Against All Odds: Legacy Of A Football King
Chapter 112: Handicap 2

Chapter 112: Handicap 2

As the second half kicked off, Benjamin’s demeanor shifted.

York City’s players still felt sluggish compared to Real Madrid, but something about Benjamin’s gameplay had changed. The flow of the game began to tilt.

In the 50th minute, Benjamin’s underdog squad worked the ball upfield with surprising fluidity.

A quick one-two pass between the forwards created a sliver of space. The crowd roared—or rather, the virtual crowd on the screen did—as Benjamin’s striker unleashed a low, driven shot that slipped under the diving Casillas.

"3–1," Adam, playing the role of an announcer, leaned forward with interest. "You’ve got one back."

Sophie waved it off with a flick of her hand. "Just a consolation goal," she declared, but her earlier smugness had dimmed just slightly.

Benjamin’s focus deepened further. His defense tightened, and Sophie’s confident dribbles were suddenly met with well-timed tackles.

A lofted through ball in the 62nd minute found York City’s 51-rated winger, who darted down the flank.

With a precise cross into the box, Benjamin’s striker rose above Ramos, meeting the ball with a thunderous header. The net rippled.

"3–2," Adam said, his grin widening. "Oh, this is getting interesting."

Sophie’s smirk faltered, and her green eyes narrowed at the screen. "Lucky header," she muttered, and her fingers began pressing the buttons with increasing aggression.

Benjamin didn’t respond and Instead, was already pressing for an equalizer. In the 72nd minute, a well-executed counterattack left Sophie’s defense scrambling.

York City’s midfielder found himself in acres of space at the edge of the box. With a quick feint-skill move, he sidestepped a sliding tackle and curled the ball into the top corner.

"3–3!" Adam shouted, throwing his hands up. "This is insane!"

Sophie sat up straight, her casual confidence evaporating. "Okay," she said, her voice turning sharper now, "no more messing around."

The match was now a battle of wits. Sophie’s Real Madrid pushed forward, desperate to reclaim the lead, but Benjamin’s defense held firm. With each turnover, he countered ruthlessly.

In the 81st minute, a quick sequence of passes left Sophie’s defense exposed. Benjamin’s striker found himself one-on-one with Casillas.

The York City player dinked the ball over the onrushing keeper, and the virtual stadium exploded.

"4–3!" Adam exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. "Benjamin’s actually leading!"

Sophie’s jaw dropped. "What the—how did that even—" she stammered, her fingers furiously working the controller as the clock ticked down.

Her frustration only grew as time passed. Benjamin had gone through a few tactics settings and switched to a possession-heavy strategy, moving the ball calmly around the pitch and running down the clock.

Each failed attempt to regain possession earned a groan or a muttered curse from Sophie.

In the 88th minute, Benjamin struck again. A defensive error allowed his midfielder to intercept a pass, and with two quick touches, the ball was blasted into the net.

"5–3," Adam announced, shaking his head in amazement. "This is officially a comeback."

Sophie was silent now, and her lips sadly pressed into a thin line with watery eyes. She threw everything forward in a desperate attempt to salvage the game, but it was no use.

In the 92nd minute, Benjamin delivered the final blow. A long clearance from his defense turned into an opportunistic run. His striker outran the last defender and slid the ball past Casillas.

"6–3!" Adam shouted, standing up from the couch. "This is legendary!"

The final whistle blew, and Benjamin leaned back in the couch with a satisfied grin. "And that," he said, setting the controller down, "is how you make a comeback... with a weaker team."

Sophie gaped at the screen with her cheeks flushed red. "You... I... What just happened?" she sputtered, glancing between Benjamin and the TV.

Adam was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. "Oh, man," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "That was the most beautiful humiliation I’ve ever seen."

Sophie crossed her arms, still glaring at the screen. "You were just lucky," she muttered.

Benjamin chuckled, leaning toward her. "Or maybe," he said, his tone light but teasing, "you’re just not as good as you think you are."

Her tear glistened eyes narrowed. "I want a rematch."

Adam collapsed back onto the couch, laughing again. "Yo, low-key masochistic tendency there, Sophie."

Sophie clenched her fists, glaring daggers at him. "Oh, you think so?" she said, her voice sharp and laced with anger. Her green eyes darted to him. "Why don’t we compare our skills, then? Whatchu say?" Her tone was almost challenging, the fury radiating off her like heatwaves.

Adam raised his hands defensively, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Why direct your frustration towards me?" he asked, his voice mocking but calm. He leaned back against the couch, his smirk widening. "Benjamin’s the one who trashed you, not me."

Sophie’s nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. But before she could retort, Adam delivered the killing blow. "Besides," he added, his voice dripping with condescension, "I’m not so easily bullied... especially by someone who got trashed even with a handicap."

That was it... Her patience snapped like a taut string.

Sophie lunged at him with a wild growl, her nails aiming straight for his smug face.

Adam yelped, barely dodging her furious swipe as he scrambled backward, holding up a throw pillow like a makeshift shield. "Whoa, whoa, relax!" he shouted, laughing nervously but clearly enjoying the chaos he had incited. "I was kidding, Soph!"

"Don’t you Soph me!" she snapped, tears of frustration rolling down her cheeks. "You—arrogant—jerk!"

The two tussled awkwardly, Adam’s laughter ringing through the room as Sophie’s fury reached its peak.

She was relentless in her attacks, and her determination to wipe the smirk off his face burned brighter than her earlier loss to Benjamin.

Meanwhile, Benjamin, who had been watching the entire ordeal from the side, shifted uncomfortably.

His gaze flicked between Sophie’s teary eyes and Adam’s amused grin, and he quickly realized he wanted no part of this impending war.

He stood up abruptly like he wasn’t the cause of the catastrophe, brushing invisible dust off his pants. "Uh... I’ll go cook us something to eat," he announced, his voice higher-pitched than usual.

Neither Sophie nor Adam paid him any attention as they continued their chaotic exchange.

Adam was now half-hiding behind the couch, his laughter echoing louder as Sophie lunged over the armrest after him.

Benjamin nodded to himself, sidestepping the "murder scene" as he called it in his head. He headed toward the kitchen, muttering under his breath, "Nope, not getting dragged into this."

As he disappeared behind the door, Sophie’s voice echoed behind him, louder and shriller than before. "Stop running, you coward!"

Adam’s reply, though muffled, carried just enough smugness to make Benjamin shake his head. "You can’t catch me, shorty!"

Benjamin sighed, pulling open the fridge. "They’ll tire out eventually," he told himself, grabbing some eggs. But as Sophie’s frustrated shriek filled the house again, he wasn’t so sure.