Chapter 857: A Quick Counterattack to Steal the First Blood!

Thud!

Before Sead Kolasinac or any other player nearby could stop him, Jadon Sancho had already lifted the ball high to the sky, curling it into the penalty box as if aiming straight at the far post.

The quality was good, and if it were any other goalkeeper, they would have to be wary at this point, trying to cover the corner spot where the ball would fall later.

However, Higo was different here. At this point, Higo had already had an idea of how to face Haaland, thanks to the idea that Kumiko threw randomly before the game began.

"Well, since he is the only person who could make your ability not work, that makes it easy, right? Except if it was a one-on-one situation, you will still know what he is about to do. As long as your ability doesn’t work, just think that Haaland will make a move, and act accordingly. In theory, that should be simple, right?"

Well, indeed, Kumiko’s words seemed to be easier said than done. However, the hypothesis was valid, and when his brain failed to give him an image of what would happen next, the boy remembered his girlfriend’s explanation and glanced around immediately.

’Yeah, shit! He is sneaking from Stambouli’s blind spot and wants to snatch the ball! It is not a curve shot to the far post, but a diagonal cross to Haaland!’

Once he had already set his mind, Higo didn’t hesitate even for a second more. He charged quickly, and in the next second, the boy arrived at the same time as Haaland, who managed to free himself straight in front of the goal, and with him being allowed to use his hands...

Thud!

It was quite easy for Higo to snatch the ball in the air, winning their first duel of the game today.

"OH! Nice catch, Higo!"

"Ryusuke! Here!"

The last shout was sound and clear for Higo’s ears, and it was fortunate that he didn’t lose his balance and had to fall on the ground after catching the ball. This way, he could move immediately, glancing toward where the shout came from before throwing the ball there, initiating a quick counterattack for the team.

"Come on, Morita-san!" He shouted.

The ball went quite far to the area close to the center line where Morita was operating. However, the boy wasn’t alone there. No, Jude Bellingham was shadowing from behind, intending to disturb his rhythm.

It seemed that Dortmund’s head coach had already set his eyes on Morita, putting the young English midfielder on him all the time.

"Jude! Don’t you dare lose it!"

"Don’t worry! Leave it to me!"

It seemed that Jude Bellingham was confident that he could overwhelm Morita with his physique. Well, it might work if it was he who was on the offense, but this time, the ball was in Morita’s possession, and there was no way the Japanese midfielder would let himself get beaten in this regard.

No, one of the most underrated attributes that he was always proud of was his ball-keeping ability, and even with the pressure from Jude Bellingham from behind, the boy still managed to showcase it, controlling the ball with his knee once before doing a feint shoulder move that completely caught his opponent off guard.

"Shit!" Bellingham couldn’t help but curse when he moved to the left where Morita first pointed his shoulder at, not expecting the Japanese midfielder to switch sides so quickly. "FUCK! I cannot let him go!"

His instinct as a ball-winning midfielder took over, grabbing Morita’s jersey to prevent the boy from breaking free. The referee also saw this, and he had his whistle on tip of his lips already, just one second away from getting blown to announce that foul.

However, before Morita could be dragged down to the ground, his eyes had already seen a slim path in Dortmund’s defense, and his right foot had already moved instinctively, pushing the ball with the outer part of his boot.

Thud!

A ground ball breaking through Dortmund’s defense!

Not only that, with the trivela technique that he pulled, the ball curved so sharply that Manuel Akanji and Matt Hummels didn’t expect it would already appear behind them so easily, and from the half-space area, Fabian Reese took advantage of his superior speed to fight against those two burly men for the ball.

"COME ON, FABIAN! YOU HAVE TO GET THIS!"

"FASTER! FASTER! FUCK! COME ON!"

All the players on the bench jumped immediately when they saw three players were in a sprint competition. Hell, not just them, but Dortmund’s goalkeeper, Roman Burki, even moved from his own territory, wanting to get the ball first before anyone else.

Fabian himself gritted his teeth, trying to exert more from his lower limb to allow him to move faster. He hadn’t been in good form since the season began, and honestly, this was the first time the boy felt that a great chance was given to him.

There was no way he would let it slide so easily.

’Fuck! If I cannot even win this race, I’ll fucking retire from the club immediately!’ He scowled, starting to feel a burning sensation on his calf.

However, in that moment, his pure desperation gave the boy a better boost here, as he suddenly led the race by only half a step. It was so narrow, and honestly, if one of Dortmund’s defenders wanted to stop him, just a sliding tackle from their side would be enough to kick the ball away from the dangerous territory.

Still, Fabian was faster than anyone else here. He managed to reach the ball first, and instead of controlling it, with the killer instinct that he honed as a striker, the blonde boy flicked the ball high, enough to get through Roman Burki, who was rushing toward him.

Thud!

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment, especially since Fabian finally lost his balance and fell on the ground. However, the next thing they knew, the ball rolled gently into the back of the net, and before anyone realized it, Fabian had already bounced back on his own feet, roaring wildly toward the stand behind the goal.

"GOAL! THAT’S A FUCKING GOAL FROM ME! COME ON!"