The world seemed to slow down around him. The grass, the shadows, the voices — everything dissolved into vibrations and directions. Kelvin felt his body move on its own, muscles guided by pure instinct.

The first obstacle was Diego, who stepped forward from the side, trying to anticipate the dribble. Kelvin spun his body, rolling the ball under his sole and leaving his opponent completely off balance. Diego turned his head, unable to understand the move.

"Already behind", Kelvin said quietly, without even looking.

The ball stuck to his foot. One light touch, then another. He pulled it to the center, escaping from Luquinhas, who came charging in. Kelvin feinted to cut inside, stopped at the last instant, and spun back toward the goal line. The movement was so fast that Luquinhas's body kept going forward, and the Zenkai midfielder slipped, falling sideways.

The crowd reacted with a roar that split the air.

"WAAAAAH!"

Kelvin pressed forward. The sound of his opponents' breathing mixed with the wind and the thudding of cleats digging into the grass. Mateus, the defender, stepped in front of him, body wide open, arms spread, trying to block his advance.

Kelvin pretended to cross. His right leg swung up, his body turned, but his left foot gently nudged the ball through the defender's legs.

Mateus spun around, desperate.

"No! No!", he shouted, scrambling to recover.

Kelvin was already on the other side.

Three players beaten.

The crowd had become a living wave of sound and light.

"Look at Kelvin!"

"Go, kid!"

"It's his!"

Ian's heart raced as he watched from midfield. Dante stood still, an incredulous smile on his face. Felipe raised his arms, shouting his teammate's name.

Kelvin cut back toward the center again, now facing Biel. The Zenkai midfielder waited calmly, eyes cold, body low, gaze locked on the ball.

"You're not getting past me", Biel said firmly.

Kelvin didn't answer. He only smiled.

He began rolling the ball from one foot to the other, making it dance between his cleats, his body swaying to its own rhythm. Biel kept his stance, waiting for the right moment. One wrong step, and he'd be beaten.

Then Kelvin suddenly accelerated. One touch with the left, another with the right. Biel followed, reacting fast. The number 11 from Sanu made the ball vanish for an instant between his legs, and when Biel blinked, Kelvin was already on the other side, cutting toward the goal.

"He's through!", Samuka shouted from the stands.

But Biel hadn't given up yet. He twisted his body and launched himself one last time, stretching his right leg to the limit.

Kelvin lifted his head, seeing the goalkeeper rushing out.

His breath stopped.

This was the moment.

He prepared the shot. Body aligned, right foot firm. All that was left was to connect.

But before the impact, a small touch changed everything.

Biel's cleat, at the very last second, grazed the ball. A minimal deviation — almost imperceptible.

Kelvin didn't notice the difference. The force was already in motion, the momentum already gone. He struck the center of the ball, and the sound of impact echoed like thunder.

POC!

The ball rose, spinning fast and precise — but not enough.

The goalkeeper dove, but it wasn't him who stopped it.

TOC!

The ball smacked against the post with a sharp metallic clang so loud that the entire stadium seemed to fall silent.

The post vibrated. The ball bounced out, spinning slowly, as if mocking the perfect shot that almost became a goal.

For a moment, no one moved.

Kelvin stood still, body still frozen in the follow-through, eyes locked on the post. His breath caught in his chest.

He could feel the echo of the ball's impact reverberating inside him, as if the sound had struck his heart.

"It can't be", he muttered.

The Sanu fans held their heads in disbelief.

Dante took a step forward, stunned.

"So close!", he shouted.

Felipe punched the air in frustration.

Ian lowered his head, laughing in disbelief.

"You're indescribable, Kelvin", he said, caught between laughter and shock.

The Zenkai goalkeeper threw himself over the ball, clutching it as if holding onto fate itself. He rolled on the ground and stayed there, panting, while his teammates approached, exhausted.

Biel was on his knees. His chest rose and fell quickly. He looked at Kelvin, still frozen, and gave a faint, tired smile.

"You're fast… but I'm still alive", he said hoarsely.

Kelvin slowly turned his head, his eyes burning like embers.

"Fast? I haven't even shown that skill… yet."

Sweat dripped from his chin, his chest heaving like that of an animal ready to attack again.

"You just delayed the inevitable", he added coldly.

Biel stood up, still limping.

"Then show me the inevitable", he replied, staring him down.

For a few seconds, the two stood still, the crowd noise drowned out by the tension between them. The air felt heavy, vibrating with a silent promise that this wasn't over.

From midfield, Rodrigo shouted:

"Kelvin! Get back on defense! Come on, let's go!"

Kelvin took a deep breath, glancing at his captain.

"On my way", he answered, but his voice came out almost as a whisper.

He took a few steps back, retreating slowly, still looking at Biel.

The image of the ball hitting the post replayed in his mind like an endless echo.

The metallic sound. The tiny deflection. The frustration burning in his chest.

From the stands, Júlia watched, her hand over her mouth.

She didn't know whether to smile, cry, or scream.

Her eyes sparkled.

"He's incredible…", she murmured to herself.

Kelvin kept walking in silence, eyes fixed on the ground.

The stadium still roared, but to him the sound was distant, as if everything were underwater.

Kelvin clenched his fists.

Kazana approached, patting his shoulder.

"Relax, Kelvin. That was amazing. The ball's going in next time"

Kelvin took a deep breath, lifting his gaze.

The light in his eyes wasn't pure frustration — it was something else. Determination.

"It has to go in, Kazana", he said softly but firmly.

The referee blew his whistle, signaling play to continue.

The ball rolled again among the Zenkai players, but the stadium still seemed to tremble with the ghost of that shot.

The post still quivered faintly, as if the force of the impact had left an invisible scar.

And as the game went on, Kelvin's eyes remained locked on the opposing goal.

His mind was already replaying the play — every step, every touch, every movement — and the instant Biel had deflected the ball.

He swore to himself it wouldn't happen again.

Neither Biel, nor the post, nor anyone else would stop him next time.

Sweat dripping, gaze steady, breath heavy.

The crowd answered with a deafening roar, his name echoing through the stands.

"Kel-vin! Kel-vin! Kel-vin!"

And there he was, standing at midfield, feeling every sound, every voice, every heartbeat pounding against the ground.

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