At the precise moment Leon's entire being was focused on striking the ball that could win the match, his Vision, his superpower, his greatest asset, had decided to have a full-blown, catastrophic meltdown.
[PLAYER ANALYSIS: GOALKEEPER'S FAVORITE COLOR IS... MAUVE? 78% PROBABILITY.]
The ball was rolling perfectly towards him.
The goal was gaping.
And his brain was being assaulted by useless, corrupted data about tactical formations named after jellied fish.
For a split second, he froze, the sheer, overwhelming absurdity of it all threatening to paralyze him. And in that split second, the chance was almost lost.
A defender was closing in.
No.
The thought was a defiant roar in the chaos of his own mind.
He had spent the last few weeks rediscovering the player he was without the system.
The player who relied on instinct, on feeling, on the beautiful, simple music of the game.
He wasn't going to let a broken machine ruin this.
