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God Of football

Izan, a Spanish-Japanese boy who lived with his mother and sister in the heart of Valencia played for the Valencia academy since he could remember. As life fucks as all, Izan found himself being laid off by his club for being talentless. Frustrated, Izan runs around his local pitch, trying to get the news off his mind. As fate would have it, Izan gets struck by lightning which gives him a system. Izan with the system embarks on a journey to becoming 'THE' god of football. We all know he can and probably will but how does he get there? ************ 1. set in post messi-ronaldo dominant era.[2022, post-messi-ronaldo peak era in Europe] 2. Real-world likeness. 3. 1700 words on average Let's get this novel up. Help me with your power stones and reviews and share this Novel ************* Also, all rights reserved for the companies and teams and also players I use in the novel since I don't know how image rights work and I'm too lazy to search it up on Bing-, I mean google here's the discord guys https://discord.gg/B7PXyBg3 1 dragon: 2 bonus chapters 1 magic Castle= 5 bonus chapters [will be released the day following the gift] 100 Powerstones= 1 bonus chapter [released the same day] 20 golden tickets= 1bonus chapter [will be spread across the week]

Art233 · Esportes
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233 Chs
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New Frontier

Back at Valencia's training ground, the team used the buzz as motivation. Baraja held a brief meeting, reminding his players to focus on their strategy and not get swept up in the media frenzy.

Izan, ever composed, took it in stride, saying, "The stats are nice, but we're here to win as a team."

Fans from around the world eagerly awaited the showdown, knowing they were about to witness something special again.

...

Izan awoke to the faint hum of the city outside his window. Valencia's heartbeat seemed to echo through the walls of the hotel near the Mestalla.

Due to preparation reasons, Coach Baraja had made the players all converge at the stadium for the night.

It was match day, and the clash against Real Madrid at the Mestalla loomed like a storm on the horizon.

A quick glance at his phone confirmed the time—7:38 a.m. He had slept surprisingly well, but the anticipation coursing through his veins made staying in bed impossible.