SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!-Chapter 382: Goal After Goal

But just as everyone on the human team was feeling fired up to win, Vander’s gaze drifted to the middle of the field, where Nuri was standing, still confused but trying her best to look determined.

A sly grin crept onto his face.

He raised a hand and gestured toward her.

Three of his teammates smirked in understanding and moved in her direction.

Within moments, Nuri found herself surrounded—three tall human players towering over her like a wall.

"Hey!" She squeaked, flapping her arms. "What are you guys doing?! Move! You’re blocking me!"

One of them chuckled, "Relax, princess. We’re not touching you. Just standing here."

Regan called from the sidelines.

"It’s legal! As long as they don’t push or shove, it’s allowed!"

"What?! How is that fair?!" Nuri shouted. "I’m the only one out here! I can’t even do the same thing to them! And they’re all so tall, I can’t even see the ball!"

Regan just sighed. "That’s football. Totally fair."

"You big bullies!" Nuri yelled, glaring up at the humans towering over her. "You already have the advantage over Mika, and now you’re picking on me too?! Ugh, I’m really mad now!"

She turned toward Mika, pointing dramatically.

"Mika! Show them! Show them our power! Use your strength and score a goal yourself! Let them see what we can do!"

The entire human side burst into laughter.

"Score a goal?! From the goalpost?!"

"She really doesn’t know how football works!"

"She’s so clueless—it’s adorable!"

Their laughter echoed across the pitch, cruel and loud.

The demi-humans winced, lowering their heads.

"She’s embarrassing us..." One of them whispered.

Vander smirked, folding his arms.

"What a joke. A goalkeeper scoring? In her dreams."

But Astrid wasn’t laughing.

Unlike the others, her expression had hardened into something sharp, cold, and serious.

She was about to open her mouth to shout at her team to stop fooling around, to guard the goal with everything they had and not underestimate him, when—

Mika glanced around the pitch once.

Then he gave the ball in his hand one light tap, letting it bounce twice on the ground before he gently tossed it into the air.

Everyone watched, confused, wondering what he was doing.

Then he took a single step back.

And with one beautiful movement, he swung his leg.

BOOM!!!

The sound was deafening.

It was like a gunshot had gone off—a sharp, echoing blast that reverberated through the entire field.

Many of the spectators near Mika’s goalpost flinched and covered their ears.

"What the hell was that?!" Someone yelled.

"Was that...a firecracker?!"

"Did someone just set off a bomb?!"

But before anyone could process it, another voice shouted, panicked.

"Wait—where’s the ball?!"

Everyone froze and began looking around frantically.

The ball had vanished!

"Where is it?"

"Did he kick it off the field?"

"Yeah, maybe it flew out of bounds!"

"Hah! That’s what he gets! He can’t even aim properly!"

The human team began laughing, thinking Mika had just embarrassed himself.

But their laughter died instantly when a soft, cheerful voice rang out.

"You idiots!" Nuri’s voice chimed across the field, sweet and mocking. "You absolute idiots! Do none of you have eyes? It’s so obvious where the ball went!"

Vander glared at her, his irritation growing.

"What are you babbling about now?"

"Look!" Nuri pointed ahead, still laughing. "Look at your goalpost, geniuses! Look closely!"

Her words made every head turn toward the human goal.

Even the goalkeeper, standing there clueless, blinked in confusion and turned around.

Then he froze.

His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open as he stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on the grass.

Because there, nestled neatly inside the back of the net...was the ball.

It hadn’t bounced. It hadn’t rolled. It was simply there.

Perfectly still.

The entire stadium went silent.

Regan was the first to move, his whistle dangling from his lips, eyes wide as saucers.

He slowly raised his hand and said weakly,

"...One–nil."

The silence shattered instantly.

"WHAT?!"

"HE SCORED?!"

"NO WAY! DID ANYONE SEE THAT HAPPEN?!"

"I didn’t even see the ball move!" One of the students shouted. "It—it just disappeared and teleported inside!"

Another added, "I swear, I only heard the boom! The sound of the kick! There wasn’t even a sound when it hit the net!"

"Even the players didn’t know what happened! Look at them, they’re frozen!"

"Forget the players! Look at their goalkeeper!"

A demi-human else pointed at the confused goalkeeper, who was still blinking in disbelief.

"Even he didn’t see it! He doesn’t even know it went in!"

A cat-girl, still trying to process it, hesitated before saying quietly.

