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God Of football

Chapter 368: A Real Red Devil [Golden Gacha Pistacho_031_3] · Oct 10, 2026

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Chapter List (1057)

Page number / 22

351 Chapter 351: Tour 2026-10-10
352 Chapter 352: First Day At Work[Golden Ticket] 2026-10-10
353 Chapter 353: First Session 2026-10-10
354 Chapter 354: First Session, Completed 2026-10-10
355 Chapter 355: Finding The Right Piece [Nameyelus Gifts too much] 2026-10-10
356 Chapter 356: Izan’s Tactics 2026-10-10
357 Chapter 357: Prelude to Pre-Season 2026-10-10
358 Chapter 358: Just 2 Days 2026-10-10
359 Chapter 359: Watching From Afar [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
360 Chapter 360 - 2 in 26 [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
361 Chapter 361: Ball And Banter [Golden Gachapon: Pistacho031_3 ] 2026-10-10
362 Chapter 362: Saved By PR [Pistacho031_3]] 2026-10-10
363 Chapter 363: Arsenal’s Newest Man [Pistacho031_3]] 2026-10-10
364 Chapter 364: Pending Start[Gachapon Bonus] 2026-10-10
365 Chapter 365: US Tour [Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
366 Chapter 366: Pre-Season Fever [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
367 Chapter 367: It Is Time [Golden Gacha, Pistacho031_3] 2026-10-10
368 Chapter 368: A Real Red Devil [Golden Gacha Pistacho_031_3] 2026-10-10
369 Chapter 369: A New Menace [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
370 Chapter 370: Football At Its Finest[Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
371 Chapter 371: The NBA [Golden Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
372 Chapter 372: The American Game. 2026-10-10
373 Chapter 373: Night In LA [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
374 Chapter 374: Early Lead [Golden Gacha] 2026-10-10
375 Chapter 375: Foot On The PitChapter [Golden Gacha. Pistacho031_3] 2026-10-10
376 Chapter 376: Goal In LA [Normal Release] 2026-10-10
377 Chapter 377: Relentless Leverkusen [Final Gacha - ] 2026-10-10
378 Chapter 378: First Start 2026-10-10
379 Chapter 379: Something Greater 2026-10-10
380 Chapter 380: Late Night Escapades 2026-10-10
381 Chapter 381: Clash Of Two Titans 2026-10-10
382 Chapter 382: Clash Of Two Titans: [2] 2026-10-10
383 Chapter 383: War In A Coliseum 2026-10-10
384 Chapter 384: Brilliance Under The Lights 2026-10-10
385 Chapter 385: Egyptian Magic 2026-10-10
386 Chapter 386: Little Conductor 2026-10-10
387 Chapter 387: Halfway There 2026-10-10
388 Chapter 388: Halftime Antics 2026-10-10
389 Chapter 389: Troll 2026-10-10
390 Chapter 390: Against the Best [Golden Ticket] 2026-10-10
391 Chapter 391: Something Special 2026-10-10
392 Chapter 392: Pre-Season Conference 2026-10-10
393 Chapter 393: Unexpected(Golden Ticket) 2026-10-10
394 Chapter 394: Unspoken Words. 2026-10-10
395 Chapter 395: A World Of Their Own 2026-10-10
396 Chapter 396: League Preparations 2026-10-10
397 Chapter 397: Life At Colney 2026-10-10
398 Chapter 398: Whispers Of Fame 2026-10-10
399 Chapter 399: Moments Between Whistles 2026-10-10
400 Chapter 400: The Premier League 2026-10-10

Chapter 368: A Real Red Devil [Golden Gacha Pistacho_031_3]

The moment Izanʼs studs touched the pitch, the match changed.

The tempo shifted violently as if a dormant force had been unleashed into the game.

The ball moved faster, sharper—like Arsenal had flicked a switch and gone into overdrive.

His first involvement was instant. Arsenal played out from the back, Rice rolling the ball toward him in midfield.

Izan let it come to him, sensing the pressure from Bruno Fernandes behind him.

Instead of taking a touch, he dummied, letting the ball roll through his legs before swiveling on his back foot.

Bruno bit on the feint, lunging in the wrong direction, while Izan pivoted fluidly and was already moving.

”Thatʼs disgusting!” the commentator burst out.

Before United could reset, he drove forward, the ball glued to his feet. Casemiro stepped up, but Izan flicked it left to Ødegaard, who instantly sent it back with a delicate return pass.

