CHAPTER 60: THE GAME

The roar hit before the whistle even blew. A living wave of sound rolled across the freshly cut grass, rattling chests and clattering hearts.

Phones flashed, sneakers squeaked, and the summer air hung thick with sweat and anticipation.

Every cheer, every shout, every snap of a camera shutter added layers to the tension... electrifying, suffocating, inevitable.

Alex Hale stood at midfield, the ball at his feet, scanning. The heat of the sun glinted off Marcus Steele’s Apex XI like a spotlight on predators.

Every player moved in orchestrated precision, the kind that only came from professional drills, endless repetition, and pride honed into instinct.

Marcus’s plan was immediate... overwhelm them. Tyler and Jonah shifted in tandem, launching sharp one-twos, carving lanes wide, the ball at Marcus’ feet before Alex’s team could close in.

Alex allowed himself a second of internal calculation. Winning? Glory, recognition, my team rises. Losing? Reputation tarnished, mocked, humiliation.

But first half... observe. Learn. No rash moves. Marcus wants me frustrated... he wants mistakes. Let him exhaust himself.

He knew Marcus wasn’t here to play fair. Apex XI thrived on dominance, on humiliation. And William and Brad... he couldn’t fully trust them, not yet.

Alex saw everything... every shove, every nudge, every calculated strike... but for the first time, it felt like he was watching through glass. Powerless.

Oh, how much he wanted to end this facade quickly, to overwhelm them... but he couldn’t unleash his extraordinary power.

Lilith’s warning echoed in his mind: don’t overreach. Don’t show your hand.

There were eyes on him. Watching. Not curious. Not impressed. Waiting for him to slip.

And he... he wasn’t strong enough to handle all of them yet.

"Hold the line," he said quietly to his team, scanning their anxious, sweat-slick faces. "Don’t collapse. Watch each other’s backs."

From the first touch, Apex XI’s aggression was clear.

Tyler cut inside from the wing, pulling the full-back out of position before delivering a perfectly timed through ball.

Jonah’s run was late but precise, splitting the defense, and Marcus met it cleanly, driving the ball into the net—1–0.

The crowd erupted. Half cheered, half jeered, most mocking Alex’s side. "Clowns! Amateur hour!"

"Who put them on the field?" The sound made shoulders tense, teeth grit.

Marcus shouted across the field, grinning: "Come on, Hale! Show me you’re worth the hype!"

Alex’s jaw tightened. He scanned... every inch of the field, every player. He’s trying to provoke me. He wants me to make a mistake. Good. I’ll let him overextend.

The next twenty minutes were brutal. Apex XI moved like a single organism: precise, crushing, relentless. Shoulders collided, bodies jostled, tackles came one after another.

Alex’s team was being overwhelmed. For every pass they made, Apex XI closed angles, pressed hard, and forced hurried clearances.

The referee let it slide, whistle silent, letting the physicality dominate the rhythm.

"Stay calm!" Alex shouted. "Keep possession!"

Tyler threaded through defenders for the second goal. Jonah fed Marcus for the third. Then the fourth goal followed.

Alex paused mid-rush, glancing at William and Brad. Despite the deficit, they fought. Alert. Unshaken. Good. Atleast they are trying.

The referee’s whistle split the air, dragging the first half to a close. The scoreboard glared mercilessly... 4-0.

Marcus’s team leading, Alex’s team still without a single goal.

The crowd’s laughter stung like knives, their chants mocking every mistake.

Shoulders slumped, eyes burned with frustration... humiliation was carved into every player’s face. But Alex didn’t lower his head. He clapped his hands, steady and sharp.

Alex gathered his team. "I know it hurts. I know it feels impossible. But watch. They can throw everything at us... they can’t break me. And you? You won’t be broken either. Trust yourselves. Trust me."

"It’s not over. Not yet," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the despair. "The second half... that’s ours."

Eyes glazed with exhaustion now sparked with fire. Determination replaced fatigue. Resolve replaced fear.

Beyond the pitch, Alex’s gaze flicked to the sidelines.

Sophia perched on the bleachers, radiant, eyes alight with excitement. This chaos... the game, the skill, the struggle... she craved it.

Madison, standing with a group of girls cheering, caught his eye and offered a sly hello.

Sarah and Mike stiffened, nerves etched deep into their posture. And beside them... Dr. Tisha, her arms folded, carrying the same anxious weight. That sight surprised Alex more than anything.

***

The second half began, and Marcus’s entire focus was on Alex. Every pass, every press, every tackle... centered on him. He was sure by now that victory was certain.

But Alex... he moved like a phantom. Each tackle met nothing but air. Feet that had aimed to clip him found only empty space.

He drifted around defenders with unnerving ease, faster than the eye could follow, faster than their bodies could react.

Tyler lunged, but Alex shifted mid-step, the ball slipping cleanly past. Jonah tried to block a run, only to see Alex already past, a blur of motion controlling the rhythm of the game.

