The System Makes Me a Player

The game continued, suffocating, without pause. Every second felt like it lasted minutes. Uchi didn't fall back, they didn't give space. Samuel and Samuka began organizing another attack, pressing down the right side. Their touch was quick, almost mechanical, as if they already knew each of our movements by heart. Samuel cut inside, and Samuka received it head-on, spinning his body at speed. Dante tried to anticipate, but the pass came perfect, too fast for any intervention. The central corridor opened for a fraction of a second, and I felt the chill of the shot crawl up my spine.

The shot came hard, low, lethal. Murilo dove, but it wasn't enough; the ball barely grazed the net. The stands erupted in a mixture of cheers and groans, and I felt my heart jump. My body reacted before my mind. I looked at Oliveira, who was at the center of the defense, motionless like a statue until that moment, ready to be the barrier everyone said was impossible. He moved at the exact time, anticipated the next dribble, and stretched his leg, touching the ball to intercept the advancing attacker. With a quick pass, almost without looking, Oliveira sent the ball flying to me.

"Show your skill, Kelvin. Step out of the damn shadows", Oliveira shouted, firm, not waiting for a reply.

I received the ball on my chest, feeling the leather touch as if it were an extension of my body. The stadium disappeared. The crowd became just a distant hum, and Uchi's shouts, pressing in on me, seemed to echo in my chest, beating in the same rhythm as my heart. I looked at the twins, positioned to surround me. Samuel came from the right, Samuka from the left. Every movement of theirs was calculated, but the ball was with me.

[Ability Activated: Instinctive Dribble]

The world shrank to the touch of the ball, the steps of the opponents, the space that appeared and disappeared. A quick cut to the right, weight distributed, and the ball glued to my feet. Samuel anticipated, but I pulled the ball with the sole and turned my hip, spinning over his kick. Samuka advanced, and I felt the space from the corner of my eye; instinctively, I pulled the ball inside, in a short spin, forcing Samuka to brake on instinct. Every step felt like a silent conversation with the ball, every touch a command only it could hear.

The first clean dribble. A whisper of movement that no one could predict. Samuel came again, aggressive, but slow compared to the cadence my body created. A heel touch inward, pulling the ball to the other side; Samuka fell into the trap, trying to guess my move, but guessed nothing. With each step, each cut, my body spoke before my mind. Adrenaline turned into precision. Instinct didn't let me fail.

The twins were trapped, without options. Every approach was deflected, every advance cut before it could happen. The field narrowed for them and opened for me. A quick dribble between the two, in a 180-degree spin; the ball glued to my feet as if it were part of my body. The crowd was now just background noise, indifferent to what was happening in my private world.

Kazana shouted instructions, but they were just echoes. Rodrigo and Ian moved to open space, not interfering with my dance with the ball. I felt every step of the fullback, every lean of Samuel and Samuka, anticipating, calculating, reacting without thinking. A dribble in, another out, a feint that forced Samuka to lift his foot too early; instinct shouted, and my feet obeyed.

The corridor was open. One, two, three quick dribbles, without losing speed, without letting the ball escape. Their defender, desperate, tried to extend his leg to intercept me, but I pulled the ball back at the exact moment, spinning on my heel and advancing through the newly created space. The fullback came from the other side, and I had already changed direction before he could react. Every touch was small, short, lethal; every step measured by the need to deceive, not reasoning.

The stadium felt it. A murmur of surprise ran through the stands. Kazana shouted again, but now his voice was part of the noise, not my decision. I was inside the ball, and the ball inside me.

The last dribble was a short cut inward, a quick spin, and a touch over the shoulder of the approaching defender. The midfielder fell into my movement, stumbling over his own haste. The defensive midfielder tried to recover, but the ball was already moving toward me, sliding as if it had consciousness. I accelerated, controlling it with the sole and pulling to the opposite side, creating space for Ian and Rodrigo to enter diagonally.

When I realized, I was at the edge of the penalty area, with the goal in front, a defender not knowing where to go, and the goalkeeper trying to guess my position. My heart raced, but every breath was coordinated with the touch of the ball. Instinct dictated the path, and I obeyed. One last cut, opening the angle, and I looked at the space that had opened between the defenders.

"Go, Kelvin", I whispered to myself, thinking nothing else.

Accelerating, the ball glued to my feet, I closed my eyes for a fraction, feeling the entire field under the sole of my boot. The final dribble was an invisible pass of body and ball: quick touch to the right, spin on my heel, shot through the defender who was still trying to reach me. Samuel fell to the ground, Samuka lunged to block, and the ball passed over the extended leg, kissing the ground, staying alive in the air.

I received it first touch on the left, charging forward. The goalkeeper advanced, trying to cut the angle, but the ball was faster, smarter. A short, low touch, direct to the corner I had chosen instinctively. The ball went in slowly, as if wanting to show the entire path it had taken, and the stadium erupted. The scream mixed surprise, joy, and disbelief. I dropped to my knees, breathing deeply, feeling the energy of the goal surge through every fiber of my body.

"That's it!", Kazana shouted, running to me, slapping my shoulder hard, "You showed what you could do"

Ian appeared, laughing silently, pulling me up. Rodrigo and Felipe came around, and even Oliveira approached, wordless, only a look saying: perfect.

The feeling of being alive on the field, of having overcome the pressure of the twins, still burned in every muscle. I breathed deeply and, without realizing it, raised my arms. The crowd exploded. It wasn't just a shout; it was a collective roar that shook every corner of the stadium, mixing disbelief and euphoria. I felt every clap, every cheer, reverberating through my chest, making my ears pulse with my heartbeat.

My parents were there, in the stands. My mother, hands over her face, still unsure where to put her anxiety, now couldn't hide her smile. My father, fist raised in the air, seemed to carry all the pride in the world in that simple gesture. Júlia, near them, just smiled, small and contained, but her eyes shone as if the sun had risen inside the stands. Her gaze found mine, and for a moment, the world shrank to that instant: me, the goal, and her watching.

Oliveira came to me, steady steps, no words. Just a look, confirming that what had happened wasn't luck. Murilo approached, breathing deeply, but didn't speak either. Their silence carried more power than any cheer. Kazana came behind, smiling, slapping my shoulder with that force that seemed to say: you're ready for anything. Ian, always silent, now laughed without sound, eyes bright, pulling me into an embrace. Rodrigo and Felipe joined, in a circle that didn't need words, only shared celebration.

The entire stadium seemed to tremble with the vibration of the equalizer. The shouts mixed my name with all the Sanu players, and I felt the taste of momentary victory, even though the game wasn't over. Every step I took toward the center circle was accompanied by the deafening noise of the crowd, every breath a reflection of the adrenaline still running through my body.

I breathed deeply, feeling the ground firm beneath my boots. The air was heavy, hot with the mix of sweat, tension, and the hope of thousands of voices. The ball returned to the center, and with it came the certainty that this tie wasn't just a point: it was proof that we were alive, that the game could be balanced, and that no one could suffocate us.

Kazana tapped my shoulder again, pulling me forward.

"Keep the pace, Kelvin", he said, his voice cutting through the confusion of the stands, "They'll try again. Don't let them slip"

I nodded, feeling every muscle alert, every neuron ready to react. The instinct still burned, the memory of the instinctive dribble fresh in my mind. It wasn't just technique; it was sensation, pure perception of space, body, and time. I knew the twins wouldn't rest. Samuel and Samuka were thirsty for revenge, and I needed to be ready.