Flight (243)

Leaning back in his chair, Nakada swiveled his gaze across the final rankings displayed on the screen. A satisfied smirk played on his lips as his eyes landed on his own name – a gleaming number one.

He had dominated the field, his calculated moves and precognitive vision proving to be an unstoppable force.

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he saw the astronomical sum offered by Royal Real – 50 million euros.

The most expensive young player Japan had ever produced. A testament to his brilliance, a validation of his relentless pursuit of perfection.{Around 8,088,000,000.00yen}

Nagi's name, a notch below but still clinging to a respectable rank, flickered into view. Nakada dismissed it with a flicker of his eyes. A consolation prize for a predictable opponent.

He had dominated Nagi, dissected his every move, reduced him to a mere data point. No satisfaction lingered in that victory.

Then, a name snagged his attention – Reo. Back from the dead, it seemed. "Guess the copycat isn't going down without a fight," Nakada scoffed, a hint of amusement flickering in his golden eyes.

Pathetic, clinging to relevance, but at least mildly entertaining. He wouldn't waste any more brainpower on the likes of Reo.

Isagi Yoichi? A non-entity.

Didn't even register. Only the top five, minus himself, held any interest. Those were the ones he'd keep a mental tab on, the most likely to pose a remote challenge.

The rest were like gnats buzzing around his head – insignificant and easily swatted away.

A deep hunger gnawed at him, a hunger for more. The Neo Egoist League had been a crucible, forging him into a weapon of data-driven dominance.

But it wasn't enough. He craved more fuel, more data, more challenges to devour.

As he pulled on his clothes, his eyes, glowing a vibrant yellow, burned with an unsettling intensity.

Ego had mentioned automatic qualification for the national team. Good. No need to waste time here. He'd fly back to Barcelona, get some real training done, and maybe even visit his mom and sister.

The journey ahead was clear. Conquer the world stage. Obliterate every opponent. Become the undisputed god of the field. Nakada, the data-driven prodigy with a heart of ice and a fire in his eyes, was ready to rewrite the game.

The world would tremble before his brilliance, and those who dared to stand in his way would be utterly crushed.

With a predatory glint in his golden eyes, Nakada scrolled through his phone, his movements sharp and decisive. A single tap sent a cryptic message, the contents a secret pact known only to him and the recipient.

Satisfied, he shoved the phone into his pocket, the corner digging slightly into his thigh – a welcome reminder of the ambition simmering beneath his cool exterior.

Striding out of the Blue Lock building, he scanned the horizon like a king surveying his domain.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows, and the air thrummed with the distant echo of departing vehicles. He stood tall, a solitary figure radiating an aura of aloof superiority.

Minutes ticked by, each one measured with the same cold efficiency that defined his play on the field.

Then, a sleek black car materialized around the corner, purring to a gentle stop beside him. The driver, a man in a crisp black suit and mirrored sunglasses, emerged with a practiced bow.

"Mr. Nakada," he greeted in a voice as smooth as polished marble. "Your chariot awaits."

Nakada offered a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He slid into the backseat, the cool leather instantly conforming to his frame.

The driver, a silent guardian of the road, expertly navigated the city streets. Nakada barely registered the cityscape blurring past the tinted windows. His mind was already on the future, on the challenges that awaited him.

The airport was a whirlwind of controlled chaos – a symphony of announcements, the hurried bustle of travelers, and the rhythmic rumble of departing planes.

Nakada, however, moved through it all with an effortless grace. He bypassed the usual security lines, a prearranged VIP pass granting him unfettered access.

A private terminal, tucked away from the main concourse, awaited him. Stepping into the cool, hushed space, he felt a surge of satisfaction.

Here, amidst the plush leather seating and complimentary refreshments, his status as a prodigy was acknowledged.

A young woman, her smile as polished as the gleaming chrome of a luxury car, ushered him towards a waiting aircraft.

It wasn't just any plane; it was a private jet, a gleaming silver bird poised to carry him towards his destiny.

Boarding the plane, he was greeted by a stewardess, her voice a soothing melody as she offered him a chilled beverage and a selection of gourmet snacks.

Settling into his plush leather seat, Nakada finally allowed himself a moment of relaxation.

The engines roared to life, a low rumble vibrating through the cabin. As the plane taxied down the runway, Nakada peered out the window.

The world below shrank, buildings transforming into miniature models. He was leaving the confines of Blue Lock behind, but his ambition soared higher than the plane itself.

Barcelona awaited. Training. Family. But most importantly, the world stage. The stage where he, Nakada, the data-driven deity of the field, would rewrite the game in his own image. His eyes narrowed, a steely glint reflecting the setting sun. The game was afoot, and Nakada was ready to play.

A/N Chapter coming late because my homework like double this week,and I don't have time to write it during the day mostly around 10 or 11 at night.

Chapter will be later now but considering this week probably going to be the week where the break happen because I am farther then the manga,I will continue the story as soon as we get new content.

Nakada may or may not get some training with the autistic legend himself…I wonder who that is