God Of football

Chapter 985: AfterParty.

The ovation didn’t fade when Izan turned his head up after his speech.

He rested one hand lightly on the podium, fingers curling against the polished surface, and let his eyes drift across the room as the applause grew louder and more.

"Arteta’s speeches have been rubbing off on him," Saka said towards Rice, while Izan placed his palm on top of the award.

For a split second, he saw something that he knew he shouldn’t be seeing, and his lips moved before he could stop them.

"Dad?"

Before he could go any further, a chuckle broke him out of his reverie just as Aitana Bonmatí stepped up beside him.

"First of many," she said, nodding towards Izan’s trophy with a genuine and warm smile.

Izan nodded, his expression still a little distant, but finally present again.

Together, the two lifted their respective trophies as the camera snaps and flashes snapped back into place.

Izan held the trophy steady as his eyes wandered again, instinctively searching the crowd, before he reminded himself where he was and what he was currently holding.

He smiled, almost shyly, and then it was over.

They stepped down, getting support from their respective staffs with the awards before making their way to their seats as Kate and Guillit stepped into the middle of the podium.

"Before we say goodnight," the former began again, "I just want to say thank you. To everyone in this room who travelled, who waited, who believed their season might lead them here. And to those watching from home, wherever football has taken you tonight."

She glanced briefly toward the crowd, eyes glossing over all the winners of the night.

"Congratulations to every player, coach, and club recognised this evening. None of this happens by accident. Every name called tonight carries years of work that most people never see."

"The Ballon d’Or has always been a moment to stop time for a second. To look back, yes. But also to remind ourselves why we fell in love with this game in the first place. If tonight tells us anything, it’s that the next Chapters are already waiting. And they look just as compelling."

She stepped back, and the room shifted again as Ruud Gullit stepped up beside her, hands resting lightly at his back.

He looked out, not as a presenter now, but as someone who had once stood where many of them dreamed of standing.

"I’ve seen football change," he said quietly.

"Styles, tactics, generations. But one thing stays the same. Every era believes it has something to prove."

A small smile crossed his face.

"That’s what this night represents. Not the end of a journey, but a marker along the way. For those who won, enjoy it. Truly. For those who didn’t, remember this feeling. Football always gives you another season."

He nodded once, satisfied after that as Kate returned for a final word, shorter this time.

"That’s where we’ll leave it. For now. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen and have a lovely evening."

A fit of applause followed in the room as Kate and Guillit closed out the ceremony, and with that, the rest of the room slowly rearranged itself into celebration.

The main character of the night, though, slipped away from the gravity of it all, heading up into the upper seating of the theatre while the others stayed below for the after-party.

He sat alone, and from above, the stage looked smaller.

The spot where he had stood felt detached from him now, like something he’d watched happen to someone else.

He glanced down at the phone he had put on DND for the whole ceremony, and with that out of the way, the phone was buzzing incessantly, almost like the messages wanted to pop out and present themselves physically.

And it wasn’t only messages.

Headlines stacked on top of each other, refreshing faster than he could read them.

"Youngest Ballon d’Or winner in history."

"Seventeen and unstoppable."

"The future arrives early."

"See list of youngest Ballon d’Or winners."

When he opened Instagram, what met him first was a video of Ronaldo congratulating him for the win.

"Congratulations, kid," Ronaldo said.

"Enjoy it. But listen. Five is a good number. Stop there, yeah? So we can have the same number and leave that other oddball in Miami to enjoy his eight alone."

The message cut off with laughter as Izan found another message, this time from the other half of the two greatest players to have ever graced the sport.

"Well deserved, Izan. I am very happy you won this, and I hope you keep on like this. Also, I have seen Cristiano’s video, and yes, 5 is good, so stay there."

Izan exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he locked the phone.

Then a familiar sensation stirred behind his thoughts, like something waking up after a long pause.

[Congratulations, Izan.]

The comment of the system came more mildly and affectionately than usual, while Izan wondered what was up now.

[You have achieved a major milestone. The Ballon d’Or represents your first public claim toward the highest tier of footballing legacy.]

Izan leaned back into the seat with a smirk, eyes lifting to the ceiling and closing for a second.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I noticed."

There was a pause shortly after his words before the system came through again.

[This achievement strengthens your trajectory. It marks the first visible step toward the throne you seek.]

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

"What throne and do you ever listen to yourself?" he asked quietly.

"You are making it sound like I sought out the system or something."

[Well, you are the only one who has it currently, so it doesn’t matter whether you sought it out or it sought you out or whatever for that matter.]

Then the voice returned, lighter now.

[Would you like to view the rewards associated with winning the Ballon d’Or?]

"No," Izan said immediately.

"What are you, really?" he asked instead.

Immediately the question landed, the system went quiet, while Izan waited, watching the stage below as staff moved around, with food and other intricate things that seemed like they were for consumption.

"I’m grateful," he said. "You know that. I don’t pretend otherwise. You changed my life."

"But I want to know why," he continued.

"Why me and not the best player or an already talented prodigy, because I am pretty sure it would have been way faster to get things done that way."

The response came slowly, like it had to travel a long distance to reach him.

[I cannot tell you that.]

Izan sighed, shaking his head slightly, already mouthing the words along with it, like he’d heard them too many times before.

"I know," he said. "You never can."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring down at the trophy resting beside him.

Then the system spoke again.

[But!]