Pep watched it happen. And continued.

"Before you," he said, almost thoughtfully, "the only player I’ve seen who could do what you do on the ball..." A small pause. "...is Lionel Messi."

The words hung in the air. Heavy. Impossible to ignore.

Pep shook his head slightly. "You’re not there yet," he added immediately. "Of course not." Then he leaned forward again. "But you are ahead of schedule. Very ahead." His gaze sharpened. "And if you come... if you learn... if you trust the process... you can reach that level much sooner."

Lukas didn’t speak. He didn’t even realize he hadn’t. He was just nodding. Listening. Taking it all in. Every word. Every idea.

Across the room, Javi watched. First Pep. Then his son. Then Pep again.

And for the first time since they walked in—he understood.

Lukas wasn’t just listening. He was gone. Completely drawn in. Starstruck.

Javi leaned back slightly in his seat, folding his arms as a small, knowing breath left him. His eyes lingered on Lukas for a moment longer.

" Then I guess..."

His gaze shifted briefly to Pep.

" ...my son is really going to Manchester."

* * *

The LTC gym was quiet except for the low mechanical hum of equipment and the sound of heavy breathing echoing faintly across the room.

Lukas lay flat on the rubber flooring, arms spread slightly beside him as his chest rose and fell heavily. Sweat soaked through the back of his black compression shirt, sticking to his skin while he stared blankly at the ceiling lights above him.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The workout had been brutal even by his standards. His muscles ached pleasantly, his lungs still burning slightly from the endurance circuit he had just completed. Usually after sessions like this, his thoughts would already be drifting toward recovery metrics, tactical simulations, or whatever ridiculous objective Titi had lined up next for him.

But today was different.

Every few seconds, without even realizing it, he smiled.

Small smiles.

Random ones.

The kind that just slipped out unconsciously.

[I knew you couldn’t stay away from the LTC for long.]

Lukas let out a tired breath through his nose, still staring upward.

"I tried to give myself a break."

[Clearly.]

"I did."

[You lasted one day.]

Lukas finally laughed softly at that, bringing one arm up to wipe sweat from his forehead.

"I was too excited to stay away today."

There was a brief pause.

Then—

[Because of Pep Guardiola?]

And just like that, another smile appeared on Lukas’s face.

He turned his head slightly to the side, almost embarrassed by how obvious it apparently was.

"I wouldn’t say Manchester City itself is the main attraction," he admitted slowly. "But you can’t deny the Pep Guardiola pull."

[You became completely starstruck.]

Lukas scoffed weakly.

"Can you blame me?"

[Yes.]

"It’s Pep Guardiola."

[You are mentally forty years old.]

"That doesn’t matter," Lukas replied immediately. "Forty-year-olds can still admire greatness."

[You were sitting there nodding like a schoolboy meeting his idol.]

Lukas chuckled quietly again.

"Maybe because he is an idol."

His eyes drifted back up to the ceiling lights.

"Imagine working under him every day..."

Even saying it out loud still felt surreal.

Pep Guardiola.

The same Pep whose Barcelona side had changed football forever. The same Pep whose Manchester City team had dominated England for years. The same Pep every football fan called a on-in-a-lifetime genius.

And now that same man had sat across from him in a hotel room and personally asked him to join his team.

The thought alone made something stir in Lukas’s chest again.

[So have you made up your mind?]

The question lingered.

Lukas stayed silent for a few moments before finally answering.

"I don’t know."

He exhaled slowly.

"There are still things worrying me."

[The Premier League?]

Lukas didn’t answer immediately, which was answer enough.

[So it’s the physicality issue.]

"I just don’t know if it’s too early," Lukas admitted. "The Bundesliga is physical too, but the Premier League is different. Faster. More demanding every single week."

He flexed his fingers absentmindedly as he spoke.

"Especially at sixteen."

For once, TT didn’t respond immediately.

Then—

[Do you know how many teenagers dominated that league?]

Lukas blinked once.

[Michael Owen won the Ballon d’Or while practically still a teenager in the Premier League and was the league top scorer for 2 seasons in a row. Wayne Rooney was terrorizing grown men at Everton before he was 18. Cristiano Ronaldo entered England as a skinny teenager.]

TT’s voice sharpened slightly.

[There is no magical barrier stopping teenagers from becoming great there.]

Lukas remained quiet.

[And if physicality is what worries you...]

A brief pause followed.

[...then we fix it.]

Suddenly, a golden translucent screen exploded into existence in front of Lukas.

He froze.

Then slowly pushed himself upright.

His eyes widened slightly as lines of text began appearing one after another across the screen.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[NEW SPECIAL TRAINING PROGRAM UNLOCKED]

MONSTER FRAME – ELITE PHYSICAL EVOLUTION ARC

Duration: 180 LTC Days

Compatibility Requirement: Extreme Mental Endurance

Failure Rate: 99.97%

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lukas stared blankly at the screen.

Then the training schedule started scrolling.

And the more he read—

the more absurd it became.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

LTC Days 1 through 30

04:00 AM — Altitude sprint conditioning. 18 kilometer mountain sprint with a 25kg weighted vest while wearing an oxygen restriction mask. Mandatory sustained heart rate above 190 BPM.

06:30 AM — Explosive strength circuit. 1000 bodyweight squats. 500 weighted lunges. 400 explosive plyometric jumps. 300 resisted broad jumps. 200 single-leg balance squats per leg.

09:00 AM — Technical ball retention session. Six continuous hours of dribbling under triple-defender pressure simulations. Required possession success rate: 98%.

12:00 PM — Recovery nutrition protocol. Minimum daily intake: 9,000 calories. Six hundred grams of protein. Twelve liters of water mandatory.

01:00 PM — Combat resistance training. Grappling sessions against simulated Premier League defenders. Mid-air balance disruption. Shoulder impact conditioning. Core stability overload.

04:00 PM — Tactical repetition training. 5000 passing repetitions. 3000 first-touch directional controls. 2000 line-breaking pass simulations.

07:00 PM — Endurance suppression run. 35 kilometer continuous run. Final 10 kilometers at sprint pace mandatory.

10:00 PM — Neural reaction enhancement. Reflex acceleration drills. Sleep deprivation cognition exercises. Decision-making under extreme fatigue.

Mandatory sleep allocation: Three hours.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lukas just stared at the screen.

Sweat dripped slowly from his jaw onto the floor as the list continued scrolling.

And somehow—

it got even worse.

Cold-water immersion cycles.

Bone-density impact conditioning.

Weighted agility ladder routines.

Military-grade endurance simulations.

Rotational overload core sessions.

It looked less like football preparation and more like military experimentation.

Finally, near the very bottom of the screen—

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

REWARDS

Strength: 85 → 90

Stamina: 85 → 90

Physicality: 85 → 90

Explosive Acceleration: +3

Balance: +4

Injury Resistance: +5

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lukas stared at the program in complete silence.

Then looked down at himself.

Then back at the screen again.

"...What the hell is this?"

For the first time in a while, TT sounded genuinely pleased with himself.

[Premier League preparation.]

* * *

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains as Lukas slowly opened his eyes.

For a few seconds, he just lay there staring upward, completely still.

Then the soreness hit him.

"...Jesus Christ."

He groaned quietly as he pushed himself upright, every muscle in his body protesting immediately. His shoulders felt heavy. His legs felt like dead weight. Even his fingers ached slightly as he flexed them.