Chapter 7 : La Masia

As they stepped into the heart of La Masia, the very place where legends were forged, many of the coaches immediately recognized Johan Cruyff. Whispers spread among them, murmurs of respect and admiration for the man who had revolutionized Barcelona's footballing philosophy. 

Several coaches approached, greeting Johan with warm smiles and firm handshakes. They exchanged a few words, reminiscing about old times and discussing the ever-evolving state of football. Nico stood beside his grandfather, observing everything with a calm and composed demeanor. 

After the brief exchanges, Johan led Nico toward the registration area. The trials were meticulously organized, with staff handling the paperwork, evaluating players, and assigning them to their respective teams. Young hopefuls from all over had gathered, each dreaming of one day wearing the Blaugrana jersey. 

When it was Nico's turn to register, a staff member, clipboard in hand, looked down at him and asked, "What position do you play, nice?" 

Without any hesitation, Nico met the man's gaze and confidently responded, "Attacking midfielder and winger." 

The coach raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. "Two positions?" he asked, scribbling on his paper while looking at the young boy. 

Nico simply nodded, his expression unwavering. He had played these positions in his past life, dominating games at the highest level. This was nothing new to him. 

The coach studied him for a moment before jotting it down and directing him toward the warm-up area. As Nico walked away, he could feel a few curious eyes lingering on him, as if sensing there was something different about him.

The trial began with a 7-on-7 match that would last 30 minutes, giving the coaches a chance to assess each player's technical ability, decision-making, and footballing intelligence.

Nico was positioned as an attacking midfielder, the heart of the team's offensive play. It was a role he knew better than anyone—a position where he could control the game, dictate the rhythm, and create magic with every touch.

As the match kicked off, the other players moved with excitement and nervous energy, eager to impress. Some were rushing their passes, some were hesitating under pressure, but Nico?

He was calm. Composed.

From the very first touch, he took control of the game.

He didn't force anything. He simply dictated the tempo, playing quick, precise passes, moving into space, and creating angles for his teammates. While others reacted to the game, Nico controlled it.

The coaches watching from the sidelines raised their eyebrows.

"Look at how he moves," one of them murmured.

"He's not just running after the ball like the others," another added. "He's thinking—always thinking."

After a few minutes of commanding the midfield, Nico shifted gears.

He started taking long shots from outside the box, testing the goalkeeper with strikes that carried both precision and power. The first one slammed against the crossbar, bouncing back into play. The second one forced the keeper into a desperate save.

Then, the third?

It curled into the top corner.

The coaches exchanged glances. Some shook their heads in disbelief.

"Eight-year-olds don't shoot like that," one muttered.

But Nico wasn't done.

His through passes were like a scalpel, cutting the defense open with perfect weight and timing. It was as if he could see the game unfolding seconds before it happened. He wasn't just playing—he was orchestrating.

A lofted pass over the top put his striker through on goal—goal.

A disguised reverse pass caught the defense off guard—goal.

By the end of the match, Nico's team had scored 12 goals.

Nico himself had scored 9 and assisted 2.

The final whistle blew, but the pitch remained silent for a moment.

The other kids were exhausted, some catching their breath, others shaking their heads at what they had just witnessed.

But it was the coaches who were the most stunned.

One of them turned to Johan, disbelief written all over his face.

"You trained him?" he asked.

Johan simply smiled.

Another coach rubbed his chin. "I don't think I've ever seen a kid this age dominate a match like that."

One of the senior scouts let out a low whistle. "We're not just looking at a talented player here… We're looking at a phenomenon."

Nico, meanwhile, just walked off the pitch, calm as ever, as if scoring 9 goals in a trial match was nothing special.

One of the head coaches, still trying to process what he had just witnessed, turned to Johan with a serious expression.

"This kid…" he started, glancing back at Nico, who was casually sipping water as if he hadn't just destroyed every other trialist on the field. "He's way too advanced for the U-10s. We want to move him directly to the U-12s."

