The morning of the Monaco match arrived with a brittle tension in the air. Ibukun woke before dawn, his body thrumming with the quiet electricity of impending battle. The System had already been active for hours, cycling through tactical simulations of Caio Henrique's defensive tendencies, calculating angles, plotting movements.
But it was the USB—the grainy footage of Jay-Jay's injury—that lingered in his mind as he dressed.
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### **The First Start**
The Stade Pierre-Mauroy was a cauldron of noise long before kickoff. Lille's ultras, the *Dogs of War*, had spent the week preparing for this moment. Their tifos unfurled across the stands—a massive wolf howling at a night sky dotted with Monaco's crest.
Fonseca's final words in the locker room were clipped, precise:
*"They play a high line. They press like madmen. And they are terrified of speed."*
His marker circled Monaco's left flank on the tactics board. *"Ibukun—you are the knife. Cut them open."*
The System pulsed in agreement.
***BLOODLINE MISSION CONFIRMED***
→ **Target:** Caio Henrique (Weakness: 1v1 duels lost – 43% this season)
→ **Secondary Objective:** Isolate Axel Disasi (Aerial dominance but slow turns)
→ **Reward:** "Elite Playmaker" trait (+12% chance creation)
Then, the walk.
The tunnel was narrow, the walls vibrating with the thunder of the crowd. Monaco's players stood rigid, their eyes forward. Only Ben Yedder glanced at Ibukun, his gaze lingering a beat too long.
The roar when he stepped onto the pitch was unlike anything he'd felt before. Not the polite applause of a substitute, but the full-throated bellow of a crowd that had waited for something—*someone*—to believe in.
The referee's whistle was a gunshot.
---
### **The Battle Begins**
From the first touch, Monaco marked him like a crime. Fofana, their hulking midfielder, shadowed his every move, his breath hot against Ibukun's neck.
But the System had prepared him.
- **First Feint:** A drop of the shoulder, just enough to make Fofana hesitate. The pass to David was inch-perfect, the striker's shot parried away.
- **Second Dance:** A give-and-go with Gomes, then a sudden burst past Henrique. The cross found Cabella at the far post—headed over.
The crowd groaned, but the pattern was set.
Monaco's manager, his suit already stained with sweat, screamed at Henrique. The fullback's response was a reckless lunge on Ibukun moments later, earning the game's first yellow card.
The free kick was too tight for a shot. But the System had already calculated:
***SET-PIECE PROTOCOL***
→ **Target:** Alexsandro (Wins 68% of aerial duels)
→ **Delivery:** Near post, driven, 0.8m off the ground
The ball left Ibukun's boot like a bullet. Alexsandro's glancing header sent it into the net before the keeper could react.
**1-0, Lille.**
The stadium erupted.
---
### **The Reckoning**
Monaco's response was brutal.
Ben Yedder, a ghost between the lines, conjured an equalizer out of nothing—a quick one-two, then a curled finish past Chevalier.
But Ibukun wasn't done.
- **The Nutmeg:** Henrique, already on a yellow, froze as the ball slipped through his legs. The cutback found David, whose shot was blocked desperately.
- **The Dribble:** Two defenders converged. Ibukun's touch took him through both, the finish denied only by a miraculous save.
The System tracked it all:
***MISSION PROGRESS***
→ **Dribbles Completed:** 2/3 (vs. Henrique)
→ **Chances Created:** 1/2 (xG: 0.4)
Then—the moment.
A Monaco corner, cleared desperately. The ball fell to Ibukun near midfield.
*The counter was on.*
Fofana lunged. Ibukun spun away. Henrique, desperate, committed too early. The space opened like a wound.
David's overlapping run drew the last defender. Ibukun's pass was weighted perfectly—the striker's first-time finish clinical.
**2-1, Lille.**
The final whistle brought chaos. Fonseca embraced him, his words lost in the din. Monaco's players slumped, Henrique's face a mask of exhaustion and fury.
The System's final alert glowed:
***MISSION ACCOMPLISHED***
→ **"Elite Playmaker" trait unlocked**
→ **Fan Approval:** 89% (New status: "Icon Rising")
→ **Media Narrative Shift:** "Lille's Diamond" (L'Équipe headline pending)
---
### **The Aftermath**
The locker room was a symphony of laughter and exhaustion. Even Santos, usually reserved, offered a nod of respect.
But it was Moreau who waited for him outside, her Porsche idling in the players' lot.
*"Get in."*
The drive was silent until they reached the outskirts of the city. Then, her voice cut through the dark:
*"Marseille, 1998. They broke Jay-Jay's ankle because he wouldn't throw a match."*
Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. *"The same people still run French football."*
Ibukun said nothing. The USB's footage played in his mind.
*"They'll come for you next."*
---
### **The Warning**
His phone buzzed as they pulled up to his apartment. An unknown number. A single image:
A knife stabbed through a Lille jersey, the number **14** circled in red.
The message below:
*"African dogs don't last here."*
The System's response was immediate:
***THREAT DETECTED***
→ **Source:** Lens ultras (Tied to Marseille syndicates)
→ **Recommended Action:** Security protocol Delta
→ **Reward for Neutralization:** "Iron Mind" trait (Immunity to intimidation)
Ibukun deleted the message.
Tomorrow's problems could wait.
Tonight, he had a city to celebrate in.
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