England Vs France

The first half wore on, the clock ticking steadily as the players pushed themselves to the edge of their limits. The crowd's anticipation never waned; the deafening roars and the collective gasps when a player made a break for it or a defender made a crucial interception only added to the mounting pressure on the pitch. Every movement felt like it carried weight—the ball a live entity in this game, bouncing from one foot to another with purpose, every pass calculated with precision, every tackle a silent battle of wills.

Elian felt the heat of the game in his legs, but his mind remained clear, his senses heightened. His eyes swept the field constantly, adjusting to the rhythm of the match, reading the game before it fully developed. The defenders and midfielders were locked in their positions, but he knew his chance would come. It always did.