BLUE LOCK CHAPTER 40: SECOND SELECTION
BLUE LOCK CHAPTER 40 – A DETAILED BREAKDOWN:
SECOND SELECTION
The moment Blue Lock Chapter 40 drops its opening line, you know the rules have changed. “We’ll now begin the second selection round.” Six words. Zero mercy. Everything the players fought for in the first selection, every bruise, every goal, every desperate scramble, was just the warm-up. Now, the real culling begins.
This is not a chapter about action. It’s about atmosphere, pressure, and one jaw-dropping entrance that resets the entire power hierarchy in a single page.
The Rules of the Second Selection, And Why They’re Terrifying
The first selection was about survival. Turning your zero into a one. Proving you belonged.
The second selection? That’s about transformation. As the announcement puts it: “You’ll be fighting to turn your ‘1’ into ‘100.’” Five stages. Each one a gate you either walk through, or don’t.
What makes this moment land so hard is what’s waiting at the end. Clear all five stages, and you earn a spot in a special training camp alongside top players from around the world, silhouettes shown flying flags of France, Spain, Brazil, and England. The stakes just went global.
“One at a Time”, The Twist That Breaks the Team Apart
Then comes the gut punch nobody saw coming.
“The first stage is an individual battle.”
Four words that shatter everything Team Z built together. No formations. No cover. No relying on a teammate’s instincts. Every player enters Gate 1 alone, and, critically, “once you go in, you can’t go back.”
The warning that follows is ice cold: “Remember that if you don’t advance to the second stage… you won’t see your rivals again.” This isn’t just elimination. It’s erasure. Miss your stage, and the people you bled alongside simply disappear from your world.
The Crowd Freezes, Until One Player Doesn’t
The reaction from the players is instantly human. Chatter. Hesitation. “You go first.” “No way!” Nobody wants to be the test subject.
And then, silence.
One player steps forward without a word. He picks up a ball. He stretches. Calm. Unhurried. Like the gate in front of him is a minor inconvenience.
What follows is the chapter’s visual centerpiece, a two kick showcase that leaves every player’s jaw on the floor. First: “a clean kick on a high, soft trajectory.” The control is surgical. Then, immediately after landing: “a fast curve shot on a low trajectory.” Power. Precision. Completely different technique, back to back.
The Midair Finish, “A Pinpoint Hit… In Midair?!”
Just when the crowd thinks they’ve seen enough, KA-THWAD.
A third strike. In midair. The reactions say everything: “Holy shit… He’s good… A pinpoint hit in midair?!” And then the observation that truly defines why this moment matters: “He can perfectly use two different kinds of kicks.”
This isn’t someone who’s good at football. This is someone who has mastered football, and is only now showing the surface of it.
He walks through the gate without looking back.
Rin Itoshi, A Name That Changes the Room
“CHALLENGER: RIN ITOSHI”
The name hits the crowd like a thunderclap. “ITOSHI?! That’s Sae Itoshi, right? The Itoshi from the best eleven?!” The connection is instant, and the implication is enormous. If Sae Itoshi is already at the summit of world football, then Rin Itoshi arriving in the second selection means one thing:
There is a monster in this building who hasn’t even started climbing yet.
The faces around the gate go quiet. Shock. Silence. Recalibration. The chapter earns this reaction completely — we watched the demonstration, we felt the gap, and now we have a name to attach to it.
Team Z Refuses to Be Intimidated, And It’s Beautiful
Here’s where the chapter does something unexpected. Instead of letting Rin’s entrance crush the mood, the boys of Team Z immediately start arguing about who they were the most badass.
“My face block was pretty badass!!” “No. My shot was way more badass.” “My dribbling was badass!”
It’s chaotic. It’s loud. It’s completely them. And it matters, because this scene is the emotional exhale before everything gets harder. These players aren’t intimidated into silence. They’ve earned their own pride, and they know it.
The moment peaks with a group roar: “We’re all badass!!!” It’s messy and joyful and exactly the right energy before the door closes and they’re alone.
Isagi Steps Through, And Feels Something New
“CHALLENGER: YOICHI ISAGI”
When Isagi finally steps up, the internal monologue is everything. He acknowledges the path ahead is his alone, “a path that I need to walk by myself”, but the emotion underneath isn’t fear.
“Part of me feels oddly excited… It’s more like exaltation… backed up by the results of having fought to get here.”
Then comes the line that defines his arc in a single sentence: “THIS MUST BE WHAT CONFIDENCE FEELS LIKE.”
This is why this moment matters. Isagi has spent the series chasing something he couldn’t name. Now, standing at the gate, he finally feels it under his feet, solid, earned, real.
Stage 1: A Room Full of Panels, a Flying Ball, and a Goalkeeper
The gate closes. Isagi steps into Stage 1, a square room lined with panels, and before he can even process the space, a ball rockets in from nowhere.
“It’s just starting like that?!”
Then the reveal: “BLUE LOCK MAN — SPEC: GOAL KEEPER.”
A mechanical goalkeeper. An automated challenge. And zero time to breathe.
Chapter 40 ends exactly where it should, on the edge of the unknown, with Isagi staring at something nobody has faced before, ready to grow.
Final Thoughts
This chapter is a masterclass in setup. It raises the stakes globally, fractures the team structure, introduces the most intimidating new presence in the series so far, and still finds room for heart. Rin Itoshi’s entrance redefines the ceiling. Isagi’s confidence monologue redefines his floor. Everything in between is pure tension.
The second selection isn’t just harder. It’s different in kind, and Blue Lock Chapter 40 makes sure you feel every inch of that shift.
Continue to Chapter 41 → Isagi faces the Blue Lock Man goalkeeper challenge alone. What does Stage 1 actually test? And how does Isagi’s newfound confidence hold up when the machine starts reading his moves?