**** Join my Patreon for 15 or so Advance Chapters and my other stories ( currently 3) . Link is Below. Remove space after http
https:// www.patreon.com/c/Virtuosso777?redirect=true
Discord link
https:// discord.gg/cG7M6HNt6F
Drop some stones , review , comments if you like it so far.
***
The cold Manchester morning hung heavy with anticipation. Frost clung stubbornly to the edges of the training grounds, glittering under the pale light of dawn.
A thin layer of snow dusted the sidelines, untouched except for the occasional boot print left by early-arriving groundskeepers. The floodlights sliced through the lingering fog, casting long shadows as players jogged out onto the pristine grass, their breath billowing in white clouds against the chill.
Adriano pulled his AR10 boots tighter, feeling the familiar embrace of leather molding to his feet. He stood up, stretching his legs, and glanced toward the entrance of the training complex. Through the steam of his breath, he spotted the new signings stepping cautiously onto the pitch for the first time.
Joshua Kimmich and Andrew Robertson—two young prospects with fire in their eyes and dreams bigger than the Etihad itself. Kimmich's frame was still a touch lean, his face youthful, but his expression was sharp and resolute. His eyes scanned the training ground with the measured confidence of someone ready to prove himself. Next to him, Robertson wore a grin that stretched ear to ear, eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sprawling training complex. It was a long way from Tannadice Park.
Adriano jogged over to them, his boots crunching over frost-bitten grass. He extended his hand first to Kimmich, who shook it firmly, his grip solid and sure. "Welcome to Manchester City, Josh," Adriano said with a smile. Kimmich met his gaze squarely, nodding with a confidence that belied his age.
"Thank you. It's great opportunity to play here with you guys. I'm ready to get started," Kimmich replied, his voice steady.
Adriano chuckled. "That's what I like to hear," he said, before turning to Robertson, who was still glancing around with an almost dazed expression. "And you, Robbo. How's it feel?"
Robertson shook his head, laughing nervously. "I can't believe I'm actually here, mate," he admitted, his Scottish accent thick with excitement. "From Dundee United to this… it's surreal."
Adriano clapped him on the shoulder. "You better believe it. And get used to it quick, 'cause things move fast here," he said, nodding towards the training pitch where Hazard, De Bruyne, and Silva were already stretching and bantering with each other. "We work hard, but you're gonna love it."
Robertson grinned, glancing over at Kimmich. "Looks like we're really in the big leagues now," he said, his eyes bright with excitement.
Kimmich cracked a smile, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. "It's what we've been working for," he replied confidently. "Let's make it count."
Adriano liked that. The kid had fire, and Robbo had that raw determination that couldn't be taught. "That's the spirit," he said, turning back towards the field. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the lads."
They jogged across the pitch, the frost crunching beneath their boots. As they approached, Hazard was the first to look up, grinning broadly. "Well, well, who do we have here?" he called out, jogging over with a loose, easy stride. He extended his hand to Kimmich first. "Eden Hazard," he introduced himself with a grin. "Nice to have you on board, mate."
Kimmich shook his hand firmly. "Joshua Kimmich. Big fan of your game," he replied, and Hazard laughed.
"You hear that, Kev?" Hazard called out, glancing back at De Bruyne, who was stretching his legs with Silva. "We've got fans joining the squad now."
De Bruyne rolled his eyes, walking over with a grin. "They won't be fans for long once they see you fluffing your shots in training," he quipped, extending his hand to Robertson. "Welcome to City, Robbo. Andrew, right?"
Robertson shook his hand eagerly. "Yeah, Andrew Robertson. Thanks, man. This is… it's just unbelievable," he said, shaking his head.
Silva joined them, smiling warmly. "Don't let these guys fool you. They're soft as butter," he said with a wink, offering handshakes all around. "You lads ready to freeze your arses off? January in Manchester's not exactly beach weather."
Kimmich chuckled. "I'm from Germany," he replied. "This is like spring."
That earned a laugh from the group, and Adriano clapped him on the back. "You'll fit right in, then," he said, before turning to Robertson. "You good with the cold, Robbo?"
Robertson rubbed his hands together, blowing into them. "Dundee's not exactly tropical, mate," he replied, laughing. "I'll be fine."
De Bruyne smirked, nodding towards the training setup. "Right, enough chit-chat. Let's see if you can keep up," he teased, jogging backward toward the cones lined up for drills.
Hazard waved them along. "Come on, don't let Kev talk you out of it. He just wants to look good," he joked.
