The moment Thiago's mind screamed Yes, the world didn't just restart—it ignited. A violent surge of adrenaline shot through his femoral arteries, and his vision sharpened until he could see the individual stitches on the battered leather ball.
[ TRIAL PERIOD ACTIVATED: THE GHOST OF O REI ]
[ TEMPORARY ESSENCE GRANTED: NEYMAR JR. (SANTOS ERA) ]
[ DURATION: 10 MINUTES ]
[ NOTE: YOUR BODY WILL HATE YOU LATER. ENJOY THE MAGIC. ]
Old Man Jorge leaned back on his crate, ready to watch Thiago trip over his own shoelaces. "Look at him," Jorge chuckled to the crowd. "He's standing there like he's seen a ghost."
The Veterans' midfielder, a man with calves the size of tree trunks, rolled the ball toward Thiago with a mocking grin. "Go on then, 'Tactician.' Show us the geometry."
Thiago didn't move—until the ball was an inch from his toe. Then, in a blur that defied the physics of a man who usually spent his Sundays eating fried dough, he didn't just stop the ball. He let it roll up his instep, flicked it over his own head with a rainbow flick that felt like silk, and spun 180 degrees before it even hit the dirt.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Inside Thiago's head, it was chaos and symphony. What am I doing? his brain screamed, but his feet weren't listening. They were possessed.
[ SKILL TRIGGERED: 'OUSADIA E ALEGRIA' ]
Thiago looked at the defender rushing him. Usually, he'd be terrified of the bone-crunching tackle. Now, he saw the defender's balance as a series of shifting vectors. He's heavy on his left heel, Thiago realized. He's a statue.
"This," Thiago whispered to himself as he danced past the man with a lightning-fast elastico, "is the audacity of the 2011 Puskás winner. This is the geometry of disrespect."
Zezinho, the village's self-appointed "radio man," screamed into his battery-powered megaphone.
"GOOOO—no, wait! WHAT AM I SEEING?! Thiago 'The Tongue' has just turned the Veterans' captain into a pretzel! He's moving like he's made of mercury! He's into the box... he fakes the shot... the keeper is on the ground buying a hotdog! GOOOOOL! A CURLED FINISH INTO THE TOP POST! 4-1!"
The Veterans stopped laughing. They started fouling.
Thiago was a marked man. Every time he touched the ball, two men tried to take his legs off. But the System flickered in his periphery:
[ STAMINA DEPLETING: 6:00 REMAINING ].
At the 85th minute, Thiago received a long ball on his chest. Instead of shooting, he felt a pull toward the wing. The legendary player isn't just a scorer, he thought, he's a conductor. He spotted Gilberto—the plumber—making a run. Thiago executed a "no-look" trivela pass, the ball curving through three defenders with impossible backspin.
Gilberto's eyes went wide. The ball landed perfectly on his boot. Thwack. 4-2.
Two minutes later, Thiago intercepted a lazy pass. He didn't run; he glided. He performed a sombrero flick over the first defender, a nutmeg on the second, and a ruthless chip over the keeper.
4-3.
"The comeback is on!" Zezinho screamed, his megaphone peaking into a screech. "The Betting Association is one goal away from a miracle! The Tongue has become the Toe!"
In the 89th minute, Thiago found a pocket of space. The System's golden light was fading, his muscles beginning to scream in protest. He saw the path. He cut inside, leaving the Veterans' star defender sliding into the mud.
The goal was open. The 4-4 equalizer was a formality.
Thiago unleashed a thunderous strike. The ball screamed through the air, dipping and swerving.
CLANG.
The sound of the ball hitting the upright echoed across the entire valley. The ball ricocheted back into the center of the pitch.
The crowd groaned so loudly it felt like an earthquake. Thiago fell to his knees, his lungs burning, his "brilliance" flickering out.
The referee checked his watch. One last play.
A corner.
Thiago could barely stand. The System screen was red:
[ WARNING: TOTAL COLLAPSE IMMINENT ].
As the ball swung in, Thiago didn't use skill. He used the last of the System's guidance to predict the landing zone. He rose above men twice his size, his forehead meeting the ball with a sickening crack.
4-4. The village went silent, then erupted into a riot of joy. Thiago lay in the dirt, staring at the tropical sky, his hat-trick complete, his legs vibrating like tuning forks.
[ MATCH ENDS: 4-4 ]
[ MANDATORY PENALTY SHOOTOUT INITIATED ]
[ TRIAL PERIOD: EXPIRED ]
[ CURRENT STATUS: YOU ARE OFFICIALLY EXHAUSTED AND BACK TO BEING A TALKER. ]
Gilberto ran over, hauling Thiago up. "You... you did it! Now we just need to win the shootout!"
Thiago looked at his shaking hands. The magic was gone. He was just Thiago again. And Old Man Jorge was walking toward the goalpost with a wicked grin.