Whoosh!
This strike triggered gasps from all the fans in the stadium, who rose to their feet, craning their necks in anticipation.
Julien's left foot struck the ball with a volley.
The football soared high into the air. It flew over everyone in the middle of the pitch, and when it reached its peak, it suddenly plummeted!
Like autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves.
This trajectory left goalkeeper Edel no chance to predict its path. By the time he saw the ball, before he could react, it was already in front of him.
He pushed off to make the save. But it was too late.
Suspended in mid-air, Edel seemed to already hear the "whoosh" of the football brushing against the net.
He crashed heavily to the ground. He quickly turned to look at the goal net—the football was bouncing inside, until it came to rest steadily on the grass.
Edel slammed his fist against the turf in front of him, then got back up.
ROAR!
This volley completely ignited the entire stadium.
"JULIEN!"
Everyone raised their arms in wild celebration, their faces bearing expressions of disbelief.
What had they just witnessed?
Their minds were filled entirely with images of Julien's strike.
The football had not only found the net—it had found its way into their hearts.
Before Julien could even turn to run across the field, Rothen, who was closest to him, had already rushed over and wrapped him in a tight embrace. "Beautiful! Julien!!"
Rothen was so overwhelmed by the goal that this usually eloquent man could now only manage the word "beautiful."
The other players caught up, and together they walked toward the stands.
In this moment, Julien stood at the front, with his teammates behind him, all facing the north stand with arms spread wide.
Modoso was so excited his skin turned red, and he shouted to the fans behind him, "Go wild!"
The fans jumped and cheered.
Boom!Boom boom!!
The drums thundered intensely.
Flags waved everywhere.
Blue tide flooded the stadium; the usually gentle sea was now a raging tempest of gigantic waves.
"3-0!"
Hadzibegic raised both hands high in celebration. In this moment, he wasn't a head coach, he was just an ordinary fan, reveling in Bastia's glory.
Chataigner and the others also stood up to cheer for Julien.
In Bondy.
"William! Did you see that?!" Mbappé jumped up excitedly at the sight of the goal.
Saliba didn't answer him, instead began talking to himself: "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! That goal was incredible!"
Ethan was also there, shouting loudly, "Wooooh! Julien scored again! Julien scored another goal that Kylian could never learn!!"
Mbappé laughed and patted his younger brother, bursting into laughter.
In the living room outside the bedroom.
Fayza and Wilfried exchanged glances and smiled, looking at the family photo on the TV cabinet.
Wilfried said, "Next year we can buy a house in Paris. Caen will give us at least 150,000 euros as a signing fee, and Kylian won't have to worry about playing football anymore."
Fayza listened to her husband's words.
Sometimes she still couldn't believe that her child was about to become a professional footballer. But this had precedent in the family.
Wilfried had been a football player in his youth, and she herself had played basketball at twelve or thirteen, later switching to handball because her talent was stronger there.
As a right winger, she had represented Bondy Handball Club in the French Women's Handball First Division.
Genetics are miraculous like that. An amateur midfielder who never made it as a professional footballer, and a professional handball winger.
They had given birth to a "supercar."
With better days ahead, Fayza said with emotion, "Our lives are going to change. We'll have a home with 24-hour hot water, everyone can have their own bedroom, we can have a big study room, we won't have to use the living room as a study, activity room, dining room, and meeting room all at once."
Wilfried embraced Fayza and said. "All of us are going to be fine."
He also reflected, "Do you remember? When Kylian was born, Pierre brought a mini football as a gift for him. I think football's connection with Kylian began right then."
Pierre was Wilfried's younger brother.
Fayza nestled against her husband's broad chest, saying nostalgically, "Yes, Pierre said back then, 'Mark my words, one day this child will become a great player.'"
In the living room, time seemed to pause.
The children's excited voices from the bedroom made the small house feel warm and charming.
After an unknown amount of time passed.
Mbappé's voice rang out once again—
"We won!!"
His excited tone sounded as if he were a die-hard Bastia fan.
But if you asked him, he would definitely answer, "I'm not interested in Bastia, I'm just a die-hard Julien fan."
Saliba also laughed, lowering his voice: "We're going to Spain!"
Mbappé beamed and said, "Yes!"
Just like that, the two teenagers made plans for a trip abroad.
At Cesari Stadium.
The moment the final whistle blew, songs filled the entire stadium,
"Bastia! Bastia! Blue blood burning bright!
From old port to new ground, we rise up and fight!
Two generations strong, same dream in our hearts
From darkness of '78 to 2012's bright stars
Moorish flag flying high, high above!
Back to Europe's stage, the club that we love!
Bastia! Bastia! Forever we sing!
European nights, let the stadium ring!"
The Bastia players hugged each other, high-fived, and celebrated.
Everyone wore smiles on their faces.
3-0.
A complete victory.
The Hapoel Tel Aviv players hung their heads in dejection, walking silently back to the locker room.
For them, the group stage might have ended right at this moment.
Third seeds.
Yet finishing last.
Simultaneously with this match, Viktoria Plzen had challenged Atlético Madrid away.
In the end, Atlético won 1-0 at home against Viktoria Plzen.
Viktoria Plzen and Hapoel Tel Aviv were partners in misery—after two rounds, both teams had zero points.
Atlético and Bastia both had six points.
Bastia temporarily led with a superior goal difference, ranking first in the group.
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