A Resolute Promise

The final whistle had barely left the referee's lips before Atalanta's players turned to one another with fists clenched and arms raised, breaths misting in the cool night air, the lights of the Via del Mare glinting in the sweat streaking down their faces. A few sank to their knees in exhaustion and triumph, clutching the grass like it was the last solid thing they could hold onto after ninety minutes of chaos. Lookman, who had carved his name into the match with a hat trick that would live long in memory, let out a guttural roar toward the away fans, arms stretched wide, chest heaving, eyes blazing with the savage joy of victory.

The stadium buzzed with noise. It was layered, cheers, groans, sighs of heartbreak, chants, the rhythmic pounding of drums that never truly stopped even in defeat. Flags waved, scarves were raised, but it was clear to anyone with eyes which side had come out on top tonight.