The first morning of training with Manchester United's first team dawned gray and misty, the kind of damp English cold that seeped into bones. Ibukun stood at the edge of the immaculate pitch, his breath visible in the air, as legends he'd only seen on television strolled past him without a glance.
Bruno Fernandes chatted with Casemiro in Portuguese. Marcus Rashford stretched nearby, his movements fluid as a panther's. And in the goalmouth, André Onana barked orders in a voice that carried across the entire complex.
A youth coach shoved a red training bib into Ibukun's hands. **"You're with the reserves. Try not to get in the way."**
Jay-Jay's hologram materialized, uncharacteristically quiet. *"Damn. These boys move different."*
---
### **The First Lesson**
The drill was simple: 8v8 possession in a tight grid.
Ibukun received his first pass under immediate pressure from Christian Eriksen—the Danish maestro's positioning cutting off every obvious option before the ball even arrived.
**>> DECISION-MAKING OVERLOAD:
>> - OPTION 1: BACK PASS (SAFE BUT UNREMARKABLE)
>> - OPTION 2: TURN INTO PRESSURE (HIGH RISK/REWARD) <<**
Ibukun chose wrong.
A quick feint left, then right—but Eriksen didn't bite. The veteran stuck out a casual foot and stole the ball, flicking it over Ibukun's head as he stumbled.
Laughter rippled through the group.
*"Welcome to Manchester,"* someone muttered.
---
### **The Reckoning**
By midday, Ibukun's kit was soaked through with sweat and mud. Every touch was scrutinized, every mistake amplified.
Then—
A loose ball in midfield.
Ibukun pounced before Casemiro could react, driving forward with three quick touches. Lisandro Martínez closed the gap like a missile, but Ibukun chopped the ball back sharply, sending the World Cup winner stumbling past.
The space opened like the Red Sea.
Rashford made the overlapping run—Ibukun slid the pass perfectly into his path.
**GOAL.**
Silence.
Then—
**"Nice ball,"** Rashford nodded as he jogged back.
That was all.
But it was enough.
---
### **The Shadow Revealed**
After training, as Ibukun limped toward the locker room, he saw him again—the figure in the long coat.
This time, the man stepped forward into the light.
**Director Veymar.**
The name hit Ibukun like a freight train. The architect of Project Ascension. The man who'd created the System.
Jay-Jay's hologram glitched violently. *"No no no—he shouldn't be here—"*
Veymar's smile was surgical. **"Ibukun, yes? Jim tells me you're quite... special."**
His eyes lingered just a second too long on Ibukun's spinal implant scar.
**"We should talk."**
---
### **The System Awakens**
That night, in a budget hotel room miles from Carrington, the System erupted with warnings:
**>> CATASTROPHIC BREACH DETECTED
>> ORIGIN: VEYMAR'S NEURAL SCANNERS
>> COUNTERMEASURES:
>> 1. FULL SYSTEM LOCKDOWN (RISKS PERMANENT DAMAGE)
>> 2. GHOST PROTOCOL (TEMPORARY NEURAL DISRUPTION) <<**
Jay-Jay's form pixelated wildly. *"Kid, whatever you do—"*
Ibukun chose Option 2.
The pain was instantaneous—like white-hot nails driving through his skull.
When it faded, the System interface was... different.
Simpler.
**>> NEW SKILL TREE UNLOCKED: "BIG GAME TEMPERAMENT"
>> FIRST UPGRADE: "ICE VEINS" (COMPOSURE +10% IN CRUCIAL MOMENTS) <<**
Jay-Jay stared at him, uncharacteristically solemn. *"He knows, kid. And he's coming."*
---