Oriol stood there looking completely confused.
On the touchline, head coach Raul’s face was flushed red, violently punching the air with his fist.
Michael had subbed on at exactly the right moment.
He had dragged the squad out of a nightmare right when they needed him most!
Opposition manager Barry, on the other hand, was cursing furiously.
“For fuck’s sake!
It was two against one!
What the hell were you hesitating for?
Just square it early and tap it into the empty net!
Those two little bastards need a proper talking-to!”
The assistant coaches beside him all looked sick to their stomachs.
What kind of freak goalkeeper was this kid?
First a penalty save, and now a point-blank double save?
This was straight-up cursed!
The Leganés players were just as frustrated, especially Hernández.
Today, Michael had humiliated him so badly that his mentality was practically collapsing.
When Michael first ran onto the pitch, Hernández had been arrogant enough to think he could teach the rookie a brutal lesson.
Yet now, the whole stadium was laughing at him.
He had woken up to realize he was the whole circus!
…
Back on the pitch, Michael’s saves injected a massive dose of focus into the Santander players.
The team played with genuine control and confidence.
In the 70th minute, Raul subbed off Miguel, the goalscorer, and brought on an extra defensive midfielder to lock things down.
After all, Santander was a man down but still clinging to a one-goal lead.
Raul was gambling everything on parking the bus until the final whistle.
Seeing the tactical shift, Barry couldn’t sit still either.
He rapidly made two substitutions of his own, dragging off a midfielder for another forward and switching to an aggressive 4-3-3 to crank up the pressure.
Leganés swarmed forward again.
Their fresh winger, Philip, tried to break through down the left flank.
Oriol rushed up to defend.
Raising both hands into a bizarre stance, he began muttering aggressively under his breath.
“Mysterious mystic…
mysterious idiot power…
grant me strength!”
As he chanted, he dropped his center of gravity and burned a hole into the ball at Philip’s feet.
‘What the actual fuck is this?’ Philip thought.
Still, the winger confidently stepped over the ball, shoved it forward, and tried to blow past him.
Oriol’s body suddenly jerked.
“I bet you’re going left, mate!”
With one vicious kick, he poked the ball clean away, leaving Philip standing there looking like an idiot after dribbling nothing but air.
Watching the ball fly out of bounds, Oriol couldn’t help but mutter, “Mysterious power…
Michael is a god!”
Watching Oriol’s chaotic defending from the box, Michael felt his soul leave his body.
‘Bloody hell.
This Oreo guy really does learn whatever nonsense he sees.’
Leganés quickly regained possession.
Over the next ten minutes, Philip repeatedly tried to take Oriol on, but every single attempt was shut down by the Ghanaian using increasingly bizarre, unpredictable defensive methods.
Up in the booth, Jack was fascinated.
“Aside from rookie goalkeeper Michael Chen shocking the world today, Santander’s new full-back signed from Atlético Madrid is seriously worth talking about.
According to our live data, Leganés has not successfully beaten Oriol one-on-one in any meaningful sense.
I’m not sure if the viewers caught it, but Oriol is from Ghana, and the way he raises both arms while defending might be some sort of traditional Ghanaian intimidation ritual.”
“Of course, that’s purely a guess on my end. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Based on today’s massive performance, Oriol has every chance of locking down his place in Raul’s starting lineup for their next clash against Atlético Madrid B.”
While the broadcast praised Oriol, Raul was busy patting himself on the back on the touchline.
“Looks like shoving Oriol at full-back was the right call!
My eye for talent is just full of wisdom.” Raul curled his lips proudly, giving a smug little snort to the assistant coaches around him.
By the 85th minute, Leganés had battered the Santander defense for so long without a breakthrough that their legs were turning to jelly.
Their front line looked completely gassed, giving the home side a much-needed boost of confidence.
Captain Seth boldly carried the ball forward out of the back.
The Leganés players kept dropping deeper, while Seth constantly scanned the pitch for a killer pass.
But his teammates were static, nobody was making the right run.
Suddenly, Leganés forward Philip darted in from the blind side, rushing to pick his pocket.
Seth, startled out of his focus, panicked and instinctively stabbed a blind pass backward.
Philip managed to get a desperate boot on it.
As the ball deflected backward, it picked up a vicious inward spin.
After one bounce, it landed perfectly at Hernández’s feet.
At that exact moment, Michael was standing completely alone at the back.
He had pushed his position way too high, drifting dangerously outside of his penalty area.
Hernández immediately spotted the keeper off his line and went straight for the throat with an audacious lob.
The ball painted a rainbow-like arc through the night sky.
Every single eye in the stadium locked onto that ball.
Michael saw the shot fly and frantically started backpedaling, tracking the flight path.
Whoosh!
The ball was dropping straight for the net!