There was no hesitation in his voice—just certainty. The other coaches around him nodded in agreement.

Johan simply smiled and nodded. "I expected nothing less."

With that, the staff quickly prepared the necessary paperwork, and Johan signed the documents.

Nico was officially a La Masia player.

With everything settled, they headed home.

As they drove back, Johan glanced at Nico, who was staring out of the window, deep in thought.

"You don't seem too excited," Johan said with a chuckle.

Nico turned to him and grinned.

"This is just the beginning."

[Name] Nico Cruyff

[Date of Birth] June 7, 2000

[Age] 11 years old

[Height] 152 cm

[Weight] 42 kg

[Attributes]

Pace 59Acceleration 60Sprint Speed 58

Dribbling 60Ball Control 60Agility 58Skill Moves 59

Shooting 60Finishing 60Shot Power 59Long Shots 65Volleys 58

Passing 58Short Passing 59Long Passing 57Vision 58Curve 58Crossing 57

Defending 56Tackling 55Interceptions 56Defensive Awareness 56

Physical 67Stamina 67Strength 66Balance 67Jumping 66

Free Kicks 79Free Kick Accuracy 79Set Piece Technique 78

[Skills]S-Shaped Free Kick - AdvancedPendulum - AdvancedRobben's Cut-In - AdvancedRonaldo Chop - High IntermediateCruyff Turn - High IntermediateLa Croqueta - High IntermediateElevator Free Kick - High Intermediate

[SP] 2100

[Shop: Unlocked]

Nico browsed through the shop, his emerald-green eyes scanning the list of available skills. His gaze landed on two techniques that immediately caught his interest—the Marseille Turn and the Trivela.

Without hesitation, he purchased the Marseille Turn for 400 SP, a move that would allow him to spin past defenders with elegance and precision. Next, he bought the Trivela for another 400 SP, a technique that would let him curve the ball with the outside of his foot, making his passes and shots even more unpredictable.

Now left with 1500 SP, Nico scrolled through the available upgrades and found something that caught his eye—Intermediate Injury Immunity. He knew that injuries had robbed many great players of their potential in both his past life and this one. If he wanted to become the best in the world, he needed to ensure his body could withstand the intensity of elite football.

Without a second thought, he used all 1500 SP to acquire Intermediate Injury Immunity, strengthening his body's resistance to injuries.

After confirming his purchases, Nico leaned back on his bed, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. He was still far from his ultimate goal, but every decision he made, every step he took, was carefully calculated to ensure he reached the very top.

Time continued to move forward, and Nico's rise through La Masia remained nothing short of extraordinary. Now playing for Barcelona U-17, he had established himself as the most dominant youth player in Spain, if not the world. Every single game, he either scored or assisted, often doing both multiple times. His presence on the pitch was undeniable, and every youth coach at the club believed he was destined for greatness.

The date was February 9, 2012. Nico sat on the couch with his grandmother, Danny Coster, watching Barcelona's first team play on TV. His grandmother, as always, was lovingly stroking his hair while keeping her eyes on the game.

Barcelona, under Pep Guardiola, was in their golden era, playing some of the most beautiful football the world had ever seen. On the screen, Xavi, Iniesta, Messi, and Busquets dictated the game, their tiki-taka passing mesmerizing the opposition. It was a masterclass, a symphony of football orchestrated at the highest level.

Nico, even though he had already surpassed his youth teammates, still admired these legends. He studied every movement, every pass, every feint. His mind worked like a supercomputer, analyzing the spaces they exploited and the decisions they made in milliseconds.

As the game continued, Nico and his grandmother, Danny Coster, sat together on the couch, watching Barcelona play. The television screen illuminated the room as the sounds of the roaring Camp Nou crowd filled the space.

