God Of football

Chapter 238: Last dance.

As both teams emerged for the second half, Izan found himself walking just behind Nico Williams.

Nico glanced at him, grinning. ”That ankle okay?”

Izan met his gaze, unreadable. ”You’ll find out soon.”

Met by the roaring crowd, both teams positioned themselves in their respective halves.

After that, the referee glanced at his watch before sounding his whistle.

The second half was now underway.

” Welcome viewers once again to the second half of this enthralling fixture. Valencia lead, for now, because with the way the opponents are playing, it won’t be long before the ball ends up in the back of the Valencia net.”

”The second half began with a sharp intensity, the air thick with anticipation. The one-goal lead felt like a fragile thread, ready to snap at any moment.

Athletic Bilbao came out of the tunnel like men possessed, their pressing even more aggressive, their tackles heavier.

Izan knew what was coming.

He had barely made it through the first half unscathed, and now every Bilbao player who got close made sure to leave something behind—an elbow, a shoulder, a stomp just a little too hard to be an accident.

They were trying to wear him down, using all sorts of foul tactics that were sure to evade the eye of the referee.

Then came the moment in the 52nd minute. After passing around Athletic Bilbao’s aggressive press, the ball found its way into Gaya’s path: the latter passing the ball into Javi Guerra’s run.

Javi Guerra, under immense pressure, managed to control the ball and slip a pass to Izan just past the center circle. The ball rolled perfectly into Izan’s stride as he poised himself to turn on the jets but as he turned—

A sudden impact flooded his senses.

Dani García came in like a battering ram, his entire body crashing into Izan’s left side. But it wasn’t just the collision—it was the way García’s boot caught his already bruised ankle.l

Pain.

It shot up his leg like fire, twisting, tearing, screaming through his nerves.

Izan didn’t fall immediately. His body refused to accept it. He staggered forward, one step, two—before his ankle finally gave out, sending him tumbling onto the pitch.

The referee’s whistle sounded.

A chorus of outrage erupted from the Valencia bench, players swarming the referee. Gayà shoved Dani García back as Pietro grabbed the official’s arm, shouting for a card.

García just stood there, unfazed, adjusting his socks like nothing had happened.

Izan lay motionless, staring up at the floodlights. The pain pulsed in waves, hot and unbearable. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

He heard footsteps.

The physios. Then Suddenly, Baraja’s voice.

He felt hands on him, voices murmuring in rushed, concerned tones.

”He can’t continue,” one of the medics said, shaking his head.

Izan’s eyes snapped open.

”No.”

Baraja squatted beside him, his brow furrowed. ”Izan, listen—”

”No,” Izan repeated, forcing himself up onto his elbows. The pain was still there, like a knife buried deep in his ankle, but he ignored it. ”I can still play.”

One of the medics reached for him. ”You can’t even put weight on it—”

Izan shoved his hand away. He turned to Baraja, his breathing ragged.

”Believe in me.”

A silence.

The world seemed to pause in that moment.

Baraja’s eyes searched his, looking for something—hesitation, weakness, doubt. But there was none.

Finally, he exhaled.

”Alright.”

The medics stared in disbelief. The commentators who were informed of the pitch side decision were shocked, to say the least.

”Wait, what? They’re letting him stay on?!”

”This is reckless! The kid is clearly hurt but Baraja still keeps him on! I don’t know the intensity of the injury but this could be career-ending should he succumb to the ankle pain

”Izan is limping, struggling even to stand, and Baraja still refuses to take him off. What is he thinking?”

No one understood.

But Izan wasn’t listening to any of it.

Because he knew.

He had to stay.

Staying on, however, came at a price.

Minute by minute, the pain worsened. Every touch, every pivot, every sprint sent agony shooting through his leg.

Bilbao saw it.

And they exploited it

It started with Nico Williams.

The winger had been relentless, testing Correia every chance he got. This time, he didn’t need to beat him. He only needed space.

A sharp cut inside. A glance up. A perfectly curved cross.

Gorka Guruzeta rose above Cenk Özkacar, his timing impeccable. The header was clinical—angled perfectly, the ball sailing over Mamardashvili’s desperate fingers.

A second of silence.

Then—chaos.

The net bulged and the stadium roared.

1-1.

