211. Messi, Pele, and Cristiano in a talk with Caos

Time: Mid-February 2034

Location: ESPN Studios, Bristol, Connecticut :Live Global Broadcast

ESPN had pulled out all the stops.

They wanted something bigger than an interview.

Something that would become part of football history.

The primetime special was titled:

“The New King: Caos and the Greats.”

It was broadcast live across more than 180 countries.

Millions tuned in.

A panel of football legends had been assembled through a mixture of live appearances, video interviews, and archival material.

Lionel Messi appeared through a live video connection from Miami.

Cristiano Ronaldo joined the program live from Turin.

Pelé was represented by his family, accompanied by archival footage and recordings.

Alfredo Di Stéfano appeared through archival clips, with his grandson speaking about his legacy.

Other legends and former champions contributed throughout the evening.

Then—

Caos arrived.

Alone.

No three maids.No entourage.

Caos crushed the wall with a super shot. 

Nothing was even more spectacular. 

The life that he desire was turned into reality.

No unnecessary spectacle.

Only minimal security.

He wore a simple black suit with a subtle violet accent along the collar. His violet eyes remained calm beneath the studio lights.

For once, there was no stadium.

No opponent.No ball.

No matter what others told him. Life had got better for him. He was no loser.

No battlefield.

Just a chair.

And millions of people waiting to hear him speak.

The opening montage began.

Caos sprinting at impossible speed.

Defenders falling behind.

The 350,000-Newton strikes.The 59-feet chilena.

Even so, it does not mean that he was not human. He still had that passion for football.

The enormous victories.The celebrations.

After all, this continuous expression of savageness was making him even better

The finger raised toward the sky for his mother.The fist against his chest for his father.

Then the screen went black.

One word appeared.

CAOS.

The audience erupted.

The host smiled.

“Welcome.”

Caos gave a small nod.

“Thank you.”

The first video appeared.

Cristiano Ronaldo.

Live from Turin.

His expression was serious, competitive, almost amused.

Cristiano Ronaldo:

“Caos é uma máquina.

Eu marquei muitos gols. Muitos.

Mas não assim.

Não com esta velocidade. Não com esta força.”

He paused.

“Quinhentos quilômetros por hora...”

A grin appeared.

“Isso é absurdo.”

The audience laughed.

Ronaldo continued.

“Mas futebol sempre foi mais do que talento. É mentalidade. É obsessão. É querer ser melhor amanhã do que você foi hoje.”

He leaned slightly toward the camera.

“Eu respeito isso.”

Then came the familiar smile.

“Continua a pressionar, Caos.

Os recordes estão aí para serem quebrados.

Eu quebrei muitos.

Agora é a tua vez.”

He raised his hand.

“Siuuu!”

The audience exploded.

Caos simply smiled.

Then Messi appeared.

Miami.

Quiet.

Almost understated.

Messi:

“Es increíble…”

He looked toward the screen displaying Caos's statistics.

“Veo algo de mí en algunas cosas. La forma en que lee el juego. Cómo anticipa.”

He smiled.

“Pero Caos está en otro nivel.”

The audience became quieter.

Messi continued.

“Las chilenas, la velocidad, la potencia...

Yo nunca llegué cerca de cuatrocientos treinta goles en una temporada.”

He paused.

Then his voice became more serious.

“Pero también veo que lleva mucho encima.”

Caos watched without moving.

“La madre. El padre. La princesa. La atención del mundo.”

Messi looked directly into the camera.

“Espero que encuentre paz.”

Another pause.

“Porque cuando marcás tanto, cuando todo el mundo espera algo de vos...

a veces los goles son lo único que todavía tiene sentido.”

Caos lowered his eyes for a moment.

The host noticed.

He didn't interrupt.

The screen changed again.

Pelé.

Archival footage.

His family representative sat beside the host while an old recording played.

Pelé:

“Eu vejo o futuro do futebol nele.”

The studio became completely silent.

“Ele joga com alegria e poder.”

The footage showed young Pelé smiling after a goal.

“Mas ele é algo novo.”

Another clip.

Caos flying through the air for a spectacular finish.

“A forma como se move…”

The recording paused briefly.

“É como se a bola tivesse alma.”

The audience applauded.

Pelé's family representative smiled.

“He admired what Caos is doing,” he said. “He believed football should always belong to imagination.”

Caos nodded slowly.

“I would have liked to meet him.”

The representative smiled.

“I think he would have liked meeting you too.”

Then came Di Stéfano.

Black-and-white footage.

The old Santiago Bernabéu.The Real Madrid crest.

His life was a testament of it and he had demonstrated it.

His grandson sat in the studio.

Di Stéfano's grandson:

“Mi abuelo habría amado jugar con él.”

The audience laughed softly.

