206. Sevilla vs. Real Madrid.

Time: Saturday, 27 January 2034 : 18:30 CET

Location: Estadio Ramón Sánchez-Pizjuán, Seville

The Ramón Sánchez-Pizjuán was alive.

A roaring sea of red and white.

Sevilla supporters sang without stopping. Drums hammered through the stadium. Flares burned against the Andalusian night, and the entire ground seemed to move with the sound.

Sevilla FC fans are known for their passionate support at the Ramón Sánchez-Pizjuán stadium, where over 35,000 supporters create an electric atmosphere

This was the fourteenth La Liga match.

And the atmosphere was different.

Personal.

The crowd chanted:

“SEVILLA! SEVILLA!”

Again.

Stronger with utmost passion.

Again.

Even stronger this time.

Again.

Even louder.

They wanted to see the violet storm stumble.

Even once.

Especially once.

Across the world, the match had already become an event.

Global Social Media Pulse : Pre-Match

#SevillaVsCaos : trending #1 worldwide, with 8.2 million posts in forty-eight hours.

Marca: “The Sánchez-Pizjuán is on fire tonight. Sevilla is ready to make this personal.”

The Athletic: “Caos has been unstoppable. But with this crowd behind them, Sevilla might create magic.”

A leaked clip from Caos's Triassic simulation went viral again.

Five-hundred-mile-per-hour bursts.

Three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-newton strikes.

Dinosaurs being used as training opponents.

The caption spread everywhere:

He trained with monsters. Sevilla is about to become prey.

Inside the Sevilla dressing room, Jesús Navas looked at his teammates.

“This is our house. The crowd is our twelfth player. We fight with everything we have. Tonight, we make history.”

Lucas Ocampos nodded.

“He has destroyed us before. But tonight this stadium is alive. We don't go quietly.”

Across the tunnel, Mbappé looked at Caos.

“Sevilla will come with fire. The crowd will be behind them. Stay cold.”

He smiled.

“But unleash everything when the moment comes.”

Xabi Alonso placed a hand on Caos's shoulder before they walked out.

“This place is alive. Play with control.”

He paused.

“Then let the new power flow.”

Caos said nothing.

He simply looked toward the pitch.

The three maids watched from a private box high above the stadium, dressed in black and violet.

Zeraphina leaned against the railing.

“Sevilla wants chaos.”

She smiled.

“They have no idea what real chaos looks like now.”

Keyla looked down at the thousands of supporters.

“The crowd is so loud.”

She laughed softly.

“This will be fun to watch.”

The Match

The whistle blew.

Sevilla attacked immediately.

No fear.No hesitation.

But utter conviction to win

They pressed high, threw themselves into duels, fought for every loose ball and used the stadium exactly as they had promised.

For twenty-nine minutes, it worked.

The crowd was deafening.

Every tackle was celebrated.Every Real Madrid mistake was greeted with a roar.

No matter what they tell, CAOS had arrived there to win.

Every time Caos touched the ball, thousands of voices screamed.

“SEVILLA!”

The match was ugly.

Physical.

Emotional.

Alive.

Then Caos received the ball in his own half.

He stopped.

For a moment, everything became strangely quiet around him.

His eyes lifted toward the sky.

His mother.

Then his father.

All these things matter to him .

Then the child who had not yet been born.

Caos breathed.

And disappeared.

500 mph.

The pitch became a blur.

Three defenders vanished behind him.

No one could come close to Caos at that speed.

Then five.

Then seven.

The Triassic Vortex began.

His body spun through the air, combining with Rauisuchian Fury into something violent and almost impossible to follow.

Nine Sevilla players collapsed in the sequence.

The crowd stopped singing.

Caos landed.

Seventy-four meters from goal.

He struck.

350,000 Newtons.

The ball accelerated to approximately 818 km/h.

For a fraction of a second, it seemed to disappear.

Then—

BOOM.

The net exploded backward.

1–0.

The stadium went silent.

One commentator's voice cut through it.

“Caos has the ball... from his own half... he's moving:my God, he's moving far too quickly! Sevilla cannot get near him! He's through! He's still going! Seventy meters from goal... HE'S HIT IT!”

