230. Valladolid gets exterminated by Caos

Saturday, 31 March 2034 :18:30 CET

Estadio José Zorrilla, Valladolid

The Estadio José Zorrilla was full.

Purple and white filled the stands from the lower rows to the highest sections. Flags moved above the supporters. Scarves hung over railings. The noise never really stopped.

Real Valladolid were fighting for survival.

They knew what had happened to Alavés the previous week.

They had watched the match.

They had studied it.

And they had decided that copying Alavés would not be enough.

So they changed the plan.

Their coaches had built another aggressive 5–4–1, but with several adjustments.

Three players would follow Caos whenever he entered dangerous areas.

The midfield would collapse immediately around him.

Tactical fouls would stop him before he could reach full speed.

The wing-backs would press high.

Whenever Valladolid recovered possession, they would send the ball forward immediately and attack the space behind Real Madrid.

It was risky.

But Valladolid were not interested in surviving the match quietly.

They wanted to fight.

GLOBAL MEDIA

#ValladolidVsCaos reached #1 in Spain, with approximately 7.4 million posts in 36 hours.

@Marca:

“Valladolid have prepared a new defensive structure specifically for Caos. They believe aggressive pressure and triple marking can disrupt his rhythm.”

@TheAthletic:

“Caos has produced another extraordinary run of scoring performances. Valladolid now face the same question every opponent has faced: how do you contain him?”

A video from Caos's latest training session went viral.

He accelerated through the forest.

500 mph.

Then came another sequence.

A 350,000-Newton strike.

Then footage from the Triassic simulation, where he fought enormous prehistoric creatures.

The caption was simple:

“They prepared new tactics. He prepared against monsters.”

VALLADOLID DRESSING ROOM

Stanko Jurić stood in front of his teammates.

The noise from the stadium could already be heard through the walls.

He looked at each player before speaking.

Stanko Jurić:

“We know what we're facing.”

He paused.

“But we're not going to spend ninety minutes waiting for him.”

His fists tightened.

“We press. We fight for every ball. If we lose it, we win it back immediately.”

He looked toward the door.

“This is our stadium.”

Raúl Moro nodded beside him.

Raúl Moro:

“He has destroyed almost everyone who tried to play normally.”

He took a breath.

“So don't give him a normal match.”

Several players nodded.

“We make it uncomfortable from the first minute.”

Caos sat quietly on the bench.

Mbappé walked over and sat beside him.

Mbappé:

“Valladolid are going to copy some of Alavés.”

Caos looked toward him.

Caos:

“They won't copy everything.”

Mbappé smiled.

“No.”

He leaned forward.

“They'll try to improve it.”

Caos stood and adjusted his shirt.

Caos:

“Then I'll improve too.”

Mbappé laughed.

Mbappé:

“That's what I wanted to hear.”

THE TUNNEL

Xabi Alonso stood beside Caos before the teams walked onto the pitch.

The roar from José Zorrilla was enormous.

Xabi placed a hand on Caos's shoulder.

Xabi Alonso:

“They'll change their shape depending on where you move.”

Caos looked through the tunnel toward the pitch.

Caos:

“Then I'll make them choose.”

Xabi studied his face for a moment.

Xabi Alonso:

“Don't chase the match.”

Caos nodded.

“Read it.”

Caos took one final breath.

Then the teams walked out.

THE PRIVATE BOX

Zeraphina, Keyla, and Michaela watched from above the pitch.

Zeraphina's hand rested over her growing belly.

She watched Valladolid's players form their defensive shape during the warm-up.

Zeraphina:

“They watched what happened in Vitoria.”

Keyla leaned against the glass.

Keyla:

“They're hoping the same idea works twice.”

Michaela looked toward Caos.

Michaela:

“They've already made one mistake.”

Keyla turned toward her.

“What?”

Michaela smiled.

“They assume he'll attack them the same way.”

Zeraphina laughed quietly.

Zeraphina:

“That's usually the mistake.”

HERE WE GO!

The whistle blew.

