Chapter 106 – First Impressions, Lasting Marks
The sound didn’t hit all at once.
It built in layers—first the low, murmuring hum of anticipation, the kind that vibrated through concrete and settled in the bones. Then came the rhythmic stomping of feet against metal bleachers, the deep, guttural chants rising from the stands like battle cries. Finally, the deafening swell of thousands of voices merging into one earth-shaking roar, so loud it made Thiago’s teeth rattle as he peeled off his training top and handed it to the waiting staff.
The stadium pulsed with energy, the vibration traveling up through his cleats, into his calves, up his spine until it thrummed at the base of his skull like a second heartbeat.
Klopp’s massive hand landed on his shoulder, warm and heavy.
"Middle third control," the coach barked over the noise, his breath fogging in the cold air. "Simple passes. Don’t get cute unless it’s the final third." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a growl only Thiago could hear. "And remember—this is what you earned. Not what you were given."
Thiago nodded, his throat too tight for words. Fire burned behind his ribs, spreading through his limbs like liquid adrenaline.
View the correct content at NovelFire
The fourth official raised the board—17 in glowing green, 6 in harsh red.
He jogged onto the pitch, and the grass beneath his feet felt different. Thicker. Heavier. As if every step carried the weight of his past—the predawn runs in Santos, the crushing silence of Barcelona’s rejection, the lonely nights in Stuttgart’s empty training grounds. All of it converging here, now, in this single moment.
And yet, he didn’t falter.
He ran straight into the storm.
The game didn’t slow down to welcome him. It never did.
Stuttgart’s midfield was a battlefield. Their number 8—a hulking brute with arms like tree trunks and a scowl etched permanently into his face—shouldered into every challenge like a bulldozer. Their winger cut inside relentlessly, his movements sharp and predatory. And their center backs pressed so high up the pitch they might as well have set up camp on the halfway line.