The ball flew low.
It skimmed across the surface, picking up speed with a slow curve toward the far post.
The goalkeeper launched himself — a full-body dive, arms stretched, fingertips clawing at the edge of control.
But it was too late.
The ball whipped just beneath his outstretched palm, kissed the inside of the post, and slammed into the back of the net.
For a second, the stadium paused — a heartbeat between disbelief and explosion.
Then the sound hit.
Not a cheer.
A roar.
Palmeiras 1. São Caetano 1.
Minute 90+4:21
Thiago didn't sprint toward the corner flag.
He didn't take off his shirt or scream into the sky.
He stood for a second, frozen in place, just breathing — chest rising and falling, arms loose by his sides, as the team mobbed him from all directions.
Rafael reached him first, grabbing his head and yelling something Thiago didn't catch.
The striker shoved him in the shoulder.
The bench emptied halfway.
The fans behind the goal nearly tore down the railing.
But Thiago's eyes were locked on the grass where the ball had just rolled.
Like he was watching it finish moving in his mind.
From the dugout, Caio stood straight.
He didn't smile.
Didn't clap.
Just exhaled.
Once.
He blinked slowly, like he'd held his breath for ten minutes and only now remembered how to breathe.
Then he whispered, to no one in particular, "Still you."
The match restarted with thirty seconds left. São Caetano lumped the ball forward, desperation in every pass.
Palmeiras cleared it once, twice, reset.
Then the whistle blew.
Final.
1–1.
It wasn't a win.
But it didn't feel like a loss.
Not today.
Thiago didn't go straight to the tunnel.
He stood in the middle of the pitch, surrounded by teammates peeling off their bibs and exchanging frustrated handshakes.
The striker who'd missed two chances earlier clapped his back softly.
"You saved us."
Thiago didn't answer.
He didn't feel like a savior.
Just… part of the game.
Finally.
Coach Eneas didn't speak until they were inside.
The locker room was half celebration, half silence. Some players sat in their towels, exhausted. Others replayed key moments aloud, gesturing as if the outcome would still change.
Thiago sat on the floor near his locker.
Boots off. Shirt in his lap.
He wasn't shaking.
Just still.
Eneas stepped forward.
Clipboard in hand. Eyes scanning the room like he was memorizing each expression.
"You didn't win," he said flatly. "But you didn't break."
He looked to the older defender. "You held your line."
Then to the striker. "Next time, don't wait for the ball to do the work."
Finally, his eyes settled on Thiago.
No smile. No praise.
Just two words.
"Good hit."
Then he turned away.
That was all he needed to say.
After the team debrief, Caio waited near the player exit, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket.
When Thiago came out, bag over his shoulder, their eyes met.
Neither spoke at first.
Caio finally broke it.
"That was a left-foot shot, right?"
"Right."
"Felt like a left."
"It was clean."
"Yeah," Caio said, cracking a smile now. "Real clean."
He stepped forward and handed over a small folded paper.
"Someone at the gate said this was for you. Don't ask me how they got past security."
Thiago took it.
Opened it slowly.
Camila's handwriting.
"Clara screamed. I didn't. But I cried. We're proud. Keep running."
No hearts. No signature. No overthinking.
Just honesty.
Thiago folded the paper twice, tucked it into his pocket.
"I'll message her later."
Caio nodded.
"I'll be back next week then."
Thiago smiled at that.
It was small. But it was real.
That night, back in his dorm room, Thiago finally opened the System.
No lights. No sound.
Just text, waiting.
SYSTEM UPDATE – MATCH COMPLETEFixture: Palmeiras vs São CaetanoResult: 1–1Minutes Played: 30Goal: 1Shots: 3 (2 on target)Dribbles Attempted: 5Successful: 3Pass Completion: 87%Fouls Drawn: 2Final Match Rating: 7.8
Level: 14EXP: 252 / 550Skill Points Gained: +1 (Total: 10)
Stat Changes:Composure +1 → 60Shooting +1 → 64
Coach Impression: +ModerateClub Confidence: 72 / 100
No quests.No special bonuses.Just numbers earned.
Thiago closed the panel with a blink.
Then lay back on his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
The stadium was gone.
The noise was gone.
But the feeling…
It stayed.
Not glory.
Not victory.
Just… belonging.
And that was more than enough for now.