CHAPTER 61: THE FINAL GAMBLE

Marcus’s Side – Locker Room

Marcus slammed his palm against the locker, the metal rattling. Sweat dripped down his temple, jaw tight.

"They’re celebrating too early," he spat, glaring at the floor. "We’ve still got this."

One of his teammates muttered, "But... we’re exhausted, Marcus. Overtime..."

"Overtime is where we finish it," Marcus cut in, voice sharp. He dragged in a breath, forcing calm.

His fists unclenched, then tightened again. "Listen to me. I’m not losing. Not today. Not to him."

The room fell silent. They all knew who he meant.

Marcus’s eyes burned with something dangerous. "Five minutes. That’s all it takes. I don’t care how dead you feel. We push. We break them. And I swear..."

His lips curled into a smirk, "...they’ll regret even stepping on this field. And trust me, I still have a few cards up my sleeve... cards they won’t even see coming."

While Apex XI retreated to the locker room, muttering and slamming lockers in frustration, Alex’s team remained on the ground.

The sun had dipped slightly lower, casting long shadows across the grass, but the adrenaline in their veins refused to let them sit idle.

They huddled in a tight circle, shoulders heaving, breaths coming in uneven bursts, yet their eyes sparkled with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration.

For the first time that day, they weren’t just classmates... they were a unit, bonded by shared struggle, defiance, and triumph against a team that had once seemed untouchable.

Luis wiped sweat from his brow and let out a breathless laugh. "I can’t believe we did that... we actually stood toe-to-toe with Apex XI."

Danny nodded, fists still clenched. "The crowd... they were cheering for us. I never thought I’d hear that in my life."

Brad leaned, still rubbing a sore shoulder. "We’ve got one shot left. Five minutes. That’s all. We can win this."

Alex crouched slightly, hands on his knees, surveying his team. "Exactly. One shot. And we’re ready. We’ve already done the impossible. Keep calm. Trust each other. Play our game. The rest... just follows."

William glanced at him, hesitating for a fraction of a second, before a smile broke through his fatigue. "It feels... different this time. We’re not scared. We can do this."

Alex straightened, voice firm but quiet enough that only they could hear.

"Remember how the crowd turned midway? That wasn’t luck. That’s respect earned. That’s what happens when you refuse to crumble. They’re watching, and they’re cheering because we’ve shown them what we’re capable of. Now let’s finish what we started."

A pause, a collective intake of breath. Their muscles ached, their jerseys were soaked with sweat, but their resolve had never been sharper.

Danny cracked his knuckles. "Five minutes. Let’s make them remember this game forever."

Luis pumped his fist. "No fear. Just focus."

Alex smiled faintly, placing a hand on the center of the huddle. "Together. One last time."

The team leaned in, voices in unison: "Together."

The crowd buzzing beyond the sidelines, Alex’s team stayed put.

They weren’t just recovering... they were preparing, breathing in the energy of the game, sharpening their minds and hearts for the sudden-death period that would decide everything.

***

The doors swung open, and Apex11 filed out.

No swagger this time, no mocking grins or careless laughs.

Their shoulders hung heavier, their steps slower, and the cockiness that had followed them all game was gone.

Sweat clung to their hair, their faces carrying the weight of exhaustion more than pride.

All except Marcus.

His expression gave nothing away... calm, unreadable. Yet, as he stepped onto the field, his eyes found Alex. The faint curve of a smirk tugged at his lips, not of arrogance, but of challenge. A silent dare, as if to say: Stop me if you can.

Alex felt it... the subtle tremor of anticipation in the air, a sense that something was about to happen. But he didn’t rush, didn’t overthink.

His team mirrored him: ready, alert, synchronized, hearts beating in measured rhythm.

The referee’s whistle pierced the charged air, and the sudden-death period began. These five minutes will decide everything.

The crowd was electric, buzzing with excitement, voices colliding in cheers, whistles, and chants.

Every spectator leaned forward as if gravity itself pulled them closer to the pitch. "Let’s go boys! " they roared. "Come on, come on!"

The ball rolled. For the first two minutes, the tension remained taut... both sides probing, defending, testing, but no breakthrough.

Each pass was precise, each tackle calculated, but the scoreboard held steady.

Then Alex noticed it. Subtle shifts in positioning, a convergence he had seen before: players edging toward him, seemingly uncoordinated, yet every movement a trap.

