[Zlatan Ibrahimović]
[Possessed Talents: Ibracadabra (T), Ibracadabra's Acrobatic Kicks (SU), Sky-High Confidence (SS), Explosive Kicking Power (S 3), Brutal Physical Battles (S 2), Devastating Mid-Range Shot (S 2), (More...)]
(One talent can be acquired upon fulfilling the required conditions.)
(When acquiring a Title-grade (T) talent, partial sensory adaptation is possible. Must be over 18 years old to acquire.)
(Grade S and above require hidden conditions to be fulfilled.)
(Condition 1: Win 3 aerial duels in this match)
(Condition 2: Win by a margin of 3 goals or more)
(Condition 3: Record an attacking point in this match)
(Hidden Condition: Unlockable when at least one talent is acquired)
"Ibracadabra."
That was Zlatan's nickna, aning "everything goes according to Ibrahimović's will."
His unique talent, featuring acrobatic kicks like scissor kicks, volleys, and first-ti shots, was an extension of that.
'I can get it this ti.'
He had failed to acquire the talent during a previous match against Inter because he didn't fulfill the "score a hat-trick" condition. But with the opponent now being Barcelona, the conditions had changed.
That made it entirely possible this ti.
It was also the perfect opportunity to fulfill ssi's Hidden Condition 1: "Score a hat-trick."
As for Hidden Condition 2, which would allow him to acquire W-grade or SSS-grade talents, it was still too difficult and would require ti.
The match resud in the anti.
Tweet—
"Barcelona start the second half with an aggressive approach. Dani Alves pushes high into midfield. They're shifting into a 3-4-3 to try and gain control."
"Real Madrid aren't backing down either. Ho-young drops back to support in midfield."
As both teams battled for the ball, a storm began to brew in the middle of the pitch.
Possession stayed locked in midfield, neither team able to break through.
"Diarra intercepts the ball. It rolls to Ho-young."
"Pressure coming in imdiately!"
"Hold your space!"
Even before Ho-young could get control, Keita and ssi sward him from both sides.
But—
"Damn it."
"Shit."
Ever since acquiring Zidane's talent, Ho-young's ability to escape pressure had drastically improved. He smoothly turned his body to get past ssi.
Then, after shaking off Keita, he delivered a through ball to Ronaldo on the left.
"Ho-young showcases incredible pressure resistance! No trace of hesitation. His movents escaping the press are smooth and refined."
"At the sa ti, he threads a killer pass into the space behind the left side!"
Dani Alves, who had pushed forward earlier, rushed back frantically, but Ronaldo reacted quicker.
Thud!
"Cristiano Ronaldo charges down the left touchline!"
Uwooooooooh!
"¡Vamos Ronaldo! ¡Vamos Ronaldo!"
Voices chanting Ronaldo's na erupted from the small away section.
Then ca the next mont—Ronaldo's lofted pass.
"Ronaldo chips the ball!"
"It goes over Carles Puyol!"
"Van Nistelrooy is in position!"
"Turns and fires a shot!"
Thud!
Victor Valdés.
In peak form, he showed world-class reflexes and agility, blocking the shot.
But the shot ca so quickly that he couldn't catch the ball.
It deflected high into the air on the right side.
And then—
"Gasp."
Standing there was Ho-young. He took a breath and smashed it with his right foot.
"A volley shot!"
The speed was blistering. Valdés stood frozen on the spot, unable to react.
The net rippled violently.
Rip!
"Goooooooal! It's in! Ho-young scores another! That's his 11th league goal!"
"He really cos alive in El Clásico. He moves past David Villa into second in the scoring charts. Only Lionel ssi remains ahead."
"Whooo!"
After scoring, Ho-young leapt and perford the original "Sii" celebration.
Before it even ended, Ronaldo and Van Nistelrooy rushed over and wrapped their arms around Ho-young's head.
"Valdés looked completely dazed."
"That was thanks to that fantastic turning shot earlier!"
But the good news didn't end there.
[You have acquired Van the Man's Finishing (SU).]