The new boys followed, picking up the pace, and Adriano jogged alongside them, his smile easy and welcoming. "First rule," he said, nodding towards the playful banter happening around them. "We work hard, but we keep it light. Always."
Kimmich nodded, eyes forward. "Got it."
Robertson grinned, glancing over at Adriano. "I think I'm gonna like it here," he said, breath puffing out in clouds as they reached the line of cones.
Adriano grinned back. "That's the idea, mate," he replied. "Now let's get to work."
As the drills began, Adriano watched the two newcomers closely. Kimmich's passes were crisp and clean, his vision sharp. Robertson moved with surprising grace, his long strides eating up the distance with ease. There was raw talent there—unpolished but bright. Adriano felt a surge of optimism as he moved between drills, calling out instructions and laughing along with the lads.
The January chill still bit at their faces, but the warmth of camaraderie and fresh beginnings made it fade into the background. Manchester City was reloading, and with Kimmich and Robertson in the fold, the future looked brighter than ever.
The first training session of the new year was nothing short of electric. The frost still clung stubbornly to the grass, crackling beneath their boots as the squad filtered onto the pitch, breath visible in the crisp Manchester air. Pellegrini stood at the edge of the training ground, bundled up in a thick jacket, whistle around his neck, and clipboard in hand. His voice carried across the field, sharp and demanding, cutting through the morning chill.
"Press! Press! Don't give them space!" he barked, waving his arms to emphasize the intensity he wanted. His instructions were precise, his eyes hawk-like as he tracked each player's movement. This wasn't just another training session—it was a statement of intent. With key players sidelined, there was no room for complacency.
Adriano jogged out to the middle of the pitch, stretching his legs and adjusting his AR10 boots. He caught sight of Joe Hart at the far end, diving low to palm away shots in a flurry of saves. Willy Caballero stood to the side, nodding in approval as Hart barked instructions to the defenders setting up for the next drill.
Adriano jogged over to join them. "Looking sharp, Joe," he called out with a grin.
Hart turned, sweat dripping from his brow. "Gotta be, mate. Pellegrini's got that new kid training with the reserves. Donnarumma. You heard of him?" he asked, reaching for his water bottle.
Adriano chuckled," Of course. You forgot mate, I've been playing scout on the side to recommend these young ones."
Joe chuckled, wiping his face. "Sixteen. Italian. Built like a brick wall and catches shots like he's got glue on his gloves. Pellegrini says he's coming up after the season. Gonna be my understudy." He paused, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Kid's massive, Ad. Bigger than me, and I'm not exactly tiny."
Adriano raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. " Damn, that's something. You worried?" he teased, nudging Hart with his elbow.
Joe laughed, shaking his head. "Not yet. I've still got a few years in me. But the kid's got potential. Big potential."
Adriano nodded thoughtfully. "Good. We'll need him. Depth's important. Look at the state we're in right now."
Before Hart could reply, Pellegrini's whistle cut through the air again. "Let's move! Positional drills! I want sharp passes and tight control!" he shouted, gesturing for the squad to split into groups.
Adriano jogged over to the midfield group, where Silva and Hazard were already exchanging quick, effortless passes with the newcomers. Kimmich, lean but sturdy, stood his ground against Silva, pressing high and stepping into tackles with calculated precision. His movements were sharp, eyes scanning the pitch constantly, positioning himself intelligently between passing lanes.
Silva nudged Adriano as he approached. "Look at that kid, eh?" he remarked, nodding toward Kimmich. "Barely old enough to shave, and he's already challenging me for the ball. I'm not sure whether to be impressed or worried."
Adriano chuckled, watching as Kimmich won the ball back and swiftly distributed it to Hazard without missing a beat. "Better get used to it," he replied. "Pellegrini's building for the future. He's not just looking at this season… he's planning long-term."
De Bruyne jogged up, sweat slicking his forehead as he joined the conversation. "You saw the list, right?" he asked, breathless but grinning. "Stones, Van Dijk, Dybala… and even some academy kids. Pellegrini's thinking three, four years ahead. He's not messing around."
Adriano nodded. "I saw it," he said, voice steady. "It's smart. If we want to dominate, we need depth. Not just for now, but for the years to come."
Hazard, who had been pinging passes with Kimmich, walked over with a grin. "Kimmich is a pain in the ass already," he joked, stretching his back. "Got me twice with those tackles. How old is he again? Eighteen?"
