"This is what it means to be a captain! Win, and the whole team celebrates. Lose, and Su Hang shoulders the blame! That's Su Hang's slogan."
"But now… he actually gave up the most important penalty kick?"
"Given how poor Raúl's form has been this World Cup, letting him take it is incredibly risky."
Two people who knew Su Hang best narrated the situation as they recalled what had just happened.
Then, almost at the same moment, Queiroz and Tommy Smyth. said, "He's injured!"
Queiroz's eyes widened. "Yes! Injury is the only explanation! And…"
Tommy Smyth kept shaking his head. "A serious one! A major injury!"
"We're done for!"
"Spain is finished!"
"If Raúl misses this penalty, Spain is completely finished!"
At that moment, only four people in the world understood the true weight of this penalty: Queiroz, Tommy Smyth, Raúl, and Su Hang.
When the referee blew his whistle, Raúl stepped up and struck the ball with full force.
Ricardo, the Portuguese goalkeeper renowned for saving penalties, showed his class—he got a hand to it.
But the ball wasn't deflected enough. It bounced off Ricardo's palm and curled into the side netting, sending a burst of white rippling behind it.
Raúl's eyes filled instantly with tears.
He had done it.
He had thought he could no longer contribute to this team.
But in this moment, he picked up the banner Su Hang had left him, and once again carried Spain forward.
El Capitán had returned.
"GOAL!"
"Two–one!"
"Spain takes the lead again!"
"Let's shout his name—Raúl González!"
"He converted the penalty drawn by Su Hang! He didn't let Su Hang down! He didn't let Spain down!"
"When Raúl sat helplessly on the bench this tournament, watching Villa and García shine, everyone said the era of El Capitán had ended!"
"Seeing him on the bench, slumped and defeated, he seemed nothing like the rising, radiant Torres beside him."
Only Su Hang! Only he still believed in Raúl. Only he remembered that the former dual captain of Real Madrid and Spain had once been the hope of the entire nation.
"In this moment, the dual captains of Real Madrid and Spain passed the torch—overcoming both the old and new kings of Portugal!"
"This is the battle of heritage between Spain and Portugal!"
"Spain will prevail!"
The Spanish fans erupted into absolute madness.
Two–one!
This hard-earned lead, this grueling goal—Spain had claimed their greatest victory over Portugal.
On the other side, Portugal looked utterly shattered.
From that moment onward, many had already accepted that defeat was inevitable.
Until…
"Huh? What's happening?"
"Su Hang is on the ground."
"Spain's celebration just stopped cold!"
"Su Hang is signaling for a substitution? This… oh my god! He's telling them he can't continue!"
"Spain's team doctor is on the pitch."
"No way! If Su Hang leaves the field, Portugal could overturn this at any moment!"
"If Portugal scores again, Spain is absolutely finished!"
"Oh! The medical team confirms Su Hang can't continue! It's from Carvalho's tackle—Su Hang's ankle seems badly injured."
"This is big trouble! Not just for today—if Spain somehow survives this match, what will they do in the final?"
Spain had no choice but to make a change on the sideline.
Torres came on for Su Hang.
The small consolation: Spain still had eleven players while Portugal had ten. If they dug in defensively, they had a chance to hold on.
"Wait." Su Hang refused the stretcher. Instead, he let the team doctor carry him off manually.
That way… he could waste more time.
But soon, Cristiano Ronaldo—oblivious to such subtleties—walked over, pushed aside the Spanish doctor, hoisted Su Hang onto his own shoulder, and then… sped up.
Su Hang: "Ronaldo, you're walking so fast I'm starting to think you're still upset about being knocked out and want my injury to get worse."
Cristiano Ronaldo: "Don't overthink it, Su. Though making the injury worse would be a pleasant surprise, right now I just want you to get medical attention as fast as possible."
The two walked off together pretending to be concerned.
"Raúl!" Su Hang called him over and pointed at the captain's armband on his arm.
Figo immediately complained to the referee: "Time-wasting! He's still wasting time! He could've given Raúl the armband ages ago—why wait until they're halfway off the pitch?"