Izan was through, angling toward the box. He spotted Trossard peeling away from Martinez and threaded the ball through a gap that seemed almost nonexistent.

Trossard met it—one touch, then a shot!

But the shot was Blocked!

The ball pinballed off a desperate challenge from Maguire and spun back toward the edge of the area.

Izan sprinted after it, barely getting there before Dalot, flicking a quick pass toward Rice.

Unitedʼs lines were breaking apart and the opposing movement was relentless. Rice clipped the ball out wide to Martinelli—

Martinelli versus Mazroui, One-on-one.

The crowd buzzed.

Martinelli feinted inside, then outside—then exploded down the line.

He whipped in a cross, and Izan ghosted into the penalty area, getting away from Casemiro.

The ball was coming right to him—

A glancing header!

The ball looped toward the far post. The Metlife held its breath but Andre Onana, at full stretch, pushed it wide!

”OH MY WORD, HE ALMOST SCORED WITH HIS FIRST SHOT AT GOAL!”

Izan landed on his feet, eyes burning. He wanted that one. But Arsenal werenʼt done.

They were suffocating United, trapping them inside their half. The next attack came seconds later.

Saka danced inside from the right, skipping past Shaw. Izan made the run in behind, but Saka used him as a decoy, instead slipping a pass to Ødegaard at the top of the box.

Ødegaard chopped inside and squared it—Izan was there again!

First-time shot!

Blocked! The ball cannoned off Martinez, spinning backward toward the goal. Onana dived but couldnʼt hold it—

Chaos in the box!

Rice lunged for it, legs flying towards the ball like a missile until Casemiro cleared but Arsenal still had it.

Calafiori, still in the game picked up the ball near the halfway line and instead of resetting, he immediately chipped it toward Izan, who was standing in a pocket of space just outside the penalty area.

Izan caught the ball on his chest, and let it drop before turning around and rifling a half-volley!

The ball screamed toward the top corner, destined for it almost but then,

CLUNG!!!

The stadium roared in frustration as the ball rebounded off the woodwork.

”ITʼS COMING! ARSENAL ARE TEARING THEM APART!”

But United still had life. The ball bounced out toward Mount, who tried to launch a counter, but as soon as he turned, Izan was on him.

A blur of red and white. The moment Mount hesitated, Izan lunged, winning the ball back with a crunching challenge.

He rolled away with it, the Arsenal crowd exploding.

”HEʼS EVERYWHERE!” one Arsenal fan screamed.

Another attack.

Another sequence of Arsenal slicing through United with a dizzying, suffocating press.

Ødegaard combined with Izan, who played a first-time flick into Rice. Rice spread it wide to Martinelli—United were scrambling!

Martinelli cut inside, saw Izan making the late run, and lifted a delicate chipped pass over Maguire.

Izan leaped—acrobatic volley!

The fans leapt with him!

”WHAT A GO—NO! BLOCKED AGAIN!”

The kind of highlights Izan was putting together in these minutes was enough for a ten-minute compilation video.

United were getting torn apart, but the finishing touch refused to arrive.

Then, a rare moment of breathing room. United finally escaped their half.

Arsenalʼs attack had been so relentless that their entire team was positioned high up the pitch.

Raya shouted for them to be careful but then Fernandes picked up the ball in midfield, saw Rashford peeling away from White, and launched a quick pass forward.

Suddenly—danger.

Rashford was gone.

He sprinted into open space, a one-on-one with Saliba. The Arsenal defender was quick, but Rashford had momentum. He nudged it forward—

Then stopped.

He saw something. A switch of play. A chance.

On the far side of the pitch, Antony was wide open.

Rashford curved a cross toward him.

”Oh no, oh no—”

Antony struck first-time.

It was curling, fast, deadly. The kind of strike that could kill a game.

Raya dived!

TIPPED BEHIND FOR A CORNER!

The stadium let out a collective exhale.

Arsenalʼs entire squad regrouped, breathing heavily. Izan wiped his face, looking at Ødegaard.

”Again,” he muttered.

Ødegaard nodded. No words needed.

And then—Raya restarted quickly.

A quick throw. To Rice. To Ødegaard. To Izan.

United were still jogging back into position, but Arsenal?

They were already in full sprint.

Izan turned and flicked it first-time to Ben white, who sent it to Saka.

Unitedʼs defense twisted back into panic mode.

