The ball whipped toward the goal with terrifying pace.
But at the critical moment, Emiliano Martínez once again showcased why he was an absolute nightmare to play against.
The Arsenal loanee launched himself backward, fully extending his body to violently punch the ball away with a single, iron-clad fist.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Gary Weaver's voice cracked through the Sky sports broadcast studio.
"Another completely logic-defying save from Emiliano Martínez! That is the third time tonight he has robbed Aston Villa of a guaranteed goal!"
"It's just unbelievable," Goodman added, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "Theodore Bjorn's delivery was absolute perfection, bypassing the entire Reading defense. Abraham's header had the power... it's just a tragedy that Martínez is playing like a man possessed tonight!"
The Madejski Stadium erupted. Reading fans were screaming Martínez's name, the chant echoing deafeningly around the concrete bowl.
On the touchline, José Gomes was furiously applauding his keeper.
But Theodore wasn't rattled. He wasn't surprised, either. He had memories from his past life—he knew exactly what kind of monster Emiliano Martínez would become at the 2022 World Cup.
"Stay calm! Don't panic!" Theodore roared, clapping his hands together to snap his teammates out of their frustration.
"They only have Martínez! Keep hammering the door, and it will break!"
Down on the touchline, Dean Smith wasn't going to just sit and wait.
He immediately signaled a massive tactical shift.
He pushed Jack Grealish out of the midfield and straight up into the forward line. Aston Villa seamlessly morphed from a 4-1-4-1 into an aggressive 4-4-2.
However, Grealish wasn't playing as a traditional number nine, he tucked in right behind Abraham, operating as a shadow striker to exploit the pockets of space.
With Grealish pushed up, the entire burden of orchestrating the Aston Villa midfield fell squarely onto the shoulders of the 17-year-old rookie.
Theodore just took over the game.
33rd Minute.
Conor Hourihane won a gritty battle on the right flank and poked the ball over to Theodore.
Theodore didn't even take a touch to settle it.
He didn't even look up to scan the penalty area. Relying purely on his 84-rated Vision and his innate connection with the forwards, he lashed his right boot through the ball.
Boom!
The cross was lethal. It traced a bizarre, wicked trajectory over the Reading penalty area.
At the near post, Tammy Abraham threw himself into the air, drawing both center-backs with him, but the ball sailed inches over his head.
It was a total decoy.
Theodore's cross wasn't meant for Abraham. It was mapped perfectly for the trailing shadow striker.
The ball dropped flawlessly into the center of the box, right into the path of Jack Grealish.
Grealish didn't let the ball hit the grass. He just pivoted his hips and unleashed a mid-air volley.
SMACK!
This time, Emiliano Martínez had absolutely no chance.
The ball flew like a tracer bullet, ripping straight into the top corner of the net before the keeper could even dive.
1-1!
"HE HITS IT ON THE VOLLEY! OH MY WORD, WHAT A STRIKE!" Gary Weaver screamed, completely losing his mind on the mic.
"Aston Villa levels it up away from home! An absolute world-class long-range assist from Theodore Bjorn, and a thunderous finish from Jack Grealish! We are tied at 1-1!"
"Dean Smith's tactical gamble pays off immediately!" Goodman shouted over the replay. "Aston Villa's entire attacking engine is running through that 17-year-old kid! Grealish has the flair, but Theodore's technique and vision are on another planet right now!"
...
@VillaUltra: "I fucking knew it! When everything goes to shit, just give the ball to the Bjorn kid!"
@TacticsGuy: "That cross was disgusting. He didn't even look!"
@BrummieBoy: "Forget the Spring Festival Gala, this match is a hundred times more entertaining!"
...
Oslo, Norway.
Inside the warm bustling dining room, Xia Dongguo threw his hands into the air, nearly knocking over a tray of empty glasses.
"FUCK YES!" Dongguo roared at the television. "That's it! That's the equalizer!"
Marianne rushed out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Did we score? Thank god. That was getting incredibly stressful."
A local regular sitting at the bar turned around, looking thoroughly confused.
"Dongguo, mate, why are you screaming at the English Championship? It's the second division. Put the Premier League on! The Manchester Derby is tonight!"
Dongguo puffed his chest out as a massive arrogant grin spreading across his face.
"Because I'm watching my bloody son play!" Dongguo declared proudly, pointing a thick finger at the screen.
"You see that kid? Number 33? The one who just dropped that perfect assist for Grealish? That's my boy, Theodore! Seventeen years old and he's running the midfield for Aston Villa!"
The entire dining went dead silent.
Half a dozen customers swiveled around on their barstools to stare at the 30-inch TV.
"Wait... holy shit, he actually looks just like you," a guy in the corner muttered, his jaw dropping.
"Are you serious?! Your kid is a professional footballer in England?"
"Dongguo, you sly bastard! You better get me a signed jersey before he goes to the Premier League!"
...
42nd Minute. Madejski Stadium.
