Chapter 11

The player running toward me was wearing an orange uniform similar to mine.

He was bald and looked ridiculously old for his age.

I knew this player.

He had been my teammate when I played as a center-forward for Bayern Munich.

His name was Arjen Robben, and he existed in this timeline as well.

He approached me and held out his hand.

Without thinking, I clasped his hand.

At that moment, his figure became blurry, turning into light that seeped into my body.

“What?”

The instant I thought that, a flat, emotionless voice echoed in my ears.

[Robben’s Macro.]

“Robben’s Macro…!”

[So Robben’s Macro was selected. What that means is—]

“You can stop explaining there.”

I didn’t need an explanation to know what Robben’s Macro was.

It had to be that distinctive move of his—cutting in from the wing toward the center and scoring, a pattern so famous that everyone knew what was coming and still couldn’t stop it.

I’d seen it myself.

I’d even tried to stop it while playing defense during training.

It seemed like such a simple pattern: start from the wing, cut inside, and score.

It looked like it should be easy to defend against.

But it wasn’t.

The timing of his cut inside was unbelievably precise, and the timing of his shot was just as difficult to predict.

That was why people said you knew exactly what Robben was going to do—and still couldn’t stop him.

Which meant that now that I’d obtained Robben’s Macro…

[You’ve inherited the experience that came to be known as the Macro.]

This was enormous.

I could now perform something Jang Ikdeok had never been able to do, even at the moment of his retirement, without needing any practice at all.

“This is a much bigger gift than I expected.”

[And thanks to that, we’re completely broke…]

The moment the Angel said that, the pure white world returned to normal.

I briefly closed my eyes and opened them again—

Then I was shocked.

No, why did you get so small?

The Angel, which had been about the size of an ordinary football, was now no bigger than a golf ball.

Seeing it desperately flap its tiny wings was almost pitiful.

[I used up all of your accumulated faith and every bit of my original power I could draw upon. This is the best state I can maintain. I won’t be able to remain here for long, either. If you accumulate more faith, perhaps I’ll be able to grow again.]

After saying that, the Angel soon disappeared.

It really seemed unable to stay in this world for long.

It had given me an even greater gift than I’d realized.

In that case, I should repay God by scoring goals with this ability and dedicating them to Him.

“Johan, what are you thinking about?”

“Ah? Nothing, sir!”

I must have been lost in thought.

Grandpa gave me a stern look as I snapped back to my senses.

“It’s your first match, so it seems you’re nervous. But if you let yourself get nervous, even things you can normally do will stop working. Focus. Just play as you always do.”

“Yes!”

After Grandpa passionately addressed the players, he stepped back, and Coach Nam Hojin showed us the starting lineup.

We’d been informed beforehand, but this was the final confirmed lineup.

Other than Jinsol and me, there wasn’t a clearly established best eleven on our team. Grandpa frequently changed the starters depending on what the players showed him, so some of the boys checked the list with nervous anticipation.

Let’s see…

GK 1 — Kim Taemin

CB 32 — Park Junseo / CB 5 — Lee Dohyun

RB 3 — Choi Minjae

LB 24 — Jeong Seoyun

MF 22 — Yoon Jiho / MF 9 — Kim Jinsol / MF 17 — Kang Minwoo

FW 11 — Kim Daon / FW 23 — Park Yuchan / FW 30 — Choi Johan

We were using a 4-3-3 formation today, and my position was right wing-forward.

The perfect position for making use of the Arjen Robben Macro I’d received through God’s grace.

“Whew, I’m confirmed as a starter. Thank goodness.”

Park Yuchan sighed in relief beside me.

Yuchan’s position was always somewhat precarious.

There was no question that he was good at scoring goals, but his basic technique was so lacking that Grandpa had to reconsider his selection every time.

Yuchan knew it.

I knew it.

Jinsol knew it.

No—our entire team knew it.

Other attackers might have been disappointed after Jinsol changed positions and opened up opportunities to compete for a starting spot, but as far as I was concerned, today’s selection couldn’t be helped.

Against a strong team like Hangang Middle School, we had no choice but to use Yuchan, who possessed an unprecedented sense of positioning and finishing.

“The match is about to begin! Players from both teams, please come out!”

By the time we’d checked the starting lineup and finished warming up, kickoff was right around the corner.

As I walked toward the field, I glanced at the stands.

There were quite a few people in the audience, but I immediately spotted my parents among them.

The moment our eyes met, they waved enthusiastically at me.

That alone made me smile.

Hangang Middle School’s coach stood with a stern expression as he watched his players on the field.

Hangang Middle wore blue uniforms with a light-blue wave pattern running across the chest.

