God Of football

Chapter 226: Final Act [4]

As the ball began its descent, Izan was already in motion, spinning with precision to track its trajectory.

The Barcelona defenders were frozen for a split second, their focus entirely on him as the ball dropped back toward the earth.

The stadium seemed to stand still, every fan on their feet, every voice silenced in anticipation.

The ball hung in the air for what felt like an eternity, and Izan timed his leap perfectly. Twisting his body, he prepared to connect with it mid-air.

The tension in the Mestalla reached its breaking point as Izan’s boot swung forward to meet the ball.

Juan Hernan: ”Here it comes! Izan—!”

As Izan’s boot struck the ball, the crack of the connection reverberated through the tense atmosphere of the Mestalla.

The ball soared off his foot, spinning with vicious precision. It carved through the air like an arrow, rising and curving slightly outward before dipping back toward the goal.

Ter Stegen’s eyes locked onto the ball immediately, his instincts kicking in as he exploded off his line.

The Barcelona goalkeeper stretched his entire frame, his body arched midair, his outstretched fingertips aiming to meet the ball’s path.

The stadium collectively held its breath, the ball traveling in a perfect arc toward the top corner.

The spin added by Izan’s strike caused the ball to dip sharply, its movement almost hypnotic as it grazed past Ter Stegen’s fingertips.

The lightest touch wasn’t enough to alter its destiny.

The ball struck the underside of the crossbar with a resounding clang, the force sending vibrations through the woodwork.

For a split second, it bounced downward, hanging on the brink of the goal line, before it nestled satisfyingly into the back of the net.

The net rippled violently, the ball spinning in place for a moment as if savoring its triumph.

Time seemed frozen, the roar of the Mestalla delayed by an instant of collective disbelief.

And then the sound came—a deafening explosion of cheers, the entire stadium erupting in unison. Fans screamed, waved flags, and threw scarves into the air.

The energy of the moment was palpable, a tide of raw emotion sweeping through every corner of the ground.

Juan Hernan: ”GOOOOOOOOOOAL! IT’S IN! IT’S IN! Izan has done it! What a strike!”

Jorge Savina: ”Unstoppable! Ter Stegen couldn’t do a thing about that! What a moment! Valencia is alive, and the Mestalla has lost its mind!”

Izan didn’t even wait to process the scene. He took off in a mad sprint, leaping over the ad boards and diving straight into the Valencia crowd.

Fans reached out, grabbing at him, patting his shoulders and head as he stood there, arms raised, soaking in their adoration.

From the Valencia bench, players and staff poured out, rushing toward the scene.

Gayà and Hugo Guillamón were the first to reach Izan, following him into the mass of fans, their arms around him in jubilant celebration.

Rubén Baraja stood on the touchline, fists clenched, roaring in approval as his staff embraced one another.

The Mestalla was a cauldron of joy and chaos, the celebration spilling over onto the pitch as chants of ”VALENCIA! VALENCIA!” reverberated through the stands.

Izan thumped the badge on his chest as he turned to face the fans, pointing to the orange crest as if to say, ”This is for you”.

....

The match restarted with urgency radiating from the Barcelona players. Lewandowski immediately pushed forward, playing a quick one-two with Pedri to break Valencia’s initial press.

The Catalans were relentless, determined to salvage something from the game.

The fourth official held up the board, indicating six minutes of stoppage time, prompting a mixture of groans and cheers from the Mestalla faithful.

Juan Hernan: ”Six minutes added on! Six minutes for Valencia to hold on, but you can bet Barcelona will throw everything at them now!”

Jorge Savina: ”Valencia will have to dig deep, Juan. Barcelona isn’t just going to roll over. Expect wave after wave of attack.”

---

Barcelona’s intent was clear—they wanted a goal, and they wanted it now.

Frenkie de Jong launched an inch-perfect long ball toward the right flank, where Lamine Yamal was waiting.

The teenage sensation controlled it expertly, darting past José Gayà with a burst of pace.

Yamal whipped in a dangerous cross that sailed toward the six-yard box. Lewandowski rose high, his head meeting the ball with force.

The Mestalla gasped, but Giorgi Mamardashvili was once again Valencia’s savior, diving low to his left to make a crucial save.

The rebound fell to Raphinha, who unleashed a venomous shot.

The ball seemed destined for the back of the net, but Hugo Guillamón threw his body in the way, blocking it with everything he had.

The crowd roared their approval, rallying behind their team.

Valencia dropped deep, and every player was now behind the ball. Izan, despite his attacking instincts, was back in his own box, tracking Ferran Torres.

He intercepted a pass meant for the former Valencia player, toe-poking it out of danger before it could harm Valencia.

Hugo Duro, known more for his contributions up front, was also seen sliding into challenges and chasing down loose balls.

