"Wooooaaaahhh!"
Thunderous cheers poured across the pitch.
"¡Vamos, Castilla!"
"Let's go, Castilla!"
Fans chanted as they roared in support of Ho-young.
Early in the first half.
Receiving the ball with his back to goal, Ho-young shed a defender with a dynamic Marseille turn.
That alone drew a wave of cheers from the crowd.
Then came his fearless drive forward, lifting thousands of fans out of their seats.
Like a wild stallion...
No, he was under control.
Give-and-go movement.
Despite sprinting with the ball, the ball's speed didn't die down.
There was no deviation in direction.
Even at full sprint, his touch was precise and clean.
The result of Zidane's extraordinary talent.
It was artistic-level ball control, fully utilized.
A normal prodigy wouldn't be able to replicate such talent, but Ho-young was different.
He was mimicking Zidane's style.
Tap!
A long, dragging dribble.
Defenders flew by in a blur.
But the opponents were professionals.
They had already set up a dense defensive line to block Ho-young's advance.
A quick glance.
Ho-young's eyes flicked to the left.
Lone striker José Callejón was making a run on the left flank, drawing the defenders' attention.
Ho-young didn't miss that narrow gap.
Tap.
His decision was to keep dribbling.
He drove the ball long to the right once more.
The shooting angle opened up.
Then—
Bang!
'That's it.'
The moment he struck the ball, an indescribable thrill coursed through his body.
The goalkeeper didn't even react.
Only the net rippled violently, as if torn apart.
Thud!
The shot was that powerful, but it was also thanks to a defender, who had been blocking the angle, inadvertently obstructing the keeper's vision.
That was how Castilla scored their first goal of the season.
Ho-young's debut goal in professional football, setting the Segunda División record for youngest scorer.
It was also the opening goal that sent the crowd into a frenzy.
"Wooooaaaaaaaahhh!"
"Castilla!!"
The ecstatic crowd waved toward Ho-young.
Ho-young ran straight to the corner flag and leaped high into the air.
As he landed, he thrust both arms powerfully downward.
Whoosh.
"Siuuuu!!"
"Woooooahhh!"
"Ahahaha!"
The crowd erupted at the unfamiliar celebration.
Culture shock.
It was a major jolt for them.
A 14-year-old Asian not only debuted in the season opener but scored, and even had a slick celebration ready.
The media had constantly praised his looks, but now he truly shined on the field.
Some fans dropped their popcorn while trying to imitate the celebration.
The funny thing was, they weren't alone.
Popcorn rained from above, but nobody cared. They just enjoyed the moment.
Attending a reserve match meant being a football maniac.
And in that very moment, they were all captivated by Ho-young.
One fan grabbed his head in disbelief, unable to process what he'd seen.
The roar inside the stadium shook the ground.
From the outside, it probably felt like an earthquake.
The commentary booth wasn't much different.
"¡Fantástica! ¡Fantástica!"
A bearded commentator kept repeating the same word.
It was all he could say after witnessing that play right in front of him.
The main caster composed himself and added,
"Is this how fans felt watching Michael Owen during his early days in the Premier League, when he earned the nickname 'Wonder Boy'?"
"¡Fantástica! ¡Fantástica!"
"Haha! Exactly! That goal was nothing short of spectacular."
"¡FantásticAAAAAA!"
There was one reason they were losing it.
This wasn't a youth competition. This was the real, professional world.
And Ho-young was proving his worth right at the heart of it.
That meant everything.
He wasn't just another youth league standout.
This goal showed that Ho-young was no ordinary prospect.
"Whew!"
Ho-young exhaled deeply.
Hot air rushed into his throat.
Yet his chest felt cool and clear.
It was a goal even he was proud of.
'This is why scoring goals is the best part of football.'
Even more chilling was the fact that he hadn't yet tapped into Ronaldo's talent.
There was nothing more to say.
Pweeep!
Play resumed, and the ball rolled once more.
And Ho-young began to run again.
With the early lead, Castilla settled into a more comfortable rhythm.
With the team built around "Ho-young," they attacked through various routes centered around him.
As the stadium's feverish atmosphere intensified, the game's tempo increased.
And Ho-young's brilliance continued to shine.
Especially with his flawless execution of the free role, injecting energy into the attack from both wings and the center.
Deportivo Alavés's midfield pressure was largely ineffective.
Castilla's quick, sharp one-touch passes broke through their press, while winger switching further disoriented the defense.
Coach Mandía's satisfied expression appeared on the scoreboard.
[Coach Mandía looks more relaxed. A successful debut, and in the season opener no less. It doesn't get better than this.]
[Exactly. His tactics are starting to click, and thanks to that, Ho-young has plenty of space in the second line. It's the perfect environment for him to express himself freely.]
[To put it simply, Ho-young leads the team, and the others support him in return. It's a virtuous cycle.]
[Right. But that's easier said than done. If the individual lacks ability, the whole team can suffer. But he's doing brilliantly. It's hard to believe he's only 14.]
