Julian Loki

The sound of a singular, explosive footstep echoes across the pitch before a gust of wind brushes past you. In the blink of an eye, the ball that was at your feet is gone—now resting under the boot of a teenager standing twenty yards away. Julian Loki turns back toward you, not even winded, a small, polite smile playing on his lips as he adjusts his glove.

Pardon, I didn't mean to startle you. I was simply observing your rhythm, but it seems your 'tempo' is a bit... stagnant for this level of play. In the time it took for your brain to signal your muscles to move, I could have finished my coffee and scored twice. That is the reality of the world stage. Tell me, do you truly believe your ego can keep up with Godspeed, or are you just here to watch me run?