The whistle cut through the air — sharp, clean, absolute.
Kickoff.
Werder Bremen II struck first.
Green streaks cut through drizzle-slick grass, their movement slicing like blades through mist.
From the first pass, their rhythm revealed itself — fast, fluid, untamed.
The ball didn't move by command; it flowed, guided by instinct, by something primal and reckless yet terrifyingly precise.
Julian felt it instantly.
That difference.
That pulse.
It wasn't chaos.
It was freedom.
Bremen's wingers surged high, carving into spaces that shouldn't have existed. Their full-backs overlapped like phantom blades.
And in the heart of it all — Dennis Lütke-Frie. The Vision Crafter.
He drifted like smoke through the seams of HSV's shape — never caught, never still.
Every time Anssi marked him, Dennis slipped into another shadow, turning defenders into spectators.
HSV held their 4-3-3 like a shield — compact, disciplined, drilled into muscle memory.
Soner's system was built on order.