[Haha. I think this might calm the controversy over Pérez's so-called obsession with looks. Ho-young may be handsome, but it's his talent that's making headlines today.]
[Outstanding. Both player and coach.]
While Ho-young's name kept coming up in the commentary, Coach Mandía smiled warmly, watching him like a proud father.
'No need for detailed instructions.'
Even for him, this was a first.
Ho-young, carrying a heavy role, opened up attacking routes on all sides—left, right, and center.
His presence alone made Castilla's attack more threatening.
'He is the free role.'
Where else could you find a youth player executing the free role to this level?
A free role is something that elevates the ability of even world-class players.
It might just be the perfect fit for Ho-young.
'If his stamina holds, I can start him regularly.'
Initially, he'd planned to give Ho-young a few chances and see how he performed.
But now, he had no doubt.
Ho-young was already indispensable.
So he'd need to manage his stamina carefully.
'Let's keep him going through the second half.'
Meanwhile.
A fierce battle for possession was unfolding in midfield.
Ultimately, Castilla won the midfield battle.
Fueled by the home crowd's support, they were making the pitch their own.
They seized full control around the 40th minute.
It was like grabbing the opponent by the throat.
The heated atmosphere in the stadium burned even hotter.
Every time the energy began to cool, another brilliant play reignited it.
The match was so intense, some spectators forgot it was a reserve game and thought they were watching a first-division clash.
Of course, the skill level didn't match La Liga, but the passion and intensity were just as high.
Right then.
Tap.
In Castilla's second line.
Ho-young, receiving the ball, furrowed his brow.
At the same time, the previously open space began to tighten.
Alavés responded by compressing the gaps, leaving almost no room to breathe.
Andrea Orlandi, anchoring Alavés's midfield, led the defensive line from behind.
At 23, with three years of second-division experience, he was a seasoned veteran.
'His spatial awareness needs to be shut down early.'
Being a cerebral player, Orlandi had spent the past week analyzing Ho-young.
He had easily put in over 20 hours studying the video clips provided by the coaching staff.
He'd categorized Ho-young's playing patterns by situation and memorized them.
Now, he could almost tell where Ho-young would pass just by looking at his footwork.
'Stay alert. He's going to try something.'
He had invested so much in preparing for this season opener.
There was no way he'd back down easily.
Sensing something, Orlandi shouted,
"What are you doing on the right?! Wake up! The ball's not even heading that way! That's exactly when you need to shut down the space!"
His voice never stopped.
The defenders constantly adjusted their positions, and their defensive shape began to look solid.
To his eye, there were no visible gaps.
The ball continued to roll around harmlessly in Castilla's half.
It looked like the first half would end without further incident.
'Just one more minute. One minute and we regroup in the locker room. We still have time to turn this around.'
If Ho-young tried to break through, he'd use physical defending and cover defense to stop him.
The surprise goal at the start had caught him off guard, but he wouldn't allow it again.
'Not twice.'
Just then.
"!"
Ho-young finally made his move.
[Ho-young passes the ball forward to Callejón and begins a run toward the left flank. Looks like he's targeting the space behind the defense. Is he trying to latch onto a through ball?]
[That's going to be tough. Alavés's back line is well-organized. He'll likely fall into the offside trap. Ho-young needs to remember this is a professional league.]
Despite the warning, Ho-young continued his sharp movement, charging toward the defenders.
His target was the left channel.
Breaking through there was like walking through a minefield.
Still, Ho-young pushed forward.
As he neared the defensive line, he suddenly slowed down, ramping up the tension.
And then—
"!!"
A sudden change of direction.
Like a cheetah spotting prey, Ho-young's upper body shifted sharply to the right.
Callejón, positioned nearby, subtly stepped aside.
A small gap emerged where there had been none before.
Callejón's heel pass slipped through that opening.
[Ah! It's open! Ho-young's run and Callejón's clever pass have pierced the back line! Was his earlier movement just a decoy?]
44th minute of the first half.
'What the...?'
For Orlandi, it was a first.
He was sure Ho-young would be caught offside, but instead, he had been completely outmaneuvered.
It wasn't carelessness.
It was just an incredibly narrow gap invisible to most defenders.
'There was... nothing there.'
Perfect timing on the run.
Then again, Orlandi had little experience facing attackers like this.
You didn't find players of this caliber in the Segunda División.
In fact, they didn't exist here.
Of course, he didn't know how to stop it.
'Damn it.'
He'd been robbed in broad daylight.
There was no choice now.
He couldn't just stand and watch.
Even though it was already too late, he couldn't give up.
"Chase him!"
Orlandi's voice rang toward the goal.
He and the Alavés defenders scrambled after Ho-young.
Once again, the fans were rising from their seats.
"Wooooooaaaahhh!"
"Let's get another one!!"
One-on-one.
The angle wasn't ideal, but Ho-young's face showed nothing but confidence.
Ronaldo's lessons echoed in his mind.
'Stay calm.'
And Ho-young stayed calm.
(To be continued.)
Checkout my new fic on my profile: Naruto: Becoming the Soul King
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