Every child wearing that uniform had an expression overflowing with confidence.

“Good.”

The coach nodded in satisfaction.

Youth football was a battle of mentality.

The title of runners-up in the Champions Tournament, combined with the children’s confident appearance, was more than enough to shake their opponents’ mentality.

Let’s see what the other side looks like.

The Hangang Middle coach turned his gaze toward the opposing team.

Iron FC.

He remembered being placed in the same league as them three years ago.

As was often the case with football academies, they weren’t what anyone would call a strong team, but he remembered them having solid fundamentals and strong mentality.

Just like their name suggested.

And sure enough, unlike most weak teams, Iron FC didn’t seem particularly intimidated.

This team used to have good defensive organization.

Recalling that, he glanced at the opposing coach.

The elderly coach, who looked tough and sturdy, silently watched his players with a completely expressionless face.

There was an air of experience about him, as expected from someone who had coached in the same area for so many years.

But that was all.

Even so, it’s just an academy.

From Hangang Middle’s perspective, Iron FC was nothing more than a weak team.

Piiiii!

The whistle signaling the start of the match blew, and Hangang Middle kicked off.

A nationally renowned powerhouse, Hangang Middle immediately began moving the ball quickly and advancing.

If we score the first goal, we’ve already won half the match.

And the sooner the goal came, the greater its effect.

Some teams would concede once, completely lose their nerve, and then give up goal after goal—losing 5–0, sometimes even 10–0.

Eight members from the squad that had reached the finals last year were still on the team, and they’d experienced plenty of victories that way.

Displaying their well-rehearsed teamwork, they pinned Iron FC inside their own half, patiently creating space before slipping the ball toward the forward waiting near the defensive line.

A sharp pass.

If it reached the striker, it was a guaranteed goal.

Why?

Because Hangang Middle’s number 10 was the player who had beaten even the forwards carefully nurtured by professional youth academies to become the top scorer.

Even now, professional teams were drooling over the prospect of recruiting him.

There was no way a player like that would miss against a weak team like Iron FC.

As long as the ball reached him.

As long as—

“…!”

The ball never reached number 10.

Iron FC’s number 9, Kim Jinsol, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and intercepted it.

Following Johan’s advice that Hangang Middle’s attacks would likely target their main goalscorer, number 10, Jinsol had been quietly waiting near him for an opportunity.

After winning the ball, he looked up.

Hangang Middle’s midfielders were pressing him fiercely.

But that was fine.

He’d never intended to send the ball straight to the front in the first place.

Jinsol looked to the right.

There he saw Choi Johan, who had dropped deep enough to reach his line.

Jinsol threaded the ball into a position where Johan could receive it comfortably while running.

The ball shot forward sharply.

Hangang Middle’s left fullback and Johan raced toward it simultaneously.

Watching the situation unfold, the Hangang Middle coach frowned.

“He’s fast.”

Not just fast.

He wondered if he even had a player among his own students who could match that speed.

No, for that matter, how many players in the entire country could run that fast?

Using that incredible speed, Johan reached the ball first and found himself facing the left fullback.

After failing to win the ball, the defender stopped, maintained his distance, turned his body diagonally, and began marking Johan.

Johan didn’t stop.

He continued running forward.

“He’s fast even with the ball?”

Even while dribbling, Johan didn’t lose any speed.

He sprinted right up to the left fullback, and as the defender shuffled sideways to contain him, Johan continued down the touchline.

If he kept running down the wing, there was only one possible route.

A cross toward the striker.

The left fullback was certain of it.

He ran while focusing solely on blocking Johan’s route toward the center.

Then—

Johan suddenly slammed on the brakes.

Before the left fullback could stop, Johan instantly changed direction.

With his back toward the touchline, he cut inside toward the center.

In that position, he slipped past one of Hangang Middle’s center-backs.

Then Johan swung his left foot.

The ball curled dramatically toward the upper-left corner of the goal—

SWISH!

—and shook the net.

“…What?”

Hangang Middle’s coach stared with his mouth open.

Why couldn’t they stop that?

Hangang Middle’s defense had just conceded a goal from such a simple attack—running down the wing, cutting inside, and curling a shot?

What was the goalkeeper doing?

“IS EVERYONE SLEEPING OUT THERE?!”

The Hangang Middle coach roared as he watched Johan kneel and pray after scoring.

His plan to seize control of the match with an early goal had completely fallen apart.

“Focus! Focus!”

He shouted sternly, but the Hangang Middle coach wasn’t overly flustered.

It wasn’t as if things like this had never happened before.

Even by pure chance, situations like that could occur once in a while.

