Under the dazzling luminescence of the floodlights, the stadium dazzled. The sea of supporters clad in white, red, and blue buzzed, banners floating in the air.

Lamine glanced at the stands, looking defeated.

He scanned the venue before pausing at the scoreboard.

"3-2," he muttered, glancing at the scoreboard. Then his gaze shifted to the tall man clad in white. His tousled blonde hair dangled as he walked.

Unlike his face, which lacked a smile, he had a bright smile plastered on his face.

Floods of memories gushed in as he recalled the events of the match. He had been brilliant in the right wing.

The early lead, the celebration that silenced the stadium. Then the disappointment.

His knuckles tightened as he thought about the final goal that decided the outcome of the match. Then his expression twisted, his lips pursing, veins bulging.

Frustration.

Disappointment.

"Not enough..." He muttered under his breath, his fingers digging deep into his palm.

The stage was set, something akin to a booth. The cameras faced the booth as an individual took the stage, holding the microphone.

"First of all, congratulations on the win, Nico. How do you feel about this match, Nico?"

One of the reporters crowded before the platform asked.

Nico smiled as he brought the microphone before his lips, "This was a tough match. This kind of match always tends to be tough. The opponents played a good game. But I’m excited for the win."

"Before you were doing well at Como. But without you, they’re struggling. So, what’s your take on this matter?"

Nico rolled his pupils, scanning the reporter who had asked him this question. He had been prepared for one such question.

Just as the reporter said, Real Madrid had activated the buy-back clause in his contract to bring him back to Madrid. However, the transfer had been rather sudden, leaving his previous club in a dilemma.

His absence had certainly left a hole in the formation, a hole that was rather hard to fill, considering the fact that he had been their star performer.

Though it pained him a little to see them struggle, the world of professional sport was a cruel place, and players were nothing more than commodities.

Hence, he had to accept his situation.

His eyes flashed with confidence as he stared at the reporters ahead of him, who were all expecting him to speak something controversial.

"Uhh... Just as I said before, Real Madrid has been the dream club for me. So, although I’m saddened to see Como struggling, I can’t do much about it except perform like how I’m supposed to perform," while speaking, he looked straight into the lenses and continued, "But that being said, thank you for looking after me. I’ll forever be grateful for the faith and love you’ve given me."

The camera lenses continued to flash.

Then another reporter steadied himself. He adjusted his glasses before bringing forth the question he had prepared, "Before, you were the best-performing player in Italy. But as you know, we have the winner of the Golden Ball here. How do you think you’ll fare against him?"

Nico tilted his head as he tried to hear him. Then he raised his head before answering the question in a manner that seemed to lack conviction, "Hmm... I’m not sure how I’ll fare against him. I couldn’t face him before. He’s impressive. But in the end, he’s just a single individual."

He paused, a cold glint flashing past his pupils, "But we have an amazing team here. It won’t be easy going through us."

The reporters went silent for a while. Then something rippled as they paced to interpret the answers.

The reporters knew this response could be interpreted in a manner to stir the public.

The reporters wanted to continue the momentum.

"Is that a challenge, Nico?"

"Nico, are you confident?"

However, Nico couldn’t answer their questions as he was escorted to the locker room.

"That’s a rather bold statement," someone said while walking down the aisle.

Being the last one to leave the pitch, Nico was all alone now. He was walking down the aisle towards the locker room.

Upon hearing the voice, he turned to find the person.

The voice sounded rather familiar.

Then, as he turned around, a rather dark individual came into his sight. This individual was lean, and his complexion was rather dark. His hair, dyed blonde, was a noodle.

"Bold? What’s bold about it?" He responded, his tone calm.

It was clear that the other individual belonged to the other team. However, he didn’t panic at all.

"He’s different."

The other individual said, leaning against the wall.

"There are a lot of people claiming to be different. He isn’t different either. Unless he’s Messi himself. Then that would make him different." Nico responded, the calm never leaving his face.

"Hah! You and your admiration for Messi. Had you adored him that much, you should have just come to Barcelona."

"I idolize him. But that doesn’t mean I have to walk his path. He had his path, and I have mine. I will be who I wanna be," Nico responded with conviction.

Hearing him, the other individual couldn’t help but curl his lips.

"Hah! You all are the same."

"I don’t want to be the next Messi. I am Nico Paz, and I want to be Nico Paz," he paused before continuing, "as for being the next Messi, you can have that title. The heir of Barcelona, Lamine Yamal."

Upon hearing him, Yamal smirked before passing him some advice, "Hahah... That’s one heck of a resolve. But just so you know, he won’t be an easy opponent. Don’t underestimate him just because he’s having a few bad spells right now."

The words lingered in the air as Yamal turned around to leave, his rather defined back facing Paz, who stared at him with a rather baffled expression.

He couldn’t understand the reason behind his appearance.

First, he loses the match, then shows up unannounced. Just to pass some advice?

Is he nuts or something?

Well, whatever it is. He couldn’t care less about it. He was here to conquer, and he wouldn’t stop before he conquered the league.

"There can’t be two kings in the same league..." Paz muttered under his breath, a cold glint flashing past his pupils.