"Wait...if the ball’s already in the net, then shouldn’t we have heard something? The sound of it hitting, or the net rustling?"

Her friend replied shakily.

"What if...the ball moved so fast that by the time the sound of the kick reached us, it was already there? The sound of it going in just...overlapped."

That thought made everyone fall silent again, the realization hitting them like a chill.

Another boy whispered, terrified

"That would mean he kicked it fast enough to cover the whole pitch in microseconds."

"So fast that the sound couldn’t separate the impact from the result..."

Everyone’s faces went pale.

Vander, who had been smirking seconds ago, just stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, words failing him.

The demi-humans were caught between awe and fear.

And Nuri? She was bouncing in excitement, clapping her hands together and shouting,

"Come on!" Nuri’s cheerful voice broke the tension. "Let’s keep going! That was so fun! Next one, next one!"

Her excitement snapped Regan out of his daze.

"Right! Uh—yes! Restart the match!" He said hastily, blowing the whistle again.

Vander finally shook himself from his stupor.

"Alright, alright!" He barked to his teammates. "Don’t lose focus! We’ll get him this time!"

The others nodded fiercely, determination reigniting in their eyes.

The opposing goalkeeper kicked the ball back into play, passing it swiftly toward the front.

Nuri waved her hands wildly.

"Wait, wait, wait! Let me have the ball! I wanna kick again!"

But the humans ignored her, already weaving forward, determined to reclaim their pride.

This time, they didn’t rush.

Their passes were tighter, sharper. They moved the ball around like clockwork, testing Mika’s reactions, probing for weakness.

Then Vander got it again.

He gave a sly smirk, feinting toward the goal before launching the ball diagonally to his right—straight toward one of his teammates, who was already in position.

"Now!" Vander yelled.

The teammate leaped and volleyed the ball perfectly toward the open net.

The crowd leaned forward.

The demi-humans held their breath.

It was perfect.

No one could stop a pass like that.

But when their eyes went to the goalpost—

He was there.

Mika, who hadn’t been there a heartbeat ago, was suddenly standing exactly where the ball was headed.

His hand reached out effortlessly—thump!—and caught it midair.

Then—

"HE DID IT AGAIN!"

"He caught it! Again!"

"No way! It’s not luck this time!"

"How does he move like that?!"

The demi-humans were on their feet, cheering wildly, voices echoing across the pitch.

Regan himself stood stiff, his whistle dangling from his fingers as his brain tried to process what his eyes had just seen.

But before the noise could even settle, Mika spun the ball in his palm, then tossed it lightly into the air again.

"Wait, he’s not—" Regan began.

BOOM!

The sound exploded through the field, louder than before.

The earth seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, and several spectators staggered back, clutching their ears.

"What the hell was that?!"

"My ears—was that a cannon?!"

"No way, that wasn’t a kick—that was a missile launch!"

Yet this time, no one dared blink.

Every pair of eyes stayed locked on the ball’s trajectory.

Even the human goalkeeper crouched low, his hands spread wide, ready for anything.

But when he tried to track the ball...there was nothing.

His eyes darted left, right, up—nothing.

Then—

"It’s behind you! BEHIND YOU!" A voice from the stands screamed.

The goalkeeper’s entire body stiffened. His neck turned slowly, almost mechanically, like he was forcing himself to face a nightmare.

And there it was.

Nestled neatly against the net, the ball sat still.

The crowd exploded.

"ANOTHER ONE!"

"HE SCORED AGAIN! FROM ACROSS THE FIELD!"

"This is insane! I’ve been to pro matches and I’ve never seen anything like this!"

The demi-humans were losing their minds, shouting, jumping, hugging each other, while a few of them began chanting Mika’s name at the top of their lungs.

Meanwhile, the humans stood in mute disbelief.

Just moments ago, they had been confident, proud, sure of their superiority and now, their faces were pale, their hope bleeding out of them.

"This can’t be real..." One whispered.

"He’s...He’s just standing there..." Another said weakly.

"And he’s scoring goals from the other end." A third muttered, his voice trembling. "This isn’t football anymore..."

They were being annihilated.

Annihilated by a single boy who hadn’t even left the goalpost.

Every single shot he made from across the field struck home like it was nothing.

And Nuri, of course, made sure they knew it.

She flicked her tail smugly, voice dripping with mockery.

"You big, fat idiots! You think you can bully me and my pet Mika? Look at you now!"

She shouted, laughing gleefully.

"Can’t even stop one of his balls! This is too funny!"

