The Yellow Wall erupted. The sound was deafening, a release of pent-up frustration and a surge of renewed hope. They had come to see their Maestro, and their wish had been granted.
The festive cheer returned, louder and more defiant than before. Christmas carols mixed with chants of "MATEO! MATEO!" creating a wall of sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the stadium.
Mateo ran onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd washing over him like a physical force. He felt a surge of adrenaline, but it was a controlled, focused energy. The System was monitoring his physiological responses, keeping him within optimal parameters. He was not here to be a savior; he was here to be a solution.
His first touch was a simple, one-touch pass to Hummels, but it carried a message. The ball was struck with precision, with purpose, with the kind of technical perfection that immediately announced his presence on the pitch.
