The Monster Who Became Bait (vs Argentina)
Seoul, South Korea. Sangam World Cup Stadium.
All sixty-four thousand red seats were packed with spectators.
No—they were not mere spectators. They were the Red Devils.
The roar of “Dae~han Minguk!” that had been thundering since two hours before kickoff was shaking the very foundations of the stadium.
U-20 World Cup Group A, Matchday One.
The opponent: South America’s powerhouse, the top favorites to win it all—Argentina.
The air in the locker room hung heavy as lead.
The older players’ faces had gone deathly pale. Home advantage seemed to have turned into poison.
The weight of sixty thousand expectant fans. And the crushing pressure of facing “Messi’s heirs.”
“Hoo… hoo…”
Captain Park Jin-ho’s legs were trembling.
Ma Gang-cheol finished tying his bootlaces and simply watched him for a moment.
He’s so tense his muscles have locked up solid.
Through the eyes of a thirty-five-year-old veteran who had survived every battlefield imaginable before his regression, the state of his teammates right now was the worst possible.
Like this, they would never show even half their real ability. Perfect conditions for getting injured.
Gang-cheol knew instinctively that this was the moment he had to step in.
He rose from his seat and walked over to Park Jin-ho.
Then, without warning, he brought his palm down hard across the captain’s back with a sharp smack!
“Ack! Hey!”
“Breathe, hyung. You’re gonna hyperventilate.”
Gang-cheol grinned and pointed at the tactics board.
“See number ten over there? Palacios. He’s left-footed. Every time he cuts inside, he goes left. You just stand and block the right-side lane—he’ll run straight into you and gift you the ball.”
“Huh…?”
“And you guys in the back line. The Argentines are short, right? When the aerial ball comes, don’t freeze—just throw your body in first. Collapse their center of gravity before they can pull any tricks, and that’s the end of it.”
Gang-cheol’s advice was concrete and battle-tested.
Not some empty “just give it your all.”
Survival know-how forged over thirty-five years of rolling in the mud of the lower leagues.
Layered on top of that was the pinpoint intelligence of a regressor who already knew the future—private tutoring of the highest order.
“I’ll smash through like a tank up front. All you hyungs have to do is pour into the gaps I open. Easy, right?”
Gang-cheol’s easy smile.
Only then did color begin to return to the older players’ faces.
That’s right. We have Ma Gang-cheol. The monster who scored against Manchester City is on our side.
“Let’s go! We’re gonna destroy them!”
Park Jin-ho roared. The players bellowed back and charged out onto the pitch.
Match underway
The whistle blew, and Argentina’s assault began at once.
They were fast. They were fluid.
That distinctive South American rhythm.
With a single piece of individual skill they casually skipped past one or two Korean players.
“Ugh!”
A Korean defender bought the Argentine striker’s feint completely and landed hard on his backside.
A collective groan rolled down from the stands.
Argentina was strong, as expected. The technical gap was plain to see.
Tenth minute of the first half.
At last the ball found Gang-cheol.
Near the halfway line. He received it with his back to goal.
“Clamp him! Kill him!”
Shouts exploded from the Argentine bench.
They had analyzed Ma Gang-cheol down to the last detail.
In an instant three Argentine players swarmed him—the classic “suffocation defense.”
Gang-cheol clenched his teeth.
Grrrk.
Heavy. Three men hanging on with full intent made movement anything but easy.
His instincts screamed, Break through.
Activate Runaway Train, drag all three of them with pure power, and just run.
Until now that had always worked.
The system window flashed crimson as it calculated the odds.
[Combat Analysis]: Opponent’s compact defense is solid.
[Solo Breakthrough Success Rate]: 50%
[Warning]: Success creates a scoring chance. Failure results in turnover and a counterattack.
Fifty percent, huh…
Gang-cheol hesitated.
Even odds.
A coin flip.
He might break through—or he might get stopped. If he got stopped it was an instant counter, and the Korean back line was still shaky.
If I were still some fifteen-year-old punk, I’d force it through out of pure pride.
But Gang-cheol’s soul was that of a thirty-five-year-old veteran.
A seasoned competitor never gambles.
He designs certain victory.
I’m holding three of them? That means two of our guys are free.
He widened his vision.
On the right flank, Park Jin-ho stood staring blankly into space.
“Hyung!! Run!!”
Gang-cheol bellowed.
Park Jin-ho jolted and exploded into a sprint.
Gang-cheol turned the three defenders’ force against them. He pretended to yield to their shove, then flicked the ball with his heel.
A back-heel pass.
The ball slipped clean between the defenders’ legs and arrived perfectly at the feet of the surging Park Jin-ho.
“Wha…?”
The Argentine goalkeeper froze in shock.
He had expected the monster to come. Instead only the ball had slipped free and found another player.
A free chance.
Park Jin-ho remembered the tip Gang-cheol had given him before the match.
When the keeper comes out, always aim between the legs. South American keepers open their stance wide.
He stayed calm and slotted the shot straight through the goalkeeper’s legs.
Ripple.
“Waaaaaaaaah!!!!”
Sangam erupted.
Park Jin-ho scored and sprinted straight into Gang-cheol’s arms.
“Hey! Did you see that? Did you see my shot?”
