Atletico de Madrid.
Often abbreviated as ATM or AT Madrid, they had long been considered a top five team in La Liga.
Of course, they could not challenge giants like Real Madrid and Barcelona, but among Valencia, Athletic, and Sevilla, they were never inferior, a genuine powerhouse in La Liga.
They were especially known for developing attackers. Notable players who had co through their youth system included Raul Gonzalez and Fernando Torres.
Then, in 2007.
After selling Fernando Torres to Liverpool for 20 million pounds, they brought in Diego Forlan to fill the void and achieved the excellent result of qualifying for the Champions League.
However, an entirely unexpected problem erged.
It was this season.
The self-proclaid "Big Three of La Liga" title rang hollow as their performances collapsed, and before they knew it, they were sitting on a disastrous record of 2 wins, 1 draw, and 3 losses.
The reason was their shockingly poor defense compared to their formidable attack.
In particular, their starting defenders were simply too old. Late in the first half or once the match passed the 70th minute, they would concede goals even against weaker teams.
Yet they could not easily field younger players either, since most of them lacked both experience and ability.
This was Atletico's chronic problem, and it beca even more pronounced against strong opponents.
That was why they had conceded five goals to Barcelona in the previous match.
[We've just passed the 30-minute mark of the first half, and Atletico's back line is clearly covering less ground.]
[anwhile, Raul and Ho-young, who are leading Real Madrid's attack, are becoming more active. It looks like they're burning the energy they saved for the latter stages of the half. Let's see what kind of movent they show.]
Pass completion rate, number of completed passes, touches, possession.
Real Madrid was steadily raising all those numbers.
As Paulo Assuncao and Johnny Heitinga began to tire, Zidane was given more and more space, and that was the result.
The score was only 1-0.
Atletico could not feel safe at all.
Every ti Real Madrid touched the ball, the ho fans tried to disrupt them with chants of "Puta Madrid," but as ti passed, even that lost its impact.
[Ho-young is showing so dangerous movent. He looks more and more comfortable on this stage.]
[That's right. Since this is his first local derby after moving up to the first division, he did look a bit tense earlier, but now he's looking much better.]
With Zidane pushing from behind and Raul pulling defenders forward, there was nothing to fear.
It felt like having an entire army at his back.
As Ho-young's movent ca alive, the comntators' voices grew louder.
[Ho-young slips past Assuncao, lays it off to Raul, and sprints into the box.]
[Raul's lofted pass cos right away, but it's a bit too long. Gregory Coupet is already off his line.]
[It doesn't lead to a shot, but it was a good chance.]
[And imdiately after that, Atletico counter. The ball drops to Aguero's feet!]
Atletico were not just sitting back and taking it.
They focused on defense, but whenever an opportunity arose, they launched counters to make the most of it.
Unfortunately for them, Aguero's shot was punched away by Casillas, and the rare chance ca to nothing.
[Aguero's shot just misses.]
[It'll be interesting to see which of these two standout young attackers scores first.]
[Exactly. That's one of today's key points. They're tied in the La Liga scoring charts, after all.]
An age of warring states.
This La Liga season was fiercely competitive from the start.
With two young attacking prospects, Ho-young and Aguero, locked in a scoring battle, fans found themselves even more drawn in.
Many agreed that these two were the only prospects capable of challenging ssi this season.
Ho-young himself thought the sa.
'Argentine players really do have the best talent.'
From Ho-young's perspective, Sergio Aguero's talent was astounding.
The comparisons to Brazilian legend Romario were not made lightly.
'Among all the twenty-year-olds I've seen, he's the best.'
If Bojan, another highly rated prospect, was praised mainly for his growth potential, Aguero already possessed both ability and potential in equal asure.
However, because of the condition of "winning a ho match," Ho-young could not fulfill every condition in today's ga.
'Still, I can et all the other conditions.'
To do that, he needed to score more goals than Aguero.
Ho-young's eyes sharpened.
A keen edge appeared in his gaze.
