The next morning came about very quickly. Tyler played with his phone for a bit after dinner, scrolling aimlessly through messages and short videos. He traded a few lines with Jasmine, who replied in short bursts. Nothing deep, but enough to make him smile faintly before putting the phone down. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
He woke at around six in the morning, and started with a few stretches and exercises. It was something that he got used to due to the tedious exercises the system had him do when he first awakened it.
Once he was finished, he changed into casual clothes, packed his training wear into a small black duffel bag, and stepped outside. The streets were still quiet. The early air in Monaco felt cooler than the afternoons. By the time he reached the Monaco Performance Center, the sun was only just beginning to light up the surrounding buildings.
As usual, he was one of the first players to arrive. He went into the locker room, changed into his training wear and started doing some personal drills. As time passed, a few of the assistant coaches arrived and started helping him with the drills.
About thirty minutes later, the rest of the squad had already arrived and changed into their training wear. They were currently standing in the middle of the training pitch, surrounding the gaffer.
"Alright boys, gather up."
The squad moved in, forming a loose circle around the manager. Hutter looked around at each of them before starting.
"We've done the tactical work," he said. "We've done the actual work. Now we need to take a step forward that goes beyond the actual work. Today's training session is going to be a bit extreme, and I apologize in advance to everyone."
As soon as he finished that sentence, the training ground exploded in chatter. A few of the older player bantered Adi Hutter, and tried to get him to change his mind about the training session but the gaffer wasn't budging.
"I swear, if I get cramps after training, I'm going to-" George began loudly, only for Tiago to cut him off.
"You're going to do what? Scream at the gaffer? Give him a right hook on his cheek?"
George turned to him with a fake serious look. "I was going to say get pissed. If I get cramps, I'm going to get pissed."
A few players laughed, but Hütter was already moving on. He clapped his hands. "Let's get started."
Tyler didn't react much to the announcement. In his head, nothing could be worse than the sessions the system had put him through when he first got it. But as it turned out, his opinion would change before the day was over.
They started in the gym with a series of physical drills. Bench presses, squats, pull-ups, and weighted lunges. The trainers kept them moving without long breaks. Sweat started forming on Tyler's neck within minutes. By the time they switched to medicine ball throws and resistance band sprints, his breathing had already deepened.
From the gym, they moved outside for stretching, but it was brief. The moment the last stretch was done, they were into an intense fitness circuit. Sprint intervals over thirty metres, jog back, sprint again. Then cone drills with quick changes of direction. Ladders for footwork. Repeated over and over with barely enough time to catch a breath between stations.
By the time that segment ended, Tyler's shirt clung to his back. His calves burned and his lungs felt heavy. He wasn't alone. Several players had their hands on their knees, bending forward, trying to get their breath back.
If anyone hoped they were finished, Hütter shut that down quickly. He split the squad into four groups by position; attackers, midfielders, defenders, and goalkeepers. Each group had its own set of match scenarios to run through.
For attackers, it was receiving the ball under pressure and finding space to shoot within seconds. For midfielders, it was quick passing combinations under tight marking. Defenders had to hold their lines while dealing with overlapping runs. The goalkeepers faced repeated shots from different angles, barely recovering between saves.
Sometimes the scenarios overlapped, with attackers going against defenders, or midfielders having to link with both. The pace never slowed. Coaches shouted instructions from the sidelines, urging them to think faster and move sharper.
By the time the final whistle of training blew, he was spent. He walked off the pitch slowly, water bottle in hand, and made his way toward the changing area.
Inside the locker room, he dropped onto the bench beside George and Tiago. All three of them sat without speaking for a moment, catching their breath.
"I'm going to have a five-hour nap after this," George said eventually, rubbing his thighs. "At least I didn't get a cramp."
Tyler turned his head toward him. "Lucky you."
George smirked. "Why, you got one?"
"No," Tyler said, leaning back against the wall, "but I wish I had a reason to skip what I have next."
Tiago groaned. "Private classes?"
Tyler nodded. "Less than an hour from now."
Tiago gave a slow shake of his head. "I have to report for academy classes too. At this point I'd rather do another fitness circuit."
George had a smile on his face when he heard Tiago and Tyler's complaints. "Poor kids, still have to learn. Go little ones, go on to school. I'm going home to have a nap".
"Fucking piece of shit". Tyler muttered as he and Tiago went towards the showers.
After that, he left the performance center and went towards the club's academic facilities. He had less than thirty minutes before he could be classified as late for his tutor session. And although at the moment he didn't care about whether or not he was late, first impressions were important.
He still had a small hope that the tutor assigned to him might be laid-back. That hope vanished in the first ten minutes.
By the time the private lessons ended, Tyler's head felt as tired as his legs. He basically had to drag himself back to his apartment.
He didn't bother switching on the lights when he entered. Dropping his bag by the door, he collapsed onto the couch. Within minutes, he had dozed off without even ordering food.
When he woke, it was past eight in the evening. His stomach ached from hunger. He pushed himself upright and rubbed his eyes. The apartment was dim except for the light from the television in the corner. Enzo and Tony sat there, playing a football game, both leaning forward intently.
"I'm Hungry," Tyler muttered under his breath as he stood and reached for his coat. He didn't bother explaining where he was going.
The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside. His legs carried him down familiar streets toward a restaurant he had been to more than once in the past few days. Unlike before, he wasn't coming over to take a peek at his crush so it didn't really do anything to him when he stepped inside and didn't feel anything when he didn't see Jasmine anywhere around.
He took a seat near the wall and picked up the menu. His hunger made it hard to choose, so he decided on the spot to order generously. A pasta dish, a side of grilled vegetables, and bread to start. The waiter jotted it all down and walked away.
For the first time all day, Tyler felt a little calmer. His legs still ached, his shoulders were heavy, but at least this part of the day would end with a proper meal