He was anxious, and after circling the field again, he suddenly noticed a golden flicker among the Brazilian supporters' national flags.
At first, he thought it was the golden part of the flag fluttering in the wind, but just as he was about to fly past, he clearly saw that golden flicker jump onto the green part!
His heart beat even more violently, and an indescribable excitement surged through his limbs, transforming into a burst of energy.
Allen, following behind, was equally focused, not daring to relax for a moment. He followed Ronaldo's turn, but his technique wasn't quite up to par. Due to inertia, he flew a bit further during the turn, and after completing the turn, he was still behind Ronaldo.
As soon as they rounded the bend, their direction was directly facing the Golden Snitch, and Allen naturally saw that golden flicker as well.
But he was already behind Ronaldo, and at his speed, it was impossible to catch up.
"Steve!" Allen roared, but at such high speed, his voice couldn't travel very far.
Allen could only hope for Steve's control of the game.
Ronaldo accelerated with all his might. He hadn't heard the score being announced, and the point difference was still one hundred and forty points. He still had hope!
As the star player of the United States Team, Steve, in addition to his handsome face and outstanding physique, also possessed exceptional ball skills. His excellent strategic control of the game allowed him to timely notice the abnormal acceleration of the two Chasers on the sidelines.
Without time to think, he aimed briefly and quickly hit the Bludger in front of him with force.
It was then that the commentator noticed this scene, "Look at Ronaldo and Allen on the sidelines! Have they found the Golden Snitch? Yes, that's right, the Golden Snitch is right in the center of the Brazilian flag!"
The commentator's speaking speed quickened again, and holding his breath for a long time made him flush, "Ronaldo is in the lead, a broom's length ahead of Allen! The current score difference on the field is one hundred and forty points. As long as Ronaldo catches the Golden Snitch, Brazil will be the champion!"
"Ronaldo has already extended his right hand, he's about to catch it!" The commentator jumped out of his chair.
The United States Team's audience covered their heads with their hands, feeling that they were about to lose, that a favorable situation of one hundred and forty points was about to be squandered; Brazil's supporters were already jumping for joy.
Ronaldo was right in front of them, less than ten meters from the Golden Snitch!
Everyone in the first-class seats held their breath, watching Ronaldo make the reaching motion on the glass wall.
Suddenly, a sigh was heard.
"Bludger, Bludger!" The commentator's voice became exceptionally sharp. He saw Steve Rogers's Bludger precisely block Ronaldo's path forward.
If he forced his way forward, he would be hit by the Bludger. If he slowed down, he would be caught by Allen behind him.
A collective gasp rose from the one hundred thousand people in the stadium. They thought Brazil was certain to win, but suddenly a variable appeared.
Ronaldo gritted his teeth. There was no time for him to think. He put his all into it and reached out his hand, unhesitatingly!
The Bludger rushed over, carrying a strong wind. There was no problem; he would catch the Golden Snitch and then be hit by the Bludger and fall from his broom.
Ronaldo had already begun to imagine the celebration after victory.
But everyone was surprised when the Golden Snitch, which had been staying in place motionless, suddenly darted towards the Bludger's position.
→
The two balls collided. The Bludger was much heavier, and the Golden Snitch disappeared in an instant.
"No!" Ronaldo's eyes were splitting with rage. The Golden Snitch was gone. His body instinctively recoiled, and the Bludger grazed his forearm as it flew away.
The United States Team members breathed a sigh of relief, their hanging hearts finally settling down.
"Steve Rogers's precise Bludger! He wasn't even aiming for Ronaldo. He anticipated the Golden Snitch's position beforehand and, from a distance of thirty meters, changed the Golden Snitch's flight path by colliding with it. This man is too strong!" The commentator also saw the Golden Snitch's sudden movement, but at this point, he couldn't attribute the situation to an accident. He had to strongly praise Steve's power.
The stands were filled with exclamations of surprise. They felt sorry for Ronaldo on one hand and admired Steve Rogers's incredible skill on the other.
Even Gary, who disliked Quidditch, felt a surge of emotion inside. The scene just now was simply too thrilling.
Ronaldo watched Westbrook frantically score points over the heads of the Brazilian players, yet he was powerless. The last flicker of light from the Golden Snitch before it vanished was like their hope of winning this match, fleeting and now uncatchable.
However, Ronaldo eventually caught the Golden Snitch, and the score was set at two hundred to one hundred and seventy. From the score, the United States Team narrowly won.
But everyone understood that Brazil's only hope of winning was when the point difference was one hundred and forty points. It was just a twist of fate that they lost their only opportunity. To call it destiny would be to ignore human factors: the strength difference between the six players of the two teams, excluding the Chasers, was too vast.
Loss was inevitable, and victory was merely a stroke of luck.
Ronaldo understood this. He caught the Golden Snitch, slowly descended to the ground on his broom, and shook hands and embraced Steve Rogers, who came to meet him.
"The future is yours," Steve said, patting Ronaldo on the back of his head reassuringly, "You're only twenty-two, your future is still very bright."
Ronaldo felt a mysterious force inexplicably locking onto him, but he didn't pay it any mind, only shaking his head with a bitter expression.
"After the new rules are implemented, every team's core and playstyle will have to change..." Ronaldo lowered his head in silence.
Steve Rogers squeezed Ronaldo's firm shoulders twice. After all, he had snatched the victory from him, and from Ronaldo's perspective, it sounded like condescending, cheap comfort.
Steve bid him farewell and turned to join his teammates in celebration. Ronaldo hung his head in dejection, holding his nimbus broom in one hand and tightly clutching the Golden Snitch in the other, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth.
In the first-class box, Korella smiled triumphantly, "Oh, just a narrow win, just a narrow win... Your country's Quidditch strength is still not to be underestimated..."
Next to her, João Havelange's face was dark. He hadn't held much hope for victory, only intending to quickly return to his country with the one hundred thousand Galleon prize money for second place. But Ronaldo was only a step away from the final Golden Snitch. In such a dramatic turn of events, the Brazilian Minister's heart climbed from the depths to the peak, only to be smashed down a cliff by Steve's Bludger.
This feeling of losing victory by a whisker made him want to stomp his feet and curse.
He huffed and glared at Korella, "Old hag!" He watched the old woman smiling like a chrysanthemum, her wrinkles all squeezed together.