Michael chased back with everything he had, his lungs burning.
The ball violently smashed against the underside of the crossbar and rebounded like a bullet straight toward his face.
With no time to react, Michael panicked and instinctively threw out a fist to protect himself.
And punched the ball straight into his own net!
‘Shit!
I still can’t face danger head-on!
Rewind fifteen seconds!’ he chanted frantically in his heart.
Time rewound.
Back in the broadcast booth, Jack was screaming into the mic.
“Philip has won it!
The ball has somehow fallen straight to Hernández!”
“What is he doing?
Hernández has shot from distance!
Is that a lob?!”
“We can see that rookie goalkeeper Michael is positioned dangerously far forward!
Hernández has made a very brave choice here.”
“Michael is turning and sprinting back—wait, why isn’t he watching the ball?!
Michael has just casually stopped inside his six-yard box…?”
“The ball has smashed against the frame of the goal!
And it’s bounced perfectly into Michael Chen’s waiting arms!”
“Incredible!
Absolutely incredible!
That was an outrageously bold piece of goalkeeping from the youngster.
He must have perfectly judged the landing point in advance and mathematically decided the ball wouldn’t cross the line!”
After that breathless burst of commentary, Jack took a desperate sip of water before breaking down just how miraculous that piece of defending had been.
Once Michael hugged the ball tightly to his chest, El Sardinero erupted all over again.
Countless fans held their heads in disbelief, unable to form coherent words.
Michael’s ice-cold handling of the danger had set the whole stadium on fire.
“Fucking brilliant, Michael!”
“Unbelievable!
“What a strange player.
The kid predicted your prediction of the ball’s prediction…”
The home fans passionately belted out the club anthem, the sound echoing into the night.
On the touchline, Raul was already beyond drunk on happiness.
He looked like a man who had chugged two bottles of tequila, woken up, and immediately chased it with a crate of beer.
His whole body was swaying in a pleasant, smug daze.
“This is the player I scouted!
A kid with the icy presence of a general!”
The defenders rushed back to high-five Michael, and he just nodded calmly, as if getting almost lobbed from midfield was just another Tuesday.
Oriol stared at Michael in awe.
‘Michael definitely controls some kind of dark, mysterious power,’ he thought.
‘Tonight, Levis and I are definitely going to treat him like royalty!’
Michael suddenly caught the intense, weird look in Oriol’s eyes, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.
‘Damn it.
This Oreo guy isn’t planning something freaky, is he?
Maybe I should skip dinner tonight…’
Hernández stood dead in the center circle, staring blankly at the goal Michael was guarding.
At that point, his soul was just empty.
Michael Chen was now his sworn mortal enemy.
The next time they met, if he didn’t score at least a brace against this kid, he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror again.
If Michael had any clue what the striker was thinking, he would have dismissed it in a heartbeat.
…
Up in the stands, Levis stared at the fresh video on his phone, his hands slightly shaking.
He had originally started recording hoping to catch Oriol getting absolutely destroyed, only to accidentally film a masterclass from an unknown keeper instead.
Knowing damn well that Atlético Madrid B was desperate for a quality backup in goal, he quickly forwarded the clip straight to his coach.
The exact same thing was happening all over the stadium.
Several undercover scouts had already fired clips off to their respective clubs.
Major sports outlets were frantically drafting up post-match articles, just waiting for the final whistle to hit publish.
Once this match officially ended, Michael was going to blow up.
…
But down on the pitch, Michael had no idea that his name was already spreading like wildfire through the Segunda División network.
Back on the grass, Leganés had no stamina left to spend.
After both sides aimlessly drifted through the final three minutes of stoppage time, the referee finally blew the whistle.
The bloodbath was over.
Hernández dragged his feet over to Michael.
“Michael.
You’re the first keeper who has ever truly beaten me.
Can we swap shirts?”
Michael looked at the exhausted striker and smiled kindly.
“Of course, mate.
You’re an excellent player.
But I’m sorry—you just had the bad luck of running into me.”
Hearing that arrogant but polite reply, Hernández flashed a bitter smile, silently swearing that he would get his revenge next time.
Michael walked toward the touchline, where Raul grabbed him in a massive bear hug.
“Michael!
Beautifully done!
After you boys thank the fans, get cleaned up and come with me to the press conference.”
Raul wasn’t holding back his praise for a second.
Michael smiled, then jogged over to captain Seth, linking arms with the rest of the squad to applaud the supporters.
The fans roared warmly in response.
In a gritty city like this, where one club was backed by ultras who guarded the stands with their entire hearts, Michael truly felt himself becoming a part of the family.
Amid the endless cheers, the players finished their lap of honor.
After hitting the showers and washing off the sweat, Michael followed Raul straight into the flashing lights of the press conference.