“GOAL! CAOS! WHAT A STRIKE! SEVILLA HAVE THROWN EVERYTHING AT HIM FOR TWENTY-NINE MINUTES, AND HE HAS JUST BROKEN THE MATCH OPEN!”

Caos turned away.

No celebration.

Just one finger toward the sky.

Then he jogged back.

The second goal came in the thirty-fourth minute.

Sevilla launched a desperate counterattack.

Caos intercepted.

He activated Plateo Crush.

The ground trembled.

A seismic shockwave disrupted the entire attacking shape.

The ball rose.

Caos jumped.

His body rotated once.

Twice.

720 degrees.

A standing backflip volley.

From 53 meters.

He struck the ball while remembering the silence of his father.

The ball screamed into the upper corner.

2–0.

The commentator nearly shouted himself hoarse.

“CAOS AGAIN! HE'S DONE IT AGAIN!”

“The ball is still rising—BACKFLIP! VOLLEY! FROM FIFTY-THREE METERS!”

“WHAT ARE WE WATCHING?!”

Sevilla looked toward the scoreboard.

Two goals.

Five minutes.

And suddenly the impossible felt inevitable.

The floodgates opened.

Caos scored again and over again.

Then assisted.

Then scored again.

And again.

Sevilla fought.

They pressed.They tackled.

But it was not enough. it was in vein. Weakness and vulnerability could be seen on their faces.

They screamed.They refused to surrender.

It simply didn't matter.

By halftime:

Real Madrid 8–0 Sevilla

Caos had scored six goals and provided two assists.

The stadium was stunned.

Some Sevilla supporters continued singing.

Others simply watched.

Caos stood near the tunnel, breathing normally.

As if nothing extraordinary had happened.

The Second Half

The second half became something else.

Caos stopped playing within ordinary limits.

He became savage.

Spectacular.

Almost absurd.

The first new technique came from the edge of the penalty area.

Sauropod Stomp

One strike.

The ground shook.

The defensive line lost its formation.

Caos recovered the ball and finished.

Then came:

Herrera Snap

A movement so sudden and precise that the goalkeeper barely reacted before the ball had already passed him.

Then the sprint.

Five-hundred miles per hour.

From one end of the pitch to the other.

Caos reached the final third.

He jumped.

His body twisted backward.

A 57-feet chilena.

He struck the ball while thinking about the child waiting to enter the world.

Goal.

Again.

And over again. 

Take it then.

And again.

Seventeen times, the net had moved.

But Sevilla had found two moments of pride.

Two late goals.Two moments when the stadium remembered how to scream.

The final whistle came.

REAL MADRID 17–2 SEVILLA

Caos had scored:

13 goals.

And assisted:

4.

He stood alone at the center circle.

Sweat ran down his face.

His chest rose and fell.

He raised one finger toward the sky.

For his mother.

Then he pressed a fist against his chest.

For his father.

The stadium watched.

Even the Sevilla supporters had little left to say.

The commentator spoke more quietly now.

“The whistle goes.”

“Seventeen goals for Real Madrid. Two for Sevilla.”

“Thirteen goals from Caos.”

“Four assists.”

“Another night that will be discussed for years.”

“Sevilla came here believing the stadium could change the game.”

“For thirty minutes, perhaps it did.”

“Then Caos changed everything.”

MVP Announcement

Caos was named Man of the Match.

His 28th consecutive MVP award in all competitions.

The cameras followed him as he disappeared through the private exit.

The three maids were waiting.

Zeraphina looked at him.

“Thirteen goals.”

She shook her head.

“The world is already calling this your most spectacular performance.”

Caos gave a quiet smile.

“It was for her.”

He looked toward the sky.

Then his hand rested briefly against his chest.

“And for the child who will soon enter this world carrying both royal blood and cosmic chaos.”

The three women said nothing.

For a moment, there was only the distant sound of the stadium.

Seventeen goals.

Fourteen matches.

Another victory.

Another piece of the legend.

The fourteenth match of La Liga had ended in absolute annihilation.

The violet storm was alive.

Savage.

Unpredictable.

And somewhere beyond football, beyond records, beyond every opponent that had already fallen—

Caos still wanted something.

Someone.

Something capable of making him feel challenged again.

And that hunger was beginning to become dangerous.

To be continued…