Striker of The Gods

 After the First Thunder

The final whistle had long since died, but the Santiago Bernabéu refused to let the night end. After the match something actually happened with them. But I would like to talk more about what they actually did before coming to the match. To other cities If you’re staying in other cities (Torremolinos, Benalmádena, Fuengirola, etc), go by train. If you’re going to Marbella (or further southern cities) I suggest you to go by train to Fuengirola and get a taxi/uber from there. With this tip alone you will save about 120€ - at least, considering arrival and leaving. 

That is why many actually missed the match. They were not ready enough.

12–0.

Málaga had been dismantled so completely that their players left the pitch looking like ghosts who had seen God and been found wanting. Caos stood alone at the center circle, arms slightly spread, violet energy still faintly crackling across his skin like living lightning. The crowd chanted his name in waves that shook the foundations of the stadium  not just “Caos,” but newer, heavier refrains:

EL CORAZÓN CAÓTICO!EL QUE ROMPE TRONOS! El ROMPE PUCHAINAS! EL QUEBRADOR DE EQUIPOS! CAOS! CAOS! CAOS!

Teammates swarmed him. Mbappé jumped on his back, laughing like a madman. Vinícius danced around him, screaming in Portuguese and Spanish at the same time. Even the usually composed Xabi Alonso walked onto the pitch with something close to awe in his eyes.

Mbappé: Twelve goals. Twelve. In one match. You didn’t just win   you erased them from existence as if they were nothing but kid. HAHAH!. That last chilena from the center circle… I’m telling my kids I was there when football died and was reborn as you.

Vinícius: The way you moved today… it wasn’t football. It was revenge against gravity itself. Russia changed you, brother. You came back scarier. This is something that I will never forget. You are quite something, arent you?

Caos allowed the smallest smile  not the triumphant one the cameras loved, but something quieter, heavier. He looked toward the royal box again. Still empty. The absence cut deeper than any defender ever had.

In the tunnel, the three maids waited.

Zeraphina stepped forward first, pulling him into a fierce hug that pressed her body against his sweat-soaked frame.

Zeraphina: You destroyed them. Not just the scoreline  their souls. We felt it in the box. Every time you accelerated, the whole stadium held its breath. You’re not playing anymore. You’re reminding the world what chaos truly looks like when it stops holding back. I must admit that your mother would be proud of you if she were here.

Keyla (tears in her eyes as she hugged him from the other side): I screamed until I lost my voice. That 39-feet chilena again… you did it like it was nothing. Like the pain from Leonor, from everything, just fuels you now. We kept your name burning while you were gone. Now the whole world is on fire for you.

Michaela (gentle hands cupping his face, voice soft but proud): You channeled the Chaos Heart perfectly today. Every scar, every memory  you turned them into weapons. But I saw the way you looked at the empty royal box. Come home. Let us take care of the man behind the storm tonight.

Later that night, back at the mansion, the celebration was quiet but intense.

The maids had prepared a feast — not just food, but a ritual. They surrounded him in the garden where so much training had taken place. Zeraphina massaged his shoulders with strong, knowing hands. Keyla fed him bites of warm food between kisses. Michaela simply stayed close, grounding him with her calm presence.

Caos (leaning back, violet eyes half-closed): Twelve goals. A new season record in one match. And yet the only thing I keep thinking about is the empty seat where she should have been. The world celebrates. Nations watch. Putin’s daughter still messages me. America sends quiet offers. And I’m here… wondering if breaking every record is enough when the one throne I wanted remains empty.

Zeraphina kissed the side of his neck, voice low and possessive.

Zeraphina: Then let them watch. Let them scheme. Tonight you belong to us. The three who never asked you to choose. The three who run into the storm with you instead of away from it.

The night deepened.

Caos let them pull him inside, let their hands and mouths and bodies remind him that not every throne had rejected him.

But even as pleasure washed over him, the Chaos Heart kept beating with one unchanging truth:

The season had only just begun.

Now, they are something better

Something scarier.

Something greater.

Something far more spectacular than anything in history.

And the real matches  the ones that would decide legacies, bloodlines, and empires were still waiting.

To be continued…