Valladolid attacked immediately.

Their first press came within seconds.

Caos received the ball near the halfway line.

Three players closed around him.

He passed backward.

The crowd roared.

Valladolid pressed again.

The second time Caos received possession, a midfielder stepped into his path before he could accelerate.

A tactical foul.

The referee blew the whistle.

The supporters applauded.

Valladolid were making their intentions clear.

The La Liga commentator described the opening minutes.

KEMPES:

“Valladolid have started exactly as expected. They are closing around Caos before he can turn, and they're not allowing him the open field he normally uses to accelerate.”

Real Madrid circulated the ball.

Caos moved.

He didn't force anything.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Fifteen.

The Valladolid structure remained intact.

Every time Caos moved toward the penalty area, three players shifted with him.

At twenty minutes, he tried to break through the left side.

Two defenders closed.

The third arrived.

Caos passed.

Valladolid recovered.

The stadium erupted.

For the first time, their supporters believed the plan might actually work.

Thirty minutes.

Still 0–0.

Then Valladolid launched a counterattack.

A long ball flew toward the right wing.

The attacker controlled it and fired across goal.

The shot went wide.

The crowd groaned.

Real Madrid restarted.

Caos stood in his own half.

He looked at Valladolid's defensive structure.

Five defenders.

Four midfielders.

Three players prepared to collapse on him.

He watched them for several seconds.

Then he smiled.

COME ON CAOS! DO IT!

The ball came to him.

Three defenders moved.

Caos did not accelerate.

He waited.

One defender stepped closer.

Caos touched the ball left.

The defender followed.

Caos touched it right.

The second defender moved.

The third committed.

That was enough.

Caos suddenly turned.

His body dropped forward.

Then—

500 mph.

The Triassic Vortex activated.

He tore through the gap before the three defenders could close it.

One.

Two.

Three.

Gone.

Is it a plane?

Is it a dinosaur?

NO!

IT IS THE STORM.

The stadium fell silent.

Caos crossed the halfway line.

Then he reached 78 meters from goal.

He planted his foot.

His body rotated.

The strike came with approximately 350,000 Newtons of force.

The ball accelerated toward the goal at 839 km/h.

The goalkeeper reacted.

Too late.

The net snapped violently backward.

The La Liga commentator shouted:

La Liga Commentator:

“GOAL! CAOS!”

He paused as the replay appeared on the stadium screens.

“Thirty-five minutes of Valladolid's defensive structure holding together—and then one movement destroys the entire shape!”

Caos looked upward.

His expression became quiet.

He thought of his mother.

Then he touched his chest.

No elaborate celebration.

Just remembrance.

The home side immediately altered its positioning.

The midfield pushed higher.

The wing-backs advanced.

The defensive line moved closer to the halfway line.

It gave Caos more space.

And he took it.

2–0

Plateo Crush.

Caos struck the ground.

A shockwave disrupted the defensive line.

He collected the loose ball.

Goal.

3–0

A Herrera Snap from outside the box.

4–0

A 500-mph run through the center.

5–0

A first-time finish after a Mbappé assist.

Valladolid continued fighting.

But every adjustment created another weakness.

By the final ten minutes of the first half, Caos had scored again and again.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

The stadium had gone from confidence to stunned silence.

Valladolid's players still pressed.

They still chased.

But they were beginning to understand that every tactical adjustment had consequences.

Caos found the spaces between those adjustments.

At halftime:

Caos had scored 17 goals.

He had also provided several assists.

THE SECOND HALF

The Valladolid players returned to the pitch determined to continue.

They did not abandon their shape.

They changed the details.

Caos noticed immediately.

Xabi Alonso approached him before play restarted.

Xabi Alonso:

“They've changed the midfield.”

Caos looked toward the opposite half.

Caos:

“They're trying to stop the passes now.”

Xabi nodded.

Xabi Alonso:

“What does that give you?”

Caos smiled.

“Space.”

Xabi stepped away.

Xabi Alonso:

“Use it.”

The second half became faster.

