God Of football

Chapter 351: Tour

Izan lingered near the edge of the field, observing.

He recognized a few faces immediately—players he’d watched before, some he’d even played against in La Liga. But they were all teammates now.

Mikel Arteta stood nearby, arms crossed, watching his players with a sharp gaze.

Every now and then, he called out instructions, correcting positioning, and reinforcing tactical ideas.

The intensity of his presence was unmistakable.

Izan stayed back for a moment, just taking it all in. He’d been a Valencia man his entire life.

The badge on his training kit had always been the bat. Now, it was a cannon.

A new battlefield indeed.

One of the assistant coaches leaned toward Arteta, speaking low but clear enough for Izan to catch.

"Boss, Miura just arrived."

Arteta’s brow lifted slightly, his arms still folded as he turned his head.

Sure enough, Izan stood a short distance away, hands in his pockets, taking in the training session.

That was unexpected.

Arteta knew the boy had asked for a few extra days before officially joining training—time to settle in, to adjust after his move.

Yet here he was, standing at the edge of the pitch, watching.

The manager took a moment, studying Izan’s body language.

The teenager didn’t look like someone just checking out his new surroundings. There was something sharper in his gaze, something calculated.

"Not wasting time, huh?" he uttered before turning towards Izan.

A few of the players noticed Arteta moving, their eyes flickering toward the figure he was approaching.

Some recognized him immediately—after all, he was their new teammate, the signing that had sent waves through the footballing world.

Others, those who hadn’t been glued to transfer news, took an extra second.

Izan saw Arteta coming and straightened slightly.

He had expected to just observe from the sidelines, maybe get a feel for the intensity of training.

Instead, it looked like he was about to have his first real interaction with his new coach.

Arteta stopped a few steps in front of him, hands still tucked behind his back.

He didn’t greet Izan immediately, just gave him a once-over, as if assessing something.

"Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here today," he finally said. "You asked for time off."

His tone wasn’t accusatory—just an observation.

But there was something in the way he said it, something that made it clear he was curious about the reasoning.

Izan met his gaze, then gave a small shrug.

"I did," he admitted. "But I figured I should get familiar with the place before I start."

Arteta studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small nod. "Good," he said simply, though his expression remained unreadable.

Behind them, a few players were still sneaking glances, curious about their new teammate’s first interaction with the boss.

Some had expected Izan to be the type to stroll in on the first official day, not someone who showed up early just to take in the atmosphere.

Arteta gestured toward the training pitches. "Come on," he said. "Since you’re here, let’s take a walk."

Izan fell into step beside him as they moved toward the heart of the facility.

The air was sharp with the scent of freshly cut grass, the sound of boots striking the ball echoing across the grounds.

"You watched the session?" Arteta asked.

Izan nodded. "For a bit."

"And?"

"Fast," Izan said, his voice even. "Intense."

Arteta’s lips curved slightly, just for a second. "Good."

They walked a little further, passing some of the coaching staff, who acknowledged Arteta with brief nods.

"What do you think you’ll need to adjust?" Arteta asked, his tone still casual, but Izan could tell he was gauging something.

Izan exhaled lightly, glancing at the players still training. "I won’t know for sure until I step in," he admitted.

"But I’ve been thinking about it. The space, the speed, the pressing… I’ll have to adapt fast."

Arteta nodded, as if satisfied with the answer. "You will," he said. "And you’ll have help."

Izan didn’t reply immediately, just kept watching the training. He knew that. He wasn’t alone in this.

But adaptation wasn’t something he wanted to rely on others for. He wanted to be ahead of it.

Arteta seemed to pick up on his thoughts because he spoke again, a bit quieter this time.

"You don’t have to prove everything at once," he said. "Just be ready when it’s time."

Izan turned to look at him,

Rice chuckled. "Good. Just know, mate—Premier League’s a different beast."

Izan met his gaze, unbothered. "Seen and heard the hyped so I’m counting on that."

There was a brief pause, then Rice’s grin widened. "I like that."

Ødegaard shook his head, amused. "Come on, let’s finish the tour before he starts challenging people."

They moved on, passing through the recovery area—a state-of-the-art section with everything from cryotherapy chambers to hydrotherapy pools.

"We spend a lot of time here during the season," Ødegaard said. "Especially with how intense the schedule gets."

Izan nodded. He’d expected that. England didn’t just have a tougher league—it had more matches, more competitions, more physical demand.

As they neared the end of the tour, Ødegaard gestured toward a hallway. "Your locker’s already set up. You’ll see it when you join training properly."

Izan took a mental note, then glanced around once more. He’d been in top facilities before—Valencia’s training ground was no joke—but this? It was different.

More than just the resources. It was the atmosphere. The energy.

He could feel it already.

This was the start of something new.