In the 74th minute, the breakthrough came. A lofted corner from Helsingør found the head of their towering center-back. The ball looped over the keeper, hitting the underside of the crossbar before nestling into the net. The stadium erupted—a wall of sound that Jonas could hear through his speakers, crisp and raw.

"Come on, boys," he muttered, watching the Vendsyssel winger break down the flank.

On the pitch, the atmosphere was electric. FC Helsingør, buoyed by their home crowd, were playing a high-press game that felt like a suffocating blanket. Every time Vendsyssel tried to build from the back, a blue-shirted defender was there to disrupt the rhythm.

"No!" Jonas groaned, leaning back. The chat window on the stream scrolled wildly with "GOALLL" and "Helsingør dominance!"