The next few weeks were a blur of matches, of training sessions, of travel. The season was in full swing, the games coming thick and fast. But Mateo, with his new-found sense of purpose, was thriving. He was playing with a freedom, a joy, a confidence that was breathtaking to watch. He was the creative hub of the team, the player who made everything tick. He was scoring goals, he was creating chances, and he was leading by example.
Dortmund was on a roll. They were top of the Bundesliga, they were top of their Champions League group, and they were playing a brand of football that was the envy of Europe. They were a team on a mission, a team that was determined to make this season a special one.
And at the heart of it all was Mateo, the eighteen-year-old prodigy who had become a man, the silent boy who had found his voice, the rejected stone that had become the cornerstone of a new dynasty.
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