The big screen above the Pizjuán replayed the second goal in a loop. The sequence - Cruyff Turn on Navarro, diagonal past Fazio, Pendulum on Beto, the ball rolling in, ran twice before the stadium's operators cut it and returned to the live feed. Some things you only needed to see once. Some things you needed to not see again.
Emery sat down in the dugout. He didn't reach for his tactical folder. He looked at the pitch for a long moment, the way a manager does when he has run out of adjustments and needs to decide what the second half of this match is actually about.
On the Barcelona bench, the substitutes were on their feet. Xavi and Alves, both resting tonight, had moved to the front of the technical area.
Martino pulled them back. "You're not playing. Sit."
They sat. But neither of them stopped watching.
In the home stands, in the front section near the touchline, Navarro's sister had buried her face in her hands again. Her companion said nothing this time. There was nothing useful to say.
The match restarted. Sevilla attempted to find their composure. Emery pushed Rakitic higher, trying to recreate the tempo he had established in the first half. M'Bia and Iborra kept their positions close to Lorenzo, working in shifts, one pressing, one covering with the disciplined organisation of two professionals who knew the job was hard and were doing it anyway.
Barcelona's ball movement was patient. Without urgency. The scoreline gave them that luxury.
In the 67th minute, the third goal arrived.
Busquets intercepted a Rakitic pass and fed Iniesta immediately. The "Illusionist" bypassed the press with a horizontal touch, scanned, and struck a diagonal long ball toward the left wing.
A gasp from the crowd, the ball was dropping between three defenders and a space that looked impossibly small.
Neymar and Lorenzo both moved toward the landing spot simultaneously. In the reading of it, Neymar dragged Carriço toward the centre with a dummy run, opening a yard of space on the wing. Lorenzo arrived at full pace, taking the ball on the left flank with a high-velocity flying touch that killed the momentum without breaking his stride.
M'Bia, Iborra, and Carriço converged. Three men, a yard of space, the byline ten yards away.
"He's trapped on the wing!" Inés called. "Triple-marked against the byline, there is no obvious exit."
Lorenzo drove toward the byline. M'Bia tracked his strong side, tight and physical, trying to force the ball out of play. Iborra and Carriço locked down behind him.
Emery, watching from the technical area, leaned forward.
About ten yards from the byline, as M'Bia moved to overtake him for the physical block, Lorenzo used his left heel.
He flicked the ball behind his own standing leg.
It whistled through M'Bia's open legs.
The Pizjuán erupted in a roar of pure shock, the involuntary sound of forty-five thousand people watching something they had not seen coming.
Lorenzo surged past the dazed M'Bia, stepped past Iborra's recovery lunge, and reached the byline. He had just reproduced Fernando Redondo's legendary 2000 move against Manchester United at Old Trafford - the heel-flick nutmeg that had become one of football's most replayed moments. The Prince of the Pampas had done it with elegance. Lorenzo had done it at 34 km/h under triple marking.
"REDONDO!! HE DID THE REDONDO HEEL-FLICK!" Santiago screamed. "The Beast has the feet of a prince! Dancing on the byline against three men - this is a work of grace!"
Lorenzo reached the line, glanced up, and delivered a low-driven cross along the six-yard box.
Neymar arrived in the centre with the timing of a player who had been reading the move from the moment Lorenzo received. Fazio was ahead of him, but Neymar had the angle. A simple, clinical push shot, no elaboration - just placement.
SWISH!
3-1.
The away section erupted. Neymar wheeled away, his bleached spikes catching the floodlight, arms wide. Messi reached him first, followed by Lorenzo. Iniesta arrived and clapped Neymar on the back.
"Finally," Busquets said, completely straight-faced, jogging past. "I was beginning to think you were decorative."
Neymar laughed and shoved him in the shoulder.
On the touchline, Martino allowed himself the smallest of satisfied expressions, the involuntary kind, gone before anyone could record it. He turned to Pautasso.
"That's the assist of the match," he said quietly.
Pautasso looked at his tablet. "Possibly the assist of the month."
In the stands, Emery watched the celebration wind down and made two substitutions. The match was gone. What remained was how it ended.
"Rakitic played well," his assistant said.
"He always plays well," Emery replied. "That's the problem."
[Status: Leading (3-1). 70th Minute. La Liga Matchday 5 - Pizjuán.]
[System Note: Side Mission 'Conquer the King of Europa' - Goal + Assist. Lead secured.]
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