"Turned 19 last week," De Bruyne corrected, sipping from his water bottle. "Kid's fearless. Exactly what we need."
Adriano glanced over to the far side of the pitch, where Robertson was working through overlapping drills with Kolarov. Kolarov's arm was around the young Scotsman's shoulders, pointing out movements and tactical adjustments with animated gestures. Robertson nodded earnestly, clearly absorbing everything the veteran fullback had to offer.
"He's gonna be a nightmare on that left side," Hazard said, following Adriano's gaze. "Kolarov's teaching him the dirty tricks already. Give it six months, and Robbo'll be kicking lumps out of wingers."
De Bruyne chuckled. "That's the plan, isn't it? Replace the old guard with young blood. Pellegrini's setting the stage for the next generation."
Adriano folded his arms, watching the new arrivals mesh seamlessly into the training drills. The passes grew crisper, the positioning more instinctive. The frost on the grass began to thaw under the relentless energy, and the sun finally broke through the clouds, casting long shadows across the pitch.
"Well," Adriano said, cracking his neck and stepping back into the formation. "I guess we better set the standard, then. Can't have the new boys showing us up."
Silva laughed, patting him on the back. "Lead the way, Captain," he teased.
Adriano grinned, nodding. "Let's get to work."
And with that, training kicked into high gear, the squad driving each other forward, sharpening their edges for the battles to come. The frost had melted, but the fire was just starting to burn.
***
The sun hung low over the training grounds as the morning drills transitioned into tactical sessions. The energy among the players shifted—banter and light-hearted jokes gave way to a more focused, almost electric atmosphere. Pellegrini stood in front of the tactics board, marker in hand, his posture straight and commanding. He waited for the squad to settle in, boots crunching against the frost-bitten grass as they huddled around him.
"Alright, gather up," Pellegrini called out, his voice carrying a hint of authority that silenced the last murmurs of conversation. Adriano found himself near the front, flanked by Silva on his left and Hazard on his right. Kimmich and Robertson, the newest arrivals, hovered near the edges, eyes fixed intently on the board.
Pellegrini uncapped his marker with a click, tapping it against the laminated surface where the lineup was already sketched out in neat, precise handwriting. "This," he began, his eyes sweeping over the faces of the squad, "is how we're going to operate."
He tapped the goalkeeper's spot first. "Joe Hart," he announced. "Our undisputed number one." He glanced over at Joe, who gave a confident nod, slapping his gloves together with a loud smack. "Caballero will remain the backup, and Donnarumma—he's with the reserves for now, but don't be surprised if you see him around more often. Big lad's got talent."
Some murmurs rippled through the group, with De Bruyne whispering to Adriano, "Sixteen years old and already knocking on the door. Mad, isn't it?" Adriano nodded, his eyes still fixed on Pellegrini.
The manager continued, moving down the lineup. "Right-back: Kimmich," he said, pointing directly at the young German. "You'll be our main man there. Watch how Zabaleta played there. I want you to learn from him—he's got Premier League experience. Study it. But also try to use your advantages to show your skills."
Kimmich straightened up, his jaw tightening. "I'm ready, Coach," he said confidently, drawing nods of approval from the group.
Pellegrini moved on. "Left-back," he tapped the board, "Kolarov and Robertson. Kolarov, you're the veteran. Robertson, you learn everything you can from him. I want to see those overlapping runs drilled into muscle memory. I know it's a different atmosphere, but I hope you can fit in soon."
Kolarov slapped Robertson on the back. "You hear that, kid? I'm your babysitter now," he joked, drawing a chuckle from the group.
Robertson grinned sheepishly. "I'll try not to drive you mad," he replied, earning a clap on the back from Adriano.
Pellegrini turned his attention to the center-backs. "Hummels and Mangala are our main pairing," he announced. Hummels nodded firmly, crossing his arms. "Boyata will rotate in as needed, but there's something else I want you to know," Pellegrini added, his eyes flicking to the squad. "John Stones and Virgil van Dijk—currently on loan at Malaga. Next season, they're coming back. We're not just planning for now. We're planning for the next five years."
A murmur of approval rippled through the squad. "Stones and Van Dijk?" Hart whispered to Adriano. "That's a proper backline."
Adriano nodded. "Pellegrini's thinking long-term. I like it."
The manager tapped the midfield section next. "In the middle, De Bruyne and Silva. You two are the engine—don't let it stop," he said with a smile, drawing grins from both playmakers.