Nico's eyes were glued to the match as Xavi received the ball in midfield. With a single glance, he scanned the pitch before threading a perfect pass through a tight gap to Iniesta, who barely needed a touch before gliding past a defender.

Danny smiled as she noticed the intense focus on her grandson's face. "You're studying them again, aren't you?"

Nico smirked, his emerald-green eyes not leaving the screen. "Of course. Look at how Xavi moves. He already knows where everyone is before he even gets the ball."

Danny chuckled. "That's years of experience and understanding. It's like he sees the game in slow motion."

Nico nodded as Messi picked up the ball on the right flank. "Watch this…"

Messi drove forward, cutting inside onto his left foot. As if on cue, he took a delicate touch past one defender, skipped past another, and rifled a shot into the bottom corner of the net. The stadium erupted in celebration.

Danny let out a small laugh. "You knew he was going to do that, didn't you?"

Nico grinned. "Messi always cuts in from the right. The defenders know it too, but they still can't stop him. It's all about timing, positioning, and deception. He's mastered it."

Danny gently ran her fingers through his silky black hair. "One day, you'll be out there with them, wearing that Barcelona shirt."

Nico kept his gaze locked on the screen as Busquets turned away from pressure with a simple yet elegant move, before calmly distributing the ball forward.

A confident smirk appeared on Nico's face. "No… I won't just play with them. I'll dominate."

The press conference room inside the Camp Nou was buzzing with excitement. Barcelona had just dismantled Real Betis 6-1, putting on a mesmerizing display of football that left fans and pundits in awe. Pep Guardiola, the mastermind behind this incredible team, walked in with a relaxed but proud expression, his tactical brilliance once again evident on the pitch.

As he took his seat, the reporters wasted no time firing off questions. They asked about the team's overall performance, the strategies used, and the players who stood out during the match. Guardiola answered them all with his usual calm demeanor, praising his team's discipline, execution, and hunger for victory.

After several questions, the attention shifted to Lionel Messi, the magician who had orchestrated yet another masterclass. A journalist stood up, his voice eager as he spoke into the microphone.

"Leo, many consider you the crown jewel of La Masia, the greatest talent ever produced by Barcelona's academy. What are your thoughts on that?"

Messi, who had heard similar statements countless times before, simply smiled and shook his head. His answer, however, was unexpected.

"I appreciate the compliment, but I'm not the crown jewel."

The room fell into a stunned silence. The reporters, expecting a more modest or reserved answer, were caught off guard. Whispers filled the air as journalists exchanged puzzled glances.

Sensing their curiosity, another reporter quickly followed up.

"If not you, then who?"

Before Messi could respond, Guardiola leaned forward, adjusting the microphone in front of him. His voice was calm yet firm, carrying a weight of certainty.

"Nico Cruyff."

The moment the name left his lips, the press room erupted into murmurs. Some reporters quickly flipped through their notes, trying to recall the name, while others exchanged confused looks. It wasn't a name they were familiar with.

One journalist, brows furrowed, leaned into his microphone. "Is he a youth player out on loan?"

Guardiola let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "No, he's a twelve-year-old currently playing for our U-17 team."

The room fell into an even deeper silence, as if time had frozen for a few seconds. A twelve-year-old playing in the U-17 squad? That was unheard of. No player had ever made such a massive leap at such a young age, not even the likes of Messi, Xavi, or Iniesta.

The journalists were now fully engaged. A different reporter, still trying to wrap his head around it, asked cautiously, "You're saying that this twelve-year-old is good enough to play against boys five years older than him?"

Guardiola nodded without hesitation. "Not just play—dominate."

The weight of his words settled into the room, and the murmurs grew louder. Who was this boy? How good was he? Why hadn't they heard of him before?

Even though the reporters went back to asking about the Betis game, it was clear that their focus had shifted. When the press conference ended and they left the room, they weren't thinking about Messi's goals, Xavi's passing, or Barcelona's tactical brilliance.

They were thinking about one name—Nico Cruyff.