God Of football

Chapter 339: New Competition

Then, finally, Miranda spoke. ”We’ll review it carefully.”

Florentino smiled as if he expected nothing less. ”Take your time. But remember…”

He gestured slightly, a quiet confidence behind his words.

”Madrid doesn’t wait forever.”

The talks continued, the conversation shifting to football, to history, to vision. No pressure, no desperation. Just Madrid being Madrid.

By the time they left the restaurant, Izan could feel it—the decision growing heavier on his shoulders.

...…

As Izan and Miranda stepped out of the restaurant, the Madrid night air was crisp, carrying with it the quiet hum of the city.

Their driver was already waiting, the blacked-out car idling by the curb.

Izan was silent, deep in thought. Two clubs, two visions, two futures. And he had to choose one.

Behind them, still inside the restaurant, Juni Calafat remained seated across from Florentino. He waited a beat, then glanced toward the club president.

”By the way,” Calafat said, his voice lower. ”Mbappé’s camp reached out this morning.”

Florentino didn’t react immediately, simply swirling his wine glass once before setting it down.

”And?”

”They want to confirm he’s still the priority. They’re sensing the shift.”

Florentino’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

”Let them wonder,” he said.

....

The moment Izan and Miranda returned to their hotel, her phone was already lit up with new messages. Calls from different numbers, and emails flagged as urgent.

It was expected. The football world moved fast, and now that Madrid had made their stance clear, others would follow.

Miranda calmly set her phone on the table, glancing at Izan as he loosened the collar of his shirt.

”Get some rest,” she said. ”Tomorrow will be busy.”

He didn’t argue.

—

The next morning, before Izan had even finished his breakfast, Miranda was already sitting across from him with her tablet open.

”Manchester United have officially submitted their offer.”

Izan, still sipping his coffee, raised an eyebrow. ”And?”

Miranda tapped the screen, bringing up the details.

”Contract length: six years. Base salary: €17 million per year. Bonuses include Champions League qualification, goals, and assists. They’re also offering a major signing-on fee.”

Izan exhaled. United had been interested for a while, but this was the first time they were moving aggressively.

”They’re willing to make you the face of their rebuild,” Miranda added. ”Ten Hag sees you as a key player to turn things around.”

Izan leaned back. He respected United’s history, but they were in a different place than Madrid. Their project wasn’t guaranteed success—it was a gamble.

Still, the contract was strong.

Before he could dwell on it, Miranda moved on.

”Manchester City.”

Now this was different.

”Pep is involved personally,” she said. ”They’ve structured their offer to fit within their wage model, but they’re willing to be flexible.”

She slid the tablet across the table so he could see.

”Five-year deal. €15 million per season, but with performance bonuses that could push it higher.

Champions League bonus is massive, and they’re offering a clear pathway into the squad.”

Izan studied the details. Unlike United, City didn’t need him to save them. They were already dominant, and their offer reflected that.

”Guardiola had a direct message for you,” Miranda added. ”He said, ’You’re one of the few players who can change the way a team plays. If you come, I’ll make you even better.’”

Izan let out a small chuckle. Pep had a way with words.

But before he could say anything, Miranda’s expression shifted slightly.

”There’s another one.”

Izan blinked. ”Another club?”

Miranda nodded. ”Liverpool.”

That caught his attention. They hadn’t been in the race before.

”They submitted a bid this morning,” she continued. ”And they’re moving fast. Klopp is gone, but the new manager is ambitious. They want to build their next era around you.”

She pulled up the offer.

”Five-year contract. Salary starting at €16 million, rising to €19 million. Huge bonuses for domestic and European success. They’re also offering significant control over your image rights, similar to Madrid’s deal.”

Izan frowned slightly, processing it. Liverpool had a strong squad, a great football culture, and a fanbase that lived for big moments.

But they were stepping into a transition phase. It was a risk, like United, but one with real potential.

Miranda watched him carefully. ”They’re serious. The bid is in, and if you want, they’ll fly out to meet us today.”

Izan exhaled.

In just 24 hours, the entire landscape had changed.

