205. Invading Anfield

Time: Tuesday, 19 December 2033 : 20:45 CET

Location: Anfield, Liverpool

The fog had settled over Liverpool.

Not the gentle kind.

The cold, wet mist that crawled across the Mersey and wrapped itself around Anfield, turning the floodlights into pale halos.

The Kop was already singing.

Thousands upon thousands of voices rose together.

You'll Never Walk Alone.

The sound rolled through the stadium.

Liverpool had played nights like this before.

Nights when history itself seemed to stand beside the players.Nights when Anfield became more than a stadium.

The more you look at it, the better it gets for the stadium. Just that passion to hear it.

Tonight, however, there was something different.

Something sitting in the away dressing room.Something wearing white.

It was bearable and god damn strong.

Something with violet eyes.

Caos.

The banners were already visible.

YOU'LL NEVER WALK ALONE.

And beneath it:

BUT TONIGHT YOU'LL FEEL THE FEAR.

Another banner simply read:

STOP THE VIOLET PLAGUE.

Caos saw it on the television.

He smiled.

"Creative."

Mbappé looked at him.

"Don't encourage them."

Caos laughed.

The entire football world was watching.

The fourth Champions League match between Liverpool and Real Madrid had become one of the most anticipated games of the season.

Caos had already destroyed Juventus.

Then Bayern Munich.

The numbers surrounding him had become absurd.

Goals were no longer statistics.

They were headlines.

Eleven against Juventus.

Ten against Bayern.

Hundreds of millions of people had watched him turn football matches into something closer to mythology.

Now he stood inside Anfield.

And Liverpool wanted to stop him.

Not with fear.

With football.

The players waited.

Van Dijk stood at the front of Liverpool's line.

Caos stood opposite him.

For a few seconds neither spoke.

Then Van Dijk extended his hand.

Caos shook it.

Van Dijk:

"Enjoy the atmosphere."

Caos looked toward the tunnel entrance.

The sound of Anfield was enormous.

"I am."

Van Dijk smiled.

"Good."

The players began walking.

The noise hit them.

Anfield exploded.

Caos stepped onto the pitch.

The roar became almost physical.

He looked around.

Thousands of red shirts.

Flags.

Scarves.

Lights.

History.

For a moment, even Caos stopped.

Not from fear.

Respect.

This was Anfield.

And then the referee raised his whistle.

20:45 CET.

Kickoff.

Liverpool immediately pressed.

The first pass toward Caos was met by two Liverpool players.

Then three.

They had clearly studied him.

Don't give him space.Don't allow him to turn.

Come down and show them that these motherfucker are nothing before you.

Don't allow him to accelerate.

Don't allow him to see the goal.

Simple.

At least on paper.

Caos received the ball.

Harry stepped forward.

The Kop roared.

Caos passed backward.

The crowd cheered.

A small thing.

But it mattered.

Liverpool wanted to make him uncomfortable.

For the first ten minutes, they succeeded.

Salah broke down the right.

He cut inside.

Shot.

Saved.

Anfield erupted.

Liverpool came again.

Caos tracked back.

Then intercepted.

The ball reached him near the halfway line.

The stadium became strangely quiet.

Caos looked up.

There were seven red shirts between him and the goal.

Seven.

He smiled.

And ran.

"And Caos has it now... halfway line... Liverpool are closing him down quickly..."

A pause.

"He's gone."

Caos accelerated.

"He's past one!"

Another defender came.

"Past two!"

The Kop screamed.

"Three!"

Caos shifted the ball beneath his feet.

"Four!"

Van Dijk stepped across.

Caos spun.

"Five!"

The defender lost his balance.

"Six!"

There was suddenly nobody between Caos and the penalty area.

The commentator's voice rose.

"CAOS IS THROUGH!"

He entered the box.

The goalkeeper came out.

Caos didn't shoot.

He jumped.

One rotation.

Two.

Three.

Better now.

A violent aerial spin.

Then the ball left his foot.

751 km/h.

The net snapped backward.

Silence.

One second.

Two.

Then—

GOAL.

"CAOS!"

Anfield erupted in disbelief.

"REAL MADRID LEAD!"

The commentator could barely keep his voice steady.

"What have we just seen?!"

Caos landed.

He didn't celebrate immediately.

He looked toward the sky.

His mother.

Then he touched his chest.

His father.

Then he looked toward the stands.

Toward the cameras.

Toward the world.

1–0.

Liverpool didn't collapse.

That was what made the next twenty minutes impressive.

They attacked.

Salah nearly equalized.

Van Dijk made a brilliant recovery tackle.

The midfield pressed harder.

