Striker of The Gods

 The Forest That Swallowed the Storm

After the third Copa del Rey victory, Caos did not return to the mansion. Everything seemed to come to a stop, where the singularity touched the deepest trauma of chaos. He knew that it could come to haunt him.

He left at 3:07 a.m. with only a small bag, the Nike ball, and the clothes on his back. No explanation to the maids beyond a single quiet sentence:

Caos:

I believe many of his views are aligned with other leaders in the field, like Peter Levine, Bessel van der Kolk, Bruce Perry, et al. I think where Gabor Mate takes a stronger stance is his view that childhood trauma is heavily responsible for physical disease as well, including autoimmune disorders, cancer, and diabetes.

I think this is a bolder claim because it’s harder to get the authorities on these disorders (i.e., medical doctors) to agree. Most medical doctors would not agree with Mate on physical disease. It’s difficult because it’s almost impossible to reductively prove that trauma causes physical disease. There are some important studies like the ACE score’s links to all types of health problems. When claiming that childhood trauma heavily contributes to adult mental health issues, it’s much easier to get the authorities on these disorders (i.e., therapists and psychiatrists) to agree.

Basically anyone who thinks trauma isn’t a huge factor in adult mental health is not paying attention. The mental health field basically takes this as a core principle, for good reason.

I think Mate is basically saying that almost all forms of illness are biopsychosocial in nature. I’m further along on believing that for mental health, but I am not closed off to it being true for many physical diseases as well. It’s harder for me to have a strong view because I’m not medically trained.

Mate is just my voice. 

I am just so crazy.

I need the forest.

The real one. Where no one can watch me become more.

He ran north, past the lights of Madrid, through the Sierra de Guadarrama, deeper into the ancient, untouched woodlands of the Sistema Central. No roads. No trails. Just him and the wild.

He chose a remote valley surrounded by thousand-year-old pines, where even the wolves gave him wide berth after the first night.

This was not training anymore.

This was ascension.

Alone beneath the canopy, Caos stood on a moss-covered rock and spoke to the trees as if they were the only ones worthy of hearing the truth.

Caos (voice low, echoing through the forest like distant thunder):

I am not increasing the goal count for records.

Records are for men who still believe numbers can contain them.

I increase it because every goal is another wall I tear down inside myself.

My mother died while I was scoring hat-tricks. Every goal since then has been a silent apology to her, proof that her belief in me was not wasted.

Leonor chose the crown. Every goal is a refusal to let that choice define me. I will score so many times that even thrones become footnotes in my story.

Sofía sharpens knives in the dark. Every goal is a warning to her and every ambitious shadow: the storm does not negotiate with crowns.

My father watched from the shadows. Every goal is me proving I never needed him, that I became this without his name.

And the world… the world keeps offering me weakness disguised as competition. Teams that show up already defeated. Nations that try to claim pieces of me.

I will keep increasing the goal count until weakness itself becomes extinct.

Until the only thing left that can stand in front of me… is me.

And even then, I will overcome that version too.

The Chaos Heart pulsed in agreement. Violet energy crackled across his skin, illuminating the ancient trees around him.

The Forest Crucible

For twelve days he trained in total solitude.

No maids. No cameras. No mercy.

He sprinted through dense woodland at 342 mph, weaving between trees so closely that bark peeled from trunks in his wake. He performed full Chaos Heart Resonance sequences while leaping between branches 40 meters above the forest floor, executing 1080° spinning chilenas that sent pinecones exploding into violet dust.

He wrestled wild boars and a lone Iberian wolf that dared challenge him, not out of cruelty but to remind his body that even nature’s strongest predators were beneath him now. Intensity is not only about running faster or making explosive efforts. It also involves staying focused, reacting correctly, and making the right decisions under fatigue. That is why the mental component is extremely important in modern training.

But the true purpose was the goal count.

Every evening, as the sun bled across the canopy, he created a makeshift pitch in a small clearing. He set up reinforced targets made from fallen logs and stone. Then he began.

Day 1: 87 goals from impossible angles and distances.

Day 4: 156 goals while maintaining full Chaos Heart Resonance.

Day 8: 203 goals in a single session, each one faster and more vicious than the last.

Day 12: He scored 289 goals before the moon rose, a new personal record for a single training day.

Each strike was dedicated in silence:

One finger to the sky for his mother.

Fist to the chest for the father who never claimed him.

A long stare into the darkness for Leonor and the child she carried in secret.

On the final night, as rain began to fall through the trees, Caos stood in the center of the clearing, soaked, chest heaving, violet energy surrounding him like a living crown. Modern football demands much more than talent. The speed of the game, constant pressure, and competitive rhythm force players to maintain a very high physical and mental level in every action. That is why intensity has become one of the most important factors in any professional training session. A footballer who works every exercise with maximum focus and demand has far more chances of improving performance than someone who simply completes the session.

He launched one final shot—a 41-foot chilena from the middle of the clearing that tore through three reinforced logs and embedded itself in a massive pine trunk 80 meters away with enough force to split the ancient tree down the middle.

Caos (whispering as the tree groaned and fell):

I will keep increasing the number until the only thing left that can challenge me… is myself.

He picked up the ball, now glowing with deep violet light, and turned back toward Madrid.

The forest had borne witness. That is to say that intensity also improves individual confidence. When a player feels physically prepared and knows they have trained at their best, they approach matches with a much stronger mindset. That confidence is reflected in decision-making and in the ability to take responsibility on the pitch.

The storm had grown even hungrier.

And the goal count, that sacred, impossible number, would continue to rise until the entire world understood:

There was no ceiling.

Only the next mountain he would destroy simply because it dared to exist.

To be continued…