"Phew."
Juan Ramon's eyelids trembled slightly.
At first, he thought he was seeing things.
But Ho-young was displaying threatening movements right at the front line.
Even upon second glance, it was a situation that defied belief.
Ho-young's positioning.
Naturally, he expected him to be deployed as an attacking midfielder, but once unwrapped, something completely different had come out.
"Damn it."
In truth, Juan Ramon had come prepared with tactics specifically to counter Ho-young.
His pre-match interview had merely been a smokescreen.
He had brazenly claimed not to care about Ho-young's playmaking, but the reality was the complete opposite.
He had poured an immense amount of time and effort into devising strategies to shut down Ho-young's playmaking.
It hadn't been easy, but he had successfully come up with ways to at least minimize damage.
But now this.
"Damn it all."
While the starting formation showed Ho-young as an attacking midfielder, he was actually playing the role of a central striker.
It felt like a punch to the back of Juan's head.
He had never even considered this scenario, and yet it had become reality.
"Ho-young, who's played as an attacking midfielder all season?"
It was no different from Real Madrid suddenly deploying Zidane as a striker.
Grit.
Juan Ramon bit down hard on his lower lip, his expression pale.
"Mandía, so this is how you stab me in the back."
The two managers had spent six years together at Real Madrid.
He thought they understood each other well, but clearly, he had been mistaken.
[At this point, we could almost consider it a two-striker setup. Ho-young is positioned on the left, while José Callejón is on the right in a narrow shape. Callejón appears to be playing slightly deeper. Their roles seem reversed.]
[They've twisted the tactics entirely. Juan Ramon must be completely rattled by now. While football tactics aren't exactly rock-paper-scissors, a surprise like this puts immense psychological pressure on the opponent.]
Just as the commentator said, Celta Vigo's defensive line had become mentally destabilized.
It was as if they were following a signpost and suddenly the sign disappeared, leaving them scrambling to find their bearings.
Juan Ramon urgently called over his captain to give new instructions, but they amounted to no more than a temporary fix.
[Adán's goal kick flies to the center. He's targeting Ho-young.]
[And once again, Ho-young wins the aerial duel. He's not just technically gifted, but also has great aerial ability. That's probably what this tactic is designed to exploit.]
Mandía's tactical plan was beginning to show its true form.
Starting with a goal kick into the middle, they were using Ho-young's aerial dominance to seize control of the midfield.
At the same time, Callejón and Ho-young maintained a tight pairing, drawing the central defenders inward.
This opened up space on the flanks, which the fullbacks were now exploiting.
The 4-4-1-1 formation was transforming into a 3-5-2 structure.
[It reminds me of the formation Argentina favored under Maradona 20 years ago.]
[The same tactics that led Argentina to a World Cup win, right?]
[It was a romantic tactic. These days, it's rarely used due to the isolation of the defensive midfielder, but Mandía has abandoned romance in favor of practicality. It's a tactic very much in line with modern football, and Tebar is executing the role brilliantly.]
With defensive midfielder Tebar at the center, Castilla's midfield was pressing Celta Vigo's middle tightly.
"Miguel! Tuck in more!"
Tebar shouted as he orchestrated both offense and defense.
Because Ho-young and Callejón were waging a fierce battle on the front line, they were forcing space open on the flanks.
Castilla had to capitalize on this.
Thud.
Miguel Torres, receiving a pass from Tebar, launched into an aggressive overlapping run.
He was no longer playing as a traditional fullback.
He was practically a right winger supporting Ho-young and Callejón.
"Left side is open!"
Celta Vigo's defenders were shaken by the fluid tactical changes.
Then it happened.
"Woo!"
Miguel, who had been attempting a breakthrough down the right flank, suddenly halted.
He had spotted Ho-young's movement, aiming to break the defensive line.
The ball left Miguel's foot immediately afterward.
Whoosh.
A curving pass sliced through the ground.
Ho-young broke the offside trap and pierced the space behind the defense.
What came next was a long dribble.
Tap!
A touch that stretched nearly two meters forward.
Ho-young burst forward at full sprint.
It was like watching a hurricane sweep through the pitch.
Pablo Contreras, assigned to mark Ho-young, immediately tried to close him down, but he couldn't match the pace.
Sensing the danger, Contreras instinctively grabbed Ho-young's jersey.
He hoped that even if he couldn't stop him entirely, slowing him down would allow a teammate to catch up.
But.
"What the…"
In an instant, Contreras's expression contorted.
Normally, such a pull would throw a player off balance and slow their dribble.
But Ho-young was anything but normal.
What was this combination of solidity and agility?
Ho-young gritted through it.
Teetering on the verge of falling backward, he somehow broke free of Contreras's challenge.
Once unshackled, Ho-young charged toward goal like a hound released from its leash.
About 14 meters remained to the goal.
Just seconds earlier, the 31-year-old veteran goalkeeper had charged out.
José Manuel Pinto launched himself forward.
It was an excellent decision, showcasing all the class of a seasoned veteran.
Against an average second-division striker, this would have been enough.
