Chapter 112: Survival and dominance
[HALF-TIME: Villarreal 1-1 Barcelona]
[HALF-TIME: Real Madrid 1-1 Real Betis]
The Copa del Rey quarterfinals had split into two stories by halftime.
In Villarreal, Barcelona were clawing and limping, bruised and battered by Villarreal’s rough treatment but still level. While in Madrid, Real were circling, frustrated but patient, locked 1–1 with Betis.
It almost felt like the scoreline was written in the stars.
In 45 minutes, Villarreal and Real Betis managed to do it, having dug in to fight to a draw against the league table toppers.
The only question was... could they do it for 45 more minutes?
The world wanted Real Madrid and Barcelona to fall, and now the hopes of millions of fans around the world now laid on the shoulder of Villarreal and Real Betis to stun the giants.
The second halves would decide it all.
In La Cerámica, the noise was suffocating, a wall of yellow fury shaking the compact stadium as the home fans hoped to rattle their opponents.
The treatment of their players on the pitch already left the Barcelona players physically rattled on the pitch. Now, the fans wanted to round it up with a psychological warfare to complete the battle.
The noise in the stadium was deafening.
Barcelona stepped out of the tunnel with faces set like stone even as the home fans booed them in waves. As soon as he entered the pitch, Sam stretched his ankle discreetly, hiding the pain.
At home, Kayla watched nervously, whispering prayers.
FWEEE!
The referee’s whistle sounded to continue the action.
From the restart, Villarreal resumed their war. High pressing and recklessly lunging into tackles, they contested for every single blade of grass.
Gerard Moreno stung Joan García’s gloves in the 49th minute in a heart-jumping moment for Barca fans, while Yeremy Pino clattered Balde with a body check that sent him tumbling to the pitch like a rag doll.
It was ugly chaos, but despite it, Barça refused to break.
Pedri grew into the game as he began to dictate tempo, his passing cutting through lanes like needles through cloth, stitching calm where chaos reigned. Gavi harassed Villarreal’s midfield, snarling into every challenge.
Then came the scare.
In the 57th minute, Sam once again surged forward with the ball. He slipped past one, past two, and past three defenders, only for Cuenca to chop him down from behind. Sam hit the turf, clutching his leg in pain as the stadium froze.
"¡Tarjeta roja!" Hansi Flick screamed by the byline, veins bulging.
But the referee, deafened and heavily influenced by La Cerámica’s roars brandished only a yellow card as Hansi Flick roared in disbelief.
Sam rose again, limping but defiant.
He clenched his fist. "Not tonight," he muttered.
That defiance ignited his teammates.
Despite the injustice, Barca kept doing their thing and finally in the 68th minute, they broke the deadlock again as Yamal picked up the ball on the right, dazzled past Pedraza with a flurry of stepovers, before curling in a wicked cross.
Raphinha ghosted between defenders and powered home a header.
BAM!
1–2 Barcelona.
Raphinha did the calma celebration in front of Villarreal fans even as his they booed him and his teammates swarmed him to celebrate.
Villarreal, enraged, threw everything forward after that.
Within the next few minutes, Moreno tested García twice, Yeremy rattled the crossbar, and the crowd howled for an equalizer.
But in their quest for the equalizer, Villarreal were left exposed at the back as in the 83rd minute, Barça found the dagger.
Araujo won a bruising aerial duel, and Pedri pounced on the loose ball before sliding a deadly through pass to Yamal.
The Spanish wonderkid, fearless, chipped calmly over the onrushing keeper.
1–3.
La Cerámica fell silent, save for the pocket of traveling blaugrana fans who roared into the night.
Villarreal was stunned.
Sam, battered and limping, played on till the whistle. Every stride he took felt like a statement to the home fans. ’You cannot break me!’
Barcelona had survived, though barely.
[FULLTIME: Villarreal 1-3 Barcelona]
...
At the Bernabéu, it was a different storm as Madrid emerged from halftime like wolves unleashed.
In the 52nd minute, they broke the deadlock as Vinícius carved through Betis’ right flank with electric speed and pace, his samba rhythm irresistible.
He squared the ball to Mbappé, who dummied and let it roll for Bellingham.
One touch... BANG!
Bottom corner; the goalkeeper stood no chance.
2–1 Madrid.
Betis staggered, but Madrid weren’t done.
Valverde thundered forward like a man possessed, unleashing another missile from 25 yards just 3 minutes later in the 55th minute.
This time, no goalkeeper on earth could stop it.
The net bulged, and the stadium erupted.
3–1.
The Andalusians tried to muster a response, Isco pulling strings, the Betis striker buzzing around, but Madrid smelled blood.
Rodrygo danced inside on the 69th minute, weaving past defenders, and curled a sublime finish into the top corner to make it 4–1.
From there, it was exhibition.
Passes zipped and flicks flew as the Bernabéu became a carnival of white. Vinícius added his name to the scoresheet late on, tapping home after a slick one-two with Mbappé to kill the game.
5–1.
When the whistle blew, the Bernabéu was left singing. Madrid hadn’t just won, they had crushed Real Betis.
[FULLTIME: Real Madrid 5-1 Real Betis]
Two paths, but the same destination for the 2 Spanish giants.
In Villarreal, Barcelona staggered, battered but unbroken. While in Madrid, Los Blancos crushed, ruthless and resplendent.
But both giants stood in the same place, the Copa del Rey semifinals.
The Spanish press salivated at the contrast.
*"Barcelona Bleed, But Do Not Fall."
*"Madrid’s Empire Rolls On."
*"The Final Awaits the Giants."
On social media, fans debated endlessly.
Was Barça’s grit proof of resilience or a warning of cracks forming? Was Madrid’s dominance proof of superiority or simply an easier night?
Sam’s bruised ankle dominated headlines, his near-injury replayed endlessly on TV. But so did his stubbornness, his refusal to quit.
By dawn, one truth was clear...
The Copa del Rey, like La Liga and the Champions League, was marching toward an inevitable collision course... Barça and Madrid... survival and dominance.
Two paths destined to cross again.