Winston wanted to check on Oswin, but players who hadn't been recruited weren't allowed into the changing-room area. With no other choice, he remained in the stands beside Danilo.
Danilo noticed the agitation on Winston's face. He had heard rumors about Lucas and Oswin, although he didn't know the full story. Still, he knew enough about their history to understand why the match had turned ugly.
To him, this was similar to the other matches that had taken place over the past few weeks. Vendettas had become almost commonplace during these one-on-one challenges. He, too, had rejected several players who had tried to recruit him, so he understood how personal these encounters could become.
The only reason this particular match had attracted so many spectators was Lucas's involvement. Once word spread that he had been recruited to face Oswin, everyone wanted to see what would happen. Some had even expected Sebastian to show up.
With a sigh, Danilo stood. "I'm going to grab some water. Want me to get you anything?"
Winston was still contemplating whether he should sneak into the changing-room area. Danilo's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head toward him. "Yes, please. Thank you."
Danilo gave Winston a gentle pat on the shoulder before walking away. Winston was just preparing to stand up when a loud cheer erupted from the crowd. The players were emerging from the tunnels. Winston's eyes darted toward his friends, none of them seemed to be looking in his direction—not even Oswin, who now had a bandage covering the wound above his eyebrow.
Winston's gaze shifted to Lucas. The winger was huddled with his teammates, glaring at Oswin with open hostility. Perhaps sensing his hostile stare, Lucas glanced toward the stands. His eyes met Winston's for a brief moment before he smirked and turned back to his teammates.
A few minutes later, all the players had returned to the pitch. The referee blew his whistle, signaling the restart of the match. Oswin's recruited striker began with a firm, sharp pass to Elijah. Elijah waited for his teammates to spread out and settle into position. Without even looking in Bongani's direction, he passed the ball to him. Bongani quickly redirected it to Hickman, who had dropped deeper to receive the ball. Hickman then passed it to the fullback beside him.
After conceding the goal in the first half, Oswin had decided to stick with the 3-2-5 formation during possession. It had given his team better control of the ball, and he intended to maintain that advantage. When they moved into the attacking phase, however, the formation would shift toward a 4-3-3, allowing his wingers to stretch the defense while the midfielders supported the attack.
The ball circulated patiently from the back line into midfield and then back again. Oswin's players alternated their passes between the two areas, refusing to rush their buildup.
Arjun, Diago, and Diego pressed forward, trying to force their opponents into making a mistake. However, with five players positioned across the back during the buildup, Oswin's team felt confident about retaining possession.
As the three attackers pressed, they found themselves drawn into the diamond-shaped passing patterns created by Oswin's defenders and midfielders. The quick, short passes forced them to keep adjusting their positions, while Lucas remained near the center of his own half.
His eyes were fixed on Oswin.
Of all the players on the pitch, Oswin was the one he had come to stop. Some spectators might have expected Oswin to become cautious after being targeted by Lucas. They would have been wrong. Oswin had known from the beginning that Lucas would come after him. That elbow to the face had been a warning of what was to come.
Having been friends with Lucas since childhood, Oswin understood him better than most people did. The first time Lucas had injured him, Oswin had believed it was an accident. He had apologized, and Lucas had accepted his apology. Oswin had lowered his guard afterward—and ended up getting injured again.
He wasn't going to make that mistake a second time. Back in the changing room, his teammates had tried to convince him that Lucas was deliberately trying to injure him. They had even suggested that he substitute himself before things got worse.
But Oswin was stubborn as a mule—he knew he couldn't spend his life running away from Lucas. If he wanted to overcome him, he had to become stronger, more skilled than him. That was one of the reasons he'd been training like Winston.
Oswin glanced down at his feet, remembering how he'd removed his ankle weights in the changing room before returning to the pitch. This time, he would show Lucas that he was no longer the same player whose movements Lucas had once been able to predict and imitate.
There's no better time than now. Oswin raised his hand.
Hickman spotted the signal and immediately launched a long, high pass toward him. The ball arced through the rain-filled air, heading for the left flank. Oswin took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lucas sprinting toward him.
Instead of challenging him for the aerial ball, Oswin used a body feint and let it sail past him. He then pivoted sharply, slipping behind Lucas before exploding forward with a burst of speed. Lucas's eyes widened slightly, He hadn't expected Oswin to accelerate so suddenly.
The fullback rushed across to intercept him, but Oswin had already spotted his teammates making their runs toward the penalty area. The striker he'd recruited was charging toward the center, while Bongani and Elijah pushed forward to support the attack.
Oswin shifted the ball from one foot to the other, then executed a scissors feint, wrong-footing the fullback and slipping past him. He sprinted toward the corner of the pitch, preparing to deliver a cross.
Then, without warning, a powerful collision sent Oswin's body flying into the air. For a moment, the spectators froze. The cheers died in their throats as Oswin crashed onto the rain-soaked grass. A collective gasp swept through the stands.
Winston's heart pounded violently in his chest. He breathed heavily as he watched his friend roll across the rain-soaked pitch in pain. His fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white.
Just then, Danilo returned with two bottles of water, "Ref! That was a clear foul!" he shouted toward the pitch. "Give that player a red card! He deserves one!"
Danilo wasn't the only one protesting. Several spectators in the stands joined him, demanding that Lucas be sent off for his reckless challenge. However, when Danilo turned to hand Winston his bottle, he noticed the change in his expression. Winston's face had hardened, and his eyes burned with anger.
Winston snatched the bottle from him without a word. His hand trembled as he struggled to twist the cap open.
