Striker of The Gods

Time: Saturday, 6 April 2034: 18:30 CET

Location: Estadio José Zorrilla, Valladolid

Caos entered the stadium.

But for Caos, it was not really a thing.

The Estadio José Zorrilla was full again.

Purple and white covered the stands. Flags moved above the supporters, drums echoed through the stadium, and every section seemed to be singing at once.

Real Valladolid were still fighting for survival.

And they had learned from their previous meeting with Real Madrid.

Their earlier plan had failed.

So they built another one.

This time the 5–4–1 was even more aggressive.

Three players would collapse on Caos whenever he received the ball. The midfield would press immediately after losing possession. Tactical fouls would be used before he could reach full speed. The wing-backs would push high, while long passes would be launched behind Madrid’s defensive line whenever Valladolid recovered possession.

It was dangerous.

It was exhausting.

And Valladolid knew that.

But they had no intention of letting Caos decide the match.

They wanted to force him into a fight.

#ValladolidVsCaos was trending #1 in Spain, with approximately 7.8 million posts in 36 hours.

@Marca:

“Valladolid have prepared another aggressive plan for Caos. Their previous approach collapsed, but the club believes several tactical changes can make tonight different.”

@TheAthletic:

“Caos has scored 21, 20, and 19 goals in recent matches. Valladolid now face the same problem every opponent has faced: how long can their structure survive?”

A new training video of Caos spread across social media.

He accelerated through an open field.

500 mph.

Another clip showed a 350,000-Newton strike.

Then came footage from the Triassic simulation, where Caos fought enormous prehistoric creatures.

The caption was everywhere: “They prepared new tactics. He prepared against monsters. Everyone did not know what was to happen.”

Stanko Jurić stood in the center of the room while the noise from the stadium shook the walls.

He looked at his teammates.

Stanko Jurić:

“We know what happened last time.”

He paused.

Nobody interrupted him.

“We lasted as long as we could, then one opening became two, and two became ten.”

He tightened the tape around his wrist.

“Tonight we don’t give him that opening.”

Raúl Moro looked toward the dressing-room door.

Raúl Moro:

“He’s going to come at us.”

He shook his head.

“So we go at him first.”

A few players nodded.

Raúl Moro:

“If we lose the ball, we press. If he receives it, three players close him. If he gets past one, the next two are already there.”

He looked around the room.

“We stay together.”

A short silence followed.

Then the captain spoke.

Stanko Jurić:

“And whatever happens, we keep playing.”

Caos sat quietly while the final preparations were made.

Mbappé walked over and leaned against the locker beside him.

Mbappé:

“They’ve changed the plan again.”

Caos looked up.

Caos:

“I expected that.”

Mbappé smiled.

Mbappé:

“They’re going to try to force you backward.”

Caos stood and adjusted his shirt.

Caos:

“Then I’ll take them backward.”

Mbappé laughed.

Mbappé:

“And then?”

Caos looked toward the tunnel.

Caos:

“Then forward

The stadium shook as both teams gathered.

Xabi Alonso stood beside Caos.

He placed a hand on his shoulder.

Xabi Alonso:

“They’ve prepared for the way you usually break pressure.”

Caos looked toward the pitch.

Caos:

“Then I won’t break it the usual way.”

Xabi studied him for a moment.

Xabi Alonso:

“Good.”

He gave Caos’s shoulder a final tap.

“Read the game first.”

Caos nodded.

Then the teams walked onto the field.

Zeraphina, Keyla, and Michaela watched from their private box.

Zeraphina’s hand rested protectively over her growing belly.

She watched Valladolid’s players take their positions.

Zeraphina:

“They’ve prepared for him again.”

Keyla looked down toward the pitch.

Keyla:

“They really don’t want to learn the easy way.”

Michaela smiled.

Michaela:

“Maybe there isn’t an easy way.”

Zeraphina kept watching Caos.

Zeraphina:

“They’ll find out.”

HERE WE GO!

THE MATCH STARTS

The referee blew the whistle.

Valladolid pressed immediately.

Their first attack came within seconds.

Caos received the ball near the halfway line.

Three players moved toward him.

He released the ball before they could close in.

The crowd applauded.

