Rodrigo took a deep breath, feeling sweat run down his forehead. Each beat of his heart felt like a war drum, and the tension in the stadium was palpable. He knew that this corner kick could set the pace for the rest of the match. With a calculated movent, he placed the ball on the spot, asuring the distance, adjusting his foot to craft the perfect trajectory.
"Let’s do this", he muttered to himself, feeling the pressure coming from all sides.
The referee watched closely, ready to whistle at the first sign of irregularity. The Zenkai crowd braced, their shouts mixing expectation and excitent. On the pitch, Oliveira stood like a wall, firm, ready for any play that approached. Mateus, the tall, imposing center back, positioned himself beside him, preparing to contest any aerial duel.
Rodrigo stepped back a few paces, inhaled, and struck with power and precision. The ball rose, tracing a perfect curve toward the near post. Every centiter of its flight seed choreographed, every instant loaded with explosive potential.
Biel anticipated it, eyes focused and body tensed like a predator. He controlled the ball with a firm, instant touch, feeling the weight of responsibility. He knew the next decision would determine the most decisive seconds of that play. Without hesitation, he blasted the ball away, sending it like a missile across the turf, forcing everyone to react in fractions of a second.
Dante, alert as ever, sprinted to intercept, adrenaline coursing through his body. Every muscle was on high alert, every step calculated, every breath controlled. But Luquinhas had already read the play in advance. Every movent of Dante, every acceleration, every running angle had been predicted by Zenkai’s midfielder. When the ball bounced on the grass, Luquinhas seized the perfect mont: a masterful touch sidestepped Dante, using body and agility to gain the advantage. Dante tried a desperate slide, dragging himself across the turf, but the ball was already under the opposing midfielder’s control.
The stands exploded in reaction. Samuka, standing, seed hypnotized by the play.
"My God... Luquinhas was extrely smart on that move", he murmured, unable to take his eyes off the pitch.
Samuel, patting his brother on the shoulder, agreed:
"Watching these guys play, it feels like our generation was nothing"
Matheus Rios, forr Sanu captain, crossed his arms, staring at the field with a mix of respect and nostalgia.
"I’d love to be able to play with them. I still miss my high school days", he said in a deep voice.
Rafael Duarte beside him smiled, trying to ease the tension:
"I agree. But then I rember math tests, and I lose the desire", he said, laughing in a way that echoed over the crowd’s shouts.
As the scramble in the box subsided, Luquinhas advanced with the ball. Every touch was precise, calculated, as if an invisible line connected his feet to the ball’s destination. And there, charging toward Sanu’s goal, Diego thundered, his steps striking the turf like thunder, his whole body coiled, every fiber focused on the opponent’s net. His presence was savage, almost primitive, and the tension rose with every ter he closed.
Kelvin perceived the threat instantly. Sanu’s number 11 surged forward, cutting off the passing lane.
"I won’t let him make the pass", he thought, eyes fixed on Luquinhas, muscles tensed, ready for any movent.
But Luquinhas had already calculated every step of his opponent. With an almost impossible touch, he threaded the ball to Diego, completely without angle. The pass split the space between Kelvin and Dante with millitric precision, almost as if the ball had eyes of its own. The entire stadium held its breath.
"My God! What a fucking pass!", Samuel shouted, almost leaping from the stands.
"He saw the impossible... and still made it!" Samuka exclaid, his voice choked with emotion.
Matheus Rios murmured, serious:
"I have to agree, this generation is extrely special"
Rafael Duarte added, impressed:
"This is what I call a football genius. No wonder he’s the most well-known on the team"
Diego saw the ball arriving, but Oliveira was already ready. Sanu’s defender projected himself, body firm, ready to dispossess. Every muscle was tense, every gaze fixed, every second seeming to stretch.
"GET IT, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!", Diego scread, unleashing all his pent-up fury in a single instant.
With a first-ti strike that surprised Oliveira from outside the box, he thundered the ball with extre force. Murilo, the keeper, dived with everything, but could do nothing. The ball found the corner perfectly; the net shook violently.
GOAL!
Diego exploded in celebration. He pounded the turf, ran to the corner flag, and kicked it with all his strength, nearly breaking it in two. He shouted, releasing every drop of energy, every mont of accumulated tension. Zenkai’s fans went delirious, vibrating with every second of that epic scene.
"What the hell was that?", Rafael Duarte roared from the stands, stunned by the intensity of the play.
Samuel clenched his fists, eyes wide.
"Surreal", he murmured, unable to hide his astonishnt.
Samuka, still standing, breathed heavily, trying to process the sequence:
"He completely tricked Oliveira. He didn’t expect a first-ti shot"
On the pitch, Kelvin drew a deep breath, frustration burning through every muscle. Dante and Ian were incredulous, eyes fixed on the goal that had ford in seconds. Kazana ran to organize the team:
"Keep your heads up! The ga isn’t over! Let’s show who’s boss here!"
Kazana said it, but beneath his words his irritation at conceding the goal throbbed.
Oliveira, who until then had only been watching Diego’s celebration, let out a small sigh.
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