Chapter 82: Twilight of the Gods—This Era Belongs to Real-Barça-Bayern
"Nacho Fernández! The Real Madrid youth academy defender, who made his first-team debut last season, is 21 years old. Primarily a center-back, he can also play full-back and defensive midfield. He's one of Castilla's finest products in recent years—and a close friend of Leon. The pair were once affectionately dubbed the 'Defensive Twin Stars' of Real Madrid's youth system by fans."
As commentator He Wei narrated with detailed, well-researched information about Nacho—no one knew where he'd gotten it, but it was spot-on—fans across China quickly memorized the young defender's mature features.
Leon's friend?
Used to be part of a youth defensive duo with him?
Automatic support unlocked.
Many Chinese fans began watching with their phones out, searching up whatever bits and pieces of Nacho content they could find online.
What Nacho couldn't have imagined was that thanks to a simple high-five and a little help from the commentators, he had just captured the curiosity of millions of fans on the other side of the world.
On the pitch, still slightly nervous, Nacho ran a hand over his slicked-back hair one more time.
Mourinho didn't have particularly high expectations for him.
His tactical orders were simple: hold the right flank. If he had the stamina, he could help Leon cover more ground defensively.
Going forward?
That was up to Nacho's own judgment. If there was space, he could overlap.
But Nacho's head was clear.
Just like Leon during his own debut last season, he knew exactly what Mourinho wanted from him.
So after stepping onto the field, Nacho stayed calm and focused. He held his position, recycled the ball, and didn't even think about bombing forward.
Mourinho, watching him play like a soldier who had been told not to cross a line, chuckled softly and sat back down on the bench.
No surprises. A bit boring.
But in this stage of the season, Mourinho didn't need surprises.
What he needed was control, consistency, and pressure on Barcelona.
Nacho knew his role.
He wasn't impatient. His defense was solid.
A clear understanding of his place in the squad?
To Mourinho, that was intelligence.
"Smart and grounded… these two really are best friends. Even their personalities are the same."
Mourinho's grin widened.
Next to him, Karanka nodded.
Another youth graduate was about to receive more and more playing time.
Last summer it had been Leon.
This year it was Callejón.
Now Nacho had arrived.
Loyal, low-maintenance, versatile—homegrown players were just better.
The second half played out with a slower tempo.
Madrid secured another comfortable 2-0 league win.
Arbeloa, Kaká, and Ronaldo were all subbed off in the second half.
Kaká, with two assists, was named Man of the Match.
Holding his champagne bottle during the post-game interview, he was all smiles.
He thanked Mourinho for giving him another chance to prove himself, thanked his family for their constant support, and once again—thanked Leon.
"Little Lion helped me truly understand the importance of changing my role.
I'm not young anymore—I'll be 30 next year—but to still contribute with performances like this...
I'm so grateful to the coach, and to Leon for believing in me."
The moment he finished, the media's noses were twitching.
They could sense juicy headlines.
But Kaká took the champagne and quickly left the interview zone, not giving them any follow-up material.
With their win streak extended, Madrid had now opened the season with seven consecutive La Liga victories.
The pressure was back on Barcelona.
In the home locker room at Camp Nou, just minutes before their match against Racing Santander, Barça players were no doubt aware of Madrid's result.
The kickoff time was about ten minutes later than Madrid's.
Even with a bad internet connection, Guardiola surely knew Madrid had already won again.
Many Madrid fans, their match just ending, instantly switched their attention to Barcelona.
But today, Barça did not slip.
4–0.
A dominant win over Santander kept them firmly in the hunt just before the Champions League group stage resumed.
With this round of La Liga over, only three unbeaten teams remained:
Real Madrid (7 wins in 7 games)Barcelona (4 wins, 3 draws)Sevilla (3 wins, 4 draws)
These were the current top three.
And surprising everyone in fourth place?
Levante, the dark horse Mourinho had praised so highly.
With 3 wins, 3 draws, and just 1 loss, they were the early-season Cinderella story.
Sevilla's solid start had also pushed Valencia and Málaga out of the top four.
Meanwhile, the two clubs heavily favored by Spanish media before the season—Villarreal and Atlético Madrid—were struggling.
Villarreal had turned into a "sinking submarine," battered in the Champions League by both Bayern and Napoli, losing their first two group-stage matches.
Domestically? Just 1 win, 4 draws, and 2 losses—12th place.
Atlético were doing slightly better.
With 1 win and 1 draw in the Europa League (leading their group on goal difference), and a 2-3-2 record in La Liga, they were sitting in ninth—mediocre at best.
So while the title race was clearly between Madrid and Barça, the race for the top four was looking spicy.
Sevilla, Levante, Valencia, Málaga, Atlético—five teams chasing two spots.
With the top two spots almost automatically taken by Madrid and Barça, it was shaping up to be a five-way brawl for the Champions League zone.
Compared to the currently underwhelming Premier League, La Liga's top-four race was looking fierce.
And when you added in the sheer power of Madrid and Barça, La Liga looked every bit like the strongest league in the world.
No one could argue that.
In the Champions League, the Spanish superpowers were now clear title contenders.
Still, there were threats.
One of them: Bayern Munich, finalists in 2009–10 and beaten last year only by the defending champions Inter.
The other?
Manchester United, finalists two out of the last three years—even without their sharpest weapon Cristiano Ronaldo, they remained a juggernaut under Sir Alex Ferguson.
Aside from their mutual hatred, Real Madrid and Barcelona fans were wary of only two other clubs on the continent—Bayern Munich and Manchester United.
As for their many former rivals?
