God Of football

Chapter 636: League Of His Own

The internet hadn’t slept.

It couldn’t—not after a scoreline like that.

8–0.

At Old Trafford.

Against Manchester United.

Four goals and an assist from a 17-year-old who looked more like football’s final boss than its next prodigy.

Football Twitter was in shambles.

Meme accounts were foaming at the mouth.

Fans of other clubs were trying to laugh but couldn’t help checking the calendar for their next Arsenal fixture.

One post went viral before sunrise:

”City caught 7. United caught 8. Someone call the league admin and tell them Izan’s broken the patch.”

The replies? Glorious chaos.

”Izan’s not playing football. He’s issuing consequences.”

”I swear he’s an AI experiment gone rogue.”

”Bro, at this point, he needs his own division. Like the Izan League. Just save the slot they wanted to use for the Super League for Izan. I mean, what the helly!”

Sky Sports did a late-night recap with pundits looking like they hadn’t processed what they just watched.

And then came Trevor Clark—longtime analyst, United fan since the Ferguson era, face half-buried in his hand as he leaned over the desk and groaned into his mic.

”I mean... this is illegal, right?” he said, voice dry.

”This is the part where the FA steps in. You can’t just let a teenager do that to professional men.”

Laughter rippled through the studio, but Clark didn’t flinch.

”I’m being serious. I’ve been watching football for 40 years. I’ve never seen someone this young make grown players look like tutorial NPCs. Ban him. Borrow him. Bribe him. Something. Because this isn’t fair anymore.”

It didn’t stop there.

Instagram reels.

TikToks with slow-mo clips of his goals, layered with dramatic anime music.

YouTube thumbnails screaming: ”IZAN BROKE OLD TRAFFORD” with a face-palming Bruno Fernandes photoshopped behind him.

By morning, a hashtag had trended globally:

#Izanstruction

[Hampstead – Hernandez Residence]

The remote clicked.

The screen blacked out just as the ”Top 5 Reactions to Arsenal’s Win” segment transitioned to a fourth reaction.

”I’ve heard enough,” Izan muttered, setting the remote down.

Behind him, Miranda zipped up her coat and double-checked her bag.

”You ready?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He nodded, slow and composed. ”Yeah.”

From the hallway came the shuffle of movement and the soft murmur of conversation.

Olivia, Komi, and Hori were already waiting at the door, layered in warm coats, the morning sun barely reaching through the windows.

Komi adjusted her scarf, with Olivia tying her hair up in a loose bun beside her.

And Hori, naturally, looked like she’d just been plucked from bed and told to dress in a hurry.

As Izan stepped into the hallway, bag in one hand, coat slung over his shoulder, he shook his head with a faint grin.

”I’m going for a stem cell donation, not leading an army into battle.”

Hori, who was tugging on her gloves with a bit too much force, nodded aggressively.

”Same thing. I mean—look how everyone’s acting. You cooked United so bad, I got permission to skip school today.”

”That’s not even connected,” Miranda said, smirking.

”You just begged Komi.”

”Tomato, tomato,” Hori shrugged, slinging her little backpack on like it weighed a hundred kilos.

Olivia covered a laugh behind her hand, shooting a sideways look at Izan.

”Don’t act like she’s wrong. The way people are reacting online, I wouldn’t be surprised if they renamed the stadium after you.”

Komi, on the other hand, took the car keys from the bowl near the door, glanced at Izan’s extended hand for a second, and then turned away and pocketed the keys herself.

He blinked.

”Seriously?”

”You’re not driving,” she said with the tone only a mother could deliver.

”You’ve got a donation today. We don’t need you flexing your reaction time on the M25.”

”But I—”

”You’re not,” Komi repeated.

Hori looked up at Izan as they moved toward the front door.

”Just take the L, bro. At least you don’t have to sit in school reading To Kill a Mockingbird with Mr. Daniels breathing like Darth Vader.”

As they piled into the SUV, Izan moved toward the front passenger seat while Miranda and Hori slipped into the back.

Olivia reached for his door only to see Hori already strapped in tight, clutching the belt like she was preparing for takeoff.

”You good?” she asked as she entered the car.

”Have you seen Komi drive?”

Miranda was already chuckling as she buckled in beside Hori, and even Izan reached for the overhead handle, just in case.

Then Olivia, who had taken a second longer to situate herself, raised an eyebrow.

