The morning after the PSG match dawned gray and heavy over Lille, the sky still carrying the weight of the previous night's rain. Ibukun stood on the balcony of his modest apartment, steam curling from the mug of bitter herbal tea in his hands. The System had already cataloged the previous night's performance, but the echoes of the Parc des Princes still hummed in his muscles—the way Hakimi had stumbled, the way Donnarumma had barely flinched before the free kick had already seared itself into the net.
Across the city, the reactions were unfolding in real time.
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### **The Media Storm**
The Lille training ground was already swarming by the time Ibukun arrived. Reporters clustered near the gates, cameras flashing as players filtered in. A microphone thrust toward his face, the journalist's breath fogging in the cold air.
*"Ibukun! L'Équipe called your performance 'a revelation.' Do you think you deserve a starting spot now?"*
He didn't break stride.
Inside, the locker room buzzed with a different energy. Tiago Santos, still nursing bruised pride from Mbappé's relentless torment, shot him a glance that was equal parts resentment and awe. Benjamin André clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm.
*"You made them look human. That's not easy."*
Fonseca's office door was ajar. Through the gap, Ibukun caught the tail end of a heated discussion with the sporting director.
*"—not just a cameo. He changed the game. We adjust."*
A pause. Then, grudgingly: *"Fine. But we don't rush him."*
The System flickered at the edge of his vision.
***MEDIA IMPACT ANALYSIS***
→ **Headlines:** 83% positive (Key phrases: "Mbappé's equal," "PSG's kryptonite")
→ **Fan Sentiment:** Spike in Lille OSC merchandise sales (Jersey #14 requests up 240%)
→ **Opposition Watch:** Lens scouts confirmed in attendance for next training session
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### **Training – The New Reality**
The session was heavier than usual, the pitch still slick from overnight rain. Fonseca had them working on defensive transitions, the drill designed to simulate Monaco's quick-counter style.
But something was different.
When Ibukun received the ball, the reactions around him had shifted.
- **Zhegrova,** usually greedy in possession, played an early pass into his path without hesitation.
- **Yoro,** the young center-back, positioned himself to cover whenever Ibukun drove forward.
- Even **Cabella,** the veteran, deferred to him on set-piece duties.
The System noted it all.
***TEAM DYNAMICS UPDATE***
→ **Trust Level:** 68% (↑22% post-PSG)
→ **Leadership Potential:** Detected (Captaincy viability: 41%)
Then came the test.
Fonseca blew his whistle, rearranging the sides. Now, Ibukun found himself leading the second team against Lille's usual starters—André, David, and the rest. The coach's instruction was simple: *"Break them."*
And he did.
A nutmeg on André. A disguised pass that left Alexsandro flat-footed. A curling shot that kissed the post. By the end, even the groundskeepers had stopped to watch.
Fonseca's notebook snapped shut. *"Enough. Ibukun—with me."*
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### **The Manager's Office**
The room smelled of espresso and leather. Fonseca motioned to the chair opposite his desk, then slid a tablet across the surface. On it, footage of Monaco's last match played—their high defensive line, their aggressive pressing triggers.
*"You see it?"*
Ibukun did. The left-back, Caio Henrique, had a habit of tucking in too narrow. The space behind him was a highway.
Fonseca leaned forward. *"They'll man-mark you. Probably with Fofana. He's strong, but slow to turn."*
A beat. Then, the decision.
*"You start against Monaco. Left wing. I want you to destroy that flank."*
The System pulsed.
***NEW PRIMARY MISSION***
→ **Dominate Caio Henrique** (Complete 3+ successful dribbles)
→ **Create 2 clear chances** (Minimum xG of 0.3 each)
→ **Reward:** "Elite Playmaker" trait unlock
→ **Failure:** Fan Approval reset
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### **The USB**
It arrived in his locker that evening. No note, just a plain silver drive tucked between his boots.
When plugged in, the screen flickered to life with a single video file: **MARSEILLE_1998.mov**
The footage was grainy, the colors bleeding at the edges. But there was no mistaking the player on screen.
A younger Jay-Jay Okocha, draped in Paris Saint-Germain's colors, weaving through Marseille defenders like they were training cones. Then—the collision. A tackle from behind, studs raking down his Achilles. The scream was raw, unguarded.
The camera panned to the bench, where a familiar face watched, stone-faced.
Claire Moreau.
Younger, but unmistakable.
The video cut to black. A final message flickered:
*"They never let us rise without breaking us first."*
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### **The Calm Before**
That night, Ibukun stood again on his balcony, the city stretching before him. The USB weighed heavy in his pocket. The System's final notification of the day glowed:
***OPPONENT ALERT***
→ **AS Monaco Form:** 3W-1D last 4 matches
→ **Key Threat:** Wissam Ben Yedder (5 goals in 6 games)
→ **Weakness:** Defensive line speed (↓15% recovery pace)
Somewhere in the distance, the lights of the Stade Pierre-Mauroy shimmered.
Two days until battle.
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