Become A Football Legend-Chapter 266: City-Madrid (by VastroAnt)

The first replay: the counterattack. Trapp’s throw. The sprint. The composure. The finish.

Then the second: the set-piece routine. The disguised movement. The strike from the edge of the box.

Then the third: extra time. The half-turn. The laces. The crossbar and in.

The clip ended.

Silence lingered for a second before it looped again.

Soriano broke it.

"What is the response from Frankfurt?"

Txiki didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

"Nothing," he replied. "We increased the offer. €85 million total, including add-ons. Structured. Competitive. They haven’t responded."

Hugo shifted slightly.

"Not even a soft no?"

"Not even that," Txiki said. "They’re holding. Pep really wants him."

That sentence hung differently.

Soriano finally looked at Txiki instead of the screen.

"Really wants him?"

Txiki nodded. "He sees him as the long-term replacement for Kevin. Not stylistically identical. But positionally, creatively, output-wise... he believes the ceiling is higher."

On the screen, the free-kick routine replayed again. The ball rolling from the corner. The dummy. The strike.

Hugo exhaled through his nose.

"He’s special," he admitted. "But he’s sixteen."

He reached for a remote and switched the feed.

Florian Wirtz.

A clip from Leverkusen’s title-winning season. The late goal that secured the Bundesliga. The intelligence between the lines. The timing of the run. The finish.

Then another cut.

Rayan Cherki.

Coupe de France. Dribble past five defenders. Close control in tight spaces. A low finish into the corner.

Hugo let the clips run for a few seconds before muting the audio.

"Technically," he began calmly, "Cherki is extraordinary. On the ball, in tight zones, he’s elite. Lyon are in a difficult financial situation. That deal is achievable. It can be done efficiently."

He switched again.

Wirtz on screen.

"Florian is proven. Bundesliga champion. Champions League experience. Liverpool are circling, yes. But he is Premier League ready now. Physically mature. Tactically polished."

He paused, then glanced toward the looping highlight of Lukas again.

"Brandt is... different."

Txiki’s eyes sharpened.

"Different how?"

Hugo leaned forward now.

"His output is insane for six months of senior football. I won’t argue that. But he is still developing physically. The Premier League is unforgiving. We are not talking about easing him in at a mid-table club. We are talking about starting him at Manchester City. Replacing Kevin De Bruyne."

The name alone carried weight.

Soriano finally spoke again, measured as always.

"The only disadvantage I see with Brandt," he said slowly, "is the age profile. Sixteen. The intensity here is different. The physicality. The scrutiny. The media. It is not Germany."

He folded his hands neatly on the table.

"If we wait two or three years, he will still be elite. He may even be more complete. Twenty, twenty-one. At that age, you remove the risk variable."

Txiki finally leaned back, frustration controlled but visible.

"And in two or three years," he countered, "Madrid will be there. Bayern will be there. Everyone will be there. The price doubles. Or he extends long-term."

He gestured toward the screen, where Lukas’ extra-time goal replayed yet again.

"Look at the moment. Old Trafford. Extra time. Season on the line. He doesn’t hide. He demands the ball."

Hugo nodded faintly. "I’m not questioning mentality."

"I am not questioning price either," Txiki continued. "We need a player who changes games. Kevin is leaving. Confirmed. We cannot pretend that can be replaced cheaply."

Soriano’s gaze shifted between them.

"Cherki is attainable. Wirtz is competitive but possible. Brandt is... strategic."

He tapped the table lightly.

"What does Pep think?"

Txiki didn’t hesitate.

"He thinks if we don’t move now, we’ll regret it."

Hugo let that sit in the room.

"And if we move now," he replied quietly, "and he struggles physically for eighteen months? If the media tear into him? If he becomes a symbol instead of a player?"

Txiki looked back at the screen one more time.

The clip froze on Lukas standing in front of the Stretford End, one hand on his ear, asking for noise from a silent crowd.

"He won’t," Txiki said softly.

Soriano watched the frozen frame.

The sixteen-year-old who had just dismantled Manchester United at Old Trafford.

And for the first time that evening, even he did not immediately offer a counterpoint.

Meanwhile over at Madrid.

Late Friday evening inside Atlético Madrid’s boardroom at the Civitas Metropolitano complex, the atmosphere carried a similar tension to what had unfolded earlier in Manchester — though the tone here was different. Warmer. Hungrier. More emotional.

On the large screen at the end of the room, the extended highlights rolled. The same sequences Manchester City had been studying only hours before. The counterattack. The half-turn. The strike from the edge of the box. The extra-time goal that silenced Old Trafford.

Carlos Bucero sat forward, elbows on the polished table, eyes fixed on the screen. Across from him sat Atlético CEO Miguel Ángel Gil Marín. At the head of the table, leaning back but far from relaxed, Diego Simeone watched in silence.

Another clip played.

The corner that broke down.

The United counter.

Amad Diallo breaking through one-on-one.

The recovery run.

The tackle.

The ball sliding into Trapp’s path.

Simeone leaned forward now.

"Again," he said.

The clip replayed.

Lukas sprinting the length of the pitch after 116 minutes played. Sliding in cleanly. Winning the ball. Cramping seconds later.

Simeone’s jaw tightened.

"He is 16," he muttered. "And he runs like that in the 116th minute."

No one spoke.

The screen shifted to his 3 goals again. The composure. The laces through the ball. The silence of the Stretford End.

Bucero exhaled slowly.

"He has mentality," he said. "Not just talent. Mentality."

Gil Marín folded his hands on the table.

"And Manchester City?" he asked.

Bucero nodded.

"They have increased their offer. €85m including add-ons."

Silence.

Gil Marín’s expression hardened slightly.

"If we enter a bidding war with Manchester City," he said calmly, "we lose."

It wasn’t pessimism. It was reality.

Simeone didn’t look at either of them. His eyes remained on the frozen image of Lukas standing on the advertisement board in front of the away fans.

"We cannot compete euro for euro," Simeone said quietly. "So we must compete differently."

Bucero nodded.

"Tactically."

Gil Marín leaned back.

"If we publicly raise the bid beyond theirs, City respond in 10 minutes."

"And then the price escalates," Bucero added. "And we are out."

The room fell silent again.

Simeone stood up and walked closer to the screen. He pointed at the paused frame of Lukas tracking back.

"That," he said, tapping the image lightly. "That is Atlético."

Not the goals.

Not the celebration.

The tackle.

The recovery.

The willingness to run back after 116 minutes.

"He scores 3 at Old Trafford," Simeone continued. "And then he runs like this to defend."

His voice dropped.

"I want him."

There was no ambiguity.

Gil Marín looked at Bucero.

"So?"

Bucero had already thought this through.

"I fly to Germany," he said. "Not Manchester. Germany."

"Why Germany?" Gil Marín asked.

"Because the family is there. The agent is there. We speak directly to Marco. We present the project. We present Simeone. We present the path."

Simeone nodded once.

"No noise," he added. "No media."

Gil Marín considered for a moment.

"And the bid?"

Bucero didn’t hesitate.

"We match City. €85m including add-ons. We’ll structure it differently, but they’ll have the same headline value. We send it quietly."

Gil Marín’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"And if Frankfurt leaks it?"

"Then it becomes public," Bucero replied. "But we do not escalate first."

The CEO nodded slowly.

"Do it."

A/N: VastroAnt thanks a lot for the Dragon. Apologies for the late Chapter, I literally saw the gift yesterday.

Love for the love.

-Writ.