Rodrygo's legs tensed, a whirlwind of motion visible only to Leon's unique perception.
He could see the flash of a thought—a mental blueprint for an action.
The system's icons appeared above Rodrygo's head *a pair of legs and a ball*.
boooom!
The shot was an absolute rocket.
Our goalkeeper, was an amazing shot-stopper, but this… this was something else.
The ball flew with a terrifying speed and accuracy, a shimmering white blur against the backdrop of the cheering crowd.
He dove, a desperate, valiant lunge, but it was all for nothing.
The ball hit the back of the net with a thunderous BOOOOM!
The sound echoed in my chest like a hollow drum, each beat a painful reminder of our failure.
The scoreboard flipped, 2-1 to Real Madrid. The stadium, a sea of white, erupted in a deafening roar.
Silence fell over our side of the pitch.
My heart felt heavy, a stone in my chest.
The game was over. We had lost. It was so close, so, so close.