It wasn’t magic. It was precision, anticipation, and raw speed honed to perfection... enough to suppress the overconfidence of Apex XI.

The harder they pressed, the more they revealed themselves, while Alex’s calm, lightning-quick movements carved space where none should exist.

Every shove, every attempt to corner him failed. Marcus’ confidence wavered, frustration flickering as Alex danced around the trap they had so carefully set.

’What the hell...?’ Marcus’ jaw tightened as Alex slipped past another lunge. ’He’s too fast... no, he’s reading us, before we even move. ’

Frustration boiled in his chest as the crowd roared, reveling in every play Alex carved through them.

Marcus and his teammates were busy chasing shadows, their eyes locked on Alex. Every defender, every midfielder, every feint from him demanded attention. That focus was exactly what Alex wanted.

A subtle tilt of his head. A flick of his foot. He signaled to Danny, threading a perfect pass through the maze of defenders.

Danny surged forward, clean and sharp, and in one fluid motion... goal. The first point for Alex’s team.

The crowd murmured in surprise. Marcus barked orders, but his team was already stretched thin, trying to contain the phantom that was Alex.

Seconds later, the same pattern repeated. Alex, always two steps ahead, glanced at another teammate... Luis... another precise pass. Another goal. Each time, the defenders lunged, only to meet air.

Frustration flared across Marcus’ face. He slammed his hands and shouted, "Spread out! Don’t let him control the game!"

But by now, Alex had done more than signal passes... he had seized the tempo.

With two goals already on the board from his orchestrations, he took matters into his own feet.

Dribbling past exhausted defenders, reading their positions before they even moved, he surged forward and struck again. Goal.

The defense scrambled. Tyler lunged, Jonah blocked... but Alex was untouchable, a ghost in their formation. Another goal followed almost immediately, a fluid strike from the edge of the box.

4–4. The match that Marcus had assumed was already in his pocket was suddenly tied.

The tide had turned. And all the while, Alex remained calm, calculating, and untouchable... an invisible force bending the game to his will.

Tyler came charging, but when Alex dodged, Brad slammed into him from the side... not for the ball, but to throw him down.

The crack of the collision echoed, Alex rolling across the turf, gasps rippling through the stands. Danny and Jonah rushed forward, fury in their eyes, while Apex players smirked like nothing had happened.

The referee’s whistle finally pierced the noise. A tense pause. Everyone waited for the card. Red, surely. The crowd roared for it. But when the ref raised only a yellow, disbelief spread like fire.

"Yellow?!" Danny shouted, veins tight in his neck. The stadium shook with boos, chants of "Cheating! Cheating!" spilling over the barricades.

Alex pushed himself up, jaw clenched, brushing grass from his arm. No complaints. No protest. Just a quiet nod at the ball.

That silence was heavier than rage.

Confusion flickered in Marcus’ eyes. Why isn’t he reacting? Why hasn’t frustration cracked him?

The referee’s silence became a weapon in Alex’s favor. No whistle. No cards. Apex XI grew darker, fouls more aggressive, their pride tainted by desperation.

Bruises blossomed across Alex’s teammates. Danny limped, a faint line of blood on the grass beside him. Anger coiled in fists and teeth.

The crowd muttered, hissed, and then erupted: "Ref! Ref! Protect the players!"

In the huddle, fury radiated. "They’re cheating!" Danny spat, clutching a side already dark with bruising. "We should... "

"Not yet!" Alex’s voice cut through, calm, commanding. "We play our game. Focus on what we can control."

Five minutes. That was all that remained. The scoreboard flashes 4–4, the air thick with tension, sweat, and disbelief.

Apex XI moved frantically, their practiced coldness now a frantic mess. Marcus barked orders, but the commands collided, tangled in desperation.

The final whistle pierced the tension like a blade. Players froze mid-step, lungs heaving, muscles trembling, as the referee held his arm high.

The scoreboard glared back: 4–4.

The crowd erupted... some in cheers for the spectacle, others in groans of frustration that no victor emerged. Marcus’ jaw tightened, fists clenching, while Alex’s team exhaled as one, exhaustion and relief washing over them.

The referee raised his whistle, glancing between the scoreboard and the exhausted players.

"Since this match must have a winner," he announced, voice carrying across the stands, "we’ll play an unofficial 5-minute sudden-death period."

Marcus clenched his fists, jaw tight, but nodded. Victory still felt within reach.

Alex exhaled slowly, eyes scanning his team... tired, bruised, but ready. "Five minutes," he muttered, quiet but fierce. "That’s all we need."

The crowd erupted, chants and cheers surging like a wave. Everyone wanted a winner... and they were about to get one.

***

Author’s Note:

Hey Readers! If anything about the game seems a bit off or unrealistic, blame it on my love for drama over exact rules 😅.

Thanks for rolling with it and enjoying the chaos anyway!

And of course, your contribution and gift are super welcome... it truly means a lot!