Chapter 259: [259] "CANNON HEADER 2"

Luc rolled onto his side, ignoring the ache in his shoulder, and looked toward the goal frame.

The C?te d’Azur goalkeeper was on his knees at the edge of the penalty area, staring blankly at the grass in front of him. The two veteran center-backs had stopped running entirely, their hands resting on their hips as they watched the ball roll slowly away from the net.

Up the pitch, the SC Valois players erupted.

Pinto, who had delivered the monstrous assist, dropped to his knees inside his own penalty area, raising both of his gloved fists toward the darkening sky, a primal scream tearing from his throat. Amadou Fall hauled the goalkeeper back to his feet, pulling him into a massive embrace.

Cillian Doyle and Hugo Blanc were already sprinting across the halfway line, charging toward their captain.

Luc sat up fully, resting his forearms on his knees. He wiped a streak of dirt from his jaw, a slow smile spreading across his face as the scoreboard cemented itself in the stadium.

Goal.

3-1.

Cillian Doyle arrived first amongst all other players of black and gold. The Irish midfielder did not bother slowing his sprint as he reached the penalty arc. He launched himself, slamming into Luc’s chest and sending both men crashing down.

"Madman!" Cillian roared, his hands gripping the shoulders of Luc’s jersey. "From twenty yards! With your head! You might as well injure the keeper why don’t you!"

Luc hit the grass flat on his back, absorbing Cillian’s weight. The residual tension in his neck and core throbbed but the adrenaline masking it kept him anchored in the moment. He pushed Cillian off his chest just as Hugo Blanc arrived.

The teenager stood over them rather than jumping into the pile, looking down at Luc with an expression that bordered on shock. For a player who processed the game through sharpness and probability, the strike simply did not make sense.

"The momentum required to generate that velocity is not even adding up," Hugo stated, offering a hand down to his captain. "That was really an impossible finish."

Luc grabbed Hugo’s hand, letting the teenager haul him back to his feet. "Sometimes you just have to hit it like your life depends on it, Hugo."

Dário and Klaus Becker reached the group next. Klaus wrapped a massive arm around Luc’s neck, pulling him into a tight headlock. The German midfielder pointed toward the opposite end of the pitch, where Pinto was still currently trapped in a bear hug from Amadou Fall.

"The assist came from our goallie," Klaus shouted over the noise of the traveling away fans. "Pinto stepped up. You finished it. This team is fucking amazing!"

Luc pulled free from the headlock, rolling his shoulders to test the stability of his joints.

The stadium around them was draped in silence from the home supporters. The FC C?te d’Azur fans were paralyzed by the sequence they had just witnessed. Their team expected an equalizer.

Instead, they watched their opponents celebrate.

The damage inflicted on the home side was done with this third goal.

The C?te d’Azur goalkeeper was still kneeling on the grass inside his eighteen-yard box. He stared at the spot where the ball had ripped past him. The two veteran center-backs stood, refusing to make eye contact with their own bench.

The referee blew his whistle, pointing toward the center circle. The official rotated his arm, instructing the SC Valois players to conclude their celebration and restart the match.

Luc turned away from the goal and began the long jog back to his own half.

He lifted his head, checking the massive scoreboard suspended above the stands. The bright numbers confirmed it.

FC C?te d’Azur 1 - SC Valois 3.

The clock read sixty-eight minutes. Twenty-two minutes of regulation time remained. The Golden Boot gap was okay for now, and the three points were firmly within their grasp.

Luc reached the center circle and took his position. He dropped his chin to his chest, taking a deep breath to regulate his heart rate. The strain of the match was catching up to his body.

Down on the touchline, movement caught his eye.

Coach Henri was standing at the technical area, speaking rapidly to his assistant manager. Henri turned around, gesturing toward the Valois bench.

Idriss Konaté and Hadj, the towering reserve center-back, immediately stripped off their training jackets. Both players jogged to the halfway line, pulling their shin guards into place and receiving final instructions from the manager.

The referee checked his watch as the C?te d’Azur striker placed his foot on the ball for the kickoff. Before the official could blow the whistle, the fourth official on the touchline raised the electronic board.

The red numbers glowed brightly against the darkening evening sky.

Luc saw his number. He looked at the board, then looked at Henri. The manager stood with his arms crossed over his chest, meeting Luc’s gaze directly.

Henri offered a nod.

Luc understood the decision instantly. The medical clearance from Juliette and Detone had permitted him to start, but pushing a recently healed grade-two contusion past the seventy-minute mark was an unnecessary gamble.

The two-goal cushion was restored. The tactical objective of his return had been achieved.

Kévin Aubert, let out a massive sigh of relief on the right flank. The right-back had spent the entire match defending overloads, sprinting until his calves cramped while Gabriel had already been substituted.

Aubert did not protest his substitution. He simply lowered his head and began a slow jog toward the touchline.

Luc removed the captain’s armband from his bicep. He walked over to Klaus Becker, handing the elastic band to the German midfielder.

"Lock it down, Klaus. The game is won from here," Luc instructed.

"We won’t drop another point," Klaus promised, sliding the armband into place.

Luc turned and jogged off the pitch. The small pocket of SC Valois away fans located in the corner of the stadium rose to their feet, delivering a standing ovation. They chanted his name.