“I saw it! What did I tell you? Wide open between the legs, right?”
Gang-cheol cackled.
The Argentine players looked utterly lost.
They had thought stopping Ma Gang-cheol would be enough. Now the entire Korean team was moving as one living organism.
The Argentine manager felt his skull about to split.
“Damn it! Do we mark Ma Gang-cheol or don’t we?”
Commit defenders to him → killer passes find the other Koreans.
Leave him one-on-one → he simply destroys that defender and scores.
A hellish dilemma.
Twentieth minute of the second half.
Gang-cheol was now openly acting as the field general.
“Jin-ho hyung! Push the line up! They’re gassed!”
“Min-jae! Don’t just stand there—step up one yard! Offside trap!”
Even without the ball he never stopped pointing, constantly adjusting his teammates’ positions.
The system window glittered.
[Awakening]: Player has abandoned the stubbornness of “solo play.”
[Past Experience]: Thirty-five years of pre-regression experience fuse with Leadership.
[New Stat Unlocked]: Team Synergy — F → E
Team Synergy, huh…
Gang-cheol smiled.
Yes. This was it.
Before the regression his body had never kept up, so he could only paint the pictures in his head.
Now he pinned the opposition with overwhelming physique and moved his teammates like chess pieces that answered his every command.
This was true complete football.
Thirty-fifth minute of the second half.
Argentina pushed their line high and launched an all-out assault.
A moment of crisis as the Korean defense wavered.
Gang-cheol dropped deep into his own half.
Just as Argentine striker Palacios prepared to shoot—
Gang-cheol drove his shoulder in.
BOOM—!
Palacios thought he had run into a wall.
He was not merely shoved; he floated into the air and crashed to the turf.
Gang-cheol collected the ricocheting ball.
“Counter!”
At his shout every Korean player exploded forward as one.
Ahead lay a vast open prairie—and only two Argentine defenders.
Gang-cheol dribbled and ran.
The defenders charged to stop him.
This time, however, he allowed himself a little greed.
The hyungs already cleared the road for me.
His teammates had stretched wide on both flanks, pulling the defenders’ eyes away.
Thanks to them the center had opened like a highway.
Success rate fifty percent? No—right now it was ninety-nine.
Gang-cheol kept charging until he was one-on-one with the keeper.
A thunderous instep drive.
KRAAAANG!
The dagger.
Gang-cheol sprinted to the corner flag and waved his teammates over.
“Everybody get over here!!”
They piled on top of him in a laughing heap.
One team. And at its center stood Gang-cheol.
A complete triumph.
When the physical monster also unlocked team play, even Argentina had no answer.
Mixed-zone interview.
Still dripping with sweat, Gang-cheol stood before the cameras.
“Ma Gang-cheol! One goal, one assist today, and the way you directed your teammates throughout the match was truly impressive.”
Gang-cheol rubbed his nose, looking almost bashful.
“Turns out I can’t play soccer alone. The hyungs moved exactly the way I asked them to. This win belongs to them.”
“Exactly the way you asked?”
“Yes. Before the match I told them every habit and weakness the Argentines have. Looks like the private tutoring paid off a little.”
The reporters were stunned.
A fifteen-year-old youngest player had performed full tactical analysis and taught his seniors?
In that moment the nickname “Monster” gained a new title: Commander.
That night. K-NFC team lodging, weight room.
Past eleven o’clock.
Gang-cheol was still alone, grinding through weight training.
Then the door creaked open a crack.
“Uh… Gang-cheol.”
Captain Park Jin-ho and the defenders shuffled in, looking awkward.
“You’re not sleeping?”
“Well… that defensive positioning you taught us earlier. Could you go into more detail? The next opponents, England, are huge… we don’t really know how to stop them.”
Proud seniors had come of their own free will to ask for instruction.
Gang-cheol set the barbell down and wiped his sweat with a towel.
A smile spread across his lips.
“Good timing. Catching those English guys requires a completely different method.”
He walked to the whiteboard.
Marker in hand, he began drawing tactics.
“English players are strong, but their upper bodies are stiff. Hyung, come here and take a stance.”
He gripped Park Jin-ho’s waist and corrected his posture.
“Your center of gravity is floating too high. One little nudge and you’ll go flying. Drop your hips lower. When the opponent comes in, don’t stick your foot out first—meet him with your shoulder at an angle.”
He demonstrated himself.
Gang-cheol was no longer relying solely on his own physical gifts. He was passing on the techniques he had learned over thirty-five years of surviving against stronger men—the art of the weak defeating the strong.
“Whoa… when I do it like this I really don’t get pushed?”
“If you hold your center properly, you can overcome a weight-class difference.”
“Where the hell did you learn this? Did Pep teach you?”
“Trade secret.”
The lights stayed on deep into the night.
Gang-cheol was no longer alone.
He shared his experience, patched his teammates’ weaknesses, and was forging the entire squad into a monster legion.
And that very scene was being analyzed on video by a scout from their next opponents, England—who was trembling as he watched.
“Damn it. That number 77… he has no weaknesses. Strength doesn’t work, and now he’s controlling the whole team.”
Group of death?
No.
This was now Commander Ma Gang-cheol’s battlefield.