The goalkeeper got up quickly and launched the ball with force, a long kick, crossing the field like a missile. Zenkai knew that Sanu's defense was still disorganized. The chance to immediately respond to the near-goal was the perfect opportunity.

Luquinhas controlled the launch with a clean touch, his body turning lightly.

"Let's go, Diego! Come on, Biel!"

His voice rang out loud, full of urgency.

Diego pushed forward on the left, Biel followed on the right, and the stands immediately understood what was about to happen. The roar of the crowd rose in a deafening chorus, a mix of fear and excitement.

"Back! Everyone back!", Ian shouted, pointing backward as he ran.

Dante and Rodrigo were already moving down fast, but Zenkai came full force.

Luquinhas carried the ball as if it were an extension of his body, every touch perfect, head up, eyes shifting between the field and his teammates.

Rodrigo stepped forward to intercept.

"You're not getting past me!"

But Luquinhas fooled him with a short touch, faking the pass, and shifted his body. The dribble was so precise that Rodrigo only felt the empty space ahead once the ball had already passed.

"Damn it!" he growled, twisting his body to try to catch up.

The stands reacted.

"LU-QUI-NHAS! LU-QUI-NHAS!"

His name echoed like thunder throughout the stadium.

Diego received the pass and accelerated down the left, keeping his feet close to the line, ready to cross. Danilo chased him, but Zenkai's attacker had explosive speed.

"Don't let him cross!", Oliveira shouted from central defense, firm, alert.

Diego pulled the ball with his sole, cut inside, body leaning.

Dante tried to close in, but he was a second too late. Diego passed quickly to Luquinhas, who returned it first-time — a perfect, sharp, deadly one-two.

The ball returned to Diego inside the area.

He prepared the shot.

But Oliveira launched himself in front, body stretched, blocking the angle with precision.

The attacker faked the shot and pulled back slightly. Oliveira, mid-air, had no time to react.

"Cross it!", Biel shouted, coming from behind.

Diego lifted the ball with a touch of class, high, perfect. It rose, cutting through the air.

Felipe and Márcio jumped together for the header, but the first to reach it was Mateus, the defender who had pushed forward.

The impact of the ball echoed.

TOC!

Murilo leaped with catlike reflexes and deflected the shot with his fingertips. The ball glanced off and went upward.

The stadium held its breath.

The ball fell back into the area. A chaos of legs, bodies, and shouts.

Dante tried to clear, but Biel arrived first, using his body to shield the ball.

"I got this!", he shouted.

The Zenkai midfielder spun with force, body tense, and rolled the ball to Luquinhas, who was entering free in the middle of the area.

Kelvin, still retreating on the left, shouted:

"Mark him! Mark him!"

But it was too late.

Luquinhas controlled the ball and prepared the shot. Time seemed to slow.

His body arched, right foot rose, gaze fixed on the corner.

"Now!", he shouted.

The shot was sharp, low, deadly.

Murilo dived to the left, body fully extended — but the ball passed under his arm.

The stadium erupted in a scream.

But before the ball crossed the line, Oliveira appeared.

In a desperate leap, he stretched out his leg and deflected the trajectory. The ball rose, hitting Dante and bouncing back to Diego.

"I'M GOING TO SCORE!", Diego shouted, shooting first-time.

Murilo was still on the ground.

The ball came fast, violent, a living arrow.

And at that moment, Oliveira, still moving from the previous block, threw himself again — body twisting, face turned, no time to use his hands.

The impact of the shot hit the side of his face squarely.

The sound was sharp, brutal.

The ball deflected strongly and flew away, crossing the area and rolling toward midfield, reaching Ian's feet.

But for a second, no one reacted.

The entire stadium held its breath.

Oliveira fell sideways, body tense, hand on his face.

Silence took over the field, broken only by the muffled sound of the ball still rolling.

"Oliveira!", Kazana shouted, rushing toward his teammate.

The defender was on his knees, gaze blurred, taking deep breaths.

"It's okay…", he muttered, voice hoarse.

His face was starting to turn red, the impact marking his skin, but his eyes were open, steady.

Murilo approached, kneeling beside him.

"Are you crazy, man?! You could've broken something!"

Oliveira took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"This is my job. I promised I wouldn't let another goal in this match"

Dante arrived soon after, heart racing.

"He saved the goal. With his face! My God, he actually did it!"

While everyone watched Oliveira, the ball was still alive.

Ian, in midfield, saw the open space ahead.

Zenkai's defense was still retreating, confused.

Sanu's number 10 lowered his center of gravity, controlled the ball, and started running.

"Go, go, go!", Kazana shouted, raising his arm.

Felipe pushed forward on the right, Kelvin on the left, and Dante, even out of breath, tried to reposition for support.

The stands roared again.

"GO, SANU! COUNTER-ATTACK!"

Ian accelerated, eyes calculating every meter ahead. Biel was still returning, tired. Luquinhas, sensing the danger, dashed toward the center.

"Don't let him think!" he shouted.

But Ian had already thought.

With a heel touch, he dribbled past the first defender and pushed the ball forward, escaping Diego's leg by a millimeter.

"You're fast, but not fast enough", Ian muttered with a brief smile.

The ball stayed glued to his foot.

Kazana was already approaching on the left, shouting:

"Here, Ian!"

Kelvin came from the other side, breathing hard, eyes burning after the post.

Ian lifted his gaze and saw the entire field opening ahead.

The wind hit hard. The crowd was already rising, sensing what was about to happen.

But behind, Biel shouted at full force.

"Recover! Recover! Don't let them turn this!"

Zenkai tried to get back, desperate. Luquinhas sprinted all out, Diego shouted instructions, Mateus pointed at Kelvin.

But the moment already belonged to Sanu.

Their attacking play had been perfect — but the response was only beginning.

And in the midst of it all, Oliveira still breathed heavily, kneeling on the grass, watching the counter-attack rise from his own sacrifice.

A small, wounded but proud smile crossed his face.

"Go, Ian… finish what I started… I know perfectly well you'll pass to Kelvin, so go… I see our victory in his feet"

The stands roared again, the vibration rising like thunder.

Fans clapped, shouting the defender's name, who had just become a hero for a moment.

"OLI-VEI-RA! OLI-VEI-RA!"

Murilo, still under the post, punched the air.

"That's it! That's how you defend!"

And Ian kept running, the ball alive, shining under the sun, carrying not only the play but the emotion of an entire stadium that had just witnessed the impossible.

The crowd's roar mixed with the sound of cleats, the echo of the impact still lingering in the air, and in the midst of the chaos, Oliveira rose, face marked, gaze calm — as if silently saying:

"The pain I'm feeling will pass, but the goal, never"

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