Striker of The Gods

The Twelfth Thunder La Liga Matchday 12

Time: Saturday, 13 January 2034 – 18:30 CET Location: Visit Mallorca Estadi, Palma de Mallorca

The island of Mallorca was bathed in winter sun and electric tension. The Visit Mallorca Estadi was packed with home fans hoping to witness something historic — a moment where the violet storm finally stumbled. RCD Mallorca, fighting for survival in La Liga, had turned their modest stadium into a fortress of defiance. Banners read “Mallorca Resists” and “Even Gods Fall.”

Global Social Media Pulse (Pre-Match):

• #MallorcaVsCaos trending #1 in Spain (5.8M tweets in 24 hours)
• “Mallorca has heart. They might be the last team with the courage to fight.” — @Marca
• “Caos has scored 11, 10, 9 goals in recent matches and looked bored. Mallorca is about to feel the cold.” — @TheAthletic
• Viral clip of Caos’s latest forest training: 380 mph sprints through rain, 810 km/h shots that split ancient trees. Caption: “He trained like the world owed him war. Mallorca is about to pay.”

We know what he is. But this is our house. We fight with heart, with soul, with island pride. If we lose, we lose standing.

He has destroyed everyone. But tonight we make him feel the fight of a people who never surrender.

Mbappé (teammate, dressing room): Mallorca will press like madmen. They have nothing to lose. Stay cold, but play for her tonight.

Xabi Alonso (tunnel, hand on Caos’s shoulder): This is pride. Play with control. Honor the memory, but don’t let the past blind you.

The three maids were in a private box high above the pitch, dressed in black and violet. They had spent the day managing global narratives: new youth academy openings in Colombia, subtle messages of support for Leonor’s pregnancy, and countering Sofía’s quiet leaks.

Zeraphina: Mallorca wants war. Let them feel what a real storm looks like.

Caos:It may be said that the history of Mallorca is as long as its coastline. Were it not for the 555km (344 miles) of coast, we can be very sure that the island's past, present and future would be very different. Mallorca, like other major islands of the Mediterranean, has attracted a cornucopia of conquerors, invaders, settlers and tourists, who have all contributed to its richness and vital history. Today you can still see the remains of pre-historic settlements, medieval churches and fortresses, and of course the modern times.

Keyla: If they touch him wrong… this stadium might not survive the night.

The Match

: Here we stand, under a bruised Mallorcan sky where history demands an author. Two titans separated by miles but a galaxy of expectation. Real Madrid, led by the violet storm that has rewritten the laws of possibility. RCD Mallorca, the lions of the island, carrying the fire of their people in their chests. This is not merely a match. This is a reckoning.

Joining me tonight is the ever-insightful Guillem Balagué. Guillem, what must Mallorca do to even breathe the same air as this phenomenon?

They must make it ugly, Peter. Compact, physical, deny him space. But honestly… after what we saw in the forest training leaks, I fear for them. He is no longer playing football. He is conducting fate.

And here they come the colossus in white and the lions of Mallorca! Two histories colliding under these lights. But look at Caos… the way he walks… it is not a man entering a football match. It is destiny itself demanding an author.

The whistle blew. Mallorca pressed with island fire and soul, high press, aggressive duels, trying to make it chaotic and emotional. For twenty-five minutes they managed to make it tense and competitive. Muriqi nearly scored on a brilliant solo run.

Then Caos decided the game was over.

He received the ball in his own half, looked toward the sky with quiet reverence for his mother, and exploded at 359 mph. A new creation born from the forest solitude and the father’s final letter: The Unclaimed Legacy Vortex — a 1080° spinning aerial maneuver that left seven Mallorca players on the ground. From 71 meters he launched a 754 km/h strike that tore through the night like a violet comet.

1–0.

IT’S IN! Caos! A moment of destiny forged in the Siberian frost and the quiet pain of a son who lost his mother too soon! The stadium erupts in a symphony of awe and disbelief! A quite marvelous strike from Caos. Mallorca have been warned.

The second goal came in the 30th minute. Mallorca tried to counter. Caos intercepted with calm precision, dribbled through six players using the Self-Conquering Requiem, and finished with a standing 720° backflip volley from 50 meters while internally confronting the memory of his father’s silence.

2–0.

¡Gooooool! ¡Qué genio! Caos hace magia… ¡lágrimas en las gradas! Esto es poesía, esto es fútbol eterno! Asi se mete la pelota. Que genio. Que barbaro. Asi se hace.

By halftime the score was 7–0.

Caos had scored five and assisted two. Each finish was deeply personal — a quiet conversation with the ghosts he carried.

In the second half, he became transcendent.

He scored six more goals, each one a new chapter of self-overcoming and memory:

• A 82-meter no-look trivela dedicated to the child he had not yet held.
• A rabona volley from 54 meters for the mother who stayed.
• Then, in the 89th minute, with the score at 12–0, he received the ball at the halfway line, looked toward the empty royal box, and performed The Eternal Unclaimed — a 55-feet chilena that seemed to carry every unresolved pain before exploding into the net with apocalyptic beauty.

Final score: 14–1 (Mallorca scored a late consolation).

Caos had scored 11 goals and provided 3 assists.

He stood alone at the center circle after the whistle, one finger raised to the sky for his mother, the other fist pressed to his chest for the father who had finally spoken too late.

What a night of football! Caos has once again written his name across the stars. The theater pauses… but destiny still has more to write. A quite extraordinary performance. Eleven goals from Caos. Mallorca gave everything, but it simply wasn’t enough. ¡Final del partido! ¡Qué partidazo! Caos destruye todo lo que toca. ¡Atención al mundo! Este hombre no tiene techo. ¡Qué partidazo, familia! Caos pone a celebrar a toda la hinchada. ¡Majestuoso! ¡Dónde las arañas tejen su nido! Vamonos a casa.

MVP Announcement: Caos was named Man of the Match : his 25th consecutive in all competitions.

The three maids waited for him at the private exit.

Zeraphina: Eleven goals. The world is calling this the most dominant performance in modern football history.

Caos (quiet smile): It was for her. And for the child who will soon enter this world carrying both royal blood and chaos.

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

And with every passing game, Caos’s hunger for something — anything — that could finally challenge him grew sharper with every passing game.

To be continued…