee over the ball to suppress any upward trajectory, and drove the instep of his boot straight through the center.

The impact generated a crack that was audible all over the pitch.

The veteran center-back lunged forward, throwing his right leg out in a desperate attempt to execute a block.

He was a fraction too late.

The ball rocketed forward, skimming less than an inch above the grass. It carried zero elevation but serious momentum. It threaded the needle flawlessly, passing through the open gap between the lunging defender’s legs.

The goalkeeper never saw it leave the boot.

By the time the ball emerged from behind the screening of the center-backs, it was already inside the six-yard box. The keeper reacted purely on delayed reflex, throwing his body toward his right post, extending his gloves toward the bottom corner.

He was diving at a ghost as the ball slammed brutally into the back of the net.

Goal!!

1-0.