The world exploded.
For the second time in half an hour, Emre Demir's right foot had detonated a bomb of pure, unadulterated chaos in the Cardiff City Stadium.
The Apex players, who had been on their knees in despair moments earlier, were now sprinting, screaming, a tidal wave of black shirts engulfing their quiet, smiling savior.
Ethan stood on the sideline, but he wasn't still.
He was jumping, pumping his fists, a wild, guttural roar of triumph tearing from his throat.
He hugged James Pearce, then a random NPC physio, then just the air itself. The sheer, glorious absurdity of it all was intoxicating.
On the pitch, the celebration was a beautiful mess.
"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU! I ACTUALLY DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Josh Sargent was yelling, shaking Emre by the shoulders. "YOU CAN'T JUST DO THAT! THAT'S NOT A REAL GOAL!"
