While Callejón positioned himself at the far post, Ho-young took on the role of picking up second balls and loose balls.
Against tall, veteran defenders, the chances of winning an aerial duel were low.
Celta Vigo adjusted their defensive shape accordingly.
Given the free kick position was one that could easily lead to a goal, a fierce psychological battle unfolded even before the cross was delivered.
Especially around the penalty area.
Costa, the team's strongest aerial presence, positioned himself near the far post while staying ready to sprint out of the box for a counterattack at any moment.
Ho-young lingered nearby.
Twitch.
Costa flicked his mustache and smirked.
"You look confident."
"Of course I am."
Despite his young age, Ho-young showed no intention of backing down, which brought a pleased look to Costa's face.
That only made him happier.
'This kind of guy is fun.'
Beating someone like this felt far more satisfying than defeating a silent opponent.
"Remember this. I don't get scared just because my opponent is decent."
"I don't let my guard down even if my opponent is worse than me."
"Ha. That's some sky-high confidence. I've already injured two guys this season. How about asking the club if there's room in the hospital ward?"
"How about you look into a sperm bank in advance."
"Heh."
In that brief exchange, Costa found himself liking Ho-young.
Which only made him want to crush him even more.
His shoulders were practically shaking with excitement.
True to his nature, a sudden surge of anger rose up inside him.
"Just so you know, I'm not some washed-up old man like Kovačević. Even if you're good at football, this kind of fight is my specialty. And the ball is round."
It was a sincere warning.
But Ho-young did not respond any further.
He steadied his breathing and focused on reading the flow of the game.
Watching him, Costa also locked back into the match.
He was confident he could win.
And he was ready.
Perhaps he had been waiting for this very moment since kickoff.
This was the kind of battle he truly wanted.
A fight between men.
If he won here, it would be the same as winning the match itself for Costa.
Pride, competitiveness, self-esteem.
Those three were what drove him.
'Alright, let's collide.'
As Marcos planted his standing foot, Costa and Ho-young's backs slammed into each other.
In that instant, Costa poured all his strength into his shoulder.
That was when it happened.
"!"
Solid.
Like an old tree rooted deep into the ground, there was barely any movement.
Costa snapped fully alert.
'If it comes down to it, I can use my elbow.'
That dirty thought filled his mind.
Boom!
At that moment, Marcos's left-footed cross sliced through the air.
[A cross heading toward the far post! It curls in big! Is Mateos the target!]
[Ah! But before that, Miguel Torres leaps up in the middle!]
Thump!
The 184-centimeter-tall Miguel rose up and intercepted the cross in midair.
The ball glanced off his head and dropped near the edge of the penalty area.
Right where Ho-young had been lurking.
And in that split second.
A brutal battle for position erupted between Costa and Ho-young.
Slide.
In aerial duels, the key is who claims the better ground first.
And the one who got there first was Ho-young.
Outstanding positioning.
Sharp anticipation.
On top of that, superior jumping ability.
"Hup!"
Ho-young leapt high into the air with perfect timing.
Up to that point, it was flawless movement.
But there was one problem.
"...Tsk."
During the growth phase, age and physique could not be ignored.
As Costa's shoulder slammed into him, Ho-young was pushed slightly sideways.
Worse still, Costa subtly used his elbow, hidden from the referee's view.
No matter how solid Ho-young was or how experienced he was in physical battles, he could not simply endure an elbow like that.
'Hah.'
Just as that thought crossed Costa's mind.
"Huuk."
"...?!"
Costa's eyes widened.
Just before falling, Ho-young stubbornly regained his balance and stood back up.
'Why is he getting back up?'
He could hardly believe what he was seeing.
He had clearly been about to go down.
This was not some supernatural event.
If done well, it was possible to recover.
But still.
'Is he some kind of roly-poly doll?'
Was it really possible to do it that well.
In that short moment.
Seeing it up close, Costa could not help but be shocked.
After all, he only knew Ho-young on the surface, not what lay beneath.
The exceptional flexibility and balance that came from naturally strong musculature.
The outstanding agility born from a well-balanced body.
The harmony created by all of that was remarkable.
On top of that, Ho-young brought the ball fully under his control with artistic ball control.
Thump, thud.
A distinctive shoulder trap.
And what followed was a rough physical clash.
Thud!
As Ho-young shifted his center of gravity onto his broad back, Costa let out a groan.
His face crumpled like an empty drink can.
"...Ugh."
To make matters worse, Ho-young had already brought the ball under his feet.
It was unbelievable.
Even if Costa's physical development was not complete, he was still clearly superior to Ho-young.
There was about a six-centimeter difference in height, and at least a ten-kilogram gap in weight.
But the key point was this.
"Ghk."
The quality of muscle was different.
In the end, the one who won the battle for the ball was Ho-young.
'Damn it.'
Diego Costa.
In truth, despite his size, he was not particularly good in physical duels.