[You have successfully synthesized Finishing of the Football Emperor (SU) and Van the Man's Finishing (SU).]
[You have acquired Peerless Finishing Ability (W 2).]
[Ti required to fully acquire the talent: 300 days → 50 days.]
[You cannot acquire any new talents during this period.]
'Finally.'
After eting the difficult condition of "scoring 15 goals in matches alongside Van Nistelrooy," he finally acquired the talent.
And even synthesized it into a W-grade talent.
Naturally, a question ca to mind.
'How do I combine a W-grade with a Triple-S grade?'
He still didn't know.
But one thing was clear—his growth potential hadn't hit its ceiling yet.
And the limit was not far off.
2-0.
The crowd at Camp Nou sank into despair.
They had already suffered two defeats last season.
The 90,000 cules groaned with frustration.
It was only a two-goal difference, but they couldn't see any hope for a coback.
Once again, because of Ho-young.
"That bastard. If I ever see him in the street, I'll break both his legs."
"He's got to be doping. How is he still this fresh after running like that all ga?"
"Damn it! If we lose today too, I might actually do sothing crazy."
"What the hell is wrong with our idiots? Are they trying to hand the win to Puta Madrid on purpose?"
"Hey! Abidal! If you're injured, stay ho and rest. Why co out and screw up on the pitch?"
So of the toxic cules vented their rage like a broken faucet.
They finally exploded.
No matter how beautiful Barcelona's football was, losing to Real Madrid made it aningless.
Still, the support didn't stop.
Ironically, the more hopeless it beca, the louder the cheers got.
"The match heads into the 65th minute. Possession is even, but Real Madrid still holds the montum."
"But Barcelona aren't going down without a fight."
Barcelona's counterattack was fierce.
But strangely, ssi and Zlatan couldn't connect properly.
As the match slipped out of control, ssi eventually began shouting in frustration.
"Ugh!"
He couldn't bring himself to scold his teammates directly, so he swallowed his anger.
He was especially frustrated with Zlatan.
'Damn it. I could've scored two goals by now.'
Zlatan, who had been brilliant earlier in the season, was completely off-form today.
It got worse in the second half.
With Ho-young dropping into midfield, using his pace and physical strength to defend, the slower Zlatan was completely neutralized.
'If only I had played in the center myself...'
The thought crossed ssi's mind. He stopped looking at Zlatan and kept driving through the middle on his own.
Their movents started clashing from that point onward.
"This match is going terribly for Barcelona. It's not an exaggeration to say this is their worst performance of the season. anwhile, Real Madrid's play just keeps getting sharper."
Today, the difference in quality between the two biggest clubs in the world couldn't be clearer.
Dominance.
Madrid's attack had reached its peak.
Ho-young, Douglas, and Ronaldo constantly rotated between the right, forward, and center, tearing apart Barcelona's defensive structure.
Even though they switched to zonal defense, it didn't solve the problem.
Ronaldo had the edge over Keita, Douglas had the advantage against Piqué, and Madrid continued to maintain favorable matchups.
Then ca the 76th minute.
"Let's switch directions this ti."
"Alright."
As Barcelona's pressing weakened from fatigue, Ho-young moved up to the second line, leaving Alonso's side.
The mont Alonso received the ball, Ho-young shifted to the left.
That's when he received the pass.
Thud!
"Ho-young takes a couple of touches and drives forward. Dani Alves is waiting for him."
"Still trying to break through with dribbling."
Dani Alves, who had already made several mistakes today, approached Ho-young with a snarl.
'I may not be able to stop Ronaldo, but I will stop Ho-young.'
Even if the team lost, he couldn't afford to be nad the "worst player" of the match.
That kind of label ant unimaginable backlash from fans.
Then it happened.
Thud!
"Ho-young cuts to the right!"
'Knew it.'
Alves had already anticipated it and stepped in to intercept.
He was confident in his reflexes, thinking he had it covered.
And he might have, too.
But there was one thing he didn't know.
When it ca to dribbling, Ho-young was a step above Ronaldo.
"Tch...!"
Ho-young didn't stop at a simple cut. He spun in the opposite direction.
