Chapter 93 – The Champions League Spot
The cross Nathan lifted spun.
Time didn't just slow. Each heartbeat stretched out like thunder.
Zirkzee was there.
Eyes wide, locked on the ball. Arms pumping for height. Knees bent.
Boom!!He leapt—high. Soaring. Floating. For a moment, he wasn't bound to the pitch.
Just before the ball dipped, he met it—forehead.
CRACK—!!
The sound of contact echoed over the pitch.
Then—
Fwuuump—!!
The net rippled like it had been struck by a lightning bolt.
GOOOOOAAAAAAL—!!
Anfield was on fire.
Half roared. Half gasped.
The away section? A wave of red and black exploded in a frenzy.
Nathan sprinted away from the corner flag, fists clenched, face wild with disbelief.
Zirkzee dropped to his knees, arms raised to the sky, eyes glassy.
Bruno leapt on his back. Valverde was shouting something in Spanish.
Even Amorim—usually cold—stormed five steps onto the pitch, face red, fists pumping, screaming:
"YES! YESSSS!!"
