World football system-Chapter 73: Battle in Munich

Date: February 29, 2029

Location: Allianz Arena, Munich, Germany

Kick-off: 20:00 CET

Competition: UEFA Champions League – Round of 16 (2nd Leg)

Aggregate: Bayern 2 – 2 Arsenal

Theme: Fire & Frost

---

17:00 CET – Allianz Arena Tunnel

The walls pulsed with red light. Drums echoed. German chants thundered outside like war horns.

Tobi stood in the tunnel, boots tied tight, gloves pulled over trembling fingers. His heart thudded like a war drum.

Kimmich, Thomas Müller, and Musiala lined up beside him.

The Bayern badge gleamed on their chests like polished iron. Cold. Certain.

"Oliveira," Müller smirked. "Hope you brought a parachute."

Tobi smirked back. "Why? Planning to fall apart again?"

Müller chuckled, but his eyes narrowed.

---

> System Notice:

Elite Threat Detected: Allianz Pressure

Difficulty: Nightmare Mode Activated

Bonus Unlocked: Rivalry Boost +12% Agility

Tactic Locked: "Slipstream Run" – Auto-Trigger on Counterattack

---

19:50 CET – Dressing Room Briefing

Arteta stood by the whiteboard, jaw clenched.

"Tonight, you make them remember London. Every tackle. Every sprint. Every pass."

He turned to Tobi. "They’ll target you."

"I know."

"Make them regret it."

Tobi nodded. "They always do." freeweɓnøvel~com

---

> Starting XI – Arsenal (4-3-3):

Ramsdale – White, Saliba, Gabriel, Zinchenko

Rice, Ødegaard, Tobi

Saka, Jesus, Martinelli

> Bayern XI:

Neuer – Mazraoui, Upamecano, De Ligt, Davies

Kimmich, Goretzka – Musiala

Sané, Kane, Coman

---

20:00 CET – Kickoff

1’

The whistle blew. Allianz roared.

Bayern pressed high. Fast. Relentless. A trap set with precision.

Tobi touched the ball once, twice, then lost it to Goretzka.

The crowd erupted.

"They’re suffocating us," Ødegaard muttered.

"Let them," Tobi said. "We’ll make them pay for every breath."

---

9’ – Shot!

Musiala slipped past Gabriel and curled a shot—

Ramsdale parried!

But it bounced to Kane—

GOAL – Bayern 1-0 (3-2 agg)

Allianz exploded.

Tobi stood near the halfway line, jaw tight.

This wasn’t fear.

It was ignition.

---

> System Response:

Emotion Override: Focus

Buff Gained: "One-Man Counter"

All Solo Dribble Success +10%

Risk of Injury: Moderate

---

17’ – Response

Ødegaard to Rice. Rice wide to Tobi.

Davies closed him down.

Tobi dragged it back—heel flick—slipped through Upamecano’s legs—sprinted.

The stadium gasped.

Inside the box.

He squared it—Jesus tapped—

GOAL – Arsenal 1-1 (3-3 agg)

Away Goal Advantage Activated.

Arsenal ahead on away goals.

Tobi raised his finger to his lips.

Munich fell eerily quiet.

---

> System Triggered:

Milestone Achieved: Assist at Allianz

Morale Surge – Team +5% Energy

Passive Buff: "Silencer" – Crowd Pressure -30%

---

Halftime – 1-1 (3-3 agg)

"You’ve got them afraid," Arteta said. "Now bury them."

But the team was sweating. Limbs tight. The German winter inside the Allianz was turning into a furnace.

Tobi sat alone, visualizing every lane, every flick.

He whispered under his breath:

"Emilia’s watching. Leonor’s watching. The world’s watching."

---

Second Half Begins

46’–59’

Bayern came back like wolves.

Sané hit the bar.

Kane missed by inches.

Musiala danced through the middle—Rice chopped him down.

Yellow card.

Tobi drifted deep, nearly invisible.

Then...

---

61’ – Magic Moment

Zinchenko threw to Ødegaard. He passed to Saka.

Saka cut inside. Tobi surged up the left.

Through ball—

Tobi caught it in stride. Step-over. Backheel. Jesus dummied.

It fell to Martinelli—

GOAL – Arsenal 2-1 (4-3 agg)

Arsenal players piled into each other. Tobi stood back, breathing hard, eyes fierce.

---

> System Combo:

Dual Assist Chain Activated

Confidence +25%

Hidden Buff: "Momentum Flow" – Acceleration unlocked for final 20 mins

---

75’ – Disaster Strikes

Free-kick to Bayern.

Kimmich floated it in—Kane rose—header—

GOAL – 2-2 (4-4 agg)

No away goal rule in effect anymore.

