"He's done it! A hat-trick of assists on his European debut! Are we sure this boy is only sixteen?!"
Martin Tyler's voice was hoarse. He had seen everything in football, but the way Renzo Uzumaki was dismantling a Premier League midfield was bordering on the supernatural.
Roberto Martínez had thrown "The Vice" at him—Gareth Barry and James McCarthy assigned to literally breathe down Renzo's neck. For ten minutes, it worked. Renzo was tripped, poked, and crowded out. But they forgot one thing: Renzo wasn't alone.
In the 72nd minute, McCarthy finally managed to pick Renzo's pocket. But before he could even look up to find Barkley, a purple blur flattened him. Milan Badelj didn't just tackle; he reclaimed the ball with the ferocity of a riot policeman.
"RENZO! GO!" Badelj roared, sliding the ball back into the teenager's path.
The "Double-Lock" was broken. Barry was out of position, and McCarthy was in the dirt. Renzo drove forward, but he didn't look for Salah or Gomez this time. He saw the "Prince," Alberto Aquilani, ghosting into the pocket of space just outside the D.
Renzo played a disguised no-look pass, a simple-looking ball that froze John Stones for a split second. Aquilani didn't need a second invitation. He took one touch to set himself and unleashed a trademark Roman thud. The ball screamed past Tim Howard's ear before he could even blink.
3-1. (Aggregate 4-2).
Renzo had his hat-trick of assists. The "Premier League Reject" had just become the architect of Everton's ruin.
The Final Nail: The Full-Back's Charge
By the 83rd minute, Everton was a broken team. Martínez was screaming on the touchline, but his players were chasing shadows. Renzo, sensing the physical toll of the double-teaming, intentionally stopped demanding the ball. He moved horizontally, dragging Barry and McCarthy with him like a pied piper, leaving the center of the pitch wide open for Aquilani to dictate.
Then came the sucker punch.
Salah made a blistering diagonal run that sucked John Stones and Seamus Coleman toward the penalty spot. It was a decoy. From the shadows of the left wing, Marcos Alonso—the forgotten man of Bolton and Sunderland—ignited his sprint.
Aquilani's lofted ball was perfection. Alonso controlled it on his chest, burst into the box, and lashed a left-footed strike across Howard into the side netting.
4-1.
Goodison Park was no longer a "Devil's Home Ground." It was a tomb. Thousands of Everton fans were already heading for the exits, unable to watch the humiliation any longer.
In the center circle, Romelu Lukaku stood with his hands on his hips, watching the Fiorentina players celebrate. He looked at Renzo, then at the scoreboard. The "Little Beast" felt a pang of genuine envy. He was one of the best strikers in the world, but he was starving for service.
Look at that kid, Lukaku thought, watching Renzo calmly organize the midfield for the final five minutes. He doesn't just pass; he creates gravity. If I had a player like that behind me, I'd score fifty a season.
[MISSION UPDATE: ALL OBJECTIVES COMPLETED]
Advance to QF: (In Progress - 99%)
1 Assist: (Completed - 3/1)
6 Threatening Passes: (Completed - 8/6)
[REWARD PENDING: EPIC-GRADE TREASURE CHEST]
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