Just when the Fenerbahçe players were starting to feel comfortable with how the game was going, Lukas reminded them that he was still on the pitch.

It was the 39th minute, the rain now steadier, a silvery curtain under the floodlights. Lukas had decided to go for the ball himself, as the Fenerbahçe defenders made it difficult for the ball to be played to him.

A back pass from Skhiri to Tuta, created the perfect opportunity for Lukas who ran back to the halfway line, demanding the ball.

Tuta obliged, and rolled the ball toward Lukas near the halfway line — left flank, his zone. He took it with the outside of his boot, cushioning it against the slippery turf. Before he could even look up, En-Nesyri and Szymański were already closing in, one from the front, the other circling around.

"Lukas Brandt — tightly marked here, no room to breathe!"

Szymański lunged in first, studs flashing in the wet, but Lukas turned his body, leaning just enough to let the challenge slide past. En-Nesyri pressed, big frame blocking the line down the wing. For a split second, Lukas feinted like he'd burst left — then, with a deft flick of his heel, he rolled the ball behind his standing leg and spun inside instead, using the rain-slicked pitch to accelerate into midfield.

"Oh, lovely spin from Brandt! That's a brilliant change of direction!"

Now he was surging through the center, water spraying off his boots. Fred stepped up — composed, measured — but Lukas dropped his shoulder, gave a little body swerve, and with a soft drag-back pulled the ball just out of reach. Fred slid helplessly across the wet grass as Lukas ghosted by.

Next was Amrabat. Lukas met him squarely, slowed for a heartbeat, then chipped the ball forward and darted around on the opposite side — a perfect rain-assisted rondo, using the slick turf to his advantage. Amrabat twisted, too slow, too late.

"He's beating them one by one, that's outrageous footwork!"

The roar in the stadium was growing now, the home fans on their feet, clapping in rhythm as he charged on.

Ahead, Kostić cut across his path, knees bent, trying to shepherd him wide. Lukas flicked the ball right, then dragged it left — the old L-turn, improvised mid-stride. The wet ball almost betrayed him, but he caught it perfectly with his toe and burst through the narrow gap.

"That balance… in this rain? That's unreal!"

Akcicek was the last barrier before the box. Lukas slowed, eyes locked on goal, body loose like a coiled spring. He eyed up the defender, faked a step-over, once, then twice, moved the ball with the outside of his left foot, and just when Akcicek bit the bait and launched ahead to cut him off, Lukas cut inside, leaving the defender off-balance.

But as he slipped past, Akcicek grabbed a handful of his soaked shirt and yanked hard. Lukas stumbled, boots skidding, and fell forward with a splash just outside the penalty area.

The whistle cut through the noise.

"Free kick! Right on the edge! And Akcicek's in trouble here…"

The referee jogged over, holding the yellow card high as the stadium erupted in a chorus of cheers and jeers.

"THAT'S A RED CARD!" An Ultra yelled out and almost everyone around him joined as they booed the decision. Lukas stayed down for a moment, chest heaving, rain pelting against his hair.

"What a run from the teenager; five men beaten on a waterlogged pitch, and it takes a foul to stop him!"

"Incredible stuff from the kid. How do you stop someone who's so good with their feet? Most times, a foul is crucial. I think the referee has shown the right card, though, Skriniar was covering Akcicek, so the defenser was not the last man. Shirt pull, it's a yellow card, the Eintracht Frankfurt fans will obviously disagree, but they know it."

The camera panned to Lukas, sitting on the mud, droplets streaming off his face. The fans chanted his name through the rain, their voices rising like thunder under the Frankfurt night.

He smiled faintly, calm and unbothered, and waited for the wall to be set.

"You okay?" Götze asked as he grabbed Lukas by the arm and helped him get up.

"Yeah, it was just a pull," Lukas responded as he rearranged his jersey and placed the ball at the spot marked by the referee before the marker was completely washed off by the rain.

