And there, sprinting in, was Pedri.
He came like a shadow breaking into light, running with perfect timing, the ball dropping into his path as if delivered by fate itself.
"Pedri's there! PEDEERIIIIII!" Drury's voice cracked with urgency, climbing above the wall of noise as the ball bounced once on the grass, rising like an offering, inviting destiny.
And then, he struck it as it fell, body perfectly balanced, boot slicing through the air, unflinching, the sound sharp enough to cut through sixty thousand voices as the ball tore forward.
It screamed across the air like a comet under floodlight glare, every rotation caught by the cameras, every spin magnified in slow motion in the minds of those watching.
Raya threw himself sideways, fingers stretched to their very edge, but it was already gone, already beyond him as time seemed to fracture.
The stadium hung in suspension, two halves of Europe breathing as one.
