Chapter 3 – The King of Concrete (Part 2)
The ball rolled to a stop at midfield, and the air was thick with tension.
Botafogo had just gone down 1–0. A team of favela kids had scored on them. In front of a crowd. In front of a scout.
Thiago stood on the edge of the court, hands on his hips, heart pounding. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t celebrating. He just watched as Ferraz picked up the ball and walked back toward the center circle with cold, methodical steps.
The way Ferraz looked at him—he wasn’t just annoyed. He was insulted.
Neto clapped twice from the sideline. "Keep your heads! They’ll come back harder now. Let ’em rush—we hit again."
Caio pushed a bottle of water through the chain-link fence. "You’ve got him, mano. Stay sharp. He’s rattled."
Thiago nodded. His calves burned. His lungs scraped. But inside, the fire hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it was spreading.
He glanced at the scoreboard painted on the back wall. Still plenty of time left.
He lowered his eyes.
"System," he thought. "Status."
Level: 2