The System Makes Me a Player

Luquinhas ran toward the corner flag, arms wide open, his face lit with pure euphoria. Diego reached him first, jumping on his back. Biel came right after, shouting at the top of his lungs.

It was 2–1 for Zenkai.

Their supporters' section exploded in chants. Flags waved, shirts flew into the air.

On the other side, Sanu's fans fell into heavy silence — the silence of disbelief, of those who couldn't accept what they had just witnessed.

Kelvin stared at Luquinhas, taking a deep breath.

Next to him, Dante ran his hands over his face, still trying to process it.

"Did he just do what I think he did?", he asked, almost in disbelief.

Kelvin answered with a faint smile, his eyes still fixed on Zenkai's number 10.

"He did. And he did it because he knew Oliveira wouldn't expect that"

Kazana, completely stunned, looked at them but understood perfectly what had just happened. They were still playing the same way, but there was one difference — Diego.

Oliveira was still on the ground, furious with himself.

Luquinhas had done something few players could: he had broken through Sanu's defensive system the same way Erick once did.

Oliveira dropped to one knee, staring at the grass.

He wasn't physically exhausted — it was something else. It was as if Luquinhas's play had exposed something inside him, a wound he thought had already healed.

Since childhood, Oliveira had been immersed in football, and from that moment on, he had developed a fascination with defenders. He loved how they stripped attackers of their shine, how they neutralized brilliance.

Every player saw the field differently, and at that moment, Luquinhas had seen something none of them had.

Biel approached Diego, who was still celebrating with Luquinhas.

"I told you, Diego. If you follow my lead, we'll be champions. Everything's going just as we planned at halftime"

Then Oliveira understood. Diego had been just the bait — a mere distraction. Anger boiled in his head like a thermometer rising in heat.

"I'm such an idiot. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT! I've watched every play from this team, analyzed every player — I should've known better. It's that damn Biel who's changing everything. They don't play like this. They never play like this," he muttered, fixing his glare on Biel, "But I get it now. I've figured out how your second-rate team plays. I'm not conceding another goal this match."

The game resumed.

Zenkai now played with confidence. Biel pressed high, while Diego and Luquinhas exchanged short, quick passes, destabilizing Sanu's defense.

Little by little, their technical dominance began to show.

Even so, Dante didn't give in.

He called for the ball, demanded play, and tried to speed up transitions with Kelvin.

"We're turning this around!", he shouted after receiving a pass and spinning to escape Biel.

Kelvin responded with a one-touch pass, sending Felipe down the right wing.

But the pass was too long, and the ball went out of bounds.

Kazana came closer, clapping his hands.

"Come on! The game's not over!"

But Kelvin's expression was serious.

He knew it would take more than determination now — they needed synchronicity, the same rhythm he and Dante had shown in the first half.

On the other side, Luquinhas remained a constant threat.

With every touch, every dribble, the stadium roared. It was as if the boy had his own gravitational field.

Rodrigo approached Dante during a pause, as the ball went out for a goal kick.

"Bro, that kid's a demon... you can't take the ball off him!"

Dante took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his face.

"It's not about taking the ball from him... it's about knowing what he'll do before he does it."

Rodrigo raised an eyebrow.

"You're starting to sound like Kelvin"

Dante smirked slightly.

"Maybe because he's right"

When the game restarted, Luquinhas received it again in midfield.

This time, Dante was ready.

He didn't rush in. He just watched.

One touch, two, a turn, a pause — the same pattern as before.

Dante waited for the moment the boy would glance sideways — and then, the instant he lifted his chin, Dante moved in, intercepting the pass before it could reach Biel.

The stadium erupted.

"That's it, Dante!", shouted Kazana.

Dante sprinted forward, played it wide to Kelvin, who burst down the flank.

The counterattack was on again.

Kelvin advanced, body swaying, feinting the cut, but held onto the ball.

"Come with me!", he shouted.

Dante followed, and the two began exchanging short passes — quick, precise, almost telepathic.

It was as if they were moving to their own rhythm, a tempo only they understood.

But before they could reach the box, Mateus stopped the play with a clean sliding tackle, sending the ball out.

The referee blew the whistle for a throw-in.

Dante placed his hands on his waist, panting but resolute.

"They may have turned it around... but the game's still ours"

Kelvin looked at him and replied with a short smile.

"Then let's prove it"

Across the field, Luquinhas positioned himself to receive the ball again, his gaze firm, confident.

He had done the impossible — and now he wanted more.

Zenkai's fans were already starting to sing of victory.

But on the field, Dante, Kelvin, and Kazana knew there was still time.

And if there was time...

There was still history to be written.

The imaginary stadium camera showed Luquinhas smiling, his heel still dirty with grass, as the replay of his goal played on the big screen.

On the other side, Kelvin brushed back his hair, staring at him with the same look one predator gives another.

The battle wasn't over yet.

The scoreboard read 2–1.