The second half began.
Santiago's Estadio Nacional erupted once more—but all eyes searched for one thing:
Was Mateo González returning to the field?
And then—he stepped out.
Limping slightly.Ankle taped tightly, jaw clenched.
The pain was evident.
But so was the fire in his eyes.
He would play.
A Changed Field
The referee's whistle echoed.
Germany regrouped, shifting their formation subtly to protect Mateo:
Ritter dropped closer.
Jonas offered overlapping runs to reduce Mateo's workload.
The midfield tightened around him.
Everyone knew.
He was injured.
But they also knew—
He wasn't done yet.
Inside the System:
[Injury Status: Stabilized]
Pain Resistance ActiveAttribute Penalty:-15% Speed-10% Agility
Mental Focus +12% (Emotional Anchor & Flow State Combined)
Yamal Hunts
On the opposite side of the field,Lamine Yamal adjusted his boots and eyed the pitch like a predator.
He hadn't left the field.He'd been watching.Waiting.
And now that Mateo had returned, injured…
He was going to test him.
54th Minute: The Mistake
Germany played out from the back, patient.
Mateo dropped between lines to receive a short pass.
A routine trap.A simple pass to Jonas—
But his ankle faltered mid-step.
The ball came off his boot just slightly off.
Not enough to look terrible—but enough for Yamal to intercept it in full sprint.
Germany's defense was still spreading wide.
Too late.
Yamal dashed forward, cut inside, ignored a tackle—
And curled a vicious shot to the far post.
GOAL — SPAIN 2, GERMANY 1(Lamine Yamal, 54')
The stadium erupted.
The Spanish bench screamed.Yamal ran to the sideline, flexing both arms to the crowd.Not arrogantly—
But as a statement.
"I'm still here.""I take what you give me."
Mateo on His Knees
He didn't fall from pain.
He knelt from the weight.
Hands on his thighs, staring at the turf.
His mistake.His fault.
And now…his team was behind again.
Inside the System:
[Critical Turnover – Error Confirmed]
Mental Fatigue Increased: +10%
Passive Triggered: Emotional Anchor — Delay Emotional CollapseBoost: Composure Recovery Initiated
He looked up slowly.
Saw Ritter calling for shape.Saw the Spanish team celebrating.Saw Klara and his mother watching with worry in their eyes.
And worst of all…
He saw Yamal, standing near midfield, watching him.
Yamal didn't smirk.
Didn't celebrate in his face.
He simply nodded once.
Acknowledging the weight.
Acknowledging the pain.
Acknowledging the fight to come.
Mateo rose.
Not quickly.
Not easily.
But with purpose.
This wasn't over.
Even wounded.
Even punished.
He wasn't done yet.