Maybe this match is more serious than I thought, Danilo thought, watching Winston for a moment before taking a gulp from his own bottle.
Meanwhile, Lucas stood face-to-face with Elijah and Bongani, both of whom looked ready to confront him. Hickman had rushed over to check on Oswin, who was still on the ground. Diago and Diego soon joined Lucas, standing beside their teammate as the tension threatened to boil over.
The referee blew his whistle repeatedly, trying to separate the players. Several instructors who had been observing the match stepped in to help restore order. Once the situation had calmed down, the referee gestured for Lucas to approach him. He wanted to speak to him privately.
Elijah and Bongani were still following them, protesting loudly and demanding punishment. However, the striker Oswin had recruited stepped between them and tried to calm them down before the confrontation escalated again. The referee spoke briefly with Lucas. After their conversation, he made his decision.
No red card—no yellow card.
The crowd erupted in boos, particularly the spectators who had been cheering for Oswin's team. Many of them couldn't understand how Lucas had escaped punishment after such a dangerous challenge. Ignoring the protests, the referee walked toward Oswin, who was now being helped to his feet by Hickman.
"Are you okay?" Hickman asked, keeping a hand on his teammate's shoulder. "Take your time. Check whether you're injured."
Oswin slowly rose to his feet—the moment he put weight on his leg, a sharp pain shot through his body. The leg he'd landed on burned as though something had been torn inside it. He tried to take his first step, but his leg wobbled beneath him. He stopped immediately, struggling to catch his breath.
The referee approached him.
"Can you continue, or do you need medical assistance?"
Oswin lifted his head. Across the pitch, he saw Lucas exchanging low-fives with Diago and Diego as the three headed back toward their defensive positions, preparing to defend the free kick. Something inside Oswin snapped—anger surged through him, drowning out his concern about the pain in his leg. He looked back at the referee and nodded. "I can continue."
Deep down, however, Oswin knew something was wrong. Every time he moved his injured leg, the pain seemed to burrow deeper into it. He wanted to be substituted—he knew that continuing to play could make the injury worse. But the thought of leaving the pitch filled him with unease. If Lucas is willing to do this to me, what will stop him from targeting my other teammates?
Oswin gritted his teeth—he would endure it.
As he prepared to take the free kick, Oswin kept his injured leg heel raised. Whenever it touched the ground, pain shot through his leg and up into his body. Rain continued to pour over the pitch, streaming down his face. He wiped the water from his eyes, raised one hand to signal his teammates, and took a short run-up.
Then he struck the ball with his injured leg—the ball rose sharply, curving toward the crowded penalty area. Hickman timed his jump perfectly. Using his considerable leaping ability, he rose above the defenders and powered a header toward goal.
The goalkeeper froze, watching the ball sail beyond his reach.
CLANG!
The ball slammed against the crossbar before bouncing back into Zone 14, where Elijah had positioned himself to collect any loose ball. Elijah didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and unleashed a powerful volley. The ball soared over the heads of the players crowded inside the penalty area—and sailed over the crossbar.
Another chance wasted—Oswin's teammates groaned in disappointment, but there was no time to dwell on the miss. They turned and jogged back toward their own half. From the stands, Winston immediately noticed that something was wrong with Oswin. His friend was moving awkwardly, putting as little weight as possible on one leg.
Winston's expression darkened—when Oswin glanced toward the stands, Winston raised his arms and made the familiar gesture coaches used to signal a substitution.
Get off the pitch! Let someone else take your place!
Oswin understood immediately—he shook his head. Winston stared at him in disbelief. Why was Oswin refusing to come off when he was clearly injured? Before he could think of another way to convince his friend, the referee blew his whistle, signaling the restart.
Arjun's goalkeeper quickly passed the ball to a central defender. The defender moved it to a teammate, and their team began circulating possession through the middle before switching play from one flank to the other. Their passing was patient and deliberate, but they struggled to create a clear opening.
Seeing that the buildup was going nowhere, Diago dropped deeper to receive the ball. Oswin's team immediately reacted. They remembered what Diago had done in the first half and weren't about to give him the same freedom again. Elijah and the fullback moved quickly to contain him.
Diago smirked as the ball rolled toward him. Instead of controlling it, he let it pass between his legs before bursting forward at full speed. Elijah stuck to him like a bandage—he matched Diago's pace, refusing to let him slip away. The two raced shoulder-to-shoulder, each fighting for control of the ball rolling just ahead of them.
Elijah waited for the right moment to slide in. As Diago moved to kick the ball farther forward, Elijah committed to the tackle. But Diago was ready—he suddenly executed a Scotch move, shifting his body and hopping over Elijah just as the midfielder slid across the wet grass.
Elijah's tackle cut through empty space—Diago landed cleanly and exploded down the flank, leaving Elijah behind. Approaching the edge of the penalty area, he reduced his speed and brought the ball closer to his feet, carefully measuring the defenders ahead of him.
Hickman was occupied with Arjun in the center, while the other fullback kept close to Diego. Their positioning left Diago with an opportunity to attack the remaining central defender.
He took it—with a sharp change of direction, Diago slipped past the defender and drove into the penalty area. The goalkeeper shifted his weight, preparing for a possible cross or a shot toward the near post.
Diago gave him no time to react—he struck a low finesse shot, curling the ball toward the far bottom corner. The goalkeeper threw himself across the goalmouth, stretching out an arm. But he was too late—the ball skimmed beyond his fingertips and nestled inside the far corner of the net.
Thwack!