Amsterdam, one year earlier.
Femi collapsed onto the training pitch, gasping. Muscles screaming, lungs on fire. Lars de Groot towered over him, not with frustration—but pride.
"Finish this rep," Lars said, offering a hand, "and you'll be good to go."
Femi blinked sweat from his eyes. "Why… push me so hard? This... isn't even...my position."
Lars' grin faded into something serious. "One day, you'll break something bigger than lungs. Systems. But you'll do it from the backline."
The Ajax hotel breakfast room was quiet. Icy knees, heat packs on necks, silence broken only by cutlery and strained breathing. The war with Madrid had left its mark.
Femi walked in late, still in yesterday's bruises. His wristband itched beneath his sleeve.
Bakker entered without warning. No clipboard. No speech. Just two words:
"One more."
Near the window, Liam sat with his reflection. He didn't turn when Femi passed. His knuckles pressed white against the glass.
Bakker cued the video. The room watched the Matchday 1 clips of Guillén — the winger who once danced freely until Femi anchored him.
But now, it was Guillén's smirk frozen on the paused screen.
"He's the blade," Bakker said, tapping the projector. "Don't let it touch skin."
Femi stared at the screen. That smirk—he'd seen it before, on Lagos pitches, from academy bullies who thought technique was untouchable.
---
Across town, Barcelona warmed up.
Guillén juggled the ball mid-air with a dancer's touch.
"You ready for the Jet?" one teammate joked.
Guillén chuckled. "Fast doesn't scare me. Predictable does."
Lars de Groot stood at the far end, arms crossed, saying nothing. But his eyes never left Guillén.
---
Ajax walked onto the pitch that evening. Empty seats echoed like cathedrals.
Josip dropped to one knee at midfield.
"This is where history happens."
Femi knelt beside him. Grass here felt soft, different. But he smelled Lagos dirt in it. The ghost of it.
High in the stands, Lars watched, marking zones on a tactics sheet.
"Your old project is their weapon," a Barca assistant muttered.
Lars didn't blink. "You won't stop him the way you think."
As Ajax entered the tunnel, Guillén blocked Femi's path.
"I'm not the kid you stopped last time," he said.
Femi didn't blink. "Good. I didn't come for a kid."
Guillén laughed, walking off. "Let's see what a Jet looks like in flames."
Later, as the tunnel cleared, Lars appeared.
"You look heavier," he said.
"Carrying a team will do that," Femi replied.
Lars paused, then whispered: "Then drop the weight. And fly."
Back in the locker room, Josip taped his ankle, roasting Okoro about his first touch.
Souleymane, quiet for once, admitted: "I dreamed I missed a penalty last night."
Femi looked over. "Then you'll score one tonight."
Veenstra looked around, nervous. Josip grinned. "Expect chaos."
From the corridor, Guillén's voice echoed — light, careless, threatening.
Femi's fist clenched.
---
Reporters swarmed Bakker. "Is Adeleye ready for Guillén again?"
Bakker just smiled. "Ask Guillén."
In the back row, Lars sat in silence.
After the conference, Lars and Bakker crossed paths.
They nodded. Nothing more. A whole war buried in that silence.
Inside Lars' head: I taught him to survive. Never taught him to beat me.
Femi found Liam alone on the hotel terrace.
"If I were fit... would I still start?" Liam asked, voice low.
Femi leaned on the rail. "We're here because of both of us."
Liam looked away. "Win it. So this pain meant something."
In the Camp Nou director's lounge, Barcelona's technical director handed Lars a cigar.
"You want him back?"
Lars stared at the pitch below.
"I want to see who he becomes first."
Later, alone, Lars typed a message into his phone. One name. One word.
**"If we lose… add Femi to the list."**
Back at the hotel. No coaches. No media. Just players.
Femi stood in the center.
"If we fall tonight," he said, "make it cost the world."
Josip slammed his fist into his palm. "Let's f***ing go."
Outside, the wind howled. A distant clap of thunder rolled in.
And down the tunnel, Guillén's laughter echoed once more.
---
The bell hadn't rung. But war had already begun.