”What are you all—”

The engine revved.

Komi shifted smoothly into gear, but there was an almost imperceptible tightness in the wheel as she pulled out of the driveway.

Olivia—still halfway through pulling her belt—felt the first sudden jolt as they merged into the main road, the speed creeping up much faster than anticipated.

She yanked the belt across her chest and clipped it in with a click.

”Never mind,” she muttered. ”I get it now.”

In the rearview mirror, Komi didn’t look back.

But the faintest smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

.......

[St. Barts Hospital – Haematology Wing, Apheresis Hallway]

”How long is this going to take again?” Komi asked, arms crossed, fingers drumming against her bicep.

She stood just a few paces from the sliding door that led to the apheresis room, where Izan was being prepped.

Miranda glanced up from the clipboard in her lap.

”Roughly three hours.”

”Three?” Komi repeated, eyes widening. ”I thought you said two.”

”That’s the usual window or sometimes even less,” Miranda replied, calm but clear.

”But Leo’s condition makes it a little trickier. We need a richer collection. Higher counts. They’re just making sure there’s enough to work with when it’s time.”

Komi exhaled, shifting her weight, one hand resting on her hip now.

”Still feels like too long to just sit out here.”

Olivia leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded over her chest, gaze fixed on the small viewing window set into the sealed door.

”It’s not surgery,” she said softly. ”He’s just... doing something huge.”

”Which is exactly why I can’t sit still,” Komi muttered.

Hori, seated quietly a few feet away with her legs pulled up on the bench, didn’t speak.

Just sipped from her bottle of strawberry milk and raised an eyebrow at the back-and-forth.

Miranda offered a breath of reassurance.

”He’ll be fine. We’ve monitored everything. His vitals were perfect this morning. You saw them yourself, and the procedure is relatively easy and safe. We haven’t gotten to worry about.”

Komi didn’t answer.

She just stared at the door again.

Then the soft pneumatic hiss of the seal broke as a nurse stepped out, mid-twenties, brown hair tied back, clipboard under one arm.

”We’re starting now,” she said.

”Mr. Hernandez is prepped and stable. His blood counts are ideal. We estimate three hours total.”

”Is he okay?” Komi asked immediately.

The nurse smiled gently. ”He’s calm. Sharp. A bit quiet, but focused.”

Miranda stood. ”We’ll give him space. You know how he is — he won’t let us fuss.”

The door closed again. A faint mechanical hum leaked through.

Then Hori spoke, not looking up.

”I mean, it’s Izan,” she said dryly. ”He’d survive nuclear winter if he had to.”

The three women turned towards Hori, Miranda and Olivia, chuckling while Komi frowned slightly.

”I’m just saying,” she shrugged while Komi turned her stare towards Miranda who had stopped laughing.

[Inside – Apheresis Prep Room]

The room was crisp, cool, and sterile in atmosphere, with clean lines and soft whirring.

Steady LED strips above casting soft light over the reclined chair in the middle, where Izan sat still.

Gown fitted and parted at the shoulders for access.

One of the nurses, gloved and steady, checked the adhesive patches one more time before nodding.

”To recap,” she said, voice gentle but confident, ”we’re using a double lumen setup. One arm draws blood, the machine separates it, and then we return what we don’t need through the other arm. You’ll be cycling through nearly twice your blood volume. All under three hours.”

Izan gave a silent nod, eyes flicking from her to the machine and back.

”The apheresis unit,” she continued, ”is basically a centrifuge. It separates the components of your blood: red cells, platelets, plasma, and the stem cells we’re after. You won’t feel pain, but you may feel tingling — especially around your lips or fingertips.”

”From the citrate?” Izan asked, eyes now on the tubing coils.

The nurse grinned.

”Someone’s been briefed. Yeah — that’s our anticoagulant. If it gets uncomfortable, we’ll adjust your calcium through the IV.”

”Understood.”

Dr. Selwood stepped in next, scrubs clean, gloves on, the scent of iodine faintly trailing him.

His eyes landed on Izan, then swept over the vitals on the monitor.

”Response to filgrastim was textbook,” he said.

”Counts are above threshold. You’re more than ready.”

Izan nodded as he nurse approached, with a tube.

A/N: Okay, sorry for the late releases. Will be uploading maybe 2 Chapters or 3 today so bear with the singular release for a bit. Thank you.