His off-the-ball movent grew sharper with every passing minute.
And then, in the 39th minute of the first half.
As Atletico's defense noticeably slowed, the opportunity finally arrived.
Zidane's deep build-up, which had been quietly tightening the noose, delivered a decisive chance to Ho-young.
[Zidane plays a short pass, Raul receives it with his back to the defender.]
[Raul slips a short pass to Ho-young!]
Zidane, Raul, Ho-young.
The triangle of the three unleashed terrifying power.
Raul received the ball from midfield and laid it off to Ho-young, who imdiately nudged it into space behind the defense.
At the sa ti, he sprinted forward.
[Raul darts into the space on the right side, receiving the return pass. Centre-back Luis Perea uses his speed to step in for a physical challenge!]
[Ah, this looks tough. Is he trying to break through anyway?]
Tap.
Raul chose not to dribble, but to chip a lofted through ball.
The softly lifted pass dropped perfectly at Ho-young's feet on the left side of the attack.
At that mont.
"Push him out!"
"Cut it, cut it!"
Defenders charged in, shouting like a stampede.
But Ho-young was already gone.
[Ahhh! A sudden, extended long dribble! Ho-young surges forward!]
At the sight of Ho-young exploding forward like a bullet, the stadium fell silent, as if soone had thrown water over the crowd.
The difference in acceleration left even the spectators feeling helpless.
To exaggerate, it was like a race between a rabbit and a turtle.
The gap in acceleration was even more severe, and Ho-young was already entering the penalty area.
Then, Ho-young's expression suddenly hardened.
"!"
He had spotted Gregory Coupet already halfway off his line.
As if he had anticipated the run, Coupet rushed out half a beat earlier, narrowing the shooting angle.
A seasoned veteran, indeed.
He was even prepared to throw himself into a save, fully expecting a long-range shot.
'I won't fall for it twice.'
Countless strikers had been frustrated in front of him.
He was a world-class goalkeeper with experience against Eto'o, Henry, Rivaldo, Raul, Van Nistelrooy, ssi, and many others.
Though his physical condition had declined due to chronic wrist injuries, his decision-making, anticipation, and reading of the ga remained outstanding.
Especially his ability to rush out and block shots was almost artistic.
He was confident he could stop it.
And then.
From about 17 ters out, Ho-young struck a mid-range shot.
"…!"
It was a shot half a beat faster, stealing the timing.
But Coupet had anticipated even that and launched himself instantly, arm outstretched.
Not a mont of hesitation.
However.
The key was not the speed of the release.
Boom!
The sound was so loud it felt as if the ball had exploded.
"…?!"
It was too fast.
Worse still, the ball had heavy spin, veering slightly outside Coupet's predicted angle.
Pulling off such a calculated shot in that split second was incredibly difficult.
With defenders closing in from all sides, most attackers' minds would go blank.
Even the best strikers struggled to stay composed.
But for Ho-young, this was not calculation.
It was instinct.
An ability that did not require conscious thought.
And he executed it perfectly.
A fast, precise strike that rendered Coupet's anticipation and experience useless.
As a heavy silence fell, as if ti itself had stopped.
Thud.
"Guh."
The power was overwhelming.
Far too powerful.
The ball grazed his fingertips, but that was not enough to alter its path.
It slamd perfectly into the right side of the net.
Rattle.
"Waaaaaah!"
"Wooooo!"
The Madridistas roared themselves hoarse at Ho-young's equalizer.
Coupet, on the other hand, looked utterly stunned.
"Damn it…"
To make matters worse, the desperate save attempt strained his wrist.
It was like a crack forming in a gate that had been tightly shut.
At that mont, an unexpected notification appeared for Ho-young.
[Powerful Cannonball Mid-Range Shot (A 3) ↑]
'Yes.'
As ti passed, everything was steadily improving.
His shooting touch, in particular, was on fire.
Just yesterday, he had fully integrated Cha Bum's thighs, and it was paying off.