“He would have complained about his teammates for not passing to him enough.”

Caos laughed.

The man continued.

“Caos tiene algo que pertenece al Real Madrid. La ambición. La personalidad. La obligación de ganar.”

He looked at Caos.

“Pero también tiene algo que mi abuelo no tuvo.”

“What?”

“Un mundo entero watching him become something that football has never seen.”

The room went quiet again.The host turned toward Caos.

“Caos.”

“Yes?”

“You've just heard Messi, Pelé, Di Stéfano, Ronaldo…”

He gestured toward the enormous screen behind them.

“These are names that defined football.”

The host leaned forward.

“The world is comparing you to them.”

He paused.

“How does that make you feel?”

Caos looked toward the screen.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then—

“I don't play to be compared.”

The studio became silent.

“I play to become something the next generation can stand on.”

He looked toward Messi's image.

“Messi gave the world magic.”

Toward Pelé.

“Pelé gave it joy.”

Toward Di Stéfano.

“Di Stéfano gave it greatness.”

Then Ronaldo.

“Ronaldo gave it obsession.”

Caos leaned back.

“I want to give the world something different.”

The violet accent on his suit caught the light.

“A storm that creates instead of only destroys.”

The host nodded.

Then came the inevitable question.

“And the personal side?”

Caos already knew what was coming.

“Princess Leonor is pregnant.”

The audience murmured.

“She is carrying your child. You're now dealing with football, royalty, politics, media, and your own enormous public image.”

He paused.

“How do you handle that?”

Caos's expression changed.

The arrogance disappeared.The athlete disappeared.

For a moment, he simply looked like a man thinking about his family.

“Leonor is personal.”

He spoke slowly.

“She is carrying my child.”

His eyes hardened.

“I will protect them both.”

A pause.

“The crown doesn't change that.”

Another.

“The pressure doesn't change that.”

“And the world watching?”

Caos looked directly into the camera.

“That doesn't change it either.”

His voice became quieter.

“I will be a father who stands tall.”

Nobody applauded immediately.

For once, the silence was stronger.

Then the audience began clapping.

Slowly.

Then louder.

The host smiled.

“One final question.”

Caos raised an eyebrow.

“Are you the greatest footballer who has ever lived?”

Ronaldo's face appeared briefly on the screen.

Messi smiled.

The audience waited.

Caos gave a small smile.

“Ask me when I'm done.”

The host laughed.

“And when will that be?”

Caos stood.

“When there is nothing left to conquer.”

He adjusted his jacket.

“For now…”

His violet eyes reflected the studio lights.

“I’m just getting started.”

The audience erupted.

The broadcast ended with a montage.

Goals.

Victories.

Impossible movements.

Children wearing violet shirts.

Colombian streets celebrating.

Madrid chanting his name.

The foundation academies.The Santiago Bernabéu.

Leonor watching from Madrid.

Zeraphina with her hand resting over her stomach.

And finally—

Caos standing beneath a violet sky.

The screen faded to black.

THE STORM CONTINUES.

Hours later, Caos returned home.

Alone.

The mansion was quiet.

The three maids were waiting in the living room.

Zeraphina stood first, one hand resting protectively over her belly.

She smiled.

“You handled it perfectly.”

Caos removed his jacket.

“Did I?”

Keyla laughed.

“Perfectly?”

She walked toward him.

“You made Ronaldo look like he wanted to challenge you to a match immediately.”

Caos smiled.

“He probably does.”

Michaela shook her head.

“Messi was incredibly humble.”

She paused.

“And Pelé's family looked genuinely proud.”

Zeraphina looked at him.

“They all understand something now.”

Caos raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Michaela answered.

“You aren't simply another footballer anymore.”

Keyla nodded.

“You've become part of their history.”

Caos looked toward the television, where the final image of the broadcast was still paused.

Messi.

Pelé.

Di Stéfano.

Ronaldo.

Generations of football.

Then he looked toward Zeraphina.Toward the child growing inside her.

For it was a new task for a new future.

Toward Keyla.

Toward Michaela.

His family.

“They are the past.”

His voice was quiet.

“We are the future.”

Zeraphina smiled.

Caos placed his hand gently over hers.

“I'll keep winning.”

Keyla smiled.

“Obviously.”

“I'll keep breaking limits.”

Michaela leaned against his shoulder.

“And?”

Caos looked at all three of them.

“For all of us.”

The violet energy surrounding him appeared for only a moment.

Not violent.Not destructive.

Warm.

Protective.

The three women gathered around him.

Outside, Madrid continued to live.

The world continued arguing about whether Caos was already the greatest.

Inside the mansion, he wasn't thinking about records.

He was thinking about what came after them.

The storm kept moving.

And somewhere beyond football, beyond crowns, beyond fame—

a new generation was waiting.

To be continued…