Striker of The Gods

Contempt in Green and White

The anger had frozen into disdain. The disdain had crystallized into contempt.

Located in the northern area of the city of Seville, with a capacity for 70,000 spectators following the latest expansion, La Cartuja Stadium has all the necessary amenities for fans to enjoy a complete experience at every match. Designed as a multipurpose venue, it has hosted major sporting and cultural events since its inauguration on May 5, 1999, with the international football match between Spain and Croatia.

Rated by UEFA as an ‘Elite Stadium,’ La Cartuja has hosted major sporting events, including the 1999 World Championships in Athletics, the 2003 UEFA Europa League final, the 2004 Davis Cup final, and matches from the final stage of UEFA Euro 2020.

Now, before the fifth La Liga match, it had become something colder still, a quiet, surgical judgment.

Pre-Match :The Garden at 2:03 a.m.

Caos stood motionless under the moonlight, the ruined backyard around him looking like a battlefield that had already surrendered. The Chaos Heart pulsed with slow, deliberate rhythm.

They keep coming.Week after week. Team after team. With their little formations, their little courage, their little dreams of survival.They know the score will be double digits. They know I will look at them like insects beneath my boot.And still they show up.

The disgust was almost philosophical now.

Weakness that refuses to acknowledge itself is the ugliest thing in existence.

He opened his eyes. The violet glow was icy, controlled, absolute.

The stadium features a first-class technical infrastructure that ensures a top-tier experience for both attendees and broadcast operators. It is equipped with lighting from floodlights exceeding 2,500 lux (eV), a permanent surveillance system with color cameras distributed throughout the premises, and a closed-circuit television system covering all its facilities.

Additionally, it houses two 84 m² high-resolution video scoreboards and more than 18 camera positions on the pitch, allowing for professional coverage of every match.

Caos (whispering to the night): Tonight I will not even grant them the honor of my full speed. I will make them feel the quiet horror of being irrelevant while still breathing.

La Liga : Matchday 5Real Madrid vs Real Betis

The Benito Villamarín was loud with Andalusian defiance. Real Betis, proud and passionate, had prepared a compact 4-2-3-1 with high pressing and aggressive wing play. Players like Isco, Fornals, and the veteran Pezzella stepped onto the pitch with fire in their eyes — determined to be the team that finally made Caos bleed, even a little.

They were met with clinical indifference.

Caos walked out last. No emotion on his face. The Chaos Heart was open but restrained — a scalpel rather than a storm. The crowd felt the shift immediately. The usual roar was mixed with nervous tension.

The whistle blew.

Betis pressed with heart. For eleven minutes they managed to make the game look almost competitive.

Then Caos received the ball.

He moved at a deliberate 291 mph — fast, but deliberately not his maximum. He looked at the Betis players with open, almost bored disgust as he dismantled them.

A lazy Fatherless Phantom Helix left four players spinning like broken toys. From 55 meters he launched a casual 682 km/h cannonball that nearly tore the net off its hooks.

1–0.

No celebration. Just a slow walk back to the center circle while staring at the Betis players like they personally offended him by existing.

Caos (internal, cold and clear): You train for months just to become another statistic. Pathetic.

The second goal came in the 18th minute. A Betis counter was intercepted with contemptuous ease. Caos dribbled through five challenges with minimal effort, then finished with a no-look backheel volley from 38 meters that made the entire stadium fall silent.

2–0.

By halftime the score was 6–0.

Caos had four goals and two assists. Each finish was delivered with growing emotional detachment — a quiet execution that felt more humiliating than rage ever could.

In the second half, he barely accelerated. He toyed with them like a cat with broken mice. A 70-meter no-look trivela assist to Mbappé. A standing 540° aerial rabona for his fifth. Then, in the 79th minute, with the score at 10–0, he received the ball at the halfway line, looked at the exhausted Betis players with pure, clinical disgust, and performed a slow, deliberate Insignificance Requiem — a 720° spinning chilena from 43 feet that hung in the air as if mocking their entire existence before slamming into the net.

Final score: 13–0.

Caos walked off the pitch without a single gesture toward the crowd. No acknowledgment. No emotion. Just cold, absolute contempt for another team that had dared to show up and lose so predictably.

In the tunnel, Xabi Alonso approached him with a mixture of respect and concern.

Xabi Alonso: You played with absolute mastery today. But that look in your eyes… it’s like you’re judging them for even stepping onto the same pitch as you.

Caos (voice calm, almost detached): Because they are weak. They know the outcome before kick-off. They still show up and pretend otherwise. That disgusts me more than open defiance ever could. The stronger the opponent, the more respect they will receive. These teams… they earn nothing but my indifference.

The three maids waited for him at the private exit.

Zeraphina studied his face carefully.

Zeraphina: You looked… bored. Like they were beneath your time.

Caos (nodding slowly): They were. Every weak team that steps in front of me reminds me how much of this world still accepts mediocrity as destiny.

He looked toward the night sky, violet eyes cold and unwavering.

Caos: Let the next ones come. I am no longer interested in teaching lessons. I am only interested in reminding the world what true strength looks like… and how pathetic everything else appears beside it.

The season continued.

And with every passing match, Caos’s tolerance for anything less than absolute excellence grew thinner and colder.

As they got out, they heard lots of fans saying:

FUCK YOU, CAOS.

I HATE YOU.

NEVER COME BACK.

THEY WILL KILL YOU SOMEDAY, CAOS.

GO AHEAD AND TRY!!!

To be continued…