The clock continued ticking.
Thirty-eight minutes.
Still 0–0.
Still alive.
Still hanging on.
But survival wasn't enough anymore.
Southside could feel it.
Nocturne wasn't frustrated by the scoreline.
They weren't rushing.
They weren't forcing anything.
They were getting closer.
Réservoir stood near the center circle with the ball resting at his feet.
The crowd buzzed around him.
The stadium lights reflected faintly against the damp grass.
And for the first time all match—
he wasn't looking at Hiroto.
Or Yusuke.
Or Takumi.
He was looking directly at Pambara.
"...There you are."
Pambara's stomach tightened.
The ball moved.
Not forward.
Not toward Aka.
Toward Theo.
Then Marc.
Then Noah.
Then back again.
Nocturne started passing.
Patiently.
Methodically.
Relentlessly.
At first it seemed normal.
Just possession.
Nothing special.
Then Pambara noticed it.
The ball wasn't the target.
He was.
Every pass.
Every movement.
Every rotation.
They were forcing him to move.
Left.
Right.
Forward.
Back.
Making him choose.
Making him react.
Making him think.
"...What are they doing?" Ren muttered.
Pambara knew.
Réservoir had figured him out.
The reason Southside was surviving wasn't their defense.
It wasn't Yusuke.
It wasn't Hiroto.
It was information.
Pambara kept identifying threats before they happened.
He kept warning teammates.
Closing gaps.
Disrupting attacks.
So Réservoir was attacking the source.
Not physically.
Mentally.
The ball continued moving.
Faster now.
Pambara's eyes bounced between players.
Theo.
Lucien.
Marc.
Noah.
Aka.
Réservoir.
Too many options.
Too many possibilities.
Then Aka moved.
Just once.
A short run toward the left.
Pambara reacted immediately.
"REN!"
Ren shifted.
Closed the lane.
Exactly as intended.
Because Aka never wanted that run.
Theo exploded into the space Ren abandoned.
The pass arrived instantly.
The crowd gasped.
Theo crossed first touch.
Marc rose inside the box.
HEADER.
Tsubasa flew.
SAVE.
The stadium erupted.
The goalkeeper crashed to the ground holding the ball.
His chest rose heavily.
"...Stop giving them chances."
Nobody replied.
Because they couldn't.
Nocturne was pulling them apart.
Little by little.
The game restarted.
Again.
Possession.
Pressure.
Movement.
And every minute—
Pambara looked more exhausted.
Not physically.
Mentally.
He was trying to read eleven players at once.
Trying to predict every possibility.
Every threat.
Every run.
The pressure kept building.
Then Réservoir smiled.
Because he saw it.
The hesitation.
The tiny delay before Pambara called something out.
The uncertainty.
The crack.
And he attacked it immediately.
A quick exchange.
Three passes.
One rotation.
Then suddenly—
Aka and Theo both sprinted.
Different directions.
Pambara froze.
Just for a second.
A second was enough.
"...CENTER!" he shouted.
Wrong choice.
Theo received.
Wide open.
Cross.
Danger.
Daichi cleared desperately.
The ball flew out for a corner.
The crowd roared louder than ever.
Southside looked rattled now.
Yuma slammed his fist against his thigh.
"They keep getting through!"
"They're making us choose wrong," Hiroto replied.
No.
Not us.
Pambara.
Everyone knew it.
Nobody said it.
The corner came in.
Cleared.
Another corner.
Cleared.
Another attack.
Blocked.
Southside survived.
Again.
Again.
Again.
But they weren't escaping.
They were drowning slowly.
The first-half clock hit forty-three minutes.
Then forty-four.
The crowd could sense it.
The feeling.
The goal was coming.
Everyone knew it.
Even Southside.
Especially Southside.
Réservoir received possession one final time before halftime.
No pressure.
No panic.
Complete control.
He looked up.
Aka started moving.
Slowly.
Almost casually.
The stadium grew quiet.
Everyone watching.
Everyone waiting.
Aka reached the edge of the final third.
Then stopped.
His eyes shifted toward Pambara.
"...You're tired."
Pambara didn't answer.
Because he was.
His brain felt overloaded.
Every run.
Every pass.
Every possibility.
Too much.
Aka smiled.
Then accelerated.
The crowd exploded.
Gone.
Past Kaito.
Past Ren.
Past one defender.
Then another.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Southside collapsed inward.
Tsubasa stepped forward.
Daichi recovered.
Yuma sprinted back.
Everything happened at once.
And for the first time all match—
Aka had a clear path to goal.
The entire stadium rose to its feet.
Aka drew back his leg.
The first half was seconds from ending.
And Southside was one mistake away from disaster.