The desert air in the Al Bayt Stadium felt heavy. It was thick with sweat, noise, and the smell of deep heat spray.
Extra Time.
Thirty more minutes.
Alex stood in the center circle. His legs felt like they were made of concrete. His lungs were burning.
He looked at Mark.
Mark was leaning on his knees. He was breathing hard. The Emperor looked less like a ruler and more like a tourist who had run for the bus and missed it.
"Tired, Speed?" Alex asked, panting.
Mark looked up. He wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Emperors do not get tired," Mark gasped. "We just... pause for dramatic effect."
"You look dramatic," Alex smiled. "You look like you are melting."
"I am a candle of speed," Mark said. "Burning bright."
The referee blew the whistle.
Extra Time began.
It was sloppy. It was messy.
Players were slipping. Passes were going out of play. The beautiful game had turned into a survival contest.
In the ninety-fifth minute, Mbappe got the ball.
