Dawn painted the Westerlo training grounds in pale gold as Ibukun arrived, two hours before the scheduled session. The air smelled of wet grass and diesel from the nearby highway. His breath fogged in the crisp Belgian morning as he dropped his bag and began setting up cones.
The blisters on his feet hadn't fully healed from yesterday's double session.
Jay-Jay's hologram flickered to life, his usual swagger muted by the early hour. *"Kid, even the groundskeepers are still asleep."*
Ibukun ignored him, placing the last cone with precise measurement.
**>> DAILY MISSION: "200 WEAK-FOOT PASSES TO MOVING TARGETS"
>> REWARD: +1 VISION / +1 COMPOSURE
>> CURRENT PROGRESS: 0/200 <<**
The first ten attempts were disasters—overhit passes skidding into the drainage ditch, underhit balls stopping dead in the dew.
*"Your left foot's still a tragedy,"* Jay-Jay yawned. *"Like watching a newborn giraffe try to dance."*
---
### **The Reality of Second Division**
Westerlo's locker room smelled of mildew and cheap disinfectant. Ibukun's assigned cubby had a broken hinge and someone's old chewing gum stuck to the bottom.
Captain De Vos, a grizzled veteran with a broken nose and tattoos up both arms, tossed him a faded training bib.
**"You're with the reserves today, Golden Boy."**
The "training match" was less football and more controlled violence:
- **Minute 3:** A center back's elbow "accidentally" caught Ibukun's temple during an aerial duel
- **Minute 17:** Two midfielders sandwiched him in a 50/50 challenge, leaving stud marks on both calves
- **Minute 41:** The right back raked his nails down Ibukun's arm during a tracking run
**>> PHYSICAL CONDITION:
>> - 7 MINOR CONTUSIONS
>> - BLOOD OXYGEN LEVEL: 92% (FATIGUE SETTING IN)
>> - MUSCLE FATIGUE: 67% <<**
At halftime, the coach spat his gum out near Ibukun's boots.
**"Brugge sent us a porcelain doll. Either toughen up or pack your bags."**
---
### **The Breaking Point**
That night, in his tiny rented room above a bakery (the yeast smell never faded), Ibukun peeled off his training gear to assess the damage:
- Purple bruises blooming across his ribs
- A swollen ankle from that late tackle
- Raw, red skin where his cheap boots had rubbed
The System's interface glowed faintly:
**>> NEW SKILL TREE UNLOCKED: "GRIT"
>> AVAILABLE UPGRADES:
>> - PAIN TOLERANCE (5 POINTS)
>> - RECOVERY RATE (8 POINTS)
>> - MENTAL RESILIENCE (6 POINTS)
>> CURRENT BALANCE: 12 POINTS <<**
Jay-Jay's hologram sat cross-legged on the rickety desk. *"This what you wanted? To get kicked to pieces in some backwater league?"*
Ibukun allocated all his points without hesitation.
---
### **The Turnaround**
**Week 3:**
Ibukun stayed late again, practicing one-touch passes against the wall. The ball rebounded wrong—
**CRACK.**
His nose gushed blood.
The groundskeeper's teenage son, who sometimes shagged balls back, froze in horror.
Ibukun pinched his nostrils shut, tilted his head back, and kept training.
**Week 7:**
A freezing rain turned the pitch to sludge. Westerlo was down 0-1 in the 88th minute when Ibukun intercepted a lazy pass.
Two defenders converged.
Last month, he would've panicked.
Now—
A simple feint left, then right. Not flashy. Just effective.
The shot wasn't pretty—a toe-poke that squirted through the keeper's legs.
1-1.
His teammates mobbed him, their earlier disdain momentarily forgotten.
**Week 14:**
The coach threw the armband at him after De Vos got sent off.
Ibukun organized the backline, barked orders, and they held on for a clean sheet.
Afterwards, in the showers, De Vos nodded at him—the first sign of respect.
---
### **The Numbers Don't Lie**
**>> STAT PROGRESS:
>> - STRENGTH: 71 → 79
>> - STAMINA: 75 → 85
>> - COMPOSURE: 65 → 73
>> - VISION: 68 → 76 <<**
The loan spell was supposed to last the season.
But in January, as Ibukun shoveled snow off the training pitch (because Westerlo couldn't afford heated grounds), his phone buzzed.
A Manchester United area code.
Jay-Jay's hologram whistled. *"Looks like someone's been paying attention."*
---