Chapter 133 Chapter 133

Chapter 133 Chapter 133
The first shift told me everything I needed to know.
This wasn't going to be another North Ridge.
The moment the puck hit the ice, Ryder won the faceoff cleanly, pulling it backward toward Lucas. Normally, Western Helms would push forward immediately, using Ryder's speed to force the opposing defense into retreat.
Not today.
Before Lucas could even take a second stride, two Crescent forwards closed the space between them with frightening precision.
"No time!" Coach Bennett shouted from the bench.
Lucas reacted instantly, sending the puck back to Jake instead of forcing an attack.
The pass was safe and necessary.
But it also meant Crescent had already accomplished what they wanted.
They had disrupted Western Helms' rhythm less than ten seconds into the game.
"They're suffocating every lane," Sofia muttered beside me.
I lowered my camera just long enough to watch the play with my own eyes.
She was right and It was strange.
Crescent wasn't chasing the puck. They were chasing options.
Every passing lane Ryder usually relied on seemed to disappear a heartbeat before the puck reached it.
It wasn't aggressive hockey. It was intelligent hockey.
On the ice, Ryder circled behind his own net, scanning the rink.
He didn't rush.
His eyes flicked from one teammate to another, reading the green jerseys closing around them like pieces moving across a chessboard.
Then he saw it.
A tiny opening along the right boards.
"Jake!"
Jake understood immediately.
The defenseman banked the puck off the glass.
Ryder exploded forward.
For the first time all game, Western Helms broke through Crescent's neutral-zone trap.
The blue section of the crowd roared.
"Go, Ryder!" someone shouted from behind me.
Ryder crossed the blue line with Lucas keeping pace on his left.
Three-on-two.
The best chance either team had created.
Lucas pointed his stick.
"I'm open!"
Instead of passing, Ryder hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.
That was all Noah Whitmore needed.
The Crescent captain angled his skates perfectly, cutting off the passing lane without committing to a hit.
He didn't poke the puck away.
He simply stood exactly where Ryder didn't want him to be.
Ryder frowned.
Noah had read the play before it happened.
Forced to improvise, Ryder snapped a wrist shot through the defender's legs.
The puck skipped toward the top corner—
Clang!
It slammed against the crossbar before ricocheting harmlessly into the corner.
The entire arena gasped.
"So close..." I whispered.
Noah didn't celebrate.
He simply turned, collected the rebound, and sent a crisp outlet pass to one of his wingers.
In an instant, Crescent was attacking.
"They transition fast!" Sofia exclaimed.
Western Helms barely had time to recover.
Green jerseys flooded the offensive zone with remarkable discipline.
Nobody overcommitted or chased glory.
Every player seemed to know exactly where the next pass would go before it happened.
The puck moved from stick to stick almost effortlessly.
Left.
Center.
Right.
Back to the point.
A low shot zipped through traffic.
"Save!"
Ethan dropped to one knee, trapping the puck against his pads before the rebound could escape.
The whistle echoed sharply.
For the first time since the opening faceoff, play stopped.
The crowd applauded both teams.
Not because anyone had scored.
Because everyone could already tell...
This semifinal was going to be something special.
Ryder skated past Noah as both teams prepared for the defensive-zone faceoff.
For a brief moment, the two captains stood shoulder to shoulder.
The respect between them was unmistakable.
No cheap shots or trash talk.
Just two leaders quietly measuring one another.
From the bench, Coach Bennett folded his arms.
His expression remained calm, but his eyes never stopped following the movement of Crescent's players.
Beside him, Assistant Coach Berkeley leaned closer.
"They're exactly as disciplined as the film showed."
Coach Bennett nodded once.
"No."
His gaze remained fixed on the ice.
"They're even better."