Marcus leaned forward, a sly smile curling at the edges of his lips. His eyes darted to William and Brad... just a subtle flick of his hand, a signal so quiet no one else could catch it.

But Alex saw it. His stomach didn’t churn, didn’t spike with panic. He had expected this.

William shifted, then nudged the ball backward toward Brad in the goal. A perfect "mistake"...or so it seemed.

The ball rolled past Brad, but he hesitated... just long enough for the world to gasp.

The ball hit the net. Own goal.

For a heartbeat, the field froze. Silence. Then came the eruption.

Danny’s eyes went wide, his jaw hanging open like he couldn’t process what he had just seen.

Luis threw his arms out, his face twisting between disbelief and fury.

Their teammates shouted over one another, voices breaking with anger and shock... betrayal written raw across their faces.

"What the hell was that?!" Danny’s voice cracked, eyes blazing at William and Brad.

"The sun hit my eyes, I swear," Brad muttered, as if that could explain it away.

His veins stood out on his neck as he stormed toward Brad.

"You think we’re blind?!" he roared, voice cracking with fury. "That wasn’t a mistake... you served it to them on a silver platter!"

Luis’s anger was quieter, sharper, and far more dangerous. His fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight as he fixed William with a glare that could’ve cut steel.

"You planned this," he spat, every word heavy, deliberate. "Don’t even try to deny it. I can smell the betrayal all over you."

And through it all, Marcus stood just beyond them. His smirk stretched wider, not at the crowd, not at the referee... directly at Alex.

’Let’s see if you still remain composed, Alex’

From the stands, the audience felt it too. At first, shock and disbelief rippled through.

"What the hell...? That’s intentional, right?" one shouted.

"So much for the best team! Can’t even beat newbies without cheating!" another added.

"Blatant disgrace! Absolute shame!"

Then, a rising chant echoed across the stadium, growing louder with every heartbeat:

"Brad! William! Traitors! Traitors!

Sellouts! You sold the game!"

"Brad, you traitor! Couldn’t make it more obvious?" someone roared over the chant.

"William, you sold the game! Everyone saw that!" another voice cut in, venomous.

"Shame on you both! You don’t deserve that jersey!"

The boos and chants collided in a deafening wave, shaking the field and the stands alike, every word a hammer of outrage aimed straight at the betrayers.

But the fury was short-lived. As the players surrounding Alex momentarily lost their focus, he moved with fluid precision, a conductor orchestrating every heartbeat of the field.

Feet dancing, eyes scanning, brain calculating.

Danny received the pass, twisted past one defender, flicked it to Luis. Two Apex players lunged... but Alex had already anticipated their overcommitment.

Another tiny shift of his foot, and the ball slipped through a barely visible gap.

The crowd erupted. Gasps, cheers, and disbelief mingled. "Goal! Unbelievable! Did you see that?"

Alex didn’t stop. Even as the applause roared, the energy crackling across the stands, he kept his mind razor-sharp. One minute remained.

Apex XI scrambled desperately, but their overextension betrayed them again. Alex spotted the opening... another lapse in their coordination.

In one smooth motion, he sprinted, twisted, and shot. Goal.

The stadium exploded. Fans jumped to their feet, phones flashing, voices shouting in unison.

Shock, awe, and exhilaration crashed over the field like a wave.

People pressed forward, leaning over railings, some laughing, some screaming, all ecstatic.

"Can you believe this?!" one cried. "Newbies! Against Apex XI! And they owned them!"

"Unstoppable! That was pure genius!" another added.

Alex’s team exhaled, adrenaline and triumph flooding through every limb.

Despite the betrayal, they had stayed focused, the trap had been turned to their advantage, and the victory... hard-fought and hard-earned... was theirs.

The final whistle blew, but the sensation lingered, a resonance of awe and exhilaration.

Even the crowd’s anger toward the Apex players had transformed into admiration for Alex and his team.

The rookies who had refused to yield, who had seized the moment with unflinching precision, and turned what seemed like certain defeat into an unforgettable triumph.

Alex stood in the center, chest heaving, eyes sweeping the field. Around him, his team shared quiet, victorious smiles.

Every dodge, every pass, every sprint in those few minutes had counted. Every ounce of determination had led here.

Against impossible odds, they had won.