Free Web NovelChapter 35: [35] "The Wolf Bites First"
The whistle hadn’t finished ringing before Brassac proved Henri right.
Minute 4. A long throw into the box that Valois were not yet set and ready for. The versatile Edouard who was in for Ekberg at center-back ball-watched. The Brassac number nine, a target man built like a fridge with a beard, rose above him and nodded it down into the six-yard box.
Their winger arrived a step ahead of Demirci and buried it.
1-0.
Stade Valois went silent. Not stunned silent, embarrassed silent.
The away end, three thousand strong, made enough noise for thirty thousand.
Henri was already on his feet on the touchline, both hands flat on his scanty hair like he was trying to keep it from coming apart.
"Wake up!" he roared, in French first and then again in English for good measure.
Doyle, playing Mateo’s spot, was caught flat-footed twice in five minutes. He wasn’t a deep-lying playmaker. He was box-to-box energy with no idea where he was supposed to be against a team sitting this deep.
Luc dropped off Lacombe’s shoulder, looking for a touch, any touch, to get the team’s pulse back.
It didn’t come fast enough.
Minute 28. Brassac won the ball and broke again on the counter, four passes, clean and quick, and their captain, the one who held Demirci’s handshake for a few seconds too long, drilled in a low shot under Blažek from the edge of the box.
2-0.
Their bench emptied onto the touchline in celebration. Their manager with his tracksuit too tight across the chest, was on his knees in the technical area.
Luc stood in the center circle with his hands on his hips, watching them celebrate like they’d already won the whole competition.
"They believe it now," he thought.
There was something that not just him, but his whole team needed to fix immediately.
[System Notification]
[Reminder: Objective active — Treat the cup like a league match]
[Current state: Failing badly]
"Thanks for the update," Luc muttered under his breath.
He didn’t panic. He’d like to think he never did. He looked at Brassac’s shape instead. They were narrow, compact, only interested in sitting deep to protect the lead they’d never expected to have.
A team that scores twice early and then sits back is a team that’s already decided the game is over.
Luc viewed that as a mistake. freewebnoveℓ.com
Minute 41.
Dário carried the ball up the wide left channel and cut it back early and low, before the Brassac right-back could set his feet.
Luc met it on the half-turn at the top of the 18-yard box. One Brassac center-back closed fast, committed his whole weight forward.
[System Notification]
[Predatory Aura — available]
"Now."
[Activated. 0 use remaining]
Luc dropped his shoulder. With the lack of quality the player had and the way he had already committed his whole weight, ofcourse... the defender bit, the Predatory Aura was pretty much wasted. Luc rolled the ball unto his right foot, the upgraded right foot, and curled it low into the far corner.
The keeper got fingertips to it but it was far from enough.
Goal!!
2-1.
Luc didn’t run to the corner flag, celebrating would’ve been embarrassing. He turned and pointed once at Dário, who’d made the cutback, then jogged back to the center circle with his head held high.
The Half-time whistle sounded two minutes later. Brassac’s bench wasn’t celebrating anymore.
---
The atmosphere in the locker room was nervy.
Henri just looked at the room. At the players who had won 8 matches out of 11.
"They’ve scored two goals all season, only getting this far in the cup through penalty shootouts," he said. "Obviously ’They are not better than us’... is what I’m sure you thought before kickoff and they made you pay for it."
Mateo, stripping off his warm-up bib, getting ready to come on, grabbed Bastien by the back of the neck.
"You’ve been playing good, Kid," Mateo said. "You had nothing to do with those goals. Let’s turn your plays into goals."
Bastien nodded. It was the first time all season anyone had seen him nod like he believed it.
---
Second half.
Mateo on for Doyle. Bastien still tucked just behind Luc and Lacombe, but they formed something almost like a front three now.
Brassac dropped even deeper, ten men behind the ball, content to die with the lead they had.
Minute 61.
Mateo won a header in midfield, flicked it first time to Luc on the left side of the 18-yard box. Two defenders converged just to stop him from shooting again.
Luc didn’t try to beat them both, his dribbling was something that still needed wirk. He laid it back into the path Bastien had already started running into.
Bastien didn’t think about it. He hit it first time, low, through a forest of legs.
It deflected off a defender’s shin and crawled past the keeper’s outstretched glove.
2-2.
Bastien stood frozen for a second, like he didn’t trust it, then turned and ran straight at Luc with his arms out.
Luc let himself be tackled to the grass. He didn’t mind it this once.
[System Notification]
[Helped a teammate find his footing]
[Reward: +2 Vision stat (permanent)]
"So generous of you," Luc said under Bastien’s tackle.
"Huh?"
"No, I was just talking to myself."
Brassac’s manager threw his arms up at his own players, screaming instructions nobody could hear over the home crowd, who had found their voice again all at once.
The away end had gone quiet for the first time since kickoff.
Minute 80.
Idriss came on for Lacombe at the second striker role.
He jogged past Luc without a word, taking up the same channel Lacombe had occupied all match, reading and moving into spaces instead of demanding the ball.
"Don’t waste it," Luc said as he passed Idriss the ball.
"Don’t give me a reason to," Idriss said back, passing backwards because there was no room to move into.
The next ten minutes were a war of attrition. Brassac threw bodies at every ball, blocked everything, cleared shots off the line. Twice.
Their captain picked up a yellow card for a cynical foul on Bastien just outside the box, buying his exhausted defense thirty seconds to reset.
Hadj too cleared a header off the line in the 87th minute that the entire stadium thought was in.
Nearing stoppage time. Minute 90.
A loose ball broke to Idriss on the edge of the box, his back to goal, two defenders draped on him.
He didn’t try to turn through both of them. He let the ball run across his body and laid it off, blind, into the space he knew Luc would be occupying because Luc was always occupying it.
Luc met it first time.
He didn’t take a second touch. He didn’t need one.
It was left-footed high and hard, destination? the near post, it went in off the underside of the bar.
Goal!!!!
3-2.
Stade Valois exploded.
Luc ran straight at Idriss and grabbed the back of his neck the way Mateo always did.
"I guess I gave you one today instead, huh." Idriss said.
Luc actually laughed.
The final whistle went thirty seconds later as soon as Brassac kicked off. Brassac’s players collapsed onto the grass, not from any injury, just from the weight of the match.
Their captain stayed down longest.
[System Notification]
[Objective complete: Treat the cup like a league match]
[Reward: +2 Composure stat (permanent)]
Luc read it walking off the pitch, his jersey soaked through, his calves were screaming louder than they had all week. free𝑤ebnovel.com
His phone lit up in his jacket before he reached the tunnel.
Valérie sent a voice message this time:
"Luc!! I take back what I said about charity. That was actually entertaining!"
Juliette bumped his shoulder. "Does she text you regularly?"
"Huh? Sort of. I think she’s starting to love--"
"You?" Juliette interrupted.
"I was going to say football."
Hugo was waiting by the tunnel mouth on his crutches, grinning the widest Luc had ever seen him grin.
"We move on to the next round," Hugo said. "We’re still in it."
"We were always going to be," Luc said, and walked past Hugo as Juliette stopped to check on him.