Now it was sudden death.

Extra time loomed.

---

> System Warning:

Fatigue Rising

Stamina: 61%

Muscle Cramps – Likely after 90’

Recommended Strategy: Pick Your Moment

---

90+3’ – Final Chance in Regulation

Ødegaard floated a cross.

Tobi leapt—Neuer punched it clear—Rice volleyed—

Saved.

Whistle.

FULL TIME – 2-2 (4-4 agg)

Extra Time Begins

---

ET 1st Half – Minute 97

Tobi collapsed in a tackle from De Ligt.

Medical staff ran in.

Arteta looked ready to sub him.

"I’m fine," Tobi growled, shaking them off.

---

ET Minute 104 – Redemption

Ødegaard lofted the ball into the channel.

Tobi chased, even as his calf screamed.

He beat Davies to it, turned inside—

Shot—DEFLECTED—GOAL!

Own Goal by Upamecano!

Arsenal 3-2 (5-4 agg)

Pandemonium on the Arsenal bench.

Tobi didn’t celebrate.

He fell to his knees, hands gripping his thighs, breath gone.

---

> System Triggered:

Clutch Hero Badge Earned

Legacy Progress: 72%

Buff: "Battle-Forged" – Pain Resistance Temporarily Boosted

Stat Lock: Dribbling, Vision, Composure +10%

---

Final Whistle

The whistle blew.

Bayern 2 – 3 Arsenal (4-5 Aggregate)

Tobi collapsed onto the grass.

Not crying.

Just... still.

The red Allianz sky above him.

London had survived Munich.

And he had survived himself.

---

Post-Match – Tunnel Interview

"Oliveira, you did it. You’re through."

Tobi wiped sweat from his brow. "We did it. And we’re not done.

Rain fell like silver needles onto the London pavement as the city murmured beneath its cloudy breath. In a quiet corner of Covent Garden, Tobi Oliveira sat in a candlelit bistro, a soft smile on his lips, one that had become far more frequent since he arrived in Arsenal. Across the table, Emilia, dressed in a midnight blue trench coat, was laughing at something he said—something silly, probably. He didn’t care. Her laughter made everything feel lighter.

"Okay, okay," she giggled, brushing her hair behind her ear. "But did you seriously think a mic in your sock would fool the referees?"

"It worked once!" Tobi protested with mock indignation. "Back in Lisbon. Ref didn’t suspect a thing. I called the offside line myself."

They laughed. He reached across the table and took her hand. Life, for once, felt still.

The calm before the storm.

Tobi’s phone buzzed on the table. A message from Declan Rice in the Arsenal players’ group chat:

"Extra tactical drills tomorrow, lads. 7:00 sharp. Don’t be late."

Tobi responded with a thumbs-up emoji and put the phone down.

Emilia tilted her head. "So, Mr. Superstar, how’s Arsenal treating you now that the Champions League glow is fading?"

He sighed, glancing out the window at the light drizzle. "Fast-paced. Ruthless. But... inspiring. I feel like I’m growing every day. The training, the expectations, it’s different here. Valencia was home, but this... this is the proving ground."

She smiled. "I’m proud of you, you know?"

"I know." He squeezed her hand. "I think about everything sometimes. The darker days. When I almost—when I gave up. And now you’re here. I’m here. It feels like another life."

They exited the restaurant an hour later, laughing under a single umbrella, his arm around her. The rain had turned the pavement slick and shiny. Emilia tugged on his hand, pulling him toward a quiet lane with an old record store she loved.

"Tobi! Come on, they’ll close in ten minutes!"

He chased after her, boots splashing puddles.

A dog barked somewhere in the distance.

Then, it happened.

A cyclist, cloaked in a black hoodie, came speeding from the alley. Tobi turned too late. In trying to pull Emilia away, he slipped. His left foot bent awkwardly beneath him, and a sickening crack cut through the sound of the rain.

He fell, hard. "ARGHHH!"

"Tobi!" Emilia screamed, kneeling beside him, her fingers trembling as she grabbed his face. "Tobi, what happened? What—?!"

"My ankle," he groaned, gritting his teeth. "Shit... my ankle. I heard it."

The cyclist didn’t even stop.

A crowd gathered quickly, phones came out. Emilia screamed for help. Tobi clutched his ankle, his breathing shallow, sharp stabs of pain making his vision blur.

An ambulance arrived within ten minutes, sirens tearing through the serenity of the evening. He was rushed to the nearest private hospital, painkillers pumping through his veins as medics tried to stabilize the swelling.

Within an hour, Arteta, the Arsenal staff, and Dr. Youssef—the team physio—were at his side.