Some had aged. Some had declined. None could keep up with the pace of the Spanish giants.
The decline of Serie A meant the Milan clubs and Juventus no longer posed a real threat in the Champions League.
The newly risen Napoli looked solid, but they had too little experience in Europe to be considered dangerous.
In the Bundesliga, Dortmund was strong, but they shared the same flaw: too green. Their European résumé was far too thin.
Ligue 1?
Let's skip that entirely.
And La Liga?
There was nothing more to say—every single Spanish team besides Madrid and Barça had been beaten too many times by both. Their Champions League records were middling at best.
The Premier League had been fierce a few seasons ago. But let's be real—no one escapes time, not even clubs.
Liverpool, Chelsea, Arsenal—once the nightmares of Real and Barça in Europe—had all either lost their cores or aged into mediocrity. Their strength had plummeted.
Until they rebuilt, they posed no threat to the Spanish titans.
Looking across the European landscape, there were truly only two clubs that Madrid and Barça had to watch out for:
Bayern and Manchester United.
That's why, when Leon told reporters—half-jokingly—that his goal was just to "make the semifinals," it wasn't only because he knew how the original timeline played out.
It was because, right now, in the current state of European football, that was the reality.
If Madrid didn't self-destruct, if Mourinho didn't pull a surprise "tactical experiment," then making the semifinals was all but expected.
Because everyone else had gotten weaker.
Visibly, undeniably weaker.
Real and Barça had risen at the perfect moment, when so many of their rivals were in decline.
If this had been the 2007–08 season, Real and Barça wouldn't have dared speak of "easy wins" against the English powerhouses.
Back then, facing United or Chelsea meant a full-body brawl, not a chess match.
Go even further back?
It was hell.
The Iron-Willed Chelsea, Milan's lingering dominance, Arsenal's offensive juggernaut, Juve's elite defense…
Just remembering the names of those squads gave goosebumps.
Back then, European football was roaring.
But the rhythm of the sport is always cyclical.
When one generation of giants rises, another is bound to fall.
Real and Barça had emerged into a twilight of the gods.
And when they rose, most of their old enemies were already falling.
It was unfortunate for neutral fans.
But for fans of Madrid and Barça, it was the ultimate blessing.
Their dominance fed their fame. Their fame brought better players. Their players brought better results.
A self-reinforcing loop.
You could see it clearly in the numbers.
October 17—Champions League, Matchday 3.
Barça faced Plzeň, Madrid played Lyon.
Neither was a high-profile clash.
But that night, across Europe, the Americas, and especially East Asia, both matches drew ratings far higher than the other games.
Because let's be honest—if you're a neutral fan and you have to pick between Barça vs. Plzeň or Milan vs. BATE Borisov, which match are you watching?
Crude comparison?
Maybe.
But the truth stands.
And once again, both Spanish giants delivered.
Barça comfortably dispatched Plzeň 3–0, finishing the first half of the group stage with two wins and one draw, topping their group with ease.
But Madrid?
Madrid were on another level.
Plzeň was a Czech league team. A 3–0 win was expected.
So no one made a big deal of it. Even the media yawned.
But Real Madrid smashed Lyon—5–0.
That?
That shook the continent.
Forget Bayern's draw with Napoli.
Forget Chelsea's destruction of Genk.
Forget Dortmund's shocking loss to Olympiacos.
As soon as Madrid's match ended, the Bernabéu exploded.
The entire European football world jolted awake.
Was Ligue 1 still considered Europe's fifth league?
Had it already been surpassed by the Portuguese league?
Who knew.
But Lyon was second in Ligue 1, not some bottom feeder.
And they'd just been obliterated.
Over in the Ajax locker room, players had been joking at halftime, laughing at how badly Lyon was losing.
But when they saw the final score?
No one was laughing anymore.
Frank de Boer looked at the screen in horror.
5–0… in the 67th minute?
That meant Madrid had taken their foot off the gas for the final 25 minutes.
It hit him like a truck.
"So they really went easy on us last round…"
Recomposing himself, De Boer made a decision:
Next time, Ajax would bunker.
No fancy football.
No brave tactics.
Defend. From the first whistle to the last.
No more risks.
While French media mourned, L'Équipe remained calm—and published a brutal, clinical breakdown of Madrid's performance:
"Lyon's squad is no joke.
Up front: Gomis.
Midfield: Gourcuff, Källström, Fofana.
Defense: Cissokho, Lovren.
In goal? France's No. 1, Hugo Lloris."
"Lyon weren't playing poorly.
They simply tried to be proactive.
They tried to attack Madrid."
"And in doing so, they made a fatal error."
"Madrid's near-perfect transitions punished Lyon with merciless efficiency.
The moment you step out of your low block and try to press them, you're dead."
"Once the first goal went in, Leon, Alonso, and Lass absolutely smothered Lyon's midfield.
Interceptions. Forward passes. Instant counters."
"It wasn't just Madrid scoring goals.
It was Madrid slapping French football across the face."
"We are behind. Far behind."
"This is Mourinho's latest masterpiece.
After one full season of refining his squad, he may now be ready to unleash a new superpower upon Europe."
"We are witnessing the rise of a new empire.
We are now officially in the Era of Real and Barça."
This article spread like wildfire.
Across Europe, fans debated, dissected, and praised.
When Leon read it the next afternoon?
He shook his head.
Bayern Munich hadn't even entered full swing yet.
The "Real-Barça Era"?
In Leon's mind, history had already confirmed the truth.
This wasn't the "Real-Barça Era."
This was the era of Real, Barça… and Bayern.
This was the era of Real-Barça-Bayern.
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