A few minutes passed.
Lucas leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, pretending to look calm.
"Hey, Victor," he said casually. "Can you give me our team formation and the full player list? Y'know, the usual stuff."
Victor blinked, tilting his head in confusion.
"Formation? Team list?" he repeated. Then he paused, squinting with mock seriousness. "You never told me to make that, Coach."
Lucas froze.
"…What?" His eye twitched. Then, like a dam breaking—
"WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTT—?!"
Victor burst out laughing. "Relax, relax! I'm just messing with you, my son."
He handed over a file. "Here it is—the formation and the full squad list."
Lucas collapsed into his chair like he'd just survived a life-or-death situation.
"Thank god… Uffffffffffffff…"
(Kuro):Is he really a legend in his past life…?
Victor shot Kuro a suspicious side-eye.
Lucas cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem! Anyway… Let me take a look at the tactical masterpiece created by the genius known as… me."
Victor handed over a notebook and a printed sheet from the keyboard tray.
Lucas flipped it open with confidence.
Ten seconds later, his face twisted in horror.
"…WTF is this?!"
He stared at the paper like it was a personal insult.
"Is he dumb?! There's no proper formation here! We haven't won a single match in this league cup! Not even scored a goal! And this guy is our coach?! He's using a... 3-4-3 formation?! Seriously?!"
He groaned loudly and facepalmed.
Lucas (monologue):
"As far as I know…
The 3-4-3 formation uses three forwards to apply constant pressure in the opposition's half, backed by three center-backs. Two central midfielders control the center, while wide midfielders—or wing-backs—offer width and drop back to defend when needed.
It's a fast and fluid formation that demands absolute coordination.
Every player must know their role, understand their position, and move with purpose.
Otherwise? The whole thing falls apart."
Lucas let out another long sigh, running a hand through his hair.
"Ugh… This guy's treating it like FIFA! No balance, no chemistry—just vibes and blind hope."
He slumped back in his seat, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"…And once again, the legend has to fix everything."
Kuro raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Legend, huh? We know, old bastard."
Lucas grinned.
"Fine. I'll reset the team myself."
He slammed the notebook shut with a snap.
"I'll build a real formation... and I'll win—with ease."
8 minutes later
Victor:
"Girls are ready, Coach."
Lucas:
"Thanks."
Lucas walked in a line and saw 10–11 players leaving the field. He looked around.
Total players remaining: 13.
I guessed this might happen… As far as I know, this team's broken. But now, I've only got 13 players—and I need to catch my first glory.
Lucas cleared his throat, standing in front of his new team like a commander about to lead troops into war.
"Alright girls. Thank you for trusting me. I hope you're ready to give everything to this beautiful game we call football."
Day one of the season. And already, the pressure was on.
Lucas clapped his hands and pointed at the field.
"Since it's the first day, we'll go easy. Just thirty laps around the ground. After that, we'll do the usual shooting and passing drills."
The reaction was… predictable.
"Thirty?!"
"What kind of sadistic warm-up is that?!"
"Is this military training?!"
Lucas crossed his arms.
"As I said, no questions. The last person to finish will be cleaning the footballs before we close for the day."
That shut them up real quick.
Some grumbled. Some exchanged glances of disbelief. A few started running reluctantly.
And others—well, they were already suspicious of Lucas's methods.
Victor, his assistant coach, walked over.
"They're already plotting your downfall," he said with a smirk.
Lucas didn't take his eyes off the runners.
"Victor, I need a list of all the players who left the team this year."
"On it."
Lucas watched the chaos unfold on the track.
Girls were bumping into each other, shouting insults, trying to outpace one another like it was a free-for-all.
This… is not a team.
"There's no chemistry," Lucas muttered under his breath. "No captain. No leadership. Just individuals."
He exhaled slowly, calming his thoughts.
But that's fine. The first league match is in thirty days. Plenty of time.
He continued to observe silently from the sideline.
That's when one player caught his eye.
Not because she was the fastest. Not because she was the strongest.
But because—she was motivating others. Helping teammates back into line. Leading without being told to.
Her voice echoed across the field, loud and encouraging.
"Come on! Don't fall behind!"
"Let's finish this together!"
Lucas narrowed his eyes, impressed.
"She's got fire in her eyes…"
He checked the name on the clipboard.
"Nadia Cruz."
A small devilish smile crept onto his face.
"Bingo. Might've just found my captain. A proper Sergio Ramos type."
Thirty laps later, chaos had transformed into carnage.
Some players collapsed to the grass, gasping for air.
Others dragged their feet like zombies. One girl was crying—loudly—begging to go home.
Lucas raised his whistle and blew.
PHEEEEEEP.
"Break time. Fifteen minutes."
The girls barely reacted. They looked too dead to respond.
Except for one voice.
"I can still go, Coach," Nadia said, standing tall despite her exhaustion.
Lucas blinked.
Still standing? Still ready? Even now?
She's insane.
He grinned.
"Nice fire, Nadia. But I'm not training marathon runners. I want this team to play the most beautiful football this school's ever seen. So for now, we're taking things slow."
Nadia nodded and finally walked off to rest with the others.
The rest of the team exhaled in relief, murmuring thanks as they sprawled out on the benches.
Across the field… an annoying voice echoed.
"HAHAHAHA! Look at this! Sir Lucas, the youngest coach! Still trying to act like you know what you're doing?"
Lucas's smile faded.
Great. Just what I needed.
Victor growled beside him.
"What did you just say, you fat—?"
Lucas held up a hand. "Easy, Sir Victor. Please go check on the girls. I'll handle this."
He already knew who it was.
Magnus Vren.
Coach of the rival boys' team from Graymoor High. The same guy who's had it out for them since forever.
Lucas turned, keeping his expression neutral.
"Coach Magnus. How can I help you today?"
Magnus laughed again, loud and obnoxious.
"Heard you made a genius move and kicked Roxy Quinn off the team."
Lucas's eye twitched.
Magnus stepped forward smugly.
"There's a meeting in the principal's office with all the funders. Special request: I personally came to invite you."
Lucas clenched his fists behind his back.
This bastard just wants to see me crack.
But instead, he smiled.
"Thanks for letting me know. I'll head there now—just need to brief my assistant coach first."
Magnus sneered.
"Tch… when did this piece of shit get so calm?"
Lucas walked back toward Victor.
"Sir Victor. I need to go to the principal's office. Might not be back in time. Could you run today's shooting and passing drills?"
Victor looked concerned. "You gonna be okay? I can go with you."
Lucas shook his head gently.
"No. You've already done so much for me… helped me through every step of this journey. Right now, I need you to trust me."
Victor didn't say anything at first.
Then, quietly… a tear fell from the corner of his eye.
He nodded.
"…Okay, Coach. We trust you."
Lucas turned, heart pounding—but his face calm as ever.
And without another word…
He walked toward the principal's office.
Let's see what kind of mess they've dragged me into this time."
End Chapter 5