Liverpool were still fighting.

But Caos had begun to understand the game.

And once he understood something—

he rarely needed to be told twice.

Liverpool attacked again.

The ball was intercepted.

Caos received it.

He looked toward the goal.

Six defenders.

He started walking.

The crowd booed.

Then he moved.

One touch.

Second.

Third.

He entered the box.

A defender lunged.

Caos jumped.

His body rotated.

720 degrees.

He struck the ball before landing.

Volley.

Goal.

2–0.

The stadium went quiet.

The commentator shouted:

"ANOTHER ONE!"

Caos jogged back toward the halfway line.

No celebration.

No screaming.

Just that strange calm.

Liverpool looked at one another.

They had prepared for the phenomenon.They had not prepared for the inevitability.

HALF TIME/

Real Madrid 7–0 Liverpool.

Caos had scored five.

He had assisted two.

The Kop was stunned.

Liverpool had fought.

They had pressed.They had attacked.

But the audience already expected this.

They had tried everything.

And still—

seven.

Caos sat in the dressing room.

Sweat ran down his face.

Mbappé handed him water.

"You're enjoying this."

Caos drank.

"I'm enjoying the football."

Mbappé laughed.

"That's worse."

Caos smiled.

Then looked toward the television.

Leonor's face appeared briefly in a news segment.

The pregnancy.The royal family.

This just stressed him more.

The future child.

His expression softened.He looked away.

"Second half."

Liverpool came out fighting.

They scored first.

7–1.

The stadium erupted.

For perhaps thirty seconds, hope returned.

Then Caos received the ball.

And scored.

8–1.

Liverpool scored again.

8–2.

Caos answered.

9–2.

Then 10–2.

Then 11–2.

The match had stopped being a contest.

It had become a demonstration.

But Caos still hadn't stopped.

89TH MINUTE

The scoreboard read:

REAL MADRID 12–2 LIVERPOOL

Caos stood near the halfway line.

The ball came toward him.

He controlled it.

The entire stadium watched.

He looked toward the royal box.

Empty.

Then toward the sky.

His mother.

His father.

Leonor.

The unborn child.

For a moment, everything became quiet.

Then Caos moved.

He accelerated.

One defender.

Two.

Three.

He reached the edge of the penalty area.

The ball rose.

Caos jumped.

His body turned backward.

A bicycle kick.

But not an ordinary one.

His legs seemed to cut through the air as his body rotated almost impossibly high above the ground.

The Eternal Unclaimed.

His foot connected.

The ball flew.The goalkeeper jumped.

He saw all possibilities to come to a close stop/

Too late.

GOAL.

13–2.

The commentator screamed:

"CAOS AGAIN!"

He paused, almost laughing in disbelief.

"How many times can one man make history in ninety minutes?"

Caos wasn't finished.

The fourteenth came in stoppage time.

A simple finish.

Almost insulting in its simplicity.

14–2.

The whistle finally came.

Real Madrid 14–2 Liverpool.

Caos:

10 goals.

4 assists.

Another Man of the Match.Another record.

But this was not enough.

Another night that would be replayed until people grew tired of hearing the name.

Except they probably wouldn't.

Caos stood at the center circle.

The Anfield crowd had stopped booing.

Some applauded.

Some simply stared.

He raised one finger toward the sky.

Then pressed his fist against his chest.

His mother.

His father.

And then his eyes lowered.

Toward the future.

Toward the child who had not yet been born.

The commentator spoke quietly now.

"Fourteen goals."

A long pause.

"I don't think anyone in this stadium knows what they have just witnessed."

Caos walked toward the tunnel.

The stadium remained loud behind him.

But he didn't look back.

At the backstage,

The three maids were waiting.

Zeraphina smiled.

"Ten goals."

Caos removed his boots.

"Yes."

"The entire world is calling this the greatest individual performance in modern football."

Caos smiled faintly.

"It wasn't for them."

Zeraphina knew immediately.

"For your mother?"

Caos nodded.

Then his hand moved unconsciously toward his chest.

"And for the child."

He looked toward the stadium.

"The world can have the goals."

His eyes became violet beneath the corridor lights.

"They don't get the child."

Outside, Anfield was still roaring.

Inside, Caos walked away.

Another match.Another record.

Something broken in his heart slept.

Another victory.

But somewhere beneath the celebration was something new.

Something he had never felt before.

Not satisfaction.Not pride.

But something far greater.

Not even hunger.

Anticipation.

For the first time in his life, Caos was no longer fighting only for what he could become.

He was beginning to wonder what he could leave behind.

And that question was far more dangerous.

To be continued...