Thirty seconds later, he received it again.

Another three players.

This time one defender stepped across his legs.

The whistle sounded.

The home supporters booed the decision.

Caos stood up without complaint.

He looked toward the Valladolid formation.

Five defenders.

Four midfielders.

Three players assigned to him.

He began walking.

Not running.

Walking.

The Kempes r watched the opening minutes carefully.

Kempes:

“Valladolid are committing heavily to this plan. Whenever Caos receives the ball, they immediately collapse around him. They are trying to prevent the first acceleration rather than attempting to stop him after he has already reached full speed.”

Real Madrid continued moving the ball.

Caos moved with them.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

Valladolid held their shape.

At twenty-three minutes, Caos received the ball on the right.

Three defenders surrounded him.

He attempted to turn.

A fourth player arrived.

Caos passed backward.

The stadium erupted.

Valladolid had forced him away from goal.

At least for the moment.

Thirty minutes passed.

Still 0–0.

The crowd grew louder.

Their players were beginning to believe.

At thirty-four minutes, Valladolid launched another counterattack.

A long ball went over Madrid’s midfield.

The attacker reached it.

He crossed.

The shot was blocked.

Real Madrid recovered possession.

Caos dropped into his own half.

He looked around.

Then toward the sky.

His expression softened.

For a brief moment, he thought of his mother.

He inhaled.

And waited.

The ball reached him.

One defender approached.

Then another.

Then the third.

Caos allowed them to come closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Then his body leaned forward.

The acceleration happened instantly.

500 mph.

The Triassic Vortex tore through the first line.

The first defender turned too slowly.

The second lost his footing.

The third reached out.

Caos was already gone.

He crossed the halfway line.

Then continued.

He reached approximately 80 meters from goal.

He planted his foot.

His body rotated.

The strike exploded from his boot.

350,000 Newtons.

The ball traveled at approximately 843 km/h.

The goalkeeper raised his hands.

The ball was already past him.

The net snapped backward.

The La Liga commentator shouted:

La Liga Commentator:

“GOAL! CAOS!”

The replay appeared across the stadium screens.

“Valladolid held their structure for thirty-six minutes. Three players around him, no space to turn, and Caos found the smallest opening and attacked it immediately! ES UNA MAQUINA ESTE HOMBRE. ”

Caos turned away from the goal.

He looked upward.

His right hand touched his chest.

Then he lowered it.

The celebration was quiet.

The memory .

The home side immediately pushed higher.

Their midfield stepped toward Caos.

Their wing-backs moved farther forward.

It gave Real Madrid more space behind them.

Caos noticed.

So did Xabi Alonso.

The next attack came through the middle.

Caos received the ball.

Plateo Crush.

His foot struck the ground.

The shockwave disrupted the defensive line.

The ball fell loose.

Caos reached it first.

Three minutes later—

3–0.

A Herrera Snap from distance.

Then—

4–0.

A 500-mph acceleration through the center.

Valladolid attempted to restore the compact block.

Caos moved wider.

They followed him.

He moved inside.

They followed again.

Then he dropped deep.

The three defenders followed.

That opened space for Mbappé.

Caos passed.

Mbappé finished.

The stadium became quieter.

The players were still fighting.

But they were being forced to choose between staying compact and following Caos.

Neither option was working for long.

The goals continued.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Caos scored from outside the box.

Then from inside.

Then after a short combination with Mbappé.

He used the Herrera Snap again.

Another Plateo Crush opened the defense.

Then came another acceleration.

By the final minutes of the first half, Caos had scored again and again.

The scoreboard changed repeatedly.

When the referee finally blew for halftime, it read:

Caos had scored 18 goals.

He had also provided several assists.

SECOND HALF

Valladolid returned with the same determination.

They had already conceded eighteen.

They still pressed.

Their players continued running.

Xabi Alonso approached Caos before the restart.

Xabi Alonso:

“They’ve pushed their defensive line higher.”

Caos looked toward the Valladolid half.

Caos:

“They need goals.”

Xabi nodded.

Xabi Alonso:

“And what does that give you?”

Caos smiled.

“Space.”

Xabi stepped away.

Xabi Alonso:

“Use it.”

