A Performance of Kings

By morning, sports outlets had picked up Arsenic’s post. Articles dissected the implications, while commentators speculated on a brewing rivalry.

Headline: "The Comeback King? Arsenic Phillip Fires Back at Alucron Aveiro"

"Arsenic’s recent Instagram post suggests he’s gearing up for a monumental return. Can he reclaim his spot at the top, or has the injury robbed him of his edge?"

On social media, fans were divided:

"Arsenic’s not done. Aveiro better watch his back!"

"Talk is cheap. Let’s see him do it on the pitch."

"Aveiro’s stats are insane, but Arsenic at his peak was unstoppable. This could be legendary."

It was May 31st, 2040, the champions league final was taking place that night. Social media was ablaze with excitement, predictions and heated debates over who would be victorious. The Champions League final between Valencia Titans and London Monarchs had everyone talking.

The buildup to the game was relentless. Analysts on TV dissected every aspect of the teams, from tactics to individual brilliance. Alucron Aveiro was the center of attention, with pundits hailing his season as one of the best in recent years. Arsenic’s family was coming to watch the game at his house.

Top Scorers in the 2040 Champions League (Before Final)

Player                    Team                       Goals  Assists  Games Played
Alucron Aveiro    Valencia Titans       24           15            12
Jadon Keyes          LDN Monarchs        18             8             11
Ethan Lottin         Real Castilla              12              5            10
Junior Paixao        Real Castilla              11           10             9
Felix Romero         Parisians FC               9            6              8
Leon Alvarez         Atletico Royals          8           3              7
Ethan Carter         AC Rossoneri              7          4              8
Reuben Masaka   Saxon Wolves            6          5              9

Arsenic's father, Victor, a former sprinter turned coach, greeted him with a firm handshake. “You’re late,” Victor said, his tone more coach than parent.

“Traffic sir,” Arsenic replied.

His younger sister, Mia, barely looked up from her phone as she sat at the kitchen table. “Still trying to beat Aveiro?” she muttered, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

“Mia,” their mother, Clara, scolded gently. “Be supportive for once.”

“I’m just saying,” Mia shrugged. “He’s been injured for over a year. People move on.”

Dinner was a mix of awkward silence and subtle jabs from Victor.

“You’re working hard, right?” his father asked, slicing into his steak.

“Every day,” Arsenic replied curtly.

“Good. You can’t let Aveiro get ahead of you. If you’re not ready, don’t bother stepping on the pitch.”

“Victor,” Clara interjected, her voice soft but firm. “Let him eat in peace.”

Arsenic pushed his plate away, appetite gone. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake? I don’t need a lecture every time I come home.”

Victor leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “I’m not lecturing. I’m reminding you of who you are. You don’t get to make excuses, not at your level.”

Mia snorted. “Classic dad. Turn everything into a motivational speech.”

Clara shot Mia a warning glance before turning to Arsenic. “Your father just wants the best for you. We all do. But you have to want it for yourself, too.”

As kickoff drew closer, Arsenic sat on the couch next to his younger sister, Mia, who was scrolling through memes about the game.

"Look at this one," she said, showing him a post that read: "Aveiro carrying Valencia Titans on his back."

Arsenic smirked but didn’t respond as his father sat down at his favourite couch overlooking the 115 inch screen.

The game began, and within minutes, the intensity was undeniable. Alucron was everywhere, orchestrating key passes with precision. In the 18th minute, he scored a curling shot from the edge of the box, sending the Valencia fans into a frenzy.

"Unstoppable," Victor muttered.

Clara shot him a warning glance, but the damage was done. Arsenic leaned back, his jaw tightening.

As the first half ended, London Monarchs trailed 1-0. Jadon Keyes, their star forward, looked isolated and frustrated. The commentators were ruthless.

"If Monarchs don’t find a way to neutralize Aveiro, this game is over." 

"I agree with you Bernard. Keyes has had less than five touches
in the opposing box. The coach needs a great speech at half-time
if they are to get anything from this game."

During halftime, Mia tried to lighten the mood. "Maybe Monarchs are just saving their strength for the second half?"

The second half began with Monarchs showing more intent. Keeping possession and having more shots on target. In the 56th minute, Keyes received a key pass from their left winger Gared Roku and scored a thunderous header, leveling the game. The living room erupted—except for Arsenic. Fans from the Monarchs side jumped up and down in celebration singing Keyes' name.

The game was electric and fast from then on. Countless of runs and plays from both teams, Keyes got another header on target but it was deflected by the goalie for a corner. It was the 90th minute, the Monarch players crowded the Titans box as they waited for the corner kick. Roku took the corner kick and the ball flew past Reyes slightly and was headed by Titans defender, Musa up the field. 

The ball landed on Moreno Gil’s feet as he trapped the ball perfectly. Gil looked around the pitch and saw Alucron running forward in the right wing, he aimed and sent the ball forward with his left foot. Alucron of course trapped it and got by the opposing defender with a Rainbow flick (rolling the ball up the back of one leg with the other foot, before flicking the standing foot upwards to propel the ball forward and over the head) and shot the ball, it hit the post and went in. 

"GOOOOAL. Cool and calm as you like and an amazing finish."

 His celebration was theatrical, removing his shirt and pointing at the cameras and flexing. Titans fans were also in euphoria, jumping and singing out his name. “Aveiro! Aveiro! Aveiro!”

Victor sighed audibly. "He’s incredible, Arsenic. You have to admit it."

"Yeah," he replied crunching his fingers.

The game ended 2-1 in favor of Valencia Titans. Aveiro lifted the Champions League trophy, taking home the man of the match award and best overall player of the champions league after another breathtaking performance.

As the TV broadcast showed Aveiro’s post-match interview, Victor turned it off. "Maybe next year," he said.

Arsenic stood abruptly. "I’m going for a run."

Clara protested. "It’s late—"

But he was already at the door, tying his sneakers.

Outside, the cool night air did little to soothe his frustration. His feet pounded against the pavement as memories of his past glories clashed with the reality of his absence from the game. Aveiro’s words from weeks ago echoed in his mind.

He stopped by a garden in town square with water, breathing heavily. Looking out at the water, he made a silent promise to himself.

The world would see him on that stage again. And this time, he wouldn’t be watching from a couch.