The ball rolled into open space, and Izan Hernández was already in full stride, chasing it down like a hunter locked onto his prey.
The German defense scrambled, white shirts surging back in desperation. But Izan was already ahead of them, already breaking through.
Ahead—only one man stood between him and history.
Antonio Rüdiger.
The last defender. The colossus. The warrior who never backed down.
Izan barely heard the roars around him, barely felt the pounding in his chest. His mind was clear. Focused.
Beat Rüdiger. Beat Neuer. Win the game.
Behind him—the storm followed.
Kimmich, Havertz, and Gündoğan as well as Sane in the lead were closing in, sprinting with everything they had left in their legs, their lungs, their hearts.
They knew. If they didn't stop him now, it was over.
Izan kept running.
Rüdiger was ready, his wide stance cutting off the path to the goal. His arms spread, and his body tensed like a wall of muscle and steel.
