Blue Arbiter — Blue Lock Apocrypha: The Final Boss's Creed - Designer of the Abyss

Morning light began painting the glass of the Grass Cage white when Kai was already at the monitors. He hadn't slept since that night. The email from Nexus, delivered last evening, still glowed on the desk screen. Secondary Evaluation Protocol. 72 hours. The file Sara had left behind. Everything circled endlessly through his mind. A notification chimed from the terminal. Kai's eyes moved to the screen. The Iris System—the AI-linked network of wearable sensors and cameras that captured every movement of every candidate in real time—its management interface. The moment he read the notification content, Kai's eyes narrowed to slits. The evaluation algorithm "Judgment" had been updated. Updated by: Mikage Sara. Kai opened the file quickly. The changes spread across the screen. Until now, Judgment had comprehensively evaluated three categories: technical skill, decision-making, and growth trajectory. But starting this morning, it had been rewritten to measure only three metrics: individual goals scored, physical contact aggression score, and staff instruction compliance rate. He tried to overwrite it. A system error returned. Insufficient authority. Kai stared at the text on the screen for three seconds, motionless. Nexus had written directly into the system. A specification change that even Kai's highest architect authority—as the chief designer of the entire Blue Lock project—could not override. In that morning, Kai learned precisely for the first time what it felt like when a system you created slipped from your hands. "Sara." He connected the internal line. "Good morning, Kai." Mikage Sara appeared on screen, her silver hair tied back. She adjusted her glasses with her right hand, a familiar habit. Her voice was calm. "Did you rewrite Judgment?" "Yes. It's an official specification update from Nexus. Configuration changes during the operational phase fall under my jurisdiction." "My architect authority didn't go through." "Design-phase authority and operational-phase authority are different things. Unfortunately—this is a line we cannot cross." Kai said nothing. On the other side of the screen, Sara adjusted her glasses. Her hand paused, just slightly. "There's a match this afternoon. The candidates are already preparing." The call ended. Kai turned back to the monitors. The 120-inch multi-display showed Vortex's empty pitch. The artificial grass glowed quietly under the floor lights, a gentle green. From today's match onward, the rules on that ground would change. --- The pitch felt wrong from the moment the afternoon match began. Fuyushima Ren noticed it in the first minute. He found space on the right side. He created a passing lane and raised his left hand. The teammate running behind him—didn't pass. He took the shot himself. It went wide. (What the hell?) He tried again. This time he formed a triangle up front. The moment he attempted a one-two, a different teammate from the diagonal behind suddenly stole the ball and went into a solo dribble. Sixty-four cameras fixed to Vortex's court. Judgment's numerical values flowed in real time to each candidate's terminal. Some of them, seeing those numbers, began changing their play to aim for goals only for themselves. The smarter ones started understanding in sequence that the new criteria—individual aggression, compliance rate—didn't award points for teamwork. Fuyushima clenched his teeth. Around the twelve-minute mark. His teammate Itoi—seventeen years old, C-rank, small but skilled with his ankle work—tried to physically block the opponent's dribbling path. In that instant, a low slide came from behind. The ankle. Bent outward. The crack—*goki*—reached Fuyushima even from a distance. Itoi collapsed on the pitch. Both hands gripping the grass, his face unable to produce sound. Fuyushima rushed over. The whistle didn't blow. The staff member standing at the corner of the court kept his arms crossed, unmoving. Their eyes met. The staff said nothing. He just checked his watch. "What the hell are you doing, stop it! Itoi is—!" "Candidate Fuyushima. Continue play." The voice was emotionless. Under the new criteria, the candidate who physically eliminated the opponent's path received points. So that slide wasn't a foul. The Judgment algorithm processed it as high-value action. The match continued. Fuyushima knelt beside Itoi. Itoi looked up. His expression was twisted, but his eyes met Fuyushima's directly. "Go on... I'm fine..." He wasn't fine. The angle of that ankle told him he wasn't fine. Fuyushima had to stand. --- The Grass Cage monitors captured that moment. Kai watched Itoi fall from the front angle. The slide's trajectory, the contact angle, the ankle's movement—all processed in an instant. The new Judgment scoring flowed in real time on the right edge of the screen. Aggression score: points added. Kai's right hand gripped the edge of the desk. Quietly. Strongly. Without noticing. --- Itoi was withdrawn. Effectively five versus six. Fuyushima's team spent the second half on defense. Fuyushima tried to move the team. He created passing lanes, took positions, tried to build attacking shapes. Under the new Judgment, each of these accumulated as negative evaluation. His individual aggression numbers didn't rise. Fuyushima's score began dropping. In the Grass Cage, Kai watched those numbers. The elimination threshold line. Fuyushima's numbers approaching it. 2 points. 1 point. 0.5 points. The grip on the desk grew stronger. The corner dug into his palm. The final whistle blew. Fuyushima's score stopped. 