The world dissolved around Ibukun as he blinked awake inside the System's simulation chamber—an infinite black space where time moved differently. The air hummed with latent energy, the ground beneath his feet firm yet somehow not quite real.
***SESSION PARAMETERS***
→ **Opponent:** 2024 Bayern Munich (Neuer's final season variant)
→ **Focus:** Beating the offside trap
→ **Duration:** 3 subjective hours (1 real hour)
→ **Failure Condition:** Offside more than 3 times
Jay-Jay's spectral form materialized leaning against nothing, arms crossed. *"That high line will eat you alive if you don't time your runs like a Swiss watch."*
---
**The First Trial**
The simulated whistle blew.
From kickoff, the Bayern backline moved in terrifying synchronization—Upamecano's raw power, Kim's anticipation, Davies' recovery speed creating an impassable wall. Ibukun's first three runs ended with the virtual assistant referee's flag cutting through the digital atmosphere.
***SYSTEM ALERT***
*Offside #3 - Adjust or fail*
Sweat dripped into his eyes despite the chamber's climate control. The fourth attempt, he hesitated half a step, watching Kim's shoulders for the tell. The pass came, he exploded on the diagonal—
—and found himself one-on-one with a fading-but-still-lethal Neuer. The chip was instinctive, floating over the keeper's dive before nestling into the net.
Jay-Jay snorted. *"Took you long enough."*
---
**The Grind**
For subjective hours, Ibukun battled the simulation's relentless adjustments:
- Davies adjusting his starting position by two yards
- The virtual crowd noise spiking during his concentration
- Even the occasional "corrupt referee" call to test his composure
By the session's end, his neural feedback showed:
***LINEBREAKING MASTERY***
→ **Successful runs:** 14/20
→ **Offsides:** 2 (under limit)
→ **New SP Earned:** 600
The chamber dissolved, returning him to reality—sitting on his apartment balcony, a half-finished protein shake beside him. Only sixty minutes had passed. No one would ever know about the war he'd just fought.
---
**The Real World**
Valentina's text arrived as the sunset painted Marseille's skyline gold:
*"Dinner. 8pm. Don't wear sweatpants."*
The bistro was all soft lighting and softer jazz. Valentina arrived fifteen minutes late in a dress that defied several fashion laws, sliding into the booth with a smirk.
"You look terrible," she lied, sipping her martini. "Training too hard or thinking too much?"
"Both." Ibukun eyed the menu. "Mbappé?"
Valentina's smile turned feline. "Worried about your Golden Boot lead?"
The System helpfully projected:
***LIGUE 1 RACE***
→ **Goals:** Ibukun (19) | Mbappé (21)
→ **xG Differential:** +1.3 in Mbappé's favor
She tapped her nails against the glass. "Relax. I didn't bring you here to talk football." A pause. "Okay, maybe a little. Lyon's president may have mentioned a statue in your honor if you sign."
Ibukun didn't grace that with a response.
---
**The Match**
Stade Vélodrome was its usual cauldron of hate when Lille arrived. The Marseille defenders' studs glinted under the lights like promises of violence.
Ibukun's first touch ignited the game—a raking diagonal pass that left their left-back grasping at air. The shot? Blocked by a last-ditch lunge.
The System whispered:
***ADJUSTMENT NEEDED***
→ **Marseille's weak spot:** Right CB's hesitation on near-post crosses
The breakthrough came from exactly that—a whipped delivery Ibukun redirected first-time, the ball kissing the post before going in.
1-0.
***GOLDEN BOOT UPDATE***
→ **Ibukun:** 20
→ **Mbappé:** 21
As the teams trudged off at halftime, Marseille's captain spat at his feet. "Lucky finish."
The second half would prove him wrong.
---