Chapter 120: Chapter 120: The Clash of Peaks
In the pitch Lincoln start the warm up
The turf pulsed beneath their cleats as Lincoln High began their warm-up.
Sharp passes, short sprints, stretches in rhythm—every motion heavy with focus.
Five minutes in, a ripple cut through the crowd.
San Dimas had arrived.
Their entrance wasn’t quiet. Gold and silver shimmered under the floodlights as they stepped onto the pitch, their coach leading the way.
Coach Owen broke off from Lincoln’s huddle, striding toward the woman walking at the head of the San Dimas squad. Chelsea Olivia—calm, sharp-eyed, her posture radiating command.
The two coaches shook hands. Words were exchanged, brief but edged with weight. Respect between generals before the war.
Behind her, San Dimas peeled off their jackets, their movements crisp. Boots tapped the grass, stretching bands snapped, and their players checked studs and laces with surgical care. They weren’t here to warm up. They were here to sharpen blades.
Julian’s gaze caught the one who walked in front.
Victor. Only fifteen, but already carrying himself like a man born to the stage. His shoulders square, his eyes locked forward, his presence dragging attention without a word.
Behind him came the others—Kai the Blitz, their relentless defender; Malik, the goalkeeper with superhuman reflexes; Elijah Kwon, The wall of san dimas and Miles Becker, the sharp-minded midfield ’nerd.’ Together, they were the giants of San Dimas.
Victor’s eyes met Julian’s across the field.
For a heartbeat, the noise of the crowd blurred. Two sparks collided in silence.
Victor nodded once.
Julian returned it, calm but unyielding.
No words.
No theatrics.
Just understanding. Tonight, they would decide everything.
The warm-ups escalated.
Lincoln’s touches grew sharper, their passes faster.
San Dimas mirrored them, golden kits flashing like steel in sunlight.
The stands swelled with noise. Lincoln fans waving banners. San Dimas parents shouting chants. Neutral students buzzing in awe. Scouts tucked in the corners of the stands, clipboards in hand, eyes fixed on the pitch. Even rivals from other schools had slipped in, eager to witness the clash.
Julian’s chest burned with the weight of it. Hundreds of eyes, maybe thousands, pressing down from the bleachers. But beneath that pressure, something inside him only steadied.
This was the storm he had waited for.
A no-loss run on the line.
His last stand in Lincoln colors.
From the bench, he caught sight of Crest seated beside Laura. Her posture straight, arms crossed, but her eyes—their edge softened as they lingered on him.
Julian inhaled deeply, letting the roar of the crowd settle into his bones.
Here, under the floodlights, in front of scouts, rivals, teammates, and strangers—he would win.
...
After the warm-up, it wasn’t long before the whistle screamed through the air.
The referee’s hand lifted, beckoning both sides forward for the opening ceremony.
Boots thudded against the turf as two lines formed.
Lincoln—blue, steady, shoulders squared.
San Dimas—gold and silver, their kits flashing beneath the floodlights like sharpened blades.
The crowd hushed for a moment, the tension tightening every chest in the stadium. Then came the ritual—handshakes, respect before war.
Julian’s gaze swept the line until it locked with Victor’s.
The boy captain of San Dimas stood there, eyes alive, posture coiled with fire. He gripped Julian’s hand, voice low but heavy with conviction.
"We see each other again. I will win this time."
Julian’s expression didn’t waver. His reply was calm, steel beneath the words.
"Let’s see."
Their handshake dragged on longer than it should have—knuckles whitening, tendons straining. Victor’s palm was hot, pulsing with youthful energy, while Julian’s grip was colder, steadier, like stone that refused to yield.
Neither blinked. Neither looked away. For that heartbeat, it wasn’t the roar of the crowd that mattered. It wasn’t the scouts or the banners. It was simply two boys who had clawed their way to the top, promising to break each other.
Their hands tightened, bone against bone, neither yielding. A silent promise passed between them. This wasn’t just a match. This was a reckoning.
As their grip broke, Julian let the world narrow. His eyes sharpened. His soul reached for the system.
[Activating Scan Lv.2...]
The glow of numbers painted across his vision, sharper than ever.
One by one, San Dimas lit up in his sight.
Same players. Same names. But not the same team.
Average attribute: 130.
Higher than any roster Lincoln had faced.
And their core—their spine of power—it wasn’t static anymore.
It had evolved.
The system’s light flared across Julian’s vision, one profile after another burning into his eyes.
...
User: Elijah Kwon
Position: CDM
Best attribute : Stamina and Perception
Skill : Iron Wall Intercept — Instantly reads the passing lane and cuts out the ball without committing a foul, even in tight spaces.
Age: 17
Total Attributes: 297
...
User: Malik Ortega
Position: GK
Best attribute : Perception and Insting
Skill : Eagle Catch — Exceptional reflexes to catch blistering shots cleanly, even from point-blank range.
Age: 17
Total Attributes: 312
...
User: Kai Mendoza
Position: LB
Best attribute : Stamina and Agility
Skill : Blitz Run — Explodes into full sprint instantly, able to outrun most wingers both in attack overlaps and defensive chases.
Age: 17
Total Attributes: 288
...
User: Victor Salinas
Position: ST
Best attribute : Technique and Insting
Skill : Hawk Eye Finish — Strikes the ball with pinpoint accuracy and perfect timing, able to score even from tight angles or through crowded defenses.
Age: 15
Total Attributes: 354
...
User: Miles Becker
Position: CAM
Best attribute : Technique and Insting
Skill : Algorithm Pass — Calculates passing angles like a computer, delivering perfectly weighted balls that split defenses with surgical precision.
Age: 15
Total Attributes: 222
...
Julian’s throat tightened. He swallowed, the taste of iron rising at the back of his mouth.
This wasn’t just San Dimas.
This was the mountain.
Their shield. Their blade. Their mind. Their spear. Their keeper.
Every piece sharpened, every edge honed.
If Lincoln was fire, San Dimas was stone—unyielding, immovable.
But even stone could crack. That thought pulsed in Julian’s mind like a mantra. San Dimas had their weapons, their brilliance, their numbers—but Lincoln had something else.
They had belief forged through blood. They had Owen’s command, Leo’s vision, Cael’s Fire, Riku Wall , Noah’s Shadow. And him. The emperor who refused to bow.
And to climb this mountain, Julian would need more than skill.
He would need everything.