"You want me to do a dummy run?"

"Nah, I've got this," Lukas replied, but this whole time, he was looking at someone in the Fenerbahçe's penalty box right beside the wall — Ekitike.

He then turned to look at the five man wall standing just inside the penalty area including Fred who had drawn the short end of the stick and was lying down beneath the wall, then at the goalkeeper.

FWEEE

The sound of the referee's whistle cut through the rain as Lukas ran up to the ball, it was placed in the perfect position for a right-footed curler and Mourinho's staff had managed to get hold of Lukas's free kick clips right from his time with the Eintracht Frankfurt reserve team, so they knew he could hit them really well.

The wall, jumped. The goalkeeper, moved.

But the strike, never came.

Lukas ran up to the ball, and with the inside of his right foot, he played a simple pass into Ekitike standing just beside the wall.

This was something they had never tried in training, so it caught even Ekitike off-guard.

"OHH MY DAYS! Brandt with a cheeky pass into the box to Ekitike, even his teammates have been fooled!"

Ekitike, although surprised, was a top-class striker. Once he saw the ball coming to him, he already steadied himself and received the ball.

Skriniar was the man closest to him, but he was part of the wall that jumped, and that crucial moment before he could come back down and try to block the shot, was all Ekitike needed.

The Frenchman's first touch was smooth, as he put himself in shooting position, and with his second touch, launched the ball into the bottom right corner.

Egribayat, the goalkeeper, was rooted to the spot, wrong-footed.

This all happened in a split second so there wasn't much he could do as he was expecting the shot directly from the free kick. He could only watch as the ball nestled in the back of his net.

"GOALLL!! Hugo Ekitike has restored parity for the night and the two-goal lead for Eintracht Frankfurt."

Ekitike ran to the corner flag, then turned right around, and pointed at Lukas running towards him.

"Wonderful goal from Ekitike, but what a pass from Lukas Brandt. I mean this kid is something else. Look at this from the replay, even the camera is deceived as he slips the pass directly to Ekitike. And you've gotta keep in mind the weather. He had to have weighted that perfectly or Ekitike would struggle to get it under first time. Wonderful precision, wonderful finish, wonderful goal, and it's 1-1."

The 190cm striker hooked his hand around Lukas's shoulder — the height difference as clear as day — as they celebrated the goal.

"Thanks, man," Ekitike said as they walked to their own half.

Lukas didn't respond, only flashing a smile for a brief moment. He knew how much the goal meant to Ekitike especially after his penalty miss a few days ago, and he always planned to try and make Ekitike score. So when he saw the space in the penalty box after Fenerbahçe organized their defense, he decided to exploit it.

The rest of the first half was uneventful, at least compared to the previous segment of the half. The only other chance to change the numbers on the scoreboard was from Bahoya in the 43rd minute when Götze slipped a pass through to him, with the Fenerbahçe offside trap set a bit too haphazardly, but unlike his fellow countryman, Bahoya couldn't finish the chance, with his shot hitting the side netting as he slipped while shooting.

The pitch was slippery, but the weather was gradually starting to calm down when the referee blew to end the first half.

"Halftime at the Deutsche Bank Park. En-Neysri opening up the score sheet at the 28-second mark with his volley. But Frankfurt brought the game back level after a mazey run from the wonderkid earned them a free kick which he used to set up Hugo Ekitike to blast it home for the second goal."

"It's all square at halftime, with 45 minutes left to decide the tie. But Frankfurt, still with their 2-goal advantage from the first leg, are the clear favourites to advance.

This is football, though, and anything can happen in 45 minutes."

It would be fair to say, though, that the commentator was a tad too hopeful on miracles.

A/N: Hello guys, it's been a while since I put a note. Hope y'all are enjoying the story? I see the power stones and the GTs, and I'm forever grateful to y'all. Thanks for the support. Hope you have a great day/night. Love y'all.

-Writ.

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