Striker of The Gods

The Théâtre du Châtelet faded into the Parisian night as Caos stepped into the cool air, the golden Ballon d’Or orb tucked under his arm, its weight both literal and symbolic. The city’s lights glittered like scattered jewels along the Seine, their reflections dancing on the water. The buzz of the gala lingered—reporters’ flashes, the echo of Salma Paralluelo’s teasing challenge, the silent burn of Maat’s gaze—but the quiet of the street offered a fleeting reprieve. Caos, still in his tailored Real Madrid tuxedo, carried the fire of his triumph, but beneath it, a restlessness stirred. The night wasn’t over, and neither was his story.

He went home, where he could not find anyone: Mom died during the season. Real Madrid had handled everything and given him a new mansion as a home where maids and valets took care of my needs. Despite the luxury surrounding him, a profound emptiness lingered in his heart. He often found himself wandering through the vast halls, reminiscing about the warmth and laughter that once filled the space.

He enters his mansion; the maids welcome him home as he walks in, and he could tell they had cleaned the whole house. However, their cheerful greetings only served as a reminder of his solitude. He longed for genuine connection, feeling like a ghost in his own lavish abode, trapped in a cycle of opulence that brought no joy.

He walks to his bedroom and sees that everything is the same since he left, but he feels a sense of emptiness since his mother is not there and it feels lonely.

Someone calls him.

He looks at his phone to see who was calling, and he sees an unknown caller ID.

he picks up

A man’s voice can be heard from the other end of the line.

”Is this Daniel Caos?” says Florentino. Daniel hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to respond. ”Yes, this is he,” he finally replies, curiosity piquing his interest as he wonders who this stranger could be and what they wanted from him.

The man on the phone responds.

”Alright, Caos. The meeting will be in boardroom 1 at the Real Madrid facility, and we will be expecting you around 6 pm,” says Florentino.

 He gets ready for the meeting, leaving my place.

He gets into your car and drives to the Real Madrid facility; the drive is silent, and there isn’t anyone on the road as the sun sets.

He gets to the boardroom.

As he walks to the boardroom, he can hear people talking and laughing coming from inside; he opens the door and enters the room of the president. The atmosphere shifts instantly as the chatter fades and all eyes turn to him. Florentino straightens his suit jacket, preparing to deliver the vision he had meticulously crafted for the upcoming season.

As he walks into the room, he sees the president of Real Madrid and a few other important people sitting around a table.

The president looks at you as he walks in and motions for you to take a seat next to him. Taking a deep breath, Florentino begins to outline his ambitious plans, emphasizing the need for innovation and teamwork to propel the club to new heights. The room buzzes with anticipation as he shares his strategic insights, knowing that every word could shape the future of the organization. .

”Ah, Caos, glad you could make it; please take a seat,” says Florentino.

To be continued..