Bilbao’s bench exploded in celebration as Guruzeta sprinted toward the corner flag, pumping his fists in the air.

” Athletic Bilbao level the score here in this Cop del Rey Final. We are all square here at the Estadio Cartuja”

After the restart, Valencia barely had time to process the equalizer before the next wave hit.

Muniain, their ever-dangerous captain, ghosted between the lines, finding space where there was none. His first touch was soft, a whisper against the grass. His second—a dagger.

A through ball.

A perfect through ball.

It sliced through the Valencia backline like a scalpel, sending Berenguer through on goal.

Mamardashvili rushed out, arms wide, making himself as big as possible.

Berenguer however didn’t panic.

One touch. Two touches. Pulling his left leg back, Betenguer let the ball fly, escaping the outstretched hands of Marmadashvilli.

1-2.

Valencia had collapsed. The Cartuja was no longer a stadium.

It was a battlefield.

The boos were deafening. Objects rained down onto the pitch—plastic bottles, torn-up paper, even a flare in the upper stands.

The security scrambled.

The fourth official grabbed his mic, relaying messages to the officiating team. Moments later, a voice boomed through the stadium speakers:

”Any further disruption will result in the removal of spectators from the stadium.”

But it wasn’t just the fans.

The commentators were losing their minds.

”WHAT IS GOING ON? Why is Izan still on the pitch?!”

”This is suicide! They’re throwing the final away!”

One of the analysts, a former player, shook his head.

”I’ve played in finals. I understand belief. But belief doesn’t win you games when you can’t even run.”

On the touchline, Baraja remained still.

Every instinct screamed at him to make the change.

The logical move—the right move—was to sub Izan out but he didn’t.

He watched the boy carefully. The clenched fists. The trembling shoulders. The fire in his eyes, still burning, still alive.

And he knew.

Izan wasn’t finished.

Baraja turned to his assistants.

And did nothing.

” Come on guys. We are still in this. Keep your cool and don’t let the pressure get to you” Gaya said as he glanced at Izan.

The Valencia captain too was distraught with the arrangements Baraja had made but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything since he knew that they wouldn’t be here had Izan not

After a bit of back and forth. Athletic Bilbao had the ball.

Dani García looked up, searching for options—

But before he could react, a flash of orange and white lunged in.

Izan.

In a last, desperate burst of energy, he threw himself into the challenge. He didn’t just win the ball—he took it with him, rolling back to his feet despite the pain screaming through his body.

The stadium froze.

Javi Guerra reacted first, scooping up the loose ball and surging forward.

One pass.

Two.

Hugo Duro, at the edge of the box, took a deep breath.

He knew he had to hit it and hit he did as he let the ball fly from the half volley.

The thunderous strike streaked towards the Bilbao goal.

Hugo Duro’s curler kissed the post—

And nestled into the back of the net.

2-2.

The Valencia crowd erupted.

The Valencia bench spilled onto the pitch chasing after Hugo Duro who had ran towards where Izan lay on the ground.

” At this point, Izan just isn’t normal. With an ankle injury and not being able to play well, Izan proves that he can still be useful with that perfectly time tackle.This Copa del Rey final is definitely one for the books”

”Get ready to bring Fran Perez in,” Baraja said as he glanced at Izan who now sat on the pitch, his teammates surrounding him.

”Seems like Baraja has finally regained his senses as I can see Fran Perez warming up. The match is as open as ever and with the scores like this, it’s anyone’s game.

79 minutes played and it’s Valencia 2, Athletic Bilbao”

After finally getting up, Izan joined his teammates in Valencia’s half of the pitch. Glancing down the touchline, Izan saw Fran Perez warming up.

” I need to do something before I’m taken out,” Izan thought as he stared at the Athletic Bilbao goal.

”Max, Can you forcefully numb the pain in my ankle for a few minutes” Izan asked and got no response from the system for a while.

[ I can but the system recommends it not because the backlash the host will face after this will be severe if not Career-ending]

Izan, caught between winning the final and his well-being chose the former after the system gave its input.

[Commencing Frantic state: Host will be in a frantic state for 1 minute 30 seconds where all abilities and senses are heightened but after the state ends, the user cannot mobilize strength in his legs for a while.]

”That’s good enough” Izan said as Athletic Bilbao kicked off.