The striker cleared a cross from Balde at the near post, pumping his fist as if he’d scored a goal.

Juan Hernan: ”Look at the commitment from Hugo Duro! This Valencia side is fighting for every inch of grass right now!”

Jorge Savina: ”It’s not just the defenders, Juan. It’s the entire team—every single player is giving their all to protect this lead.”

---

The Mestalla was alive, the fans practically acting as a 12th man. Chants of ”AMUNT VALENCIA!” rang through the air, their intensity never wavering.

Komi and Hori were on their feet, screaming encouragement at the top of their lungs.

”Come on, boys! Just hold on!” Komi shouted, her scarf clenched tightly in her hands.

Hori was leaning forward, her knuckles white as she gripped the railing. ”Clear it! Get it out!” she yelled as another Barcelona attack loomed.

---

Barcelona’s final chance came in the 95th minute with a free kick just outside the box being awarded after Guillamón’s clumsy tackle on Lewandowski.

The Mestalla fell silent as Raphinha stood over the ball, his focus razor-sharp.

The referee’s whistle blew, and Raphinha curled the ball toward the top corner, but Mamardashvili, yet again, leaped, his outstretched hand brushing the ball onto the crossbar.

The ball bounced back into play, but Izan was there, heading it clear to the edge of the box.

Pedri collected it and attempted a quick shot, but Hugo Duro blocked it again, hacking the ball downfield.

Juan Hernan: ”Mamardashvili saves it! And Duro clears! Valencia are seconds away!”

Jorge Savina: ”This is extraordinary, Juan! Every player is defending like their lives depend on it!”

The referee glanced at his watch as the ball was hoofed into Barcelona’s half. He raised the whistle to his lips and blew three sharp blasts.

The Mestalla erupted in celebration, the roar shaking the very foundation of the stadium. The players collapsed to the ground, exhausted but triumphant.

Izan raised both fists in the air, letting out a roar of victory before being swarmed by his teammates.

Juan Hernan: ”It’s over! Valencia have done it! They’ve defeated Barcelona at the Mestalla!”

Jorge Savina: ”What a performance! This was more than just a game—it was a battle, and Valencia emerged victorious!”

The stands were a sea of joy, fans singing and celebrating as the players embraced each other on the pitch.

It was a night to remember, a testament to Valencia’s resilience and heart. And at the center of it all stood Izan, the prodigy who had made the difference.

....

As the final whistle blew and the jubilant celebrations continued around him, Izan slowly made his way toward the center of the pitch, where a few Barcelona players were gathering, their faces still set with frustration from the defeat.

Pedri caught his eye and gave him a nod, walking over with a tired but respectful smile.

Pedri: ”Great performance tonight, bro. You really made the difference.”

Izan: ”Thanks, Pedri. It was a tough match, but we all fought till the end.”

The two young midfielders shared a brief, knowing look. Pedri’s smile widened, as he gestured toward the stands, where the Valencia fans were still roaring in delight.

Izan chuckled, understanding what Pedri was getting at. He nodded, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

Just as the conversation continued, Lamine Yamal, who had been chatting with his teammates a few steps away, looked over at them.

Pedri waved him over, and with a grin, Yamal jogged over to join them.

Pedri: ”Hey, Lamine, come over here! Let’s make it official. I think Izan’s already offering to give me his shirt.”

Yamal grinned widely, eyes sparkling with that familiar youthful energy.

Yamal: ”No chance you’re getting away with that, Pedri. You got it last time and I’m taking that shirt for myself!”

Izan: ”Come on, Pedri. You have to feel for the kid”

Lamine: Yeah. Wait, we’re the same age”

The three players exchanged a lighthearted laugh, as the tension of the match finally gave way to camaraderie.

After a few moments of friendly banter, Izan unbuttoned his Valencia jersey and handed it to Yamal.

The young Barcelona winger accepted it with a grin.

Izan: ”Make sure to hang it up in a special place. I expect it to be framed one day.”

Yamal: ”I’ll make sure to hang it right next to my first Barcelona shirt! But seriously, that was a class goal today. You really got the crowd going.”

Izan nodded in appreciation.

”Thanks, Lamine. You’re going to be a big star for Barcelona and for Spain. Keep at it” Izan said a matter of factly.

Well, he had to; after all, he was staring at Lamine’s status window.

”Damn,” Izan muttered before looking away.

Pedri, patting Izan’s back spoke, ”Good luck with the final against Bilbao. I hope you win”

Izan nodded at the former’s words and with that, the three exchanged final smiles before Izan jogged back toward his teammates, the fans still chanting his name in the background.

A/n: End of the match ArC. Have a nice read and continue to support the book with you gifts and stones as well as tickets