In front of the goal.
Luca Zidane's hair stood on end!
This was already his fourth direct confrontation against Viktor in this match.
Of the first three, two had ended in goals, and one was a heart-stopping shot that had grazed the post.
Luca slapped his gloved face hard to sharpen his focus.
"God bless..." he muttered. As a believer, he sought strength in his faith.
Not far from him, Viktor slowly adjusted his breathing.
He was waiting for the referee's whistle.
Penalties are a psychological battlefield—a pure test of nerves between the keeper and the shooter.
"If this goes in, Viktor completes a debut hat-trick for the Barcelona B team! Poor young Luca will be the backdrop for this historic moment," the commentator remarked.
"At this rate, Mr. Zidane might need to hire a psychiatrist for his son!"
Every fan held their breath. This was the defining moment of the game.
The Real Madrid faithful clasped their hands in prayer, desperate not to suffer a home defeat at the hands of their eternal rivals.
...
"Beep!"
The whistle sounded!
Twelve yards out, Viktor began a slow, measured run.
His eyes were like torches, fixed on the target!
The crowd's gaze was locked onto his stride.
In that same split second, Luca Zidane dove off his line!
He gambled, throwing himself to his left.
Goalkeepers almost always rely on anticipation for penalties—picking a side and committing the moment the foot meets the ball.
However, the moment Luca's body left the ground, a wave of shame washed over him.
Viktor had feinted the power shot. As his leg swung through, he checked his momentum and delicately chipped the underside of the ball.
The football took a soft, lazy arc toward the center of the goal.
It rolled gently into the net.
Swish!
A Panenka!
The crisp sound of the ball hitting the mesh echoed through the silent Di Stéfano Stadium.
In the 86th minute, the score was rewritten: 3-2!
The away stand erupted instantly.
"Oh, My, God!!"
"An unbelievable, audacious Panenka!!"
"This seventeen-year-old just pulled off a 'spoon penalty' in the final moments of the National Derby!"
"He must have ice in his veins to stay that calm!"
"A big-game player! He is Barcelona's true crown jewel!"
"Poor Luca! Even if Iker Casillas were standing there, he might have been fooled!"
"Viktor! Remember the name! The striker from the east... I still can't believe he was overlooked by the system back home!"
...
On the pitch, the Barcelona B players roared and swarmed Viktor.
The frustration of two winless seasons against Castilla was finally being purged!
"Hat-trick! Our man of the hour!"
Traoré dove in like a lightning bolt, lifting Viktor high into the air!
The players sprinted toward the sidelines to celebrate together.
In the stands, the Real Madrid fans were stunned into silence, while the Barça supporters went wild.
They chanted Viktor's name. Many had only learned of him today, but within an hour, they had etched his face into their memories.
Those three goals—each distinct and spectacular—had won their hearts and shattered Real Madrid's dreams of a five-game derby winning streak.
"Viktor! Viktor!"
"Barcelona's newest sensation!"
"Who said Castilla was invincible? Not at the Di Stéfano today!"
...
Anna stood at the edge of the press box, her professional attire framing her graceful silhouette.
She already had her interview script ready. Regardless of what happened next, she was determined to get an exclusive with Viktor.
Behind her, the live stream was exploding.
The fans who had watched the full ninety minutes now realized the absurdity of the claims that Viktor was "expelled for lack of talent."
The narrative pushed by the federation was crumbling. Rational fans were now seeing the truth.
— [Investigation! There must be a strict investigation! Before Viktor joins another national team, the federation needs to wake up! Bringing him back is the only way!]
— [The system is rotten to the core! How do we let a talent like this slip through?]
— [I'm heading to the official federation website right now to demand answers!!]
...
"Back to defense! Everyone back! Hold on for these last five minutes!" Sacristán screamed from the touchline.
If they could hold this lead, they would make history for the club's second team.
Nearby, Zidane's expression was grim. As he had feared, Viktor was the ultimate difference-maker.
Despite being the most inexperienced player on the pitch, he had become the most critical winner.
Zidane was reeling, but he shook his head with renewed resolve.
"We have to try to bring this kid to Castilla," he thought. To him, the Real Madrid platform was always more prestigious.
But he was unaware of what was happening in the box above him...
...
"The Segunda División can no longer contain him. He needs a bigger stage," Luis Enrique said, his eyes piercing through the window.
"I know exactly what you mean, boss!" Cesc Fàbregas beamed.
"The board members are in the administrative building right now. We could register him for the first team tonight!"
After watching the performance, Cesc was sold.
"David Villa? We wish him luck at Atlético, but we have Viktor now. That's enough."
Enrique laughed. "Don't be in such a hurry, Cesc! He's a La Masia kid; he won't run away like you did back then!"
"Let him celebrate with his teammates tonight. Tomorrow, I will personally handle his first-team registration."
"And we'll get that professional contract signed."
What had finally convinced Enrique wasn't just the power of the first two goals.
It was the Panenka.
To dare to chip the keeper in a high-stakes derby under the eyes of thousands—that required a level of confidence most veteran stars lacked.
It proved the kid had a massive heart.
Watching the two talk enthusiastically, Wenger, the old fox, narrowed his eyes.
He whispered to himself: "I have to find a way to contact Viktor privately..."
...........