"Adriano," Pellegrini continued, his eyes locking with Adriano's. "You're at the tip of the diamond. I want you pulling the strings, linking play, finding the gaps. You've done it before, and I know you'll do it again."
Adriano gave a firm nod. "I got it, Coach."
Pellegrini moved on swiftly. "Casemiro joins us in that holding role. Fernandinho and Yaya will rotate with him. I expect complete dominance in that area—physicality, control, smart distribution. No excuses."
Fernandinho leaned over to Yaya, whispering with a grin, "Looks like the kid's gonna make us work for our spots, eh?"
Yaya chuckled deeply. "Good. Competition keeps us sharp."
Pellegrini's marker moved to the wings. "Left side, Hazard. Right side, Salah. Backups: Sinclair and Milner. But," he paused for effect, "next season, we'll have Son Heung-min joining us. Pace, versatility, goals. Be ready for that."
Hazard raised his eyebrows, glancing over at Salah. "Son's coming? Bloody hell, we're going to be unstoppable," he muttered, his grin wide.
Salah smirked. "We just need to make sure we're still starting when he gets here," he replied, offering a playful nudge.
Pellegrini finally tapped the striker's position. "With Aguero out, Kane steps up," he announced firmly. "Harry, you're leading the line. I want goals. Not just tap-ins—I want you finishing every chance you get. Martial was a target, but Monaco wouldn't budge. So we turn inward."
Kane nodded, eyes burning with determination. "I won't let you down, Coach," he said confidently, clenching his fists. Adriano gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "We'll feed you the chances, mate. Just put them away," he said with a grin.
Pellegrini wasn't finished. "We're also promoting from within. Marcus Rashford and Jadon Sancho are training with us now. They're young, they're hungry, and they're damn good. Give them the guidance they need. Help them grow."
The players nodded in approval. Rashford, standing just off to the side, flushed with pride, while Sancho gave a subtle fist pump, clearly thrilled to be mentioned.
Pellegrini took a step back from the board and clapped his hands together. "This is our team, gentlemen. Capital One Cup is behind us. The FA Cup is there if we can take it, but it's not our priority. Our focus is on the Premier League and the Champions League. We don't just want to compete. We want to dominate. Understand?"
A rumble of agreement spread through the squad. Hands slapped shoulders, nods were exchanged. Adriano locked eyes with Pellegrini, and the manager returned his gaze with a firm nod.
Adriano turned back to his teammates, clapping his hands. "You heard him," he called out, his voice clear and loud. "Let's make this our year. No excuses. We train harder, we play smarter, and we leave everything on that pitch."
Silva raised his hand with a grin. "And we make sure Kimmich and Robbo keep up, yeah?" he quipped, drawing laughter from the squad.
Kimmich rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, old man. I'll be fine," he shot back with a grin.
Pellegrini chuckled, shaking his head. "Enough talk," he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Back to work. We've got titles to win."
And with that, the squad broke away, energy high, ready to fight for every inch of the season to come.
***
The crisp afternoon air hung heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass as the training drills shifted seamlessly into tactical sessions. The squad huddled around Pellegrini, who stood in front of the tactics board like a general addressing his army. His marker clicked against the surface as he began outlining his vision for the second half of the season.
"Alright, listen up," Pellegrini called out, his voice clear and authoritative. "We've had some setbacks, but that's part of football. What matters is how we respond. I want us more fluid, more dynamic. Fullbacks, push higher. Midfield, control the tempo. Attack, be ruthless."
He paused, glancing around the circle of faces—some seasoned veterans, others fresh arrivals still learning the rhythm of Manchester City football. Adriano stood near the front, arms crossed, nodding along as Pellegrini continued.
"Kimmich, Robertson," Pellegrini pointed with the marker. "You two impressed me this morning. Keep that energy up. I want you snapping into tackles, pushing forward, and making life miserable for the opposition."
Kimmich nodded firmly, his jaw set with determination. "I'll do my part, Coach."
Robertson, a bit more relaxed, shot a grin at Kimmich. "As long as this lad doesn't steal all my tackles," he joked, drawing a chuckle from the squad.
Pellegrini allowed a small smile. "If he does, you better get them back. Now, let's see it out there. Scrimmage time. I want intensity. No passengers."
The players broke off into their positions, the chatter light but focused. Adriano jogged over to Kimmich and clapped him on the back. "You ready for this, mate?"
Kimmich smirked. "Born ready."
"That's what I like to hear," Adriano replied before jogging into position.