The equalizer didn't just boost Aston Villa's morale; it completely shattered Reading's confidence.
Sensing the blood in the water, Villa pushed higher, violently pressing the home side deep into their own half.
Theodore received a quick pass from McGinn on the right flank.
Before he could even turn, Reading collapsed on him.
It was a coordinated hit squad.
John Swift, Lewis Baker, and the muscular full-back, Andy Yiadom, swarmed Theodore simultaneously, attempting to trap the teenager in a brutal three-man cage.
They thought they could bully the kid.
They were dead wrong.
Theodore didn't look for a back-pass. He dropped his shoulder and violently threw his body weight straight into Yiadom.
With 86 Physicality backing him up, the collision was devastating.
Yiadom bounced off the teenager like a crash test dummy, tumbling hard to the grass.
With the cage broken, Theodore stepped right through the gap and whipped a devastating, bending cross into the box before Swift or Baker could even react.
The ball whipped violently toward the near post.
Reading's center-back, Liam Moore, was desperately trying to stay tight to Abraham, but Theodore's pass was calculated down to the millimeter.
It cleared Moore's head by exactly two inches.
Abraham didn't waste the golden delivery. He threw his massive body forward, snapping his forehead through the ball.
It flashed right past Martínez's outstretched gloves and nearly tore the netting off the frame.
2-1!
"ASTON VILLA TAKES THE LEAD!" Gary Weaver roared. "Abraham finds the back of the net! Another assist from Theodore Bjorn!"
On the touchline, José Gomes stood frozen, his mouth slightly open.
He stared blankly at the pitch, utterly shell-shocked.
His defensive game plan had just been ripped to shreds by a teenager in the span of nine minutes.
Abraham sprinted away from the goal, grabbed Theodore around the waist and literally hoisted the 17-year-old onto his shoulders like a king as the away end descended into absolute madness.
Second Half.
During the halftime break, Dean Smith was ecstatic.
He urged his squad to keep their foot on the gas.
Martínez is their only lifeline.
Keep shooting, and they will break.
José Gomes, desperate to salvage the game, threw on Sone Aluko to spark the offense.
As soon as the second half kicked off, Reading poured forward.
John Swift, still stinging from his earlier mistakes, received the ball in the final third and hit the gas.
But the second Swift looked up, Theodore was already standing in his face.
Swift gritted his teeth and accelerated, trying to use a rapid change of pace to completely burn the rookie.
But Theodore wasn't Jedinak. His defensive intensity was suffocating.
Theodore didn't bite on the feint. He just slammed his body into Swift, throwing him off balance, and lightning-fast, stabbed his right boot in to cleanly strip the ball away.
Counter-attack.
Theodore immediately launched a sweeping pass out to McGinn on the left flank. McGinn put his head down and tried to burn Blackett with raw pace, but the Reading full-back held his ground, forcing McGinn into a corner.
With two defenders closing in, McGinn forced a desperate cross.
It deflected off a shin and went out of bounds.
Corner kick to Aston Villa.
Theodore jogged over to the flag.
He raised his right hand, making eye contact with the box and whipped a viciously flat, fast delivery straight toward the near post.
Jack Grealish had timed his run flawlessly.
He darted into the open space, beat his marker to the spot and executed a brilliant glancing flick-on header.
The ball zipped over Martínez's head and buried itself in the far corner.
3-1!
"GREALISH WITH THE BRACE! THEODORE BJORN WITH THE HAT-TRICK OF ASSISTS!" the commentators screamed in unison.
Grealish went absolutely mental.
He sprinted directly at Theodore, grabbing him by the shoulders and violently shaking him.
"You fucking genius!" Grealish screamed, ruffling Theodore's hair. "You actually knew I was going to make that near-post run!"
"I watched you do it," Theodore smirked calmly. "But honestly, if you hadn't cut in front, Abraham was standing right there for the tap-in. You basically stole his goal, mate."
Right on cue, Abraham jogged over, shoving Grealish in the chest. "You absolute thief! We literally drilled that exact routine in training!"
Up in the VIP stands, super-agent Jonathan Barnett was standing on his feet, clapping slowly.
His eyes were wide with sheer amazement.
'He's a generational genius,' Barnett thought, his heart hammering in his chest.
'17 years old with the vision of a seasoned maestro. I need to sign this kid before he leaves the stadium tonight.'
The final twenty minutes were a defensive masterclass.
Dean Smith dropped Theodore deeper into a pure defensive pivot and the teenager built a brick wall that Reading simply could not break.
When the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 3-1.
Aston Villa had comfortably stolen all three points on the road.
And once again, Theodore Bjorn walked away with the Man of the Match trophy.
...
By midnight, Norway's largest sports forum had officially crashed from the sheer volume of traffic.
The top trending headline sat pinned on every screen.
THE FUTURE IS HERE: Norwegian Prodigy Theodore Bjorn Bags Hat-Trick of Assists! Can Bjorn and Haaland Carry the Golden Generation?!