Arteta placed a hand on Tobi’s shoulder, voice calm but tense. "We’ll wait for the MRI, but... it doesn’t look good."

Tobi stared at the ceiling. "Tell me straight, gaffer."

Dr. Youssef took a breath. "Initial signs point to a high-grade ligament tear. Possibly a fracture. You’ll be out at least six to eight weeks. Could be longer."

Tobi’s world crashed again.

---

The following morning, the newspapers screamed:

"Arsenal Starboy Injured Off the Pitch — Oliveira Out for Weeks!"

"Emilia and the Accident: Lovers in the Rain Ends in Injury"

Social media buzzed with speculation. Some blamed Emilia, others the city’s reckless cyclists. But most just mourned the loss of the wonderkid Arsenal had just unveiled.

Training continued without him. He watched from the sidelines in a brace and crutches. The locker room atmosphere shifted. Not cold, but... different. Like he was suddenly part of the past tense.

Saka checked in often. "Don’t rush back too soon, bro. We need you long term."

Gabriel teased him about Emilia. "All that romance! Should’ve kept your feet in boots, not dancing in the rain!"

Tobi smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

At home, he struggled with the silence. The System—his ever-loyal companion—was dormant, conserving energy until he healed. The stats screen was gray. His agility had dropped. So had acceleration. Even his Vision attribute, strangely, had dimmed.

He texted Emilia less. Not because he blamed her. But because when she looked at him, she saw guilt. And he couldn’t bear it.

Weeks passed. He missed matches against Wolves, Aston Villa, and a tough derby against Tottenham. Arsenal managed without him, but barely.

In his room at night, he replayed the fall again and again. The crack. The helplessness. The sudden stop to all momentum.

---

One day, Arteta visited him privately.

"Tobi," he said, sitting on the edge of the recovery table, "I’ve seen a lot of players fall like this. Not physically. Mentally. But you’re different. You survived worse."

"I don’t feel different," Tobi muttered.

Arteta raised an eyebrow. "Then maybe it’s time you remember who you were before all this. You’re not just an Arsenal player. You’re the kid who came back from death. Who redefined a season for Valencia. Who carried Portugal’s U21 on your back. That fire—it’s still there."

Tobi looked up, eyes burning. "Then I need to feel it again."

Arteta nodded. "Then start. Slowly. Day by day. You’re not alone in this."

---

And so began the grind.

Rehab.

Physio.

Water resistance drills.

Cryotherapy.

Weight training to compensate.

Running drills with a soft brace.

He hated it. But he craved it.

One day, while limping toward the hydrotherapy pool, he heard fans chanting outside the Arsenal training ground:

🎵 "Oliveira, Oliveira — magic in his feet! Come back strong, make us beat the elite!" 🎵

He stopped. Leaned on the railing. His eyes stung.

He hadn’t been forgotten.

---

Six weeks post-injury, he jogged again. Not sprinted—jogged. Saka filmed it and posted it online.

The comments flooded in.

"HE’S BACKKKK!!"

"Time to cook!"

"Pray for defenders."

Then came the day. His first game back.

A Europa League group stage match against Fenerbahçe. Arteta named him on the bench. Just his name on the team sheet made headlines.

Emilia waited by the tunnel before warm-up. She looked nervous.

"I’ll be fine," he told her, taking her hand. "And I’m sorry. For pushing you away."

She kissed his cheek. "Just show them who you are."

---

In the 68th minute, with the score 1–1, Arteta called his name.

"Tobi. You’re in."

The Emirates roared.

He stepped onto the pitch, every nerve screaming. The brace on his ankle was tight, his lungs tense. But his mind... clear.

The ball came to him within seconds. He turned, slipped past a defender, drew two others, and laid it off to Ødegaard, who blasted it in.

2–1.

Fans chanted his name like a prayer.

In the 87th minute, he cut inside from the left, faked a shot, slid through two defenders, and curled it—bottom corner.

GOAL.

The stadium erupted.

He didn’t celebrate. He stood still, eyes closed, soaking in the sound. Redemption.

---

After the match, Arteta hugged him. "Welcome back."

Reporters swarmed.

"How does it feel?"

"Was this goal personal?"

"Will you regain your place?"

Tobi only smiled. "I never left."

That night, he lay in bed beside Emilia, her head on his chest, and stared at the ceiling.

"Do you think I’m still chasing ghosts?" he whispered.

She looked up. "No. You’re becoming someone even the ghosts fear."

And for the first time since that rainy night in Covent Garden, Tobi Oliveira slept without pain, fear, or doubt.

He was back. Stronger.

And the world would feel it.