The scrimmage kicked off with the sharp blow of the whistle. Instantly, the ball zipped around the field, boots slapping against it with crisp precision. Kimmich wasted no time showing off his versatility. He patrolled the right flank with a tenacity that belied his age, stepping into challenges with authority and pinging passes with pinpoint accuracy. His duel with Silva in the middle of the park was a highlight—Silva's silky dribbling versus Kimmich's relentless pressing. Every time Silva tried to spin away, Kimmich was there, snapping at his heels, forcing him back.
"Not bad, kid," Silva grinned after losing possession for the third time. "You make me feel old."
Kimmich just smiled, his cheeks flushed. "You don't look a day over thirty," he quipped back, earning a roar of laughter from Hazard, who had been watching nearby.
"Oi, careful," Hazard teased, jogging past. "You might actually make him run faster."
On the opposite side, Robertson was making a name for himself as well. He locked horns with Salah repeatedly, their duels growing more physical as the session wore on. One moment, Salah looked certain to burst down the wing, only for Robertson to step in, shoulder to shoulder, and muscle him off the ball. The Egyptian hit the ground, blinking up at the sky with a look of disbelief.
"Kid's got some bite, eh?" Salah muttered, brushing grass off his shorts as he got back to his feet.
"Welcome to Manchester," Hazard shot back with a wide grin, nudging Salah as he walked past.
The banter flowed as naturally as the passes, with jokes flying back and forth. The new signings seemed to settle in with ease—Kimmich's steely confidence and Robertson's raw enthusiasm blending perfectly with the established squad's chemistry.
Training wrapped up with a series of set-piece drills, and Pellegrini finally blew the whistle, signaling the end of the session. The players gathered around, stretching and catching their breath, the chatter still bubbling over with energy. Adriano jogged over to Kimmich and Robertson, clapping them both on the back.
"Good session, you two," he praised, a smile lighting up his face. "Keep that up, you'll fit right in."
Kimmich nodded, still catching his breath. "I'm here to win," he replied simply, the determination etched on his face.
Adriano liked the fire in his eyes. "That's the spirit," he said, grinning widely. "Get used to it. We do a lot of winning around here."
Robertson, leaning on his knees, managed a grin. "Aye, well... I'm not here for the tea and biscuits."
That drew a laugh from Adriano. "Good," he replied, clapping him on the back again. "You might be Scottish, but you've got a Mancunian heart."
As the players filtered back into the locker room, the atmosphere was lighter—more vibrant. Chatter bounced off the walls, players exchanging jabs and jokes as they peeled off their boots and collapsed onto the benches. Hazard was already teasing Silva about Kimmich's pressure, and De Bruyne and Salah were debating the best way to get past Robertson.
Adriano showered quickly, the hot water soothing his tired muscles. He dressed and caught up with Silva and De Bruyne as they made their way out of the grounds. De Bruyne slung his bag over his shoulder, his brow creasing slightly. "Think we've got enough?" he asked, his voice low enough that only they could hear.
Adriano's expression was confident, almost defiant. "We don't just have enough," he replied firmly, his eyes glinting with belief. "We've got more than enough. Pellegrini's building something special... you can feel it."
Silva nodded in agreement. "We might be down a few soldiers, but this squad? It's got heart. And sometimes, that's more important than anything."
De Bruyne looked between the two of them and finally nodded, his shoulders relaxing. "Alright, then," he said with a grin. "Guess we better get ready to win everything, huh?"
Adriano laughed, patting him on the back. "That's the plan, mate. That's the plan."
They stepped out into the Manchester chill, the clouds heavy with the threat of rain. But to Adriano, the sky had never looked clearer.
***
The icy grip of January settled over Manchester, casting a pale glow across the Etihad Campus as the squad continued to grind through daily training sessions. Pellegrini's vision was beginning to take shape, with Kimmich and Robertson seamlessly integrating into the squad. The drills were sharper, the tactical sessions more focused. There was an unspoken understanding that this was just the beginning. The real tests were on the horizon.
Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was buzzing. Silva, Hazard, and De Bruyne exchanged passes in a corner while Kimmich and Robertson soaked in tips from the veterans. Harry Kane practiced his finishing drills under the watchful eye of the assistant coach, each strike cracking against the net with satisfying precision. Adriano watched it all with quiet confidence. This was his team now, and the stakes had never been higher.
As the players wrapped up and made their way back into the dressing room, Pellegrini stepped in, clapping his hands to get their attention. His expression was stern but confident, the kind of look that demanded respect.
