The rain fell in sheets, drenching the pitch and blurring the stadium lights into halos. Still, Xavier Arreaga stood steady—unmoving as the chaos swirled around him.

He watched the opposing forward charge down the flank, eyes calculating, breath slow.

One slip, one step out of line, and the whole backline would crumble.

But Xavier had seen this play unfold before—like echoes of a dream. As the winger cut in, Xavier moved.

One step. One block. One clean interception.

The danger passed, and his teammates exhaled.

He didn’t celebrate. He never did.

For Xavier Arreaga, silence was the mark of a job done right.