The noise didn’t die after Pavlović’s goal.

It grew.

The Allianz Arena shook with it, a rolling thunder of chants, flags whipping through the air, the German crowd sensing something within reach. On the pitch, the players huddled briefly before jogging back into shape, adrenaline still pumping through every movement.

Portugal, though—

Portugal didn’t shrink.

They surged.

Immediately.

"Now we will see the real test," Matthäus said, his voice cutting through the roar. "How Germany responds to this pressure."

Because it was coming.

Relentless.

Portugal pushed higher up the pitch, their shape tightening, their intent clear. Bernardo Silva dropped deeper to dictate, Vitinha—who had come on earlier for João Neves—slid into rhythm almost instantly, his touch sharp, his movement fluid. Bruno Fernandes roamed between lines, constantly looking for space, constantly demanding the ball.

It was no longer Germany controlling the tempo.

Portugal had taken it.

"They are bossing the midfield now," Quaresma observed. "Vitinha, Bruno, Bernardo—they are finding space everywhere."

Vitinha looked like he hadn’t played a final just days ago. If anything, he looked sharper, more energized, gliding past challenges, threading passes into dangerous areas, always one step ahead of the press.

Germany were forced back.

Five yards.

Ten yards.

Fifteen.

The pressure mounted.

It nearly broke them.

The move began with a mistake.

Goretzka.

A misplaced pass under pressure.

Bruno Fernandes reacted instantly, stepping in and winning it cleanly.

He didn’t hesitate.

One touch to control—

Head up.

And he drove forward.

"Danger here," Matthäus warned.

Bruno spotted the movement immediately—Ronaldo making his run through the middle, Conceição—on for Trincão—peeling wide on the right. With perfect weight, Bruno clipped the ball over the top toward Conceição.

The winger chested it down smoothly, his touch cushioning it into his stride.

João Neves overlapped on the outside.

Conceição slipped it through.

First time.

Perfect.

Neves reached it near the byline and, without breaking stride, clipped a cross into the box.

Ronaldo rose.

Higher than everyone.

Timing it perfectly.

His header thundered toward goal—

CRASH.

Off the crossbar.

The stadium gasped as one.

The ball bounced back into play.

Kimmich reacted first, clearing it desperately away.

"SO CLOSE!" Matthäus shouted. "That was inches from an equaliser!"

The clearance flew high.

Spinning.

Drifting toward the right flank.

Lukas tracked it immediately, already moving toward where it would land. He could feel Nuno Mendes behind him, closing the distance, ready to challenge again.

The ball dropped.

Lukas positioned his body.

Used his thigh—

Dead.

The control was perfect.

The ball dropped straight down in front of him as if it had been placed there.

Mendes lunged instantly, trying to disrupt the turn.

But Lukas had already seen it.

Wirtz.

Driving through the middle.

Without even fully turning, Lukas flicked the ball with the outside of his boot, lifting it delicately into Wirtz’s path.

"Brilliant awareness," Quaresma murmured.

Wirtz brought it down on his chest at the halfway line and surged forward, carrying the ball straight at Rúben Dias. Lukas turned immediately and sprinted forward to support, Mendes chasing him stride for stride.

The counter was on.

Three runners.

Wirtz central.

Adeyemi left.

Lukas right.

Portugal scrambling to recover.

Wirtz drove into the final third and glanced left—Adeyemi had space. João Neves had been caught forward and hadn’t recovered yet.

The pass came.

Into Adeyemi’s path.

First touch.

Then instantly—

A driven cross.

Low.

Fast.

Curling toward the back post.

Lukas accelerated, stretching every step, Mendes right there with him, shoulder to shoulder, both of them racing for the same ball.

"Tap-in if it reaches him," Matthäus said.

Lukas extended his leg—

But Mendes got there first.

Just.

With the outside of his boot, he diverted the ball away, sending it out for a corner.

A clearance.

A vital one.

"Again Mendes!" Quaresma said. "He’s saving them."

The game opened completely after that.

End to end.

Portugal chasing.

Germany countering.