Caos stopped attacking only through direct runs.

He began using the entire field.

He dropped deeper.

He dragged defenders toward him.

Then he released the ball.

Mbappé attacked the space.

Caos followed.

A return pass.

Goal.

Another attack.

Another assist.

Then Caos accelerated again.

The ball came high into the penalty area.

Caos watched it.

Then jumped.

Higher.

Higher.

Even higher than everyone could see.

His body rotated backward.

He reached approximately 64 feet above the ground.

Then his foot met the ball.

The strike was perfectly clean.

The ball flew into the upper corner.

Goal.

The La Liga commentator shouted:

La Liga Commentator:

“ANOTHER ONE!”

His voice rose.

“A 64-foot chilena from Caos! The timing, the elevation, the technique—everything was perfect!”

Caos landed.

He turned toward the private box.

Zeraphina was standing.

One hand rested over her belly.

Leonor's child.

And the child growing inside Zeraphina.

Caos pointed toward them.

Then touched his heart.

Late in the match, Valladolid finally found a weakness.

Real Madrid's defensive line had pushed high.

A long ball went behind it.

The Valladolid attacker reached it first.

One touch.

A second.

Then a finish into the corner.

José Zorrilla erupted.

The players celebrated together.

Caos watched them from the center circle.

He smiled.

A few minutes later, Valladolid scored again.

Their supporters celebrated even louder.

They knew the result was already beyond reach.

But those two goals belonged to them.

They had fought until the end.

The final minutes passed quickly.

Caos scored three more.

The referee finally checked his watch.

Then blew the whistle.

Real Valladolid 2–26 Real Madrid

Caos:

• 20 goals
• 6 assists
• 41st consecutive Man of the Match award in all competitions

The players stopped.

Caos stood near the center circle.

The noise around him continued.

He looked toward the sky.

His right index finger rose.

His left fist pressed against his chest.

His mother.

His father.

The people he had lost.

The people still beside him.

Then he lowered his hand.

The private exit was quieter.

OUTSIDE

Zeraphina, Keyla, and Michaela waited for him.

Zeraphina stepped forward.

Her hand remained over her belly.

She looked at Caos for several seconds before smiling.

Zeraphina:

“Twenty.”

Caos smiled.

Caos:

“Twenty.”

She shook her head.

Zeraphina:

“Every week I think you've reached the ridiculous point.”

She stepped closer.

“And then you do this.”

Caos laughed softly.

Caos:

“I still have work to do.”

Zeraphina looked at him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

Zeraphina:

“Of course you do.”

She placed her hand against his chest.

“The whole world will talk about this match.”

Caos covered her hand with his own.

Caos:

“Let them talk.”

He looked down at her belly.

Then back at her.

Caos:

“I don't train for them.”

His voice became quieter.

“I train because I want the people I love to have something stronger than fear.”

Zeraphina's expression softened.

Zeraphina:

“And the children?”

Caos looked at her belly.

“They don't owe me anything.”

He paused.

“Not my career. Not my name. Not my legacy.”

His hand rested gently over hers.

“They get to choose their own lives.”

Keyla smiled.

Keyla:

“Even if one of them decides football is boring?”

Caos looked at her.

“Then I'll learn whatever they love.”

Michaela laughed softly.

Michaela:

“That's probably the first sensible thing you've said all night.”

Caos smiled.

“Probably.”

The four of them stood together for another moment.

No cameras.

No reporters.

No stadium noise.

Just family.

The twentieth La Liga match was over.

Valladolid had studied Alavés.

They had built another aggressive structure.

They had surrounded Caos.

For thirty-five minutes, they kept him contained.

Then he understood the pattern.

And once he understood it, he changed the way he played.

26–2.

Twenty goals.

Six assists.

Another Man of the Match.

Another opponent forced to rethink its strategy.

And somewhere beneath Madrid, Erebus was still working on the Dragon Protocol.

Because football was no longer the only thing Caos intended to change.

come on! this is not even the beginning. This should get bigger.

To be continued…