The celebration of Mateo's goal slowly faded —replaced by something far darker.
Argentina wasn't playing for honor anymore.
They were playing for revenge.
For pain.
And Mateo was their target.
24th Minute
The first brutal tackle came fast and disguised:
A late sliding challenge —studs raking across Mateo's ankle.
He stumbled but kept running,gritting his teeth.
The referee waved play on.
Two minutes later, another body check —this time in the ribs.
Again, no whistle.
Again, Mateo stayed on his feet.
But the damage was building.
Bruises blossomed under his shirt.A deep ache throbbed in his leg.
And Argentina kept coming.
Inside the System:
[Warning: Physical Fatigue Level Rising.][Minor Injuries Detected: Ankle Bruise, Rib Contusion.]
Still, Mateo pressed on.
He refused to fall.
He refused to show weakness.
"I've survived worse," he told himself.
"I won't break now."
31st Minute: The Breaking Point
Germany tried to build another attack down the left flank.
Mateo made a support run into midfield.
As he received the pass,an Argentine defender lunged recklessly —body crashing into Mateo's side.
He collapsed to the grass, pain exploding through his body.
The referee's whistle finally blew for a foul,but too late to prevent what came next.
As Mateo struggled to breathe,several Argentine players "accidentally" crowded around him,blocking the referee's line of sight.
And Nico Rivas —smiling that cruel, bitter smile —walked past.
Without hesitation,he stomped hard on Mateo's right hand.
Mateo gasped, clutching his hand,agony shooting up his arm.
The crowd didn't see it.The cameras missed it.
But Lukas saw it.
And he snapped.
Explosion
Lukas sprinted across the field —his face twisted in fury.
Before anyone could react,he slammed his fist directly into Nico Rivas's jaw.
CRACK.
Nico crumpled backward.
Chaos erupted.
German and Argentine players rushed toward each other,shoving, yelling.
The referee blew his whistle desperately,trying to regain control.
When order was barely restored,the inevitable came:
Red Card.
Straight to Lukas.
He didn't even protest.
He just turned,walked to Mateo —still kneeling on the ground —and crouched beside him.
Mateo shook his head, his voice raspy:
"You didn't have to, Lukas...Now we're a man down..."
Lukas grabbed his shoulder firmly.
"No regrets," he said fiercely.
"I'd do it again.Now it's your fight, Mateo.Finish it."
Mateo watched as Lukas left the field.
The German fans booed.The Argentine fans cheered mockingly.
His hand throbbed in pain.His body ached.His team was down to 10 men.
And yet,in that fire,in that crucible of betrayal and loyalty—
Mateo González found something new inside himself.
Not just talent.
Not just ambition.
But rage forged into willpower.