Conceição had a chance moments later, cutting inside and firing low, but ter Stegen was down quickly to save. Bruno Fernandes followed with a shot from distance that drifted just wide, while Vitinha tried his luck from outside the box, forcing another sharp save from the German keeper.

Ter Stegen was immense.

Every save steady.

Every decision calm.

"He’s been outstanding," Matthäus said. "Absolutely outstanding tonight."

Then came the substitution.

Around the 82nd minute.

Portugal’s coach, Roberto Martínez, turned to his bench and made the call.

Pedro Neto off.

Diogo Jota on.

Lukas noticed immediately.

From the opposite side of the pitch, he watched Jota jog onto the field, a slight smile on his face, ready to make his impact.

For a brief moment—

Lukas didn’t move.

Didn’t track back.

Didn’t call for the ball.

He just watched.

Focused.

Locked in.

Then—

the game resumed.

The throw-in was taken.

The ball came into play.

And Lukas snapped back into it.

When the ball found him again, something had changed.

Not in his movement.

Not in his posture.

But in his intent.

"Even if just for you... I have to do this,"

He had come to a resolution on the matter that was bothering him the previous day after his talk with Nagelsmann.

If he wanted to change Jota’s future, on the pitch, was the quickest and most effective way to do it.

He received it near the right flank, just inside his own half, and instead of holding or passing—

he drove.

Straight into the middle.

Striding forward.

Carrying the ball with purpose.

"Look at this," Matthäus said, his tone rising. "He’s going alone."

Bruno Fernandes stepped in first, trying to slow him down.

Lukas shifted the ball quickly across his body, slipping past him with a sharp change of direction, leaving Bruno reaching behind him.

Bernardo Silva stepped up next, closing the angle.

Lukas dropped his shoulder, dragged the ball across, then accelerated past him before Bernardo could react.

Two gone.

The crowd started to rise.

Nuno Mendes stepped across again, determined not to be beaten this time.

But Lukas didn’t slow.

He feinted left.

Mendes bit—

And Lukas cut right, bursting past him, brushing off the contact as he surged into the attacking half.

Three.

The space opened.

But Rúben Dias was waiting.

Positioned.

Composed.

The last line.

Lukas approached him at speed, the ball glued to his feet.

Dias held his ground.

Waited.

Timed it.

Then stepped in—

Lukas flicked the ball forward.

Skipped past him.

Clean.

Four.

Gasps rippled through the stadium.

It went quiet.

For a split second.

As if everyone needed to process what they were seeing.

Only the goalkeeper left.

Diogo Costa rushed out, narrowing the angle, spreading himself.

Lukas didn’t panic.

Didn’t rush.

He took one more touch—

Lifted his head—

And chipped it.

Soft.

Delicate.

Perfect.

The ball floated over Costa—

And dropped.

Into the net.

Silence.

For half a heartbeat.

Then—

explosion.

The Allianz Arena detonated.

"WHAT A GOAL!" Matthäus screamed. "UNBELIEVABLE! ABSOLUTELY UNBELIEVABLE!"

Quaresma just shook his head in disbelief. "That’s... that’s not normal."

On the pitch, Lukas slowed his run, almost casually, as if even he needed a second to process it. His teammates stood frozen, some with their hands on their heads, others just staring.

He reached the corner flag.

Turned.

And bowed.

The crowd lost its mind.

On the far side of the pitch, Ronaldo stood still, hands on his hips, watching.

Watching the moment.

Watching the future.

And for a second—

it was clear.

A shift.

A passing of something.

Germany 3.

Portugal 1.

And the game—

was gone.

* * * * * * *

A/N: This Chapter is sponsored by Arthur. Thank you so much for the biscuit! I really appreciate!! Hope you enjoy the Chapter.

You can support on ko-fi(.)com/writ1 and your extra Chapter will be released ASAP.

After a bit of thinking, the extra Chapters terms have been improved: 1 minimum tip for 1 extra Chapter. And no limit on the amount of extra Chapters possible (Here’s to hoping someone tips a million dollars!)

You guys are really helping me get by and I am really grateful.

Love you all.

Writ.