0.3 points above the elimination line. Kai looked at that number. Just that number, for a while. A different image appeared at the edge of the screen. A stretcher being carried. Itoi's ankle, wrapped in bandages. --- Fuyushima didn't shower. He left Vortex and headed toward Cellblock. He walked the corridors. He climbed the stairs. His room number plate came into view. His hand trembled with sweat as he opened the door. Eight tatami mats. A bed, a desk, a shower. Outside the window, the night sea. Fuyushima didn't look at the window. He approached the wall. He drove his right fist into it. Once. A dull sound. Twice. Three times. The sound of thin wall panels hitting concrete. The skin on his index finger split. He continued. On the fourth strike, blood began seeping from his middle finger too. Fuyushima pressed his forehead against the wall. What was he doing here? Itoi hadn't done anything wrong. He was just playing seriously. He was doing the right thing. And his ankle still broke. The match didn't stop. The referee didn't blow the whistle. Fuyushima slid down the wall and sat on the floor. His back against the concrete. He looked at his bleeding right hand. Red marks stained the wall. (When my teammate Hino disappeared into Exit, I couldn't do anything. Today I couldn't do anything either.) I just ran. I just protected my numbers. I just survived. That's all. He looked up at the ceiling. The facility's thin fluorescent light. The faint sound of waves from beyond the window. Kai's face floated into his mind. That man sitting in front of the monitors, watching everything. "...What were you watching tonight?" No answer came. A question directed at the ceiling. Exhaustion came before anger. He tried to shout, but his voice wouldn't come. His bleeding fist just lay on the floor. --- Sara came to the Grass Cage after the match ended. Kai stood watching the monitors. Sara placed a single document on the desk. He didn't need to turn around to know. Another document. "Kai." Kai turned to face her. Sara adjusted her glasses. Her hand was steady. "I'm here to inform you of the final deadline. If you don't sign the approval document for the Secondary Evaluation Protocol within 72 hours, Nexus will immediately freeze all funding for Blue Lock." Kai didn't respond. "If funding stops, we can't pay facility maintenance costs. The medical team, the Iris System—everything stops. The project undergoes forced termination. In that case, under the interpretation of the iron chain clause—" "All candidates are disqualified." "That's right. All 180 candidates permanently lose their path to the national team." The air in the room changed. Kai met Sara's eyes. Pale blue irises. Emotion unreadable. If he approved, the candidates became data material for personnel selection. If he didn't approve, all candidates lost their dreams. Either choice meant the candidates suffered. Sara added one more thing. "Kai, I believe you have the desire to protect these candidates. That's precisely why—you understand what this choice means." Those words landed quietly. Deeper than any shout could reach. Sara left the approval document on the desk and left the room. The door closed. Her footsteps faded down the corridor. --- Midnight came. All staff had clocked out. Kai remained alone in the Grass Cage. Only the 120-inch display glowed. The image of the darkened Cellblock corridor. Medical logs from Pulse. Itoi's name appeared in the treatment records. Right ankle ligament damage. Crutches. Match participation prohibited—duration unknown. Kai tried to stand from his chair. An electric current shot through his left knee. It had rained today. His old injury reacted to the weather. He knew that. But his body tilted anyway. He caught himself on the desk edge with one hand. It wasn't enough. Kai knelt on the floor. One hand on the ground, unable to move. A flashback came. Seven years ago. Fortis Sagamihara playoff final. Second half, additional time. The moment he landed after contact with the opposing defender, his left knee bent inward. He heard the sensation—the sound—of his ligaments and meniscus tearing simultaneously inside his own body. He couldn't stand. He lay on the pitch, unable to get up. As the stretcher carried him away, what he saw was his teammates' faces and the stadium's dim lighting. Tonight's knee pain overlapped completely. Kai closed his eyes. His hand remained on the floor, unmoving. He'd created Blue Lock to protect candidates. That was supposed to be it. Today Itoi's ankle broke. The staff member acting as referee didn't blow the whistle. The facility he'd designed—the place he'd created to protect candidates—had become a machine that destroyed them. Seven years of pain crashed down all at once. Kai's eyes grew wet. Slowly, taking time, he pushed himself up. He returned to his chair. The approval document lay on the desk. He picked it up. His right hand trembled. The contents were already memorized completely. Candidate compliance data collection. Periodic transmission to Nexus. This wasn't a soccer development document. It was the blueprint for a system that selected humans by obedience. And yet. Better than 180 dreams ending— He took the pen. His right hand wouldn't stop shaking. Seven years of carrying everything alone. Seven years of walking the tightrope with Nexus. All of it ending tonight with this signature. Kai closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly, deeply. He decided to give up. In that moment— The Grass Cage door opened.

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Episode 5

Name: Blue Arbiter — Blue Lock Apocrypha: The Final Boss's Creed
Author: Novelia

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