The second half became faster.

Caos began dropping deeper to receive the ball.

Valladolid followed.

He passed into the space behind them.

Real Madrid attacked.

Then Caos accelerated into that same space.

The defenders tried to turn.

They couldn’t match him.

Another goal.

Then another.

The score continued rising.

But Valladolid finally found their own moment.

A long ball was sent behind Madrid’s defensive line.

The Valladolid attacker controlled it.

One touch.

A second.

Then he finished into the lower corner.

José Zorrilla exploded.

The players celebrated together.

Caos watched them.

He nodded once.

They had earned their moment.

A few minutes later, Real Madrid attacked again.

The ball rose into the penalty area.

Caos tracked it.

He jumped.

Higher.

His body rotated backward.

He reached approximately 65 feet above the ground.

Then his foot struck the ball.

Perfectly.

The shot flew into the upper corner.

The La Liga commentator shouted:

kempes:

“WHAT A FINISH! GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL”

He watched the replay.

“Sixty-five feet above the ground! Caos has turned another impossible ball into a goal!”

Caos landed.

He turned toward the private box.

Zeraphina was standing.

One hand remained over her belly.

Caos pointed toward her.

Then touched his chest.

The goal had been for the children.

The match continued.

Caos scored again.

And again.

And again.

His movement became increasingly difficult to predict.

Sometimes he attacked directly.

Sometimes he created space for his teammates.

Sometimes he simply waited until the defensive line made the smallest mistake.

Valladolid never stopped trying.

They scored a second late goal after another long counterattack.

The supporters celebrated again.

The final whistle came moments later.

Real Valladolid 2–27 Real Madrid

Caos:

21 goals6 assists43rd consecutive Man of the Match award in all competitionsThe players stopped.

Caos remained near the center circle.

He looked around the stadium.

Then toward the sky.

His right index finger rose.

His left fist pressed against his chest.

His mother.

His father.

The people who had shaped him.

The people he had lost.

He lowered his hand.

The noise returned.

Caos had crushed them.

The private exit was quieter than the stadium.

Zeraphina, Keyla, and Michaela were waiting.

Zeraphina stepped forward.

She looked at Caos for several seconds.

Then smiled.

Zeraphina:

“Twenty-one.”

Caos smiled.

Caos:

“Twenty-one.”

She shook her head.

Zeraphina:

“I’ve stopped trying to guess what you’re going to do next.”

Caos laughed softly.

Caos:

“That makes two of us.”

Keyla folded her arms.

Keyla:

“You know people are going to call this your greatest match again.”

Caos glanced toward her.

Caos:

“They said that last time.”

Keyla:

“They’ll say it again tomorrow.”

Michaela smiled.

Michaela:

“And then you’ll probably score twenty-two.”

Caos looked at her.

Caos:

“Maybe.”

Zeraphina stepped closer.

She took his hand and placed it against her belly.

Her voice became quieter.

Zeraphina:

“Twenty-one goals are impressive.”

Caos looked down.

“But what matters to you?”

Caos remained silent for a moment.

Then he looked at her.

Caos:

“You.”

His eyes moved toward her belly.

“The children.”

He paused.

“And the people I still have.”

Zeraphina’s expression softened.

Caos:

“They don’t have to carry my legacy.”

His hand remained gently against her belly.

“They don’t have to become footballers.”

He looked at Zeraphina.

“They don’t even have to become anything I understand.”

A faint smile appeared.

“They just have to be free enough to become themselves.”

Zeraphina leaned closer and rested her forehead against his.

Zeraphina:

“Then keep remembering that.”

Caos closed his eyes for a moment.

Caos:

“I will.”

Behind them, Keyla smiled.

Michaela quietly looked away, giving them a moment.

The twenty-first La Liga match had ended.

Valladolid had studied Caos.

They had built another defensive system.

They surrounded him.

They fouled him.

They pressed him.

They changed their shape.

For thirty-six minutes, it worked.

Then Caos found the opening.

After that, every adjustment created another problem.

27–2.

Twenty-one goals.

Six assists.

Forty-three consecutive Man of the Match awards.

Valladolid had prepared a new answer.

Caos had already changed the question.

To be continued…