Chapter 642: A Violent Start!

BAM!

A left-footed rocket was launched by Chris Fuhrich, Dortmund II’s captain and left winger, once he saw the ball bouncing at him. He did it even when his position was still far from the goal, just five meters from the penalty box. After all, the opponent’s defenders were still not ready to anticipate him, so this was definitely the best time to shock them.

For a moment, it worked quite well, as the shot itself was so accurate that no one was able to block it. The ball moved parabolically with great speed, making it difficult for any other goalkeeper to react.

However, Higo was far from being an ordinary goalkeeper.

He foresaw the ball coming, and after adjusting his stance for a moment, the boy jumped, using his fist to punch away the shot. The ball changed direction quite violently, and the next thing everyone knew, it bounced far outside of the pitch, giving the away team the first corner of the game.

"OH! Almost!"

"Fuck! Where the fuck are the defenders there?! Are they sleeping or what?!"

"Those sneaky bastards! They think they can steal a quick goal against us?! Dream on!"

"Good job, Higo! Protect our own home!"

The supporters cheered immediately, showering Higo with their love for that save earlier. Their hearts were still beating so fast after it jumped from the shock at the Dortmund team’s attempt to get an early goal.

Higo himself rose quietly from the ground, and before his teammates could approach him, the boy clapped loudly while shouting, "COME ON, EVERYONE! CONCENTRATE! THE GAME HAS ALREADY STARTED, DON’T LET THEM GET IN AN OPEN POSITION!"

This, coupled with the jump scare that Dortmund’s captain tried to pull earlier, was enough to wake up the boys on the pitch. Their gaze changed immediately, now getting more serious than ever.

"A CORNER! COME ON, GUYS! MARK EVERYONE CAREFULLY!" Brackelmann also stepped forward, taking over the command immediately. "TIMO! MERCAN! GET READY! SCHOPF, WE ARE RELYING ON YOU!"

Soon enough, so many players occupied Higo’s territory, wanting to fight for the aerial duel. Their captain, Crish Fulrich, sent a quick signal before launching a long cross, attempting the far post area. However, this time, Higo moved fast, flying in the air to catch it before anyone could threaten him further.

"OH! Yes, Higo! Nice catch!"

The boy also got up quickly. He saw Nassim Boujellab had already started running on the right side, so he didn’t hesitate to throw the ball there. The Morocco winger grinned widely when he saw it coming, having already expected Higo to be able to see him.

’Ha! Our connection seems to grow stronger, Higo!’

Yeah, this had been quite a routine for them both, as whenever Higo managed to catch a cross from the opponent, the first two things he searched for on the pitch were Morita and Nassim. The reason was simple. It was because they were the only two players who dared to initiate a quick counterattack alone, while the others might still be worried and decided to wait for more support from the back.

This time, Nassim proved that Higo was right as he started accelerating. However, the moment he crossed the center line...

BAM!

"ARGH!" The Morocco winger roared in pain as a violent tackle brought him down. He clutched his ankle tightly, even starting to wave at the bench in panic. "MEDIC! MEDIC!"

This action, of course, was enough to explode the situation on the pitch. The culprit, Dortmund’s midfielder number 37, got surrounded by the angry Schalke players instantly. Brackelmann, the team’s captain, even rushed from the back like a cheetah, pushing the boy violently to defend his teammates’ honor.

"Come on! What the fuck are you trying to do?!"

"You want to fight?! Go on! Go on! Show me if you dare to do that again!"

"Bastard! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

Even the supporters jumped from their seats immediately, cursing that boy with the number 37 so loudly. Honestly, it was scary to see a little man being cursed by the entire stadium like this, enough to give any ordinary person a psychological scar that would be impossible to heal for the rest of his life.

Of course, the away team players would never let this slide. They fought back with the same fierceness, getting ready for any physical clash between the two teams. Two minutes had passed since the game started, and the first clash had already erupted on the pitch.

"Okay, enough! Enough! Enough!" The referee was struggling to calm down the situation here, and after a while, he finally managed to drag the two team captains toward his side. "You both are the captains here! Why would you lose your calm and charge like a fucking Chinese bull?! At least, respect my authority!" He scolded those two mercilessly.

Still, the two captains clearly didn’t listen at all. No, they listened, but when another commotion broke out, they would still do exactly the same. This gave the referee a headache, making the man realize that this game would be way harder than he initially thought.

In the end, the medical team also stepped onto the pitch, checking Nassim’s situation. Fortunately, the boy was just playing a little bit of drama earlier, and after calming down a little, the Morocco winger was able to walk again casually.

Of course, that didn’t mean the culprit would go unpunished. That boy with the jersey number 37, Tobias Raschl, got a yellow card. After all, no one could deny that his tackle was indeed excessive. However, Brackelmann also suffered the same punishment here, as his action to push Raschl earlier was deemed to be unnecessary.

Two yellow cards in the very first minute of the game. It was clear that both teams were not satisfied with the decision, somehow feeling like they didn’t deserve it. Unfortunately, they could only accept this bitter pill, knowing that they couldn’t push the referee further right now.

They still eyed each other secretly, though. Inwardly, both captains made a vow in their hearts, ’If another opportunity arrives, I will make sure to kill him!’