The champagne bottle popped with a sound like a gunshot, spraying golden foam across the locker room ceiling. Lille's players roared, their voices raw from ninety minutes of screaming on the pitch. Someone had already cracked open the speakers, the bass thumping through the walls as the celebrations spilled into the showers.
Ibukun sat in the corner, his kit still damp with sweat, a towel draped over his shoulders. The System pulsed in his periphery, cold and clinical even in victory.
***POST-MATCH ANALYSIS***
→ **Dribbles Completed:** 4/3 (Exceeded target)
→ **Chances Created:** 3 (xG: 1.2)
→ **Fan Approval:** 92% (Peak)
→ **New Trait Activated:** "Elite Playmaker"
Across the room, Fonseca was locked in a heated discussion with the club's sporting director. Their eyes flicked toward Ibukun more than once.
Then the door swung open.
A man in a tailored black suit stepped inside, flanked by two silent figures in dark glasses. The music died instantly.
*"Monsieur Okoche,"* the man said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. *"A word?"*
---
### **The Offer**
The back room of the stadium was soundproofed, the walls lined with framed jerseys of Lille legends past. The man—introduced only as *Mr. Laurent*—poured two fingers of Armagnac into a crystal glass and slid it across the table.
*"You impressed today,"* he said. *"More than you know."*
Ibukun didn't touch the drink.
Laurent smiled, unbothered. *"There are people watching. People who decide which players become legends, and which ones disappear."*
The System flared to life.
***IDENTITY SCAN***
→ **Affiliation:** Marseille Syndicate (Secondary)
→ **Primary Role:** Talent Acquisition (Warlord Adjacent)
→ **Threat Level:** Moderate (Non-violent… for now)
*"We could make you immortal,"* Laurent continued. *"Or we could make sure you never play again."*
Ibukun leaned forward, finally speaking. *"Try."*
Laurent's smile didn't waver. He slid a black envelope across the table.
*"Next time you're in Marseille, open this."*
Then he stood, adjusted his cuffs, and left without another word.
---
### **The Afterparty**
Lille's victory parade had turned the city into a sea of red and blue. Ibukun moved through the crowds like a ghost, his hood pulled low, the System tracking every face that lingered too long.
A woman fell into step beside him—tall, dark-haired, her perfume cutting through the stench of beer and sweat.
*"You don't celebrate?"* she asked, her accent a mix of French and something warmer.
Ibukun kept walking.
She laughed, undeterred. *"I saw your nutmeg on Henrique. That was… art."*
The System pinged.
***SOCIAL INTERACTION DETECTED***
→ **Identity:** Elena Kovac (Freelance Journalist)
→ **Affiliation:** None (Confirmed)
→ **Threat Level:** Negligible
→ **Suggested Action:** Proceed with caution
She pressed a card into his hand. *"If you ever want to talk. About football. Or… other things."*
Then she vanished into the crowd.
---
### **The Next Morning**
Dawn found Ibukun on the training pitch alone, his muscles burning as he replayed every touch, every pass from the Monaco match. The System projected holographic defenders in front of him, their movements pulled from Lens' last game.
He danced through them like they weren't even there.
Fonseca found him like that an hour later, drenched in sweat, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
*"You know we have a game in three days, right?"* the manager said, tossing him a water bottle.
Ibukun caught it without looking. *"I'll be ready."*
Fonseca hesitated, then nodded toward the stadium. *"They're already calling you the future. But futures can be… bought."*
Ibukun's grip tightened on the bottle.
*"Not mine."*
---
### **The Lens Storm Approaches**
The air in Lille had changed. Where before there had been curiosity, now there was hunger. Reporters camped outside the training ground. Fans screamed his name during drills. Even the bakery near his apartment started leaving fresh croissants at his door.
The System tracked it all.
***REPUTATION SHIFT***
→ **Local Icon Status:** Achieved
→ **Media Scrutiny:** High (Recommend: Limited Public Appearances)
→ **Opposition Watch:** Lens scouts confirmed in stands
That night, footage from Lens' training session leaked online. Their manager, a grizzled ex-enforcer, was screaming at his defenders.
*"You let that African rat dance, I'll break your legs myself!"*
The System's response was instant.
***DERBY PREPARATION***
→ **Lens Defensive Line:** Aggression rating 9/10
→ **Weakness:** Right-back Zaitsev (Slow recovery speed)
→ **Recommended Action:** Early targeting to provoke yellow card
Ibukun closed the feed.
Let them come.
---
### **The Calm Before**
The night before the derby, Ibukun stood on his balcony, the city spread out below him. The System ran its usual diagnostics, but his mind was elsewhere.
Elena's card sat on the table beside him.
He picked it up, turned it over once, then dropped it into the trash.
The System approved.
***FOCUS LEVELS OPTIMAL***
→ **Match Readiness:** 98%
→ **External Distractions:** Minimized
→ **Mission Priority:** Crush Lens
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
Tomorrow, the storm would break.
---