At seven in the morning, Suk arrived at the training ground.
He found that the physical trainer, Hartbach, was already there, setting up equipment on the field.
Suk jogged over immediately.
"Coach, I'm here!"
His cheerful shout marked the start of the day's training.
"No rush! Go eat first!"
Hartbach glanced around the field before turning to Suk.
"I'm not hungry," Suk blinked.
"Breakfast is important." Hartbach didn't explain further—he was firm.
Helpless, Suk jogged back to the cafeteria and returned five minutes later.
"I told you to eat."
Hartbach frowned.
Suk wiped crumbs from the corner of his mouth. "I did."
"So fast?" Hartbach raised an eyebrow.
"I eat quickly."
He had used two minutes going back and forth, and just three minutes to eat: a glass of milk, a sandwich, and an egg nearly swallowed whole—all done efficiently.
Hartbach looked at him strangely. He'd never seen anyone so eager to train.
"My training methods are different. I won't take up too much time—one hour of intense training, twice a week."
"Only twice a week?" Suk blinked.
"That's the limit. Teenagers shouldn't overdo strength training. Your body still needs to develop. No weight-based exercises—only growth-focused training."
He clapped his hands. "Let's begin."
Suk nodded quickly.
Though just one hour, Hartbach's training was professional and science-based.
"Hold your knees, use your toes, don't support with your whole foot, don't move too fast, and maintain proper form."
Under the morning sun, Suk walked ten meters along the edge of the field, hugging his knees, using toe strength to move forward. It resembled a duck walk but focused more on stimulating the calves. At first, it felt fine—but after five meters, a burning sensation kicked in.
Once he completed ten meters, Suk felt the fire in his thighs and calves. He tried to stand up, but Hartbach barked:
"Don't stand! Walk back sideways, still hugging your legs—one hand on each knee. Step left, turn, then step right. Repeat."
Suk followed the instructions, but after just five meters, his legs shook like branches in strong wind.
Sweat covered his forehead. He gritted his teeth.
After just fifteen meters, his legs were sore, burning, and slightly painful.
"Five more meters!" Hartbach's voice rose.
"Ahhh!! Got it!" Suk roared.
He continued sideways, hugging his knees.
"Too fast! Want to do it again?"
Suk had sped up to escape the pain, but Hartbach scolded him. He had to slow down, breaking the movement into proper form.
He barely dragged himself back to the starting point when Hartbach calmly said, "Ten seconds of rest!"
Suk stood up and slapped his thighs and calves.
"So sore! So sore!"
It felt like no time had passed before Hartbach called out again.
"Next! Walk with heels touching your buttocks. On the way back, lean your body forward to increase the load."
Suk gritted his teeth and continued, enduring the soreness.
Hartbach's training was gradual, with clear planning and purpose.
Each strength-load exercise was followed by a complementary one.
Knee-Hug Walk (Out) – Side Knee-Hug Walk (Back)
Heel-to-Butt Walk (Out) – Heel-to-Butt Walk with Forward Lean (Back)
Backward Straight-Leg Deadlift Walk (Out) – Step Jump (Back)
High Knee Run (Out) – Heel-to-Butt Run (Back)
Straight-Leg Walk (Out) – Glide Step (Back)
Waist Twist Run (Out) – Back Step (Back)
Full Speed Sprint (Out) – Relaxed Jog (Back)
After four rounds of these, Suk was panting heavily.
"Warm-up's over. Let's start formal training."
Hartbach added throwing drills too. Strength had to be balanced—coordination across the body mattered.
Suk worked desperately to keep up.
At first, it was hard. But he persisted.
Hartbach secretly nodded in approval.
The training plan was not fixed—he adjusted it based on Suk's performance. He pushed Suk's body to feel fatigue and load, but not excessively.
Jumping, stretching, and other drills were mixed in to build toughness and ligament flexibility.
After the final variable-speed run, Suk collapsed on the ground.
Sweat dripped constantly, and his legs felt like they were falling off.
Hartbach walked over and handed him an energy drink.
Suk grabbed it and drank desperately.
"Follow the morning training if you can. Rest if you're too tired. Don't force yourself."
Suk nodded. "It's okay. I recover quickly."
Hartbach smiled, thinking Suk was just bragging. He'd know the truth soon enough.
Two hours later, Suk completed the full morning team training.
Van Sterjak glanced over. "He trained this morning, didn't he?"
Hartbach stayed silent.
This kid had collapsed earlier, and now he was bouncing around again.
He'd heard Asian muscles were known for endurance—was this a racial trait?
Hartbach was already considering whether to increase tomorrow's difficulty.
Suk was indeed tired—but he had used a state recovery card.
He didn't want to skip team training—he needed to integrate quickly.
And with six recovery cards, using one or two a week was fine.
In the afternoon team match, Suk's performance wasn't great.
The coach had increased the challenge—someone was assigned to mark him closely.
This made it hard for Suk to drop deep or move forward.
His physical weakness was still a big issue. Even basic challenges prevented him from receiving or passing the ball.
Bang!
Barton knocked him down in a collision.
"You okay?" Barton walked over and offered a hand.
Pui!
Suk spat out some grass and stood up.
Covered in dirt and grass, he had clearly been knocked over many times.
But he never complained.
Every time—like now—he immediately got back up and rejoined training.
Even when hurt, he would lie down for a bit and then keep going.
Anyone else would've lost their cool by now—but not Suk.
"His weakness is still physical. With a man-marking tactic, his performance drops sharply," Van Sterjak observed.
As head coach, he needed to both develop Suk's strengths and plan counters—after all, opponents would target him eventually.
"The physical part can't be solved quickly. But there's a workaround—let Kosopech exhaust the defenders in the first half, and bring Suk on in the second."
Van Sterjak stroked his chin.
Assistant coach Van Dill nodded. "Suk and Kosopech fit different systems. But your plan sounds good."
"Let's try it."
Back on the field, Suk wasn't exactly calm.
Being knocked down again and again, he felt frustrated.
But he knew: complaining was a sign of weakness.
He had to solve the problem.
Since he couldn't win duels, he needed to avoid them.
But passes were too obvious. Everyone could predict his move.
So, the only solution: faster, more deceptive runs.
He found Modric.
"Luka, when you pass, aim for the opposite side of my fake move," Suk explained. "When I drop deep, I'll turn left or right before receiving. Pass to the other side of that turn."
Suk scratched his head. "It's one beat slower—but don't pass to my feet."
Modric nodded. He understood—Suk wanted to avoid contact.
But this kind of chemistry took practice.
They began rehearsing the pass.
Each time Suk turned, Modric would send the ball to the opposite direction.
But it wasn't easy.
Timing, rhythm, Suk's body movement—it all needed practice.
They kept trying.