\~~~~

The lines changed.
Fresh legs jumped over the boards almost in perfect sync, both coaches refusing to let fatigue become a factor this early. The game hadn't settled into a rhythm yet, but one thing was already obvious.
Neither team was willing to blink first.
I lowered my camera for a moment, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
"So..." Sofia whispered beside me. "How do you even write this?"
I smiled without taking my eyes off the ice.
"I don't."
She frowned.
"Not yet."
"You watch first."
The puck dropped again. This time Crescent won the draw.
Their center pushed it back to the defense, and almost immediately they began moving as one. It was mesmerizing.
No one skated too far ahead.
Every pass had a purpose and movement created space for someone else.
Coach Bennett hadn't exaggerated.
This team trusted each other completely.
"They're patient," I murmured as much to myself as to Sofia.
"They don't rush."
Before she could answer, Lucas intercepted a pass near the blue line.
"There we go!" Sofia cheered.
Lucas accelerated down the boards, protecting the puck with his body as a Crescent winger chased him. He slipped it toward the middle where Jake arrived at full speed.
Jake wound up. The crowd rose in anticipation.
A defender dropped to one knee.The shot never reached the net.
It slammed into a shin pad before bouncing harmlessly into the corner.
"No rebounds!" Noah called, his voice cutting through the noise.
His teammates reacted instantly.
Two green jerseys collapsed around the loose puck, shielding their goaltender before clearing it safely into the neutral zone.
I scribbled a quick note.
They defend as five.
Western Helms attacked with speed.
Crescent defended with unity.
Neither style was better.
Just... different.
Ryder hopped over the boards for his second shift.
The roar from the Western Helms supporters swelled immediately.
He tapped Lucas's glove as they crossed paths.
"Let's stretch them."
Lucas nodded.
"Got it."
The puck found Ryder's stick just inside the neutral zone.
Instead of charging ahead, he slowed.
His head turned from left to right, studying the ice the same way Noah had only moments earlier.
He wasn't looking for a hole. He was looking for a mistake.
One appeared.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
A Crescent defenseman drifted half a stride too far toward Lucas.
Ryder attacked.
His skates bit into the ice as he exploded between two defenders, dragging the puck from his forehand to his backhand with breathtaking control.
The arena erupted.
"He beat them!" Sofia shouted.
One defender reached desperately with his stick.
Missed.
Another tried to angle him toward the boards.
Too late.
Ryder cut inside. Only the goaltender remained.
For a heartbeat, time slowed.
The goalie crouched lower.
Ryder lifted his eyes.
Shot fake.
The goalie flinched.
Ryder pulled the puck across the crease—
Then suddenly...
A stick appeared from nowhere.
Clean and precise.
The puck disappeared from Ryder's blade before he could shoot.
No slash or trip or collision.
Just perfect timing.
Noah.
The Crescent captain never even celebrated the defensive play.
He simply gathered the puck and turned up ice.
Ryder coasted to a stop, breathing heavily.
For the first time all game...
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Not frustration.
Appreciation.
As Noah skated past, their shoulders brushed lightly.
"Nice play," Ryder admitted.
Noah glanced sideways.
"You too."
That was it.
Just respect exchanged between two competitors who understood exactly how difficult that play had been.
From behind me, one of the local reporters leaned toward another journalist.
"This doesn't feel like high school hockey."
His colleague nodded.
"It isn't."
I couldn't disagree.
The pace, the discipline and intelligence.
Every shift felt like watching two grandmasters moving pieces across a chessboard.
Nobody wanted the flashy move.
Everyone wanted the right one.
Coach Bennett folded his arms behind the bench.
His expression remained unreadable.
Assistant Coach Berkeley leaned closer.
"They've shut Ryder down twice already."
Coach Bennett's eyes stayed on the ice.
"They haven't shut him down."
Berkeley looked puzzled.
"They've slowed him."
A faint smile touched Coach Bennett's face.
"And Ryder's still learning them."
Berkeley followed his gaze back toward the captain.
"You think he's figured something out?"
"I think..." Coach Bennett replied quietly, "...he's asking the right questions."
The whistle sounded again.
Offside.
Players drifted toward their benches for another line change.
As Ryder climbed over the boards, Coach Bennett met him halfway.
He didn't grab the tactics board or launch into instructions.
He simply asked,
"What do you see?"
Ryder took a quick drink from his water bottle before answering.
"They're disciplined."
Coach Bennett nodded.
"What else?"
"They don't chase."
"What else?"
Ryder wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his eyes never leaving Crescent as they prepared for the next faceoff.
"Their captain."
Coach Bennett waited.
"He doesn't lead the play."
Ryder's voice grew quieter.
"He leads the players."
Coach Bennett smiled.
"And?"
Ryder looked back toward the ice.
"...That's why they're so hard to break."
Coach Bennett patted him once on the shoulder.
"So how do you beat them?"
Ryder didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he watched Noah speaking calmly to his own line before the faceoff.
Then he looked back at his teammates.
His answer came almost as a whisper.
"We stop trying to beat Noah..."
"...and start beating Crescent."
Coach Bennett's smile widened.
"There it is."
The referee skated toward the faceoff circle once more.
The puck rested in his hand.
Around me, the arena buzzed with anticipation.
Twenty minutes into the semifinal...
The scoreboard still read:
Western Helms 0
Crescent Academy 0
Yet somehow...
It felt like both teams had already revealed exactly who they were.
And the real battle...was only just beginning.