Chapter 249: [249] "MATCHDAY d’Azur 11"

Luc stood up, brushing the loose dirt from the front of his black and gold jersey. He didn’t look at the furious center-back. He looked at the penalty arc.

The ball was positioned twenty-five yards from the goal line, perfectly central.

Cillian Doyle jogged over, a massive grin plastered across his face. The Irishman clapped Luc on the back. "Bought and paid for, Cap. Brilliant piece of acting."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," Luc replied deadpan, adjusting his captain’s armband. "I was brutally assaulted. The impact was severe. Who knows when I might go on another injury. That damn bastard."

Cillian laughed, backing away to allow the set-piece specialists to assemble.

Hugo Blanc walked toward the ball.

He moved with a very deliberate pace. He carried the ball in his hands, examining the exterior surface, checking for the location of the valve.

Luc stood near the spot. In the early games of the season, maybe Luc would have claimed the ball. He possessed a powerful left foot capable of driving a free kick through a wall. But he knew his own stats. Like it or not, his conversion rate from twenty-five yards was acceptable, but it was not elite.

If fact, he had only shot from that far out only a handful of times.

Hugo’s conversion rate from that distance, however, was bordering on perfection.

Luc stepped aside, clearing the space for the teenager.

"It’s yours," Luc stated simply.

"Thank you, Captain," Hugo replied.

Hugo placed the ball on the grass. He did not simply drop it like any other player would, he aligned the valve specifically, positioning it to strike the optimal surface area and generate maximum dip with minimal spin.

He pressed the ball firmly into the pitch, ensuring it sat stable on the blades of grass.

The Côte d’Azur goalkeeper was frantic.

He stood in the center of his goalmouth, screaming at his defenders, aggressively organizing the wall.

"Five men! I need five!" the keeper roared, waving his gloves frantically. "Close the gap! Do not let him shoot over the right side! Tighter! Tighter!"

The five tallest Côte d’Azur players formed a rigid line yards away from the ball. They locked arms, shifting nervously, covering their faces and groins, fully aware of the velocity a professional strike could generate.

The goalkeeper positioned himself heavily toward his left post, trusting the five-man wall to protect the right side of the net. It was standard goalkeeping.

Hugo took four steps backward. He did not look at the wall or at the goalkeeper.

He stared exclusively at the top right corner of the goal frame.

The teenager’s mind was rapidly thinking of the distance to the goal line. He factored in the slight wind blowing in. He also took note of the height of the tallest defender in the wall, establishing the exact trajectory required to clear the wall and dip beneath the crossbar.

The freekick was about to be prime Hugo.

The referee blew the whistle, authorizing the strike.

Hugo initiated his run-up. His steps were precise, building momentum smoothly without sacrificing balance. He planted his foot firmly into the grass, directly beside the ball, creating a stable shooting posture.

He swung his right leg.

He didn’t plan to just smash the ball with raw power. He struck it with the instep of his boot, utilizing a specific motion that allowed his foot to almost wrap around the lower half of the ball’s exterior.

The connection was immaculate. Pitch perfect.

The sound was sharp as the ball launched into the air.

It carried immense velocity, but more importantly, it carried topspin. The ball traced a steep yet rising arc, soaring cleanly over the heads of the jumping five-man wall.

The Côte d’Azur goalkeeper saw the ball clear the wall. He took a desperate step to his right, launching his body into the air, fully extending his right arm.

He was reacting to a standard trajectory.

But Hugo’s strike was not standard.

The violent topspin engaged the moment the ball crested the wall. The effect gripped the football, forcing the ball to dip aggressively, defying the goalkeeper’s calculated reach.

The ball then plummeted downward.

It didn’t reach the keeper’s outstretched fingertips. It avoided them by several inches, curving sharply and slamming into the top corner of the net. The impact rippled the mesh, snapping the net backward with concussive force.

The goalkeeper crashed heavily onto the turf, landing on his side, staring into the back of his own net in complete disbelief.

Freekick Goal!!!

2-0.

The hostile stadium was plunged into stunned silence. The sheer technical perfection of the free kick had instantly extinguished whatever remaining defiance the home crowd possessed.

The teenager simply turned away from the goal, his expression remaining perfectly neutral. He initiated a light jog back toward the center circle instead of anything overly dramatic, already analyzing his own strike, satisfied that the execution matched what he wanted.

Luc was waiting for him.

The captain wrapped an arm around the teenager’s shoulders, pulling him into a firm, celebratory embrace.

"Flawless," Luc praised, slapping Hugo on the back with a firm hand. "Absolutely flawless. You broke their spirit with that one."

Klaus Becker arrived, grabbing Hugo’s hair and ruffling it aggressively. "A machine! The kid is a machine!"

Gabriel Assis and Dário Ferrão joined the huddle, the wingers grinning widely, the exhaustion of the defensive tracking completely overwritten by the commanding scoreline.

Down on the touchline, Coach Henri nodded once, and that alone signaled total approval. The manager turned back to his notebook, already noting a few things for the second-half adjustments required to secure the clean sheet.

FC Côte d’Azur was broken.

They had attempted to do several things in one half of football. They had attempted to force a high press. They had attempted to resort to physical violence.

SC Valois had absorbed every single tactic, dismantled it, and punished them with brutal efficiency.

The clock ticked toward the halftime interval. The 2-0 lead was secure.