A football was round, after all.

The Hangang Middle players didn’t seem too shaken either.

They believed they’d simply been careless.

And one goal?

They were confident they could equalize at any time.

In fact, this was the perfect opportunity.

Iron FC’s momentum was rising after scoring the opening goal, but at the same time, they might become careless in their excitement.

If Hangang Middle scored a quick equalizer at this moment, not only would the match return to level terms—they could completely crush the opponent’s momentum.

The whistle blew, and the match resumed.

Hangang Middle began circulating the ball and pressuring their opponents again.

Iron FC responded by dropping their defensive line, seemingly determined not to concede an equalizer.

But that was fine.

Hangang Middle was capable of skillfully exchanging passes and advancing even through such tight spaces.

Furthermore, Iron FC wasn’t aggressively closing them down.

In a way, it was a wise choice.

Every single Hangang Middle player had the individual skill to beat an Iron FC player whenever they wanted.

Hangang Middle moved the ball from the center to the wing.

The winger wearing number 7 received it and immediately sent an early cross toward the front.

The sharp ball’s destination was, once again, number 10.

But once again—

Jinsol appeared.

Kim Jinsol leaped toward the incoming cross, brought the ball down with his chest, and immediately passed it to Johan.

The moment Johan received the ball, Hangang Middle’s players rushed back toward their defensive half.

Johan, who had been positioned in the second line, controlled the ball and sprinted down the wing.

He crossed the halfway line and advanced a little further.

Then, once again, he cut inside.

Maintaining his distance from the opposing left fullback, he accelerated past him and came face-to-face with Hangang Middle’s number 4.

Number 4 was practically the heart of Hangang Middle’s defense.

Earlier, he’d maintained his distance and watched Johan score.

This time, he didn’t hesitate.

He immediately closed Johan down tightly.

Against number 4, who rushed in feet first, Johan suddenly slammed on the brakes.

He stopped and made a movement as if he were about to cut toward the goal.

Number 4 planted his foot and blocked the path Johan seemed to be taking.

Exactly as Johan had intended.

Using nothing but an upper-body feint, Johan deceived his opponent.

Then he went straight past number 4, took a few more steps, and swung his left foot toward the goal.

Unlike his previous shot, this one skimmed low and fast across the grass.

The goalkeeper threw himself toward it, trying to make the save—

But the ball was faster.

It flew past the goalkeeper’s outstretched hand and crossed the goal line.

Piiiii!

“WAAAAAAAH!”

Cheers erupted from the stands.

Amid the roar of the crowd, Hangang Middle’s coach once again watched Johan celebrate by kneeling down in prayer.

“Why couldn’t they stop that?”

Unable to comprehend what was happening, the coach couldn’t hide his confusion.

Then he suddenly realized his expression and quickly composed himself, encouraging his players.

“Alright, alright! We can do this! It’s only two goals! We can make up a two-goal difference, can’t we?! Isn’t that right?!”

“YES!!”

The coach helped his players regain their composure, and the match resumed.

This time, Hangang Middle seemed to approach the game more cautiously.

But Iron FC’s response had changed.

The situation had reversed.

Iron FC now pushed their defensive line high and aggressively pressed Hangang Middle.

Kim Jinsol, who had previously cut off a pass in the back and created a decisive opportunity, moved higher into the second line and took command.

Iron FC’s left winger, Kim Daon, stole the ball.

Since Daon was close to where the ball had been won, he immediately passed it to Jinsol.

Jinsol touched the ball once and threaded it straight through to Johan.

Receiving the ball, Johan raced down the touchline.

“No way…”

Again?

Surely not.

But just as the saying went, sometimes your worst suspicion comes true.

Once again, Johan cut inside from the wing.

Let me say it again.

Hangang Middle was a powerhouse that had finished runners-up in the national middle school Champions Tournament.

They’d been beaten twice by the exact same move.

There was no way they would fall for it a third time.

The coach wanted to believe that.

But Johan beat one player simply by dribbling.

Then another.

After taking two more steps, he curled the ball toward goal.

GOAL.

In that instant, the coach completely lost his composure and screamed.

“YOU IDIOTS!! WHY CAN’T YOU STOP THAT?! ARE YOU STUPID?!”

The Hangang Middle players flinched and looked toward their coach at his thunderous roar.

They were already mentally shaken by conceding goals they couldn’t understand.

And now their coach was angry as well.

The children visibly panicked.

There was no longer anyone they could rely on.

Their mentality was being violently shaken.

The very situation the coach had intended to inflict upon Iron FC—

was now happening to his own team, Hangang Middle.

Ah… if this keeps up, we’re finished…