But the variable was genius.
Ho-young's unprecedented genius came alive.
Swish, swoosh.
"...!"
It happened so fast that Pinto couldn't even react.
In the blink of an eye, Ho-young slipped out of Pinto's reach with ghost-like dribbling.
Phantom Dribble.
There was no particular reason for it in that moment.
It was simply instinct.
He moved like that because he knew that was what would result in a goal.
As if it had been imprinted in him since birth, he moved according to what felt right.
And it was the right answer.
He had broken through.
A wide-open path lay ahead.
Ho-young's eyes gleamed.
Nothing blocked the sunlight streaming in from the front.
Both ears opened up.
The roaring cheers of the away fans pierced through them.
And next.
Ho-young struck with a right-footed inside kick.
The moment the net rippled, it ignited something in his chest.
"Woooooooh!"
The deadlock was broken in the 11th minute of the first half.
It signaled the beginning of a goal fest.
Five minutes later.
Just as the chants of the Real supporters had begun to settle down, another wave of cheers erupted.
[Ah, Ho-young! He's once again breaking into space behind the defense! It's as if he's been waiting for this day, sprinting without hesitation!]
[True goal-scorers do take a lot of hits due to tight marking, but pulling off surprise tactics like this from time to time seems to be a good idea.]
And he kept running.
Because over the past 27 matches, Ho-young had played with strict self-control, emphasizing mentality and technique over physical prowess.
So on a subconscious level, his body had been yearning for a day like this.
It was as if his legs were begging to run.
Not that he was out of control.
This was a whole different level from when he had once envied Douglas Costa's speed six years ago.
Now, he had fully made it his own, evolving into even faster legs.
He could now harness that talent with complete control.
Since becoming a football prodigy unlike any other, Ho-young could feel it in his bones.
It felt as if he had shattered an invisible wall.
Like all limitations had suddenly vanished.
That's why Ho-young ran like a madman today.
Treading the fine line between restraint and rampage, he exploded with the talent he had accumulated over the years.
Then.
"Woo!"
A shout from Callejón, who was about five meters away, reached him.
The right-side triangle of Tebar, Miguel, and Callejón had created yet another scoring opportunity for Ho-young.
Once again, it was a killer pass slicing into the back space.
What followed was Ho-young's signature kill-run.
He sprinted.
[Ah! It's open again! Celta Vigo's defensive line is breached for the second time in just eight minutes!]
[Woo, woo, woo, Woooooooo! Right-footed shot just in front of goal!]
Another one-on-one with the goalkeeper.
His body, heated by the storm-like sprint, was in a state of euphoria, but Ho-young's face remained perfectly calm.
Composure.
No word fit him better at that moment.
Ho-young calmly adjusted for the shot.
Tap.
A quick, low ground shot flew toward the right corner.
Veteran keeper Pinto didn't miss the moment.
With animal-like reflexes, he dove left and stretched out his hand.
Smack!
He felt the ball graze his fingertips.
He was sure he had stopped it.
But.
[Goal! Although Pinto got a hand on it, the ball deflected upward and spins into the net!]
The ball, deflected upward, was sucked into the goal.
With his second goal, Ho-young sprinted wildly toward the corner where the Castilla supporters were gathered.
At that exact moment.
[Terrifying Acceleration (S-) ↑]
His lightning-fast legs (A+3), rivaling a Lamborghini, had evolved.
At last, he had succeeded in directly upgrading an A-rank trait to S.
The emotion surged even deeper.
[You can now transfer Terrifying Acceleration (S-) to another talent. Would you like to proceed?]
'Absolutely not.'
If he transferred it to Dribbling Speed, he'd only improve his speed with the ball, but lose his base pace.
This was the talent that defined Ho-young.
It was one he could never give up for the rest of his career.
Thump.
His heart pulsed like it was dancing.
His excitement, already at its peak, threatened to break through the ceiling.
Having become a true speed demon, Ho-young soared through the air.
"Siuuuuuu!"
The supporters erupted with roaring cheers.
[Unbelievable. Is this really the play of a youth player?]
[Agreed. Even among pros, this is a performance worth applauding. This may be the most breathtaking scene of the entire season. It's absolutely exhilarating.]
It was utter chaos.
Some Celta Vigo home fans were even clapping in admiration, rather than jeering, at Ho-young's display.
All Pinto could do was stare in disbelief.
"Hey, Pinto!"
Then, a voice called out to him from far away.
"Don't get scared! This is just the beginning!"
It was Diego Costa, shouting with a fiery expression.
Costa, with his fierce competitiveness, couldn't stand this situation.
But at the same time, he was entering his peak.
Celta Vigo was a team that performed better when trailing.
Thanks to Diego Costa's game-changing presence.
He had often emerged as a savior when his team was down, pulling them back from the brink.
Now was one of those moments.
"This is going to be fun."
With a smirk, Costa locked eyes with Ho-young.
He stomped the turf with his studs and licked his lips.
A battle between football-crazed players was about to erupt to the surface.
(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.)