Chapter 18: The Hunt Begins

The roar of the crowd at the Pirelli Stadium was deafening, a wave of energy that seemed to shake the very foundations of the stands. Burton Albion was about to face off against one of the toughest teams in the league, and while the stakes were high for both sides, the atmosphere in the air spoke of something different. Burton fans weren't desperate anymore—they were expectant.

In the back-row seats, die-hard supporters like Martin and Liam were buzzing with anticipation. The seats had become coveted real estate for fans eager to see the magic of Sidewinder Drift and whatever new strategy Victor Kane had devised. Martin nudged Liam, nodding toward the players as they took to the pitch.

"You feel that?" Martin asked, his voice barely audible over the cheers. "The air's different tonight."

Liam grinned. "That's not the air, mate. That's Kane. You know he's got something cooked up for this one."

On the field, Victor stood calm and composed in his tailored coat, his sharp eyes scanning the opposition. They were a formidable side, known for their aggressive pressing and tight defensive lines. But Victor had no intention of playing their game. Tonight, they would dance to his tune.

The opening whistle blew, and the game began with intensity. The opposing team came out strong, their high press forcing Burton's players into early defensive action. For the first ten minutes, the game was a battle in the middle of the pitch. Passes were intercepted, tackles flew in, and possession changed hands frequently.

In the dugout, Victor remained unflinching. He knew this was coming—predictable aggression from a side desperate for an early goal. He waited, patient, like a predator sizing up its prey. And then, in the 12th minute, he made his first move.

Victor raised his left hand, circling his index finger in the air. The signal wasn't random; it was a command drilled into his players during training. Coil Maneuver was in motion.

On the field, the change was almost imperceptible at first. Burton's defensive line pulled back ever so slightly, luring the opposing attackers forward. The midfield dropped deeper, creating the illusion of vulnerability. But for those attuned to the game's subtleties, the shift was unsettling.

The opposing players began to feel it—a weight in the air, as if the field itself had shrunk around them. Passing lanes that seemed open moments ago vanished, and suddenly, their forwards were isolated, trapped in a web they didn't understand. The crowd sensed it too, murmurs spreading through the stands.

"Something's happening," Liam muttered, leaning forward. "They're tightening up."

Martin squinted, trying to make sense of the movement. "It's that thing they've been practicing—Coil something. Look at the midfield—they're setting a trap."

On the pitch, Quinn intercepted a pass with precision, triggering the second phase of the maneuver. Victor clenched his fist from the sidelines—the signal to strike.

What followed was chaos, beautiful and calculated. Burton's midfielders surged forward with blistering speed, threading passes through gaps that hadn't existed seconds before. Akins received the ball near the edge of the box, feinted past his marker, and unleashed a curling shot into the top corner. The net rippled, and the stadium erupted in celebration.

The opposition's defense was in shambles. They had been lured into the Coil and snapped back on with devastating effect. For all their early dominance, they were suddenly 1-0 down, and the psychological blow was evident. The opposing manager barked orders from the touchline, but confusion reigned.

In the commentary box, David Fletcher was in awe. "That was extraordinary," he said, his voice rising with excitement. "You saw it—the defensive drop, the interception, and then the counterattack. Kane's tactics are like poetry in motion."

His co-commentator, Richard Barnes, was less enthusiastic. "Poetry, sure, but it's not sustainable. They're relying too heavily on these moments. What happens when teams figure this out?"

Fletcher shook his head. "Good luck figuring that out. Did you see how the defense collapsed? That strategy—it was precision. Kane's got them moving like clockwork."

As the game wore on, Victor continued to orchestrate from the sidelines, each hand sign triggering a new wave of attacks. He activated the Team Synchronization Buff, sharpening his players' coordination and amplifying their pace. The difference was immediate—passes became crisper, rotations faster, and the opposing team found themselves chasing shadows.

In the 28th minute, Burton struck again. Templeton received a cross-field ball, danced past two defenders, and slotted it into the bottom corner. The opposition looked dazed, unable to keep up with the speed and fluidity of Burton's play.

By halftime, the score was 2-0, and the mood in the stadium was electric. Fans in the back rows exchanged high-fives, their vantage point giving them a clear view of the serpentine patterns on the pitch.

The second half began much like the first, with the opposing team attempting to claw their way back into the game. But Victor wasn't done. In the 55th minute, he raised his hand once more, signaling the start of another tactic—a subtle variation of Sidewinder Drift.

The midfield began rotating with dizzying speed, dragging the opposition's defenders out of position. The fans watched in awe as the patterns unfolded, the seamless movement leaving trails like a snake weaving through tall grass. Akins capitalized on the disarray, firing in a third goal that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

By the 75th minute, the match was effectively over. Burton had added a fourth goal, this time from Quinn's long-range strike, and the opposition had all but given up. The suffocating air of the Coil and the relentless assault of the Drift had broken their spirit.

As the final whistle blew, the stadium erupted in cheers. Burton fans sang in unison, their voices carrying the joy of victory. In the stands, Martin turned to Liam, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Did you see that? They didn't stand a chance," Martin said. "Kane's got them playing like gods."

Liam grinned. "Whatever he's doing, it's working. Bring on the next match."

Victor stood on the touchline, arms crossed, watching as his players celebrated. He reached into his coat pocket, feeling the faint pulse of the Snake Tactics Manual. The skill progression for Coil Maneuver had increased, and a notification flashed in his mind.

Fang Sequence Unlocked.

Victor allowed himself a small smirk. The hunt wasn't over—it was just beginning.