'This is broken.'
It felt like he was turning into a beast.
As if he had installed so new, advanced technology into his body.
There were side effects, though.
His thighs sotis felt like they had a will of their own, and occasionally the power surged beyond his control.
His B-rank body balance talent was not enough to fully rein it in.
In a way, it was only natural.
It was like putting a jet engine into a supercar.
'Alright. Let's test it one more ti.'
The chance ca almost imdiately after play resud.
[Zidane sends a long pass into space behind the defense, taking advantage of the high line! Ho-young makes the run!]
The offside trap was rendered useless.
Breaking the defensive line with a perfectly tid run, Ho-young focused on the ball dropping toward the turf.
'A little more.'
Then.
Thump.
Ho-young brought it down cleanly with his chest.
[Ho-young! He drives forward like a bulldozer!]
[He keeps going! He's charging straight at goal!]
The run that began at the halfway line did not stop.
Even Luis Perea, known for his speed, could not keep up.
Ho-young was simply too fast.
As if telling everyone to get out of his way, he pulled away rcilessly.
It was not just skill, the physical gap was enormous.
Just before halfti, Atletico had pushed their line too high in attack, and it was a fatal mistake.
Ho-young did not miss it.
He shrugged off every defender without giving them a chance to close him down.
It looked as though he was playing football in a completely different world.
"What the hell is that?!"
"Is that guy on drugs?!"
Black Panther muscles, Cha Bum's thighs, Eto'o's explosiveness, Monica's body balance, storm dribbling.
A single creation born from countless talents.
To Atletico, he was a nightmarish hybrid.
"Fall over! Please just fall!"
Everyone prayed for Ho-young to make a mistake, but it never ca.
Their only hope was Coupet.
This ti, he did not rush out of the box.
He had learned his lesson just minutes earlier.
Instead, it beca a battle of nerves.
He focused entirely on Ho-young's movent, tracking him with his eyes until the very end.
He was determined to stop him inside the box.
"Hoo."
With the resolve that he would concede no more.
About one second later.
As Ho-young entered the box, he suddenly cut the ball sharply to the right and shaped his body for a right-footed shot.
He was clearly aiming for the open space at the right post.
Reading that, Coupet shifted his weight to the left.
He reacted quickly enough that, under normal circumstances, he would have stopped it.
But then.
"…?!"
Ho-young froze his shooting motion as if playing a ga, calmly dragged the ball with his heel, and abruptly changed direction to the left.
Impossible.
That thought echoed in Coupet's mind.
Controlling his body and changing direction at that speed?
How was that even possible?
[Ho-young with the Cruyff turn! He instantly opens up the opposite side!]
It was possible.
Defying common sense, Ho-young used a Cruyff turn, then calmly placed an inside-foot shot into the empty net.
Coupet, having completely lost his balance, could do nothing.
Perhaps Casillas, whose reflexes bordered on the divine, might have stopped it.
But Coupet was an aging veteran.
Rattle.
As the net shook, their expressions could not have been more different.
One smiled.
One despaired.
[Goooooal! Ho-young's second of the match! This is insane!]
[My word. How on earth can he be that calm in front of goal?]
Indeed, the Perfect Composure he had acquired from Ronaldo was flawless.
As Ho-young's brace sank Atletico, Coupet could only stare in disbelief.
"Huh?"
He replayed the mont in his mind but could not understand it.
He just blinked, blankly watching Ho-young's back.
'Is he even human?'
The thought was ridiculous, yet it crossed his mind anyway.
Goosebumps rose along his arms.
The most morable mont of his career had been facing Ronaldo of Brazil, but it felt like that mory might be replaced today.
This was serious.
Yet Ho-young, as if still unsatisfied, did not even celebrate and imdiately jogged back to the halfway line.
'The celebration is for after the hat-trick.'
The youngest hat-trick ever.
If he could achieve that in a derby, would there be any greater impact?
His challenge was far from over.
(To be continued.)
◇◇◇
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)
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