A clean, textbook Marseille Turn.
"Shit!"
Alves, leaning left, got caught completely off balance.
Ho-young twisted past him as smoothly as if his body were coated in oil.
Still, Alves wasn't going down so easily.
He had to stop him, no matter what.
So—
Whack!
He went for a kick.
His right leg lashed out toward Ho-young's thigh.
Unfortunately, Ho-young's reflexes and agility, though elite, weren't superhuman. He couldn't dodge it.
He was knocked off balance and tumbled outside the touchline.
Tweet!
Play was stopped imdiately, and teammates and dical staff rushed over.
"Oh my. That was outrageous."
"A kick? This is just as bad as Pepe's ltdown last season!"
Alves had a fierce look, so he had a reputation for being a dirty player, but that wasn't entirely fair.
He simply lost his head in the heat of the mont.
Still, unsportsmanlike conduct couldn't be excused.
"I'm sorry. It was a mistake."
Alves protested his innocence, but the decision was clear.
He was sent off.
Whether it was ho advantage or bribes, the referee had no choice but to issue a red card here.
"Dani Alves is sent off. But more concerning is Ho-young's condition."
"Aaaah, fortunately, he's getting up with help from the dical team."
Thankfully, the tackle had missed his knee.
It only grazed his thigh, but the stud marks ripped his skin, and blood poured out.
Still, the injury wasn't enough to stop Ho-young.
After stopping the bleeding and wrapping the wound, he walked back onto the pitch.
With the team up 2-0 and Alves sent off, it would have been fine for Ho-young to be subbed out.
Scolari had already instructed him to co off.
But walking away now felt too bitter.
"If it gets bad, I'll co off right away."
"Go easy. It's more important to play long than to play hard."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Ho-young stepped into the penalty area.
At the sa ti—
[OUT 2. Álvaro Arbeloa]
[IN 28. Marcos Alonso]
Marcos Alonso ca on as left-back.
It was his La Liga debut at 18 years old.
"Marcos Alonso finally steps onto the La Liga stage."
"A special mont. Wearing the number 28 ans he's still registered with the Castilla B team. He'll be hoping to make his mark and earn a lower number soon."
Scolari subbed Marcos in because with Alves gone, Madrid's left side now had more freedom.
Also, Marcos was known for his precision in crosses and free kicks.
Ho-young gave him a pat on the back.
"Just play comfortably. We'll cover for you."
Reassuring, to say the least.
"Thanks. Let's do this like when I debuted for Castilla."
As Ho-young moved into the box, Marcos counted silently and delivered the ball.
"A cross into the center of the box!"
"Van Nistelrooy charges toward the ball!"
In just a mont, a lot happened.
Van Nistelrooy headed for the goal, while Ho-young slipped back outside the box.
Van Nistelrooy won the aerial duel first.
But—
Tap.
The ball didn't go toward goal. It was headed outward.
A header pass, not a header shot.
The set-piece routine they had practiced for days.
The finishing point was here.
"Young! Young! Is he going to strike it?"
"A volley shot!"
Defenders threw themselves to block, but the shot ca too fast.
Two beats too fast.
Rip!
Ho-young's third goal, plunging the night at Camp Nou into silence.
"A hat-trick! Ho-young completes a hat-trick! That's his 12th league goal, tying Lionel ssi at the top of the scoring chart!"
Uwoooooooooooh!
"You bastard! Go die!"
"Go back to your country, you demon!"
Furious Barcelona fans tried to storm down from the stands, but Ho-young calmly walked past the stands with both arms raised.
Eventually, he arrived in front of the away section.
Thousands of Madrid fans who had traveled to Barcelona greeted him with wild cheers.
The match ended with Ronaldo scoring a final goal, sealing a 4-0 victory for Real Madrid.
It had been tough, but the reward was imnse.
[Ibracadabra's Acrobatic Kicks (SU)]
[Perfect Focus (SS 2)]
He had even pre-acquired talents from Zlatan and ssi.
This season, he was ready to make a real statent.
(To be continued.)
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