My system allows me to copy talents

Like a flash of lightning, he had appeared out of nowhere. From the looks of it, he seemed to be waiting for this moment.

The figure belonged to none other than Hiro.

The crowd revealed an expression of shock and surprise upon seeing him. Dembele was even more stunned. He could tell he hadn’t seen him before. He couldn’t feel Hiro’s presence before.

But now, he appeared out of nowhere.

Just where was he hiding?

“Shadow Tactician”

Utilizing the talent, Hiro had masked his presence. Hence, he hadn’t been seen often in the field. But just the talent alone didn’t allow him to make this move. He also had to calculate the moves of his opponents.

Just calculating Lucien’s moves alone wasn’t enough.

To be here right now, he had calculated the moves of all three attackers.

“To catch a criminal, you have to think like a criminal,” Diego murmured in his heart. He could tell Hiro had made his move after much calculation.

It wasn’t a coincidence for him to be there.

He had been keeping tabs on Hiro constantly throughout this build-up.

At first, when he saw him idle, he couldn’t help but feel confused. He couldn’t tell why he wasn’t acting. This didn’t make sense to him. But now, everything made sense, and he couldn’t help but rejoice.

“This Hiro is unpredictable,” Diego smiled.

Sprinting past Dembele, Hiro intercepted the pass. Then, without wasting time, he sent the ball flying. Just like them, the opposition was going through a transition as well. This made it easier for him to pass.

The ball flew straight to Simeone, who collected it.

Simeone could tell what he was supposed to do. Hence, without hesitation, he shot forward. Though he wasn’t as fast as Hiro, he still believed in his speed.

To increase his speed, he shot the ball forward and then chased after it.

This allowed him to traverse much faster.

However, he couldn’t recklessly toss the ball forward. He had to be cautious of the opposition, too.

While being aware of his surroundings, Simeone rushed. The players on the Madrid bench couldn’t help but widen their eyes in surprise.

“This brat! When did he become so fast?” Diego couldn’t help but reveal a wry smile. Before him, his son was creating chaos on the field. Diego had been proud of his son, but now, seeing him surpass his limit, his heart swelled even more with pride.

Even though Diego was proud of Giuliano, a part of him couldn’t help but feel anxious.

There weren’t many of their players in the opposing half. The only ones besides Giuliano were Alvarez and Alexander Sorloth.

Compared to the opposition’s two-man defense, they had an advantage in numbers. However, Vittorio could do the work of two men alone.

Despite that, Giuliano didn’t slow down. Instead, he charged even more furiously. Vittorio couldn’t leave his spot freely.

Simultaneously, he couldn’t allow space for Simeone to cut inside.

Hence, he didn’t advance to intercept Guiliano. Instead, he maintained a distance from him and kept a vigilant watch over him. He also kept Alexander Sorloth in check and prevented him from cutting inside.

As Atlético surged into the final third, Simeone spotted a narrow opening and whipped a curling cross from the flank.

Inside the penalty box, both Alexander and Alvarez were poised like coiled springs, eyes locked on the incoming ball. But their shadows weren’t alone—Vittorio and a second PSG defender mirrored their movement, each determined to get there first.

All four launched skyward in a synchronized leap, limbs clashing mid-air in a chaotic ballet of ambition.

“Too high!” Vittorio hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes wide with frustration.

Even Alexander, towering above most, couldn’t graze it—the ball skimmed past their fingertips, continuing its arc toward the far end of the box.

It looked destined for the touchline. A wasted opportunity, or so it seemed.

A split-second of relief washed over the PSG defenders.

But then, he appeared.

A flash of red and white streaked into the corner of their vision.

HIRO!

Like a phantom bursting through the mist, Hiro sprinted into the space, arriving just as the ball descended. His timing was divine.

Gasps echoed across the stadium as he launched himself, body twisting in mid-air, arms wide for balance. With one powerful, precise swing of his right leg, he struck the ball just before it kissed the grass.

THWACK!

The ball sliced through the air like a comet. A shimmering blur spun off his boot and curled toward the top far post. Thankyouforreading.Thiswasbroughttoyouby*.

Donnarumma saw it, but only too late.

Rooted to the spot, he could do nothing as the ball screamed past him, grazing the inside of the post before smashing into the back of the net.

GOAL!!!

The stadium detonated.

“What a thunderbolt from Hiro! He came out of nowhere—absolutely nowhere—and pulled Atletico level with a world-class finish!”

“Donnarumma never stood a chance! That’s the brilliance, the audacity of this young prodigy. He’s not just playing in the final—he’s rewriting it!”

Red-and-white banners rippled across the crowd like flames, and Hiro stood in the corner, chest heaving, eyes burning with focus. The PSG defenders could only stare, stunned.

Lucien, watching from the center circle, clenched his fists.

There wasn’t anything he could do. The others around him lowered their head in disappointment. On the other hand, the players clad in red and white stormed the pitch.

Finally, after many exchanges, Athletico had leveled the score.

The Madrid supporters beamed with excitement, their eyes moist. Their hearts thumped, and many burst into tears of joy.

“Dad, we’ve tied the score.”

“Yeah! We’ve tied the score…”

“Hiro, I knew we could count on you. With you, everything’s going to be alright.”

Murmurs spread throughout the stadium as Madrid supporters expressed themselves. They couldn’t keep themselves from tearing.

This goal meant a lot to these supporters whose hopes had faltered.

Once again, hope kindled in their heart.

With this, the score was tied 2-2.

Now the game could go either way.