Striker of the Gods

In his match against Liverpool, he scored six goals—humiliating his friends into oblivion. No wonder they looked like they wanted to eat him alive, just to make him feel their agony. The crowd erupted in chaos, while his friends could only shake their heads in disbelief. It was a performance people would whisper about for years, leaving everyone in awe, and his friends with a new, grudging respect.

"I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive—and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it," said Caos, gazing at the crowd, quoting one of his favorite philosophers.

His first goal wasn't just remarkable. It was otherworldly.He danced past five defenders with two razor-sharp elastico chops, then flicked the ball into the air and launched a shot like a cannon from another dimension. The ball rocketed forward like a comet, trailing hope and destruction, before slicing into the back of the net.

Anfield exploded.

"Hell nah. I guess we're calling it quits tonight. This man's bloody obsessed with football," said Alison, trying to get Salah's attention as the latter kicked at the grass in frustration.

Caos turned to him, a sly grin breaking his focus."Obsessed or not, you can't deny the magic of the game."

"Oh no. Bloody hell. Come on. This just started! He's not getting away with this," Salah growled, trying to rally the squad like candy floss trying to survive a storm.

His second and third goals were, by his standards, just routine.He struck the second from 56 meters—a cannonball that sent the goalkeeper stumbling.The third? A 34-meter knuckleball free kick that swerved like a ghost and crashed in.

"A smile puts you on the right track. A smile makes the world a beautiful place. But when you lose it—you lose your way in the chaos of life," Caos said, flashing that wicked grin at the Anfield crowd before landing a flawless backflip.

The final three goals? Devastating.

One was a perfect bicycle kick launched mid-air like poetry in motion.Another, a no-look rocket that left defenders frozen as statues.And then—the last. The corner goal. He curved it straight in, no header, no touch—just magic.

Anfield stood stunned.

Then came the applause. Not just claps—roars. They cheered for the chaos. They chanted his name like it had always belonged to their city.

Caos had done more than secure a win. He carved his name into football's lore, lit a fire in every fan's soul, and made the impossible feel almost casual.

To be continued...