The referee signaled Figo to calm down and assured him the stoppage time would be sufficient.
But in reality, stoppage time is never a perfect match for time wasted.
Soon, Su Hang personally secured the captain's armband onto Raúl.
In that moment, El Capitán truly returned.
Even though Raúl was no longer part of Spain's official captain hierarchy.
Right now, Su Hang handing him the armband was unquestionable.
Among Spain's leaders, one would always be on the pitch guiding the team.
Spain stood united.
...
As Su Hang left the field, Portugal made one final desperate substitution.
They brought on striker Postiga for defensive midfielder Costinha.
That gave them four forwards on the pitch.
In the 83rd minute, Spain's defense passed the ball around but eventually cracked under Portugal's press, forcing a long clearance.
Portugal won the ball and immediately attacked. Deco fed a through pass.
Cristiano Ronaldo burst forward through the channel.
Sergio Ramos threw himself at him—Cristiano Ronaldo went down.
Ramos could only stare blankly. He knew he simply couldn't contain him.
But Deco's free kick was cleared with a header by Sergio Ramos.
Baby Ramos finishes what he starts.
He began at Sevilla, and he intends to return there one day.
Not because he's coveting Sevilla's Europa League trophy, of course.
In the 87th minute, Simao crossed from the left, and Puyol made a diving clearance at the near post.
Spain tried to counter, but Figo intercepted—only for Alonso to win it back immediately.
Figo tumbled after the ball, poked it away, but crashed into the oncoming Xavi.
The referee blew his whistle.
After the scuffle, Alonso and Xavi both stood up again.
But Figo remained on the turf, panting heavily.
He stared upward. The stadium lights blazed as bright as daylight, yet the real sky above looked pitch black—no trace of hope.
The camera focused on the exhausted Figo.
Derek Rae sighed, "What a pity. Figo has nothing left in the tank."
"This King of Portugal commands respect. Since last year, his performances reminded everyone that he was once the best player in the world!"
"This is Luis Figo—the man who helped Real Madrid win the treble alongside Su Hang, Zidane, Beckham, Roberto Carlos, Raúl, Casillas, and Ronaldo!"
"But…"
"The sunset is beautiful, but it means night is near."
"Flowers bloom again, but youth never returns."
In the 89th minute, Portugal launched a long ball from deep.
Spain boxed them out, and the ball rolled over the byline.
Goal kick.
But Canizares deliberately dragged out the restart. The fiery young Cristiano Ronaldo charged over, and the two exchanged words.
The referee sternly warned both players, especially Ronaldo, who was already on a yellow.
In the 91st minute, Portugal sent in a high ball. Ibáñez headed it clear, Alonso played it back with his back to goal, and Torres sprinted downfield. Rather than cut into the box, he moved wide to waste more time.
After three or four consecutive throw-ins along the sideline, Portugal finally regained possession.
In the 93rd minute, Figo's cross earned a corner.
With only three minutes of stoppage time added—because the match had been so fluid—this was virtually their last chance.
Ricardo even came up to contest the corner.
And incredibly, he won the header and directed it toward goal.
But Canizares—Spain's second-best player today—made a brilliant save.
Ramos then headed the ball out of the box, and Senna, bracing against Maniche, kicked it out of bounds.
Before anyone could react, the referee blew three sharp whistles.
Full time!
Spain defeated Portugal 2–1 and advanced to the final!
The Portuguese players collapsed to the ground.
Cristiano Ronaldo lay on the pitch sobbing uncontrollably, unable to accept the defeat.
Figo sat slumped on the grass, taking in everything, trying to etch his final World Cup memory into his heart.
Only when Raúl approached and extended his hand did Figo grab it and slowly stand.
"Thanks. That was the best goal you've scored since I met you."
Raúl nodded. "Don't mention it. Before he left the field, Su Hang told me to remember to pull you up after the match."
Figo looked completely puzzled.
Raúl continued, "He said you're so old you can barely stand anymore."
Figo scoffed, "At least I'm not limping."
Then both men burst into laughter.
Their laughter echoed throughout all of Europe.
...
(35 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser