Chapter 3: The Shadow of the Lion
Lisbon, Portugal | Mid-July
The searing sun bore down on Edward VII Park, its heat bouncing off the turf in waves. Every blade of grass looked parched, beaten down by summer's relentless assault. But for Su Dong, this was home now—his temple, his proving ground, his escape from a future that once looked like an endless row of concrete school desks.
Today, Ronnie had a new look in his eyes—sharp, assessing, almost cold.
"How much sleep did you get?" he asked as he handed Su Dong a water bottle.
Su Dong didn't flinch. "Four hours. Maybe."
"Good. You'll train tired, play tired, dream tired. Get used to it."
And with that, Ronnie dropped a duffel bag filled with new gear—cones, hurdles, even a weighted vest.
"Today, we're testing limits. Devil's Menu. Full course."
Drill One: Fire Feet
"Foot ladder," Ronnie barked. "No stomping. Light, fast. Like your life depends on it."
The agility ladder stretched like a snake across the ground. Ronnie went first, his feet tapping like a jazz drummer. Su Dong followed, stumbling twice.
[TECHNIQUE: 32 → 34][SPEED: 31 → 32]
"Again."
Ten reps in, Su Dong's calves screamed. Fifteen in, he stopped feeling his toes. But his body started remembering. Each tap less hesitant. Each sequence tighter.
Drill Two: Close Quarters
Ronnie set up cones in a tight zigzag. "One-touch only. You mess up, we start over."
Su Dong grimaced. His footwork was getting better, but this drill demanded precision under fatigue. The first few runs were disasters—balls ricocheting off cones, ankles, Ronnie's curses.
"You've got the desire. Now earn the discipline."
By the fourth run, he started threading through like a loom needle.
[TECHNIQUE: 34 → 36][MENTALITY: 40 → 42]
Drill Three: The Cage Match
Ronnie set up a small cage—walls made of crates and cones. Two balls. One rule: don't lose possession.
"You get two touches max. Shield. Turn. Pass. Move. Fast."
It wasn't a drill. It was war. Ronnie pressed him with full intensity, hip checks, shoulder nudges, feints.
Su Dong got floored twice. Ate dirt. Scraped his elbow. But he adapted.
He used his frame. Started reading Ronnie's feints. Planted harder. Braced better.
[STAMINA: 28 → 30][TECHNIQUE: 36 → 37][SPEED: 32 → 33]
Lunch Break | 1 PM
They collapsed on the sidelines, sharing a pack of grilled sardines and crusty bread from a nearby vendor. Su Dong had never tasted anything so divine.
"Why do you do this for me?" he asked.
Ronnie chewed slowly. "Because I see the same madness in your eyes that I had. And because Pontes once bet on me."
Su Dong nodded. "Who's Pontes?"
"Our old coach. A sadist with a whistle. If he tells you to run, you don't ask why—you ask how fast."
Drill Four: 1v1 Hell
Afternoon sun blistered. Ronnie drew a chalk line across the turf. "You cross this line with the ball. I stop you. 10 tries. Go."
Every attempt was a brawl. Ronnie was stronger, faster, smarter. But Su Dong was learning.
By the 8th attempt, he slipped through with a feint and burst.
9th attempt—failed.
10th—he nutmegged Ronnie.
Silence.
Then Ronnie's low whistle. "Didn't expect that."
[MENTALITY: 42 → 44][SPEED: 33 → 34][FOOTBALL KING VALUE: +500]
The Lesson of the Day
As they packed up, Ronnie said, "You want to be a footballer, yeah? Then you better stop thinking like one. Start thinking like a king."
Su Dong looked confused. Ronnie tapped his forehead. "King doesn't beg for permission. He takes what's his."
Su Dong felt something click.
That night, he opened his system menu again:
[KING VALUE: 5,020][NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: KING'S INSTINCT LV.1]
[Passive: Automatically reads opponent's body positioning and shifting balance. Effective against players with TECHNIQUE < 40]
He grinned. For the first time since he landed in Lisbon, he didn't feel like a dropout.
He felt like a lion sharpening his claws.
End of Chapter 3
Chapter 4: The Devil's Training
Marquis of Pombal Square → Edward VII Park | 4:45 AM
The predawn air clung to Lisbon like damp linen. Ronnie jogged past shuttered cafés and flickering street lamps, his arms laden with training gear—agility ladders, cones, poles—each piece a relic from his own youth at Sporting's academy.
