The whistle blew, and the field trembled with Kazana's first touch on the ball. The stadium erupted in cheers and applause, the final match atmosphere pulsing in the air, thick like smoke before a fire.

Kelvin was already moving down the left like a predator loose in the forest. He received the first ball from Rodrigo still in their own half, stepped on it, lifted his head, and went forward. Héra's fullback tried to anticipate the dribble—wrong guess. A sharp cut inside, a flick with the outside of the boot, and he was gone. Kelvin let the ball roll a little too far, but recovered it before the defender could reach. The marking doubled, so he smartly rolled it to Ian, who controlled and switched the play all the way to Felipe on the opposite side.

Sanu was showing their intentions from the start.

Felipe controlled, cut inside, ignored the first defender with a short dribble, and curled a shot. Héra's goalkeeper stretched fully and managed to palm it away. The ball bounced loose, but no one could follow up. It was a warning.

In the stands, Takumi watched silently. His gaze calm, but intense. Júlia, beside him, kept her eyes on the field… but every now and then, they drifted toward Héra's bench. Erick wasn't there.

Héra's coach gestured anxiously, giving instructions and pulling the lines back. The plan was clear: survive. Without Erick, their offense was nearly nonexistent. The backup striker was limited to fighting for long balls, but without much effect. Lian, the captain, was doing what he could to maintain structure—and composure.

Rodrigo received and turned with ease, floating between markers naturally. In one of those moves, he sent a vertical pass through two defenders. Kazana burst forward like a charging bull, controlled it, but was blocked at the last moment.

Sanu had already taken control of the midfield.

The pressure increased, and Kelvin touched the ball more frequently. Danilo advanced up the left, exchanged passes with Ian, and left the opposing fullback lost. Kelvin received wide, drove to the byline, and whipped in a cross. The ball sliced through the area, grazed a defender's head, and went out.

Corner.

Felipe went to take it, signaled with his hand. A curling ball into the six-yard box, and Kelvin rose higher than everyone. The solid thud of his forehead against the ball echoed like thunder—

GOOOOAAAAAL!

The roar was deafening, shaking the stadium. Kazana ran to the crowd, pointing both fingers at the club badge. Ian was right behind, pounding his chest. Rodrigo, Ian, Felipe—all surrounded the left winger with hugs, slaps, and celebrations. It was the advantage they needed.

On Héra's side, no one complained. Lian quickly gathered the players, saying things like "breathe," "it's not over," and "stay confident." But deep down, they all knew something was missing. Someone.

Erick.

Júlia remained silent, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the field. Her brother hadn't shown up or even messaged. And while she was used to his temper and vanishing acts, this one bothered her. A lot.

The game resumed and Sanu had already recovered possession.

Kelvin got it on the wing, this time drifting more centrally, faced two defenders, pulled off a surprising spin move and slipped between them. The crowd went wild. He carried the ball to the edge of the box and unleashed a rocket—just inches wide of the top corner.

"OOOOHHHH!", the fans shouted, jumping from their seats.

Héra tried to respond. Lian, bold as ever, took a long shot from outside the area. Murilo stretched and made a beautiful save. The rebound fell to Héra, but Victor stepped in and cleared it. Dante picked it up and launched Kelvin on the counterattack.

The number 11 picked up speed, beat the first defender with a subtle touch, and was pulled by the shirt. Clear foul. The crowd called for a card, but the referee only gave a verbal warning. Kelvin got up with restrained anger, eyes firm, but took a deep breath. He was locked into the game. The system hadn't said anything yet, but he knew any moment now it could challenge him with a new mission.

Rodrigo took the free kick. A direct shot, aiming for the top corner. Another spectacular save by Héra's keeper.

Sanu swarmed, pressed, circled the box like sharks around a leaking boat.

Héra's coach exchanged tense glances with his assistant. Erick's absence was now being felt even on the bench.

Sanu kept pressing. Rodrigo and Ian completely dominated the midfield, and the front three moved in perfect sync—a chess match where all the pieces were always one move ahead.

Kelvin was chasing his goal. He had dribbled, created, crossed, shot—but still hadn't scored. Yet the fire in his eyes only burned brighter. The system was quiet, but the flame inside him screamed. He wanted more. Not just to win. He wanted to leave his name in this final.

The attack began on the right, with Felipe speeding past the fullback. He cut inside and played it short to Ian, who returned it first-time. The triangle flowed fast: Felipe to Rodrigo, who used a backheel to find Dante making a late run. The holding midfielder didn't hesitate: a low, diagonal pass skidded across the top of the box.

It drew a perfect line in front of the goal.

Then came Kelvin.

Bursting in from behind like lightning, invading the box in two touches. The first was to control it. The second—to strike. With his left foot, he unleashed a low, driven shot across goal.

The net rippled violently.

GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAL!

The stadium exploded. The roar of Sanu's supporters crashed down like an avalanche off a mountain. Kelvin ran to the corner flag, slid on his knees across the grass, and pointed to the stands.

His teammates swarmed in. Kazana hugged him first, lifting him up. Felipe arrived shouting, and Rodrigo came with arms wide open, smiling like he had scored it himself. Even the center-backs left their half to join in the celebration.

On the other side, despair showed. Héra stood only because of Lian's leadership, trying to keep them focused with short, sharp words. But morale was already shaken.

The referee raised his whistle and ended the first half.

Players began leaving the pitch. Sanu's coach, pleased, chatted with Felipe and Rodrigo before heading into the tunnel. Murilo, the keeper, walked smiling, exchanging handshakes with Victor and Márcio.

Kelvin walked with Kazana beside him, both breathing heavily, sweat dripping, but their expressions were focused.

"If we keep this up, we'll finish them in the second half", said Kazana, adjusting the headband in his hair.

"It's not over yet", Kelvin replied, serious. "They're incomplete. But if that guy shows up..."

"Erick?", Kazana frowned. "He better not. It'll take more than three goals to flip this game now"

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