"Alright, listen up," Pellegrini began, his eyes scanning the room. "We've got a busy month ahead of us, but compared to December, it's manageable. We start with Wolves in the FA Cup—no underestimating them. I want us sharp, aggressive, and decisive. We need to set the tone for the rest of the campaign."
De Bruyne leaned back against his locker, crossing his arms. "Wolves are tough, but we should handle them," he remarked confidently.
"We will," Pellegrini nodded, "but the real work begins after that. Hull City, Chelsea, and Arsenal. Three games in the Premier League, three massive opportunities to stretch the gap at the top. I want maximum points. No excuses."
At this, the squad exchanged glances, determination etched across their faces. Adriano locked eyes with Hazard, who gave him a nod. There was an understanding: the league was theirs to take if they played it right.
Pellegrini walked over to the tactics board and tapped it with his marker. "Now, the table," he continued, scribbling the current standings with a quick hand:
1. Manchester City - 52 Points (20 games, 16 wins, 4 draws, 0 losses)
2. Chelsea - 49 Points (20 games, 15 wins, 4 draws, 1 loss)
3. Manchester United - 46 Points (20 games, 14 wins, 4 draws, 2 losses)
4. Liverpool - 43 Points (20 games, 13 wins, 4 draws, 3 losses)
5. Arsenal - 43 Points (20 games, 13 wins, 4 draws, 3 losses)
6. Tottenham - 40 Points (20 games, 12 wins, 4 draws, 4 losses)
7. Southampton - 38 Points (20 games, 11 wins, 5 draws, 4 losses)
8. Leicester City - 37 Points (20 games, 11 wins, 4 draws, 5 losses)
He stepped back and looked around the room. "We are three points clear at the top," he stated, his voice steady and firm. "That is not enough. Not for me, and it shouldn't be for any of you. Chelsea is breathing down our necks, and United is right behind them. There is no room for error."
Kimmich leaned forward, studying the table intently. "We control our own destiny," he remarked, nodding with a sense of calmness beyond his years.
"Exactly," Pellegrini agreed. "Now, after those league matches, we have Juventus at home. Champions League, Round of 16. This is where we prove we belong amongst Europe's elite. No more just participating. We dominate. We impose our will."
A ripple of excitement spread through the room. De Bruyne turned to Adriano, his eyes sparkling. "Juve won't know what hit them," he said confidently.
Adriano grinned back. "They'll feel it in the first five minutes," he replied.
The room buzzed with anticipation. Pellegrini, sensing the mood, clapped his hands together. "We've set our targets," he said firmly. "Premier League and Champions League. We're not settling for one. We're going for both. Full throttle, no brakes."
Joe Hart, standing at the back, chimed in, "About time we showed Europe what we're made of, yeah?"
The room erupted in agreement, voices overlapping in excitement. Pellegrini raised his hands to settle them. "This squad... this squad can do it. We've added depth, we've added quality, and now it's about executing. The schedule is lighter this month. We use it. We build momentum. No dropped points, no complacency."
Adriano straightened up, his jaw clenched with determination. He looked around the room, locking eyes with each of his teammates—Silva, Hazard, De Bruyne, Kane, and the new boys, Kimmich and Robertson. "We do this together," he said firmly, voice steady. "Every game, every minute. We push. We fight. No one outworks us."
Robertson, still wide-eyed but brimming with confidence, leaned forward. "I've never won anything before," he admitted, his Scottish accent cutting through the room. "Think we can change that this year?"
Adriano smiled, walking over and clapping him on the shoulder. "We're not just gonna win," he said, eyes gleaming with belief. "We're going to dominate."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the words settling over them. Then, one by one, heads began to nod. De Bruyne slapped his hands together. "Let's do it, then," he declared.
Pellegrini smiled, satisfied with the response. "Alright," he said, voice softening just slightly. "Get your rest. We go again tomorrow. And remember... the journey starts with Wolves."
The players began to filter out of the room, still murmuring amongst themselves, their expressions steeled with focus. Adriano stayed back for a moment, his eyes fixed on the tactics board. This was it. The second half of the season. The time to make history.
And he knew, deep down, that they had everything they needed to make it happen.
***
Current Stats of Adriano
Premier League
Matches: 15
Goals: 19
Assists: 12
Current top scorer of Premier League and top Assists list.
Champions League
Matches: 6
Goals: 15
Assists: 5
Current top scorer, 2nd in Assists