The Volkswagen Arena was shaking. In the 18th minute, the "Belgian Wall" had finally cracked the Viola's resolve.
It started with Luiz Gustavo. The Brazilian "Tank" dispossessed Badelj with a crunching tackle that echoed in the stands. Before the referee could even blink, the ball was at the feet of Kevin De Bruyne.
KDB didn't hesitate. With a nonchalant flick of his outer boot—a pass that seemed to ignore the laws of friction—he sliced the ball between Savic and Rodriguez. André Schürrle didn't even have to break stride. One touch, one clinical blast into the far corner.
1-0. The Wolves were howling.
In the VIP box, Wolfsburg's team manager, Fred, was wearing a smile worth fifty million pounds. Beside him, Jürgen Klinsmann watched the field with a furrowed brow.
"You're a devil, Fred," Klinsmann whispered. "Using me as a 'phantom coach' to scare Dieter into a cheap contract, while using this match to hike De Bruyne's price for the Manchester City scouts?"
Fred chuckled, his eyes fixed on his "golden goose," De Bruyne. "It's business, Jürgen. If De Bruyne wins the Man of the Match against the 'invincible' Fiorentina tonight, City will pay whatever I ask on Monday. It's a perfect plan. Three birds, one stone."
But as Fred was mentally counting his millions, the atmosphere on the pitch shifted. The temperature seemed to drop. Renzo Uzumaki, who had been quiet for the first twenty minutes, suddenly adjusted his captain's armband.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: FOCUS MODE ACTIVATED]
"Fred... look," Klinsmann interrupted, leaning forward so far his chest hit the railing.
On the pitch, Renzo received a heavy ball under extreme pressure from Luiz Gustavo. To the crowd, it looked like he was trapped. But with a lightning-fast pull-back and 180-degree turn, Renzo left the Brazilian international stumbling into the grass.
"Beautiful!" Klinsmann exhaled. "He just made a Brazil starter look like a Sunday League amateur."
Renzo didn't stop. He drove into the "No Man's Land" of the Wolfsburg midfield. Before the second defensive midfielder, Guilavogui, could close the gap, Renzo unleashed a no-look through-ball that bypassed the entire back four.
Mario Gómez latched onto it, his shot missing the post by mere millimeters.
"Who is that kid?" Fred asked, his smile finally faltering.
"That's the 'Ghost of Florence,'" Klinsmann replied, his eyes shining with professional excitement. "And Fred... I think your 'three birds' just flew away. The boy isn't here to be a footnote in De Bruyne's highlight reel. He's here to take the Arena."
The Wolfsburg defense, previously so confident, was now staring at Renzo with genuine fear. The "Maestro" had stopped observing. The "Maestro" was about to explode.
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