He was just aggressive and bold, not a striker who relied on physical battles as his main weapon.
'Ah.'
Only then did Costa understand.
No matter how young the opponent was, a professional was still a professional.
With that, Costa had no choice but to panic.
Ho-young, having won the duel, burst into the box with sharp acceleration.
If this continued, it would be a complete defeat.
He had to do something.
Anything.
'No.'
At times like this, one instinctive habit always surfaced, and this time was no different.
His hands.
Costa twisted his body and swung his forearm outward.
His fist clenched tightly, aiming for Ho-young's broad back.
Thud!
It was violent enough to make the sound audible.
And then.
Crash!
[Ho-young goes down inside the penalty box! He loses his balance and falls along with Costa!]
[Diego Costa, that is a clear foul. Anyone can see it was intentional. He just struck Ho-young in the back with his fist...]
But it did not end there.
Crack!
"Kgh!"
As they fell together, Costa's face was instantly battered.
As Ho-young went down, he stepped squarely on Costa's thigh.
Firmly.
"Aaagh!"
Tweet!
As the referee blew his whistle and rushed over, Costa cried out in pain and gestured in protest.
However, the judgment against Costa came first.
A red card.
Even while writhing in pain, Costa shouted his grievance.
"Ha... I was just reaching out to keep my balance, and he happened to be there. And before that..."
Suddenly, Costa spoke boldly without even giving the referee a chance to respond.
"That guy kicked me in the balls."
"Is that true?"
The referee glanced to the side.
Ho-young replied calmly.
"Referee, if I kicked him there with my knee, there's no way he'd be standing like that. If it were true, he'd be rolling on the ground clutching himself."
"That makes sense."
The referee nodded, fully agreeing.
It was only logical.
The referee looked back at Costa.
"Diego Costa, appropriate action will be taken against you."
The pitch had turned into a courtroom.
Amid the tense atmosphere, a second judgment was made.
The referee showed Ho-young a yellow card.
It was for the perceived intent when he stepped on Costa's thigh while falling.
"Only a yellow? I told you he kicked me in the balls."
"We'll review that after the match. If what you said is true, the league office will take appropriate action."
"You damn bastard!"
The fate of someone who could not control his anger.
Having failed his attempt to drag others down with him, Costa limped off the pitch.
Boos rained down from the stands, but the referee restarted the match.
Anyone could see it was a red card offense.
The referee awarded a penalty kick to Castilla.
Scrape, scrape.
The kicker was Ho-young.
He rubbed his studs into the grass as he prepared.
There was no need to be nervous.
A penalty kick heavily favored the kicker.
The one who should be afraid was not him, but the opposing goalkeeper, Pinto.
Ho-young fixed his gaze on the ball.
This single goal would decide the match.
'Stay calm.'
And composed.
Ho-young stepped back to create his run-up.
Right after the other players retreated outside the box, Marcos patted Ho-young on the shoulder and spoke.
"Even if you miss, nothing bad will happen. We're here."
That was right.
Football was a team sport.
Just like Kaká once said years ago, there were always ten teammates behind you.
There was nothing to fear.
"Hoo."
After taking one deep breath, Ho-young confidently planted his standing foot.
Short and precise.
Just two steps.
Slide.
Tap.
Thud!
"Woooooah!"
It happened in an instant.
Teammates roared and embraced Ho-young.
The ball was buried in the upper left corner of the net.
Ho-young's third goal.
A hat trick.
[Goooooal! Ho-young! Castilla take the lead!]
[Once again, the history of the Segunda División is rewritten. At the age of 14 years and 272 days, Ho-young becomes the youngest player to record a hat trick. A record shattered by a massive 747 days.]
A hat trick.
A nightmare of a record for Celta Vigo.
Watching the match with bated breath, Coach Juan Roman's face flushed red.
'Damn it...'
As his awkward expression appeared on the big screen, Juan turned away and returned to the bench, hiding his hardened face.
It was despair.
With Costa sent off, the chances of a comeback were slim to none.
All they could do was cling to a faint hope.
But that hope did not exist.
Once the momentum fully shifted to one side, there were no further twists.
The match dragged on, and around the 92nd minute.
The final whistle echoed through Balaídos Stadium.
Ho-young's gaze shifted toward one section of the stands.
He spotted Costa sitting there, suppressing his anger.
Looking at him, Ho-young slowly curled one corner of his lips upward.
[Diego Costa]
[Possessed Talents]
Football Prodigy (A+2)
Burning Competitive Spirit (A+3)
Reliable Finishing (A+2)
Penetrating Off-the-Ball Runs (A+2)
Reckless Boldness (A-)
(More...)
(Condition 1: Score more goals than Diego Costa)
(Condition 2: Be selected as Man of the Match in this game)
Gulp.
"Thanks for the meal."
The sense of satisfaction was overwhelming.
(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.)