CHAPTER 110: S-RANK MAESTRO

The whistle blew, and the "Cheese Aisle Derby" was underway.

And for the first ten minutes, Maya’s philosophy was winning.

Her Nova Athletic team was a marvel of tactical discipline.

They played in a fluid 4-1-4-1 formation, with their S-Rank Maestro, Gavi, operating as the single pivot, the deep-lying playmaker who controlled the entire game.

He was everywhere, a ghost in midfield, always in the right place to intercept a pass or start a new attack.

Ethan watched from his technical area, a mixture of frustration and grudging admiration on his face.

She wasn’t kidding, he thought, as another one of his team’s attacks was patiently snuffed out. Her team is a perfectly balanced machine.

That gap between my midfield and defense? Gavi is living in it, just like she said he would.

On the pitch, his players were feeling it.

"He’s like a magnet for the ball!" Kenny McLean grunted after Gavi had effortlessly dispossessed him. "You think you’ve got a passing lane, and then poof! He’s just... there."

"We can’t get Emre on the ball," Grant Hanley observed, his voice a low growl of concern.

"They’re cutting him off at the source."

Maya stood in her own technical area, a picture of calm, confident control.

She had done her homework. She had identified the weakness, and she was exploiting it with a ruthless, surgical precision.

In the 14th minute, her plan bore fruit.

Nova Athletic won the ball back deep in their own half.

Gavi, receiving the ball under pressure, didn’t panic.

He took one touch, looked up, and played a sublime, 50-yard diagonal pass that switched the play from one flank to the other in a heartbeat.

It was a pass of such breathtaking vision and quality that the entire Apex team was caught flat-footed.

The Nova winger, the player Maya had metaphorically represented with a balled-up napkin, was in acres of space.

He took one touch and whipped in a perfect, early cross.

Arriving at the back post, having made a lung-bursting run from midfield, was their number eight. He met the ball with a powerful, downward header that gave Angus Gunn no chance.

1-0 to Nova Athletic.

"AND THE VISITORS HAVE THE LEAD!" the commentator’s voice boomed. "A goal of pure, tactical brilliance! A stunning pass from the Maestro, Gavi, a perfect cross, and a thumping header! Maya’s Nova Athletic have drawn first blood in the derby, and you have to say, it was a perfectly executed game plan!"

Maya allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She looked over at Ethan and gave him a little, almost apologetic, shrug. I told you so.

Ethan just clenched his jaw. He wasn’t angry. He was challenged. His turn.

"Emre!" he roared, his voice cutting across the pitch. "Forget the deep role! Get forward! Go find the game!"

The instruction was a release. Emre, who had been a frustrated prisoner in his own half, was now free. The game changed instantly.

In the 22nd minute, the ball broke to Kenny McLean in the center circle.

He looked up and, with a roar of pure, defiant frustration, he just hit it.

It was a speculative, powerful long shot from forty yards out.

A "have a go" hit of pure hope.

The Nova keeper, who had been a spectator up to this point, was caught by surprise.

He scrambled across his goal and dived, just managing to get a strong hand to the ball and push it around the post. It was a brilliant, desperate save.

The corner was cleared, but the message had been sent. Apex United was not going to be quietly suffocated.

Then, in the 28th minute, the moment of magic that would define the half arrived.

The ball was with Jacob Sørensen in the midfield. He played a simple, five-yard pass to Emre Demir, who was now lurking just inside the Nova half.

And then, Emre started to run.

It wasn’t a sprint. It was a glide. He drifted past the first midfielder with a simple drop of the shoulder.

The second one came across to challenge, but Emre just knocked the ball through his legs and collected it on the other side. He was now at the heart of the Nova defense.

Gavi, the S-Rank Maestro, came out to meet him, a clash of the titans.

Emre feinted to go right, then dragged the ball back with a move so quick, so fluid, that Gavi was left momentarily off-balance.

In that split second, Emre accelerated, a blur of motion, gliding past the best defensive midfielder in the league as if he were a statue.

He was now on the edge of the box. The last defender came across.

Emre did a perfect ’La Croqueta’, knocking the ball from his right foot to his left, and was through on goal.

He looked up, saw the keeper, and with a calmness that defied the chaos he had just created, he simply passed the ball into the bottom corner of the net.

1-1.

It was a goal of such breathtaking, individual brilliance that the entire stadium, both home and away fans, rose to its feet in a spontaneous, unified standing ovation.

"OH! MY! WORD!" the commentator screamed, his voice hoarse with a mixture of shock and awe. "EMRE DEMIR! HAS JUST SCORED ONE OF THE GREATEST SOLO GOALS I HAVE EVER SEEN! HE HAS DRIBBLED THROUGH THE ENTIRE NOVA ATHLETIC TEAM! HE BEAT THE MAESTRO! HE HAS TIED THE GAME WITH A GOAL THAT BELONGS IN THE LOUVRE! That is not a goal; that is a work of art!"

Ethan was on his feet, roaring, a wild, joyous laugh tearing from his throat.

On the opposite sideline, Maya just stood there, her mouth slightly agape, a look of pure, stunned admiration on her face.

She started to clap, a slow, respectful applause for the genius who had just broken her perfect system.

As Emre was being mobbed by his ecstatic teammates, a familiar, golden notification flashed in Ethan’s vision.

[PLAYER DEVELOPMENT ALERT]

[Due to a ’Game-Changing’ moment of individual brilliance, the following player’s profile has been reassessed.]

[Emre Demir - Current Ability: 74 - 75]

Ethan just grinned. The kid was a living, breathing cheat code.

And just two minutes later, as the game hit the 30-minute mark and Nova Athletic were still reeling, Apex struck again.

A quick interception from Grant Hanley. A simple pass to Emre.

Emre, with the entire defense now terrified of him, played a sublime, first-time, no-look pass out to David Kerrigan on the wing.

Kerrigan drove at his full-back, cut inside, and unleashed a blistering shot that was parried by the keeper.

But the rebound fell perfectly to Viktor Kristensen, who had followed up the play, and he smashed the ball into the open net.

2-1 to Apex.

The stadium exploded. The tactical chess match had been blown to pieces by two moments of unstoppable, human brilliance.

Ethan looked over at Maya. She was no longer clapping.

She was on the sideline, a furious, determined look on her face, already yelling new instructions to her players. The friendly rivalry was over. The game was on.