Lionel Pontes' methods echoed in his head: fundamentals first, pain second.
"For a ten-year-old," Ronnie muttered to himself, a smirk tugging his lips. But Su Dong's stubbornness deserved nothing less. He'd shown up every day, even when Ronnie pushed him to the brink. The least he could do was train him right.
The Roommate
Back in the dorm, José Semedo had blocked the door like a nightclub bouncer, reeking of cologne and teenage bravado.
"Ugo's got girls lined up at Bairro Alto. Finally living, eh?"
Ronnie had sidestepped him, unfazed. "Training."
Semedo raised a brow. "That Madeira girl's got you whipped."
Ronnie didn't bother to respond. "Football's got me whipped."
As Semedo chuckled, Ronnie dialed Pontes.
The Call
"Ronnie?" Lionel Pontes' voice crackled with a mix of surprise and static. "You've got friends now?"
Ronnie didn't rise to the bait. "A sixteen-year-old. Technique's raw. But he grinds."
"Muscle memory's set at that age. Why bother?"
"Because he grinds like I did."
A pause. Then: "Fine. Ladders for footwork. Cones for dribbling. Poles for balance. Repetition until he crumbles."
Ronnie nodded. "And if he quits?"
Pontes chuckled darkly. "Then he's not your kind of crazy."
The Meeting
Su Dong waited at the park's south gate, bouncing on his heels, breath fogging in the chill. He looked like someone who hadn't slept—because he hadn't.
Ronnie dumped the gear into his arms. "Devil's menu: Ladders. Cones. Poles. Regret yet?"
Su Dong grinned. "You talk too much."
The Drills
Agility Ladders
Ronnie demonstrated first. Feet tapping in a blur, light and fast.
"Quick taps. Don't stomp."
Su Dong followed. Clumsy. Sloppy. But determined.
[TECHNIQUE: 15 → 16]
"Better," Ronnie muttered. "Barely."
Dribbling Cones
"Each touch like it's your last. Every cone is a defender."
Su Dong wove through them, the ball bouncing too far, too close.
[SHOOTING: 18 → 19]
"Not terrible," Ronnie said. "You'd still get benched, but not laughed off."
Speed Gates
They sprinted in bursts, sharp turns and explosive starts. Ronnie paced him like a wolf.
"Explode out of the corner. No wasted motion."
Su Dong gasped for air.
[SPEED: 18 → 20]
By noon, his shirt was soaked through. His legs wobbled. His spine ached.
Ronnie tossed him a water bottle. "Pontes says you're hopeless."
Su Dong chuckled between gasps. "Pontes hasn't seen me at 5 AM tomorrow."
Extended Training Montage
Days blurred. Training became ritual. They added plyometrics, resistance drills, shadow one-on-ones.
[TECHNIQUE: 16 → 18][STAMINA: 17 → 21][SPEED: 20 → 22]
Ronnie pushed without mercy.
"This isn't a favor. This is work."
Su Dong never asked for rest. He studied, reviewed footage, watched YouTube compilations of Ronaldinho, Zidane, and a teenager named Cristiano Ronaldo.
Something clicked.
[MENTALITY: 20 → 24]
The Revelation
After a week, as they packed up, Ronnie caught sight of Su Dong's palms—red and calloused.
"Why Sporting CP?"
Su Dong hesitated. "It was a scam. I paid to get into some third-division academy."
Ronnie stiffened. He thought of his mother warning him about agents, vultures who fed on dreams.
He placed a firm hand on Su Dong's shoulder.
"Then we train harder."
No pity. Just fire.
System Update
Later that night, Su Dong opened his stats:
[KING VALUE: 12,000][BALL LEVEL: 3 (Amateur+)][POTENTIAL: 67 → 70][NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: First Touch Control - Lv.1]
He exhaled. Not bad for a week of hell.
Ronnie's Quiet Moment
Back at his dorm, Ronnie stared at his phone. A text from Madeira blinked on screen. He didn't open it.
He looked instead at his training notebook. At Su Dong's progress.
"Don't make me believe in you, kid," he muttered.
But he already did.
End of Chapter 4