Saka darted down the line, then cut inside—through ball!

Ødegaard was clear!

But the moment the Norwegian took his first touch—Casemiro came flying in.

A crunching, brutal tackle. The ball spilled loose, rolling perfectly into Izanʼs path—

He was gone.

The Japanese-Spanish prodigy burst forward, a flash of speed and precision, breaking through Unitedʼs lines. His eyes locked onto the goal.

And then—

BOOM.

Casemiro took him out again.

A full-bodied, ruthless, vintage Casemiro challenge that sent Izan tumbling.

The Arsenal bench erupted.

The players swarmed the referee. The fans were livid.

Izan sat up, staring at Casemiro. The Brazilian gave him a simple nod—nothing personal, just business.

But Izan?

He was already smiling.

The referee didnʼt hesitate. He reached into his pocket and flashed the yellow card at Casemiro.

The United midfielder barely reacted, just offering a small nod before stepping back, unfazed.

Heʼd done his job—stopped the break, slowed the momentum—but Arsenal werenʼt letting this moment slip.

Izan was already on his feet. He didnʼt argue, didnʼt protest. He just walked straight to where the ball had stopped rolling and picked it up.

The stadium crackled with anticipation.

This was dangerous territory—just outside the penalty area, slightly to the left of center.

A position that screamed for a right-footer to bend it over the wall, or a left-footer to drill it low and hard.

Unitedʼs wall was already forming, Onana barking instructions, directing his defenders into position.

Izan placed the ball down, stepping back, and rolling his shoulders.

His teammates gathered around him.

Ødegaard was the first to step up. ”If you want, I can—”

”No,” Izan said, firm but respectful.

Rice was there too. ”Weʼve got some routines weʼve been working on in training. Maybe a short pass, then—”

”No.” Izan shook his head. ”I got this.”

He wasnʼt being arrogant. He wasnʼt dismissing them. But he hadnʼt come to Arsenal to be a passenger, to be a secondary option.

He had come here to become the main man. This was his moment.

Saka grinned. ”Alright then. Show us.”

Izan nodded, exhaling slowly as he stepped back. His eyes locked on the goal. Onana crouched slightly, shifting his weight, ready to react.

The United wall was solid—tall, experienced, full of veterans who had seen these situations a thousand times before.

But Izan?

He had visualized this exact moment since the day he signed.

He exhaled slowly, his heartbeat steady despite the roar of the crowd.

Then, he toggled his system on.

The world sharpened instantly. The outlines of players became clearer, every movement more pronounced.

The wind direction, ball trajectory, and the tiniest shifts in Unitedʼs defensive wall all slotted into place in his vision, like a puzzle assembling itself.

[Pinpoint Accuracy – LV 3 Activated]

His mind processed the angles with machine-like precision.

The exact space between the leaping defenders, the millimeters of room Onana had left exposed at the near post—it was all crystal clear.

Then, another freekick trait flared to life.

[Gravity Arc – LV 4 Activated]

A newly evolved version of his curling trait. The ball wouldnʼt just bend; it would snap.

It would start wide, almost tricking the goalkeeper into thinking it was missing—then at the last moment, whip violently into the target.

Izan subtly adjusted his stance. It was a micro-shift, barely noticeable, but it would allow him to maximize the full potential of the curve.

Behind him, Ødegaard and Rice had initially gathered near the ball, as if discussing a play.

But they stepped away, giving him the stage. Giving him the responsibility.

The United players braced.

Bruno Fernandes was shouting something to the wall. Onanaʼs knees were bent, weight on his toes, ready to explode.

Casemiro, the one who had brought Izan down, was standing slightly off-center in the wall, trying to read his body language.

The tension in the air was suffocating.

Izan took one deep breath—then exploded forward.

His left foot planted, his right foot swung through. Perfect contact.

The ball shot off his boot with frightening speed, rising fast before—

SNAP.

It whipped into the Gravity Arc.

A violent bend. The ball initially looked like it was curling wide toward the right post—too wide.

Onana saw it. He hesitated for half a second, thinking it would miss.

But Izanʼs Gravity Arc was different. The ball suddenly started moving like it was being attracted to the goal.

It suddenly cut back inward, like a whip cracking through the air.

Onanaʼs eyes widened and dived immediately, yet he was too late.

He lunged, fingertips stretching—but it was useless.

The ball slammed into the top corner.

The net bulged.

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