She cupped her hands and yelled across the pitch.

"Hey, human captain! You should probably retire after this—every contract you’ve got is going to vanish! Just imagine how embarrassing this will look on the academy boards tomorrow!"

Her taunting laughter filled the field, making the already humiliated players grind their teeth in rage and fear.

Some of them looked genuinely terrified—not of Nuri, but of what would happen after this match, of what the academy would say, of how their careers would crumble after being destroyed by a support-class boy.

"Enough."

That was when Astrid’s voice cut through the chaos like a commander silencing her soldiers, who were in despair at the war they were losin.

"Don’t listen to that dragon girl." She said, glaring at her soldiers. "Stay focused. The match isn’t over yet. This is still just the beginning. If you plan, if you fight smart, you can still turn this around."

Her tone was steady, but her hands were clenched tight, and though her words carried confidence, her eyes betrayed uncertainty.

And the human team, desperate to hold onto something, nodded quickly.

"Y-Yes, ma’am!"

They huddled together, whispering furiously—strategizing, drawing patterns in the dirt, gesturing wildly.

Then, as if determined to reclaim their pride, they spread out once more across the pitch, their eyes burning with renewed determination.

For a moment, the crowd’s energy shifted.

The humans looked fierce, ready to take the fight seriously.

Even the demi-humans felt a flicker of unease, whispering.

"Maybe their luck’s turning. Maybe this is it."

But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

Because from that point on, their true downfall began.

The humans passed faster, cleaner, desperate to confuse Mika.

They faked shots, changed formation, even used complex tricks to draw him out.

But no matter what they did, the result was always the same.

Every time the ball left their foot, Mika was there.

He didn’t dive.

He didn’t jump.

He didn’t even move fast.

He simply...appeared.

His expression calm, bored, as though this entire game was an inconvenience.

Thump. Another save.

Thump. Another catch.

Thump. Another block.

Each sound drove another nail into the humans morale.

And every single time the ball came back to Mika—he fired it off again.

Boom!

Each kick exploded like a cannon.

Boom!

Each shot curved through the air like a missile.

Boom!

Each one slammed into the goalpost on the other side before anyone could even blink.

"Another one! 3–0!" Regan shouted, unable to hide his disbelief.

"No, wait—4–0!" another voice yelled.

"5–0! 6–0—he just keeps scoring!"

Students began filming, trying desperately to capture his movements to see if he was using some trick or power.

Some slowed their recordings to frame-by-frame playback.

Some even brought back certain devices to check if any mana of blessing was being utilised.

But when they replayed it on their devices, they froze.

There was no cheating. No trick. No blessing.

In the slow-motion footage, Mika was clearly seen kicking the ball normally—except his movements blurred like lightning, too fast for the human eye to comprehend.

"He’s...He’s not cheating." Someone muttered in awe.

"He’s just that fast."

And as the match went on, the score climbed higher.

10–0.

15–0.

20–0.

30–0.

The goalkeeper on the human side, drenched in sweat, finally broke.

"Please!" He begged his teammates. "Come here—help me! Surround the goal! Don’t let him shoot again!"

Half the team obeyed, rushing to the post.

They formed a human wall, arms linked, blocking every angle they could.

But Mika merely tilted his head, sighing softly.

Then he kicked again.

But not into the goal post like usual.

But instead he shot straight up into the air.

Boom!

Everyone followed the ball with their eyes, watching it vanish into the clouds.

And just when they thought it had disappeared completely—

Whoosh!

It started flying down.

It curved.

It spiraled.

It dropped like a divine hammer—straight into the net.

The crowd screamed.

"HE CURVED IT FROM THE SKY!"

"HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!"

"IS HE EVEN HUMAN?!"

And even after that, no matter what the humans tried after that, nothing worked.

It didn’t matter how many defensive walls they built or what formations they came up with.

Even when ninety percent of the team gathered near the goalpost, locking arms and forming a desperate barrier, praying that somehow, somehow they could stop the next shot, it didn’t matter.

Mika stood still and then with a slow exhale—he moved.

His foot connected with the ball with a crisp thump, and it danced through the air like a painter’s brushstroke.

He curved it with impossible accuracy, sending it swirling between legs, around shoulders, between heads—threading through microscopic gaps until it landed perfectly inside the net.

Every. Single. Time.

Despair spread like wildfire across the human team.

Their morale crumbled completely as the score kept rising.

And the crowd—oh, the crowd was only getting larger.