PSG. Real Madrid. Manchester United. Manchester City. Now Liverpool.

Five clubs. Five different paths.

Miranda closed her tablet. ”It’s decision time.”

Izan leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim of his coffee cup. His mind was running through every offer, every possibility, every consequence.

Madrid had given him the weight of history. PSG had thrown money and control at him. City offered tactical brilliance, while United promised to make him the face of their revival.

But Liverpool…

”That one’s interesting,” he muttered, glancing at Miranda.

She didn’t look surprised. ”Because?”

He exhaled, setting his cup down. ”United’s tempting, but I don’t want to gamble on a rebuild. Too many unknowns. Madrid…” He hesitated.

”It’s Madrid. But I’d have to fight just to start. And even if I do, I’m just one of their stars, not the guy. There’s always another big name coming in.”

Miranda nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Madrid didn’t revolve around any one player. Even legends were eventually replaced.

Izan continued. ”City’s probably the safest choice, but I’d be slotting into a system. No real freedom. PSG…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly.

”I don’t know if I want my whole career defined by that.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. ”But Liverpool? Salah is probably leaving next summer.

That opens up a space where I could slide in seamlessly. No understudy role. No waiting. I step in, and I matter immediately.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow. ”So you’re leaning toward them?”

Izan didn’t answer right away. He was still processing. But there was no denying it—Liverpool’s late entry had changed things.

”They were late to the table,” he admitted. ”But maybe that’s what makes it more intriguing.”

Miranda folded her arms, watching Izan closely. ”Liverpool’s offer came in late, which means they weren’t planning for this.

Are you sure you want to walk into a club that wasn’t even thinking about you until now?”

Izan ran a hand through his hair, thinking. ”Maybe they weren’t expecting Salah to leave this soon. Or maybe they just assumed I was Madrid-bound and didn’t bother.”

Miranda tilted her head slightly. ”Or maybe they saw the market shift and decided to make a move out of desperation.”

Izan exhaled. ”That’s possible. But it’s also possible that they’ve looked at their attack and realized I fit their style better than anyone else.

Klopp leaving made things uncertain for a while, but if they’ve sorted that out, I’d be walking into a team that plays fast, aggressive football. And I’d be a key part of their next era.”

Miranda tapped her fingers on the table. ”Alright, let’s break it down. Madrid offers you history and a near-guarantee of trophies, but you’d be fighting for minutes from day one.”

Izan nodded. ”Yeah. And there’s the Mbappé factor. Even if they say I won’t be sidelined, we both know what happens when he walks into a dressing room.”

Miranda smirked. ”Exactly. PSG offers you everything—money, control, even a team built around you—but it’s PSG.

No guarantee of long-term success and Ligue 1’s reputation isn’t helping.”

Izan let out a small chuckle. ”I’d rather not have my name dragged through ’Farmer’s League’ debates for the next five years.”

Miranda continued. ”City gives you structure, a coach who’ll refine you, and a team designed to dominate Europe.

But there’s a clear system, and you’d have to adapt to it, not the other way around.”

Izan pursed his lips. ”Pep’s a genius, but he’s also rigid. I’d be learning under him, not defining my own game.”

Miranda nodded. ”United wants to build around you, but they’re a gamble. Too much uncertainty, too much reliance on ’what ifs.’”

Izan didn’t hesitate. ”Exactly. I don’t want to wait five years just to see if they figure things out.”

Miranda leaned back. ”And then there’s Liverpool. Late to the table, but offering you a direct path to replacing Salah.

A legendary club, a passionate fanbase, and a style that suits you.

But also a new coach, a transition period, and an ownership group that isn’t known for reckless spending.”

Izan exhaled. ”It’s not perfect, but none of them are.”

Miranda studied him. ”So what’s the priority for you? Legacy? Money? Stability?”

Izan went quiet for a moment, then looked up.

”I want to play. I want to win. And I want to matter.”

Miranda nodded slowly. ”Then we need to decide who gives you the best chance at all three.”

A/n: Second of the day. Keep the tickets coming and I’ll also keep the chapters coming. Have a good night.