The System Makes Me a Player Chapter 78

The ball rolled again through the midfield, but the atmosphere in the gym was already different. Oliveira’s challenge against Diego had ignited Sanu’s supporters, and the noise was deafening. Shouts, drums, waving flags, everything seed to shake in the stands. Kazana looked at Ian and made a quick hand signal, as if saying, "Do it again, but calmly." Ian nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Sanu’s number 10 took a deep breath, spun past Luquinhas, and played a short pass to Dante. The defensive midfielder received it first-ti and, without hesitation, returned the ball in depth. Kelvin, on the left wing, observed Ian, and with a single gesture, began to run behind the fullback. Ian understood Kelvin’s ssage: "Make your pass to , Ian. Yours"

He raised his head, saw Kelvin open on the left, glued to the touchline, already in position to burst forward. Ian’s heart pounded harder, but the decision was instant. With his right foot, he made the sa pass he had made in the doubles tournant, completely violent and dangerous, a tense ball, fast, almost like a dart toward number 11.

"Go, Kelvin!", shouted Dante, throwing his body forward as if he could accelerate the play with his own energy.

In the stands, Samuel leaned forward, eyes wide.

"There he cos..."

[Skill Activated: Instinctive Dribble]

Kelvin exploded forward, muscles coiled like springs, running in sync with the ball’s flight. For a second, it looked like Biel would cut it again. Zenkai’s captain advanced with firm steps, positioning himself in the ball’s path. But it flew just centiters past his outstretched leg, and Kelvin arrived first, controlling it with his chest and bringing it down perfectly.

The stadium erupted in applause and shouts for Ian’s precise pass, showing why he was Sanu’s number 10. Kelvin wasted no ti. Before Biel could even turn to pressure him, he was already charging forward.

The fullback was the first to close the space, sprinting back.

"You won’t get past", he shouted, eyes fixed on the ball.

Kelvin pulled inside with his right foot, deceiving the approach. The fullback stretched his leg, but the dribble was short and sharp. The ball clung to his cleat, and Kelvin darted past like a gust of wind. The crowd roared, and Samuel banged against the railing in the stands.

"I wish we had this guy on our team"

Samuka laughed, folding his arms.

"He’s completely different"

The next obstacle was Mateus. Zenkai’s towering defender stepped forward twice and planted his body like a wall, blocking the lane. Kelvin didn’t slow down. He took the ball left, feinted the dribble, and at the last second pulled back to the right, crossing in front of the defender with a light body feint. Mateus tried to follow, but the spin was too quick. The ball slipped past, and Kelvin escaped.

The entire stadium rose to its feet. The sound of the shouts rged, creating a collective roar. It was as if everyone knew they were witnessing sothing unique.

"Pass it, Kelvin!", roared Kazana, showing he was ready to receive.

Biel was still coming from behind, running to close in. Luquinhas, sensing the danger, left Dante behind and advanced. But Kelvin was in a trance. Every touch seed calculated to the milliter, every step perfect. And he completely ignored Kazana.

He charged at the third marker: Biel, the captain. Number 5 spread his arms, closing the space, eyes sharp, the stance of soone who had stopped dozens of attacks like this. Kelvin faked a long shot, forcing Biel to step forward. The next instant, he pulled the ball back and cut to the opposite side. The captain slid across the floor, but too late. Kelvin escaped.

"My God...", Samuel murmured, his voice breaking, hands covering his mouth, "he got past Biel"

Samuka didn’t blink.

"Unbelievable."

Kelvin already felt his chest burning, his breath faltering, but he didn’t stop. Space opened before him. He was at the edge of the box. The shouts grew louder, every supporter on their feet, waiting for the shot. It was the perfect mont to crown the play, to turn it into a historic mont for Sanu.

He adjusted his body, pulled the ball onto his right foot, and lifted his head. He saw the goal ahead, Zenkai’s keeper slightly off his line.

"Now!", shouted Dante, his voice nearly breaking from the effort.

Kelvin wound up for the shot. The stands held their breath. The motion was complete, body leaning, leg stretching. His foot would et the ball the next second... and it did, in a mont of pure ecstasy.

But Luquinhas appeared like a shadow, flying sideways, throwing himself into the path of the shot. Zenkai’s number 10 blocked with his whole body, the ball exploding against his thigh and ricocheting back.

The impact echoed through the gym, muting even the shouts. Sanu’s counterattack had been stopped.

The ball flew and landed cleanly for Diego further back. But instead of bursting forward, the forward stopped. He just stared at Kelvin, who still had his leg raised, disbelief in his eyes fixed on the rival who had just denied his mont of glory.

The silence lasted only seconds, until Zenkai’s crowd erupted in celebration. Deafening shouts echoed, flags shook the air, and the players ran to embrace Luquinhas, who stood up with a smile of pure satisfaction.

"Well done, Luquinhas!", Biel roared, punching the air, "that’s how it’s done!"

Kelvin fell to his knees, feeling his heart pound so hard it seed about to burst from his chest. He breathed heavily, muscles burning, his body sweating as if he had run the whole match in a single play.

In the stands, Samuel ran a hand through his hair, incredulous.

"I thought it was going to be a goal... I swear I did"

Samuka laughed nervously, still wide-eyed.

"This ga’s insane, man. Kelvin almost tore Zenkai apart all by himself"

Diego still didn’t move. He held the ball at his feet but stared at Kelvin, almost unable to believe what he had seen. Sanu’s number 11 slowly rose, his chest heaving with spasms of effort, his gaze burning.

Kelvin still looked at Luquinhas. Zenkai’s number 10 adjusted his hair bun, smiling as if he had just scored a goal. He raised his hand toward Kelvin, pointing directly at him, and spoke loud enough to echo through the stadium:

"Close one, Kelvin. Try again next ti"

The phrase reverberated through every corner of the stadium, both a warning and a provocation.

The score was still 0–0, but the feeling was that sothing monuntal had already happened.