Chapter 102
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: Emergency!!! Stop the Demon Park Si-hyun
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If someone hears that red flares exploded, their first thought might be a 'fireworks show' or 'firecrackers blasting off,' but in reality, it's a cheering tool where red smoke slowly billows up—not actual fire.
Of course, there are those insane cases where real fireworks shoot skyward or firecrackers actually explode, but generally speaking, 'red flares' refer to smoke bombs that only release red smoke.
The name might sound dangerous, but their original purpose is anything but.
In Germany, there's a long-standing tradition of lighting red flares to mark 'special days' like promotions, championships, or historic matches.
When that red smoke envelops the stadium, the overwhelming atmosphere feels like you're right in the heart of a festival.
The problem is, even if it's a festival tool, setting them off indiscriminately during a match causes all sorts of issues—obstructed views, safety hazards, game delays, you name it.
That's why the German soccer world cracked down starting in 2011, with stricter spectator searches and harsh regulations on pyrotechnics like flares and explosives.
But...
That's a story for later.
This era right now?
Regulations were basically nonexistent—a total lawless zone.
Rules? Penalties?
Just words on paper that nobody gave a damn about.
German fans would unleash dozens of red flares at the drop of a hat.
Pusssshhhh—!!
Red smoke pillars erupted from spots all over Potsipalais Stadium.
"Ooooooh!! We never back down!!"
The SSV Reutlingen 05 supporters had swarmed in like they were fighting for their lives, belting out songs and igniting flares one after another.
As the red mist blanketed the pitch and the air turned acrid, the Essen home fans finally lost their patience and yelled.
"Cough cough!! Hey, cut it out!! We can't see the damn game!!"
"This is our home turf!! It's not even yours!!!"
But the Reutlingen supporters acted like they couldn't hear a thing, belting out their chants even louder from within the red haze.
As if screaming, 'Today, we won't retreat—not even if it kills us.'
But that's their problem.
This was clearly Essen's home ground, and with visibility shot by the flares, not a single player or fan appreciated the away supporters' chaos.
And the first to erupt was Charlie Adam.
"Hey, you lot! Rein in your fans! What the hell kind of manners is this?!"
Charlie Adam uttering the word 'manners'—as his agent, I couldn't help but feel touched.
But touched or not, he was spot on.
No matter how crucial this match was for them, blanketing the players' vision with flares right from kickoff—especially away—was peak public nuisance.
Yet even as their fans caused havoc, the Reutlingen players just scoffed.
"What do you want us to do? It wasn't us."
"Exactly—they're doing their thing. What can we do about it?"
The rudeness of calling their own fans 'those guys.'
Shirking responsibility, blurring lines between team and personal.
It was obvious.
This team was rotten from top to bottom—players and fans alike.
"What...? You crazy bastards."
Charlie Adam tensed, ready to charge—
"Charlie."
One word stopped him cold.
And I paused to think.
What to do here.
'They've got the guts to light flares for victory, but tactics riddled with holes and zero player drive.'
Easier than any 3rd division side we'd faced.
So I said quietly,
"Let's carve it into them with the score. Manners... time to teach."
As I turned away, Charlie shot a conflicted look—like whether to keep cursing—then spat toward the Reutlingen players and hustled after me.
"Boss, hold up!"
His lightning-quick attitude flip drew a smirk from me.
'Time for a historic thrashing.'
Opener in 2nd division, and they're this caliber?
Plus, we'd hyped morale sky-high with the fan event—no way lowlife antics would snuff it out.
Ultimately, the supporters thrive on seeing us dominate, no matter the chaos.
Answering that faith? That's a player's duty.
Mind clear, smoke thinning—the game kicked back into gear.
We surged like a revved engine, suffocating Reutlingen under relentless pressure.
No chance for them to settle on the ball—chase, press, steal—and in that rhythm,
goals rained down.
Kaká's explosive breakthrough strike.
Charlie Adam's brutal long-range rocket.
By late first half, 3-0 up—not just the score, the play was beyond contest.
They barely touched leather, dragged around in a total rout.
But the Reutlingen fans remained the issue.
After flare frenzy, they crossed the ultimate line.
Spotting Charlie Adam's long left-footed pass, I sprinted, timing a volley.
Zeroed in on the ball—then peripheral vision caught red streaking fast.
'...What the?'
A red flare smoke bomb, belching smoke, hurtling dead at my face.
No dodge window.
Thud—!
It smashed square into my face.
Vision warped red in a flash, breath snagged shut.
Feet still fired on instinct, but the botched connection sailed harmlessly wide.
The stadium froze—breath held stadium-wide.
Who is Park Si-hyun?
A monster striker now vying for world's best, Ronaldo's named rival.
But pre-World Cup, to German public outside Essen fans, he was one word: 'lone ranger.'
Disturb his vibe? Expect payback.
Player, ref, association, club—even soccer's apex power FIFA—no exceptions.
Park Si-hyun never shied from frontal clashes with federations, even bending FIFA to his will.
Unfazed in stare-downs with the US government, he bows to no one, anywhere—a man you absolutely don't poke.
Someone chucked a flare smoke bomb at that Park Si-hyun's face.
Stadium-shuddering outrage material.
[Arghhh!!! What the hell is that!? Threw the flare... straight at him! And of all people... Park! Si! Hyun! Dead center!!]
[Aimed or not, it's done! Clear intent to sabotage the match, victim... none other than Park Si-hyun! The guy who brooks zero injustice, fieriest temper in the game! Oof... check that face. Powder everywhere, red no less—straight outta Japanese myth, an 'Oni.' Sending chills!]
No matter how much Park Si-hyun brushed it off, the red powder clung stubbornly.
Smoke and dust fused, shrouding his whole face; the red shadow draping those piercing eyes wasn't the usual Park Si-hyun anymore.
Red demon from the underworld.
Beast forged of fury.
If it'd hit Kaká? Probably a laugh-off.
But Park Si-hyun?
The man who'd clinched 2nd in European fans' 'Scariest Faces TOP10.'
One look pulverizes foe mentality—born intimidator.
1st place? 2002's go-to terror face: Bayern Munich legend GK Oliver Kahn.
Monster who'd buckle defenders' knees with a glance on errors.
Park Si-hyun slotted right below.
Now that Park Si-hyun, demon-fied in red smoke and powder? Face was pure nightmare fuel.
Reutlingen players mid-trash-talk? Silenced.
Their fans cheering the throw? Silenced.
Essen faithful deifying Park Si-hyun? Silenced.
All heads bowed.
All breaths swallowed.
And then.
Park Si-hyun moved.
From statue-still, he slow-walked toward the still-spewing flare.
[Park Si-hyun... he's moving! Wait, direction... not the bench... heading for the still-smoking flare!]
[He's gonna... pick it... Gasp!!!]
Everyone gasped in horror.
He snatched the flare barehanded.
No hesitation—pure grip strength pulverized the solid smoke bomb.
Crack—!
Crunch—!
Shards tumbled to the turf.
Park Si-hyun toed the debris aside, then raised his head—icy terror etched on his face—toward the Reutlingen stands.
[Emergency!!!! Stop him!! Somebody stop him!!! That expression!!! Park Si-hyun... he's locked in!!! He's out for blood!!!!]