Clash Of Titans[2]

The morning of the match unfolded in slow, deliberate motions.

The air inside the players' quarters was thick with a focused intensity, the kind that built steadily in the hours leading to battle. Even the smallest routines carried a weight to them.

Rodri was one of the first to rise, already moving through his pre-match stretches before the rest of the team had fully woken up.

Dani Carvajal sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face as he muttered something about needing coffee.

Across the hall, Lamine Yamal scrolled through his phone with his headphones on, nodding to whatever song he was using to set the tone for the day.

Izan lay still for a moment longer, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His mind wasn't racing, nor was he nervous—just… waiting.

The buildup was familiar by now, but today carried an added weight. He could still hear De la Fuente's voice from last night, the certainty in his decision.

You will be our false nine.