Become A Football Legend

He was resolving his will to keep pushing.

Champions League football, international competitions, trophies — a lot of things he still hadn't gotten yet but knew it was only a matter of time.

Just as Lukas dropped his phone and got up to prepare for the day's recovery session, his phone rang.

"Hello, Marco."

"My Superstar. How're you doing?"

"Hahaha... I'm good. Is everything alright? I already uploaded the photos you sent me."

"Yeah, I saw them. The caption is causing quite a ruckus."

"Well, I can't just let him say anything he wants to say about me, can I? Even if he's Jose Mourinho."

"True. Make it so people don't think they can say anything about you when they are behind a microphone."

"Yeah. So what's up?"

"Oh... That's right... I called you because of the sponsorship deal with Puma. We have finished the discussion and they've sent a signed copy, all that's left is you and Javi's signatures."

"That's great. I'll talk to him and maybe we can meet during the weekend to sign it."

"That's okay. By the way, there's something else I want to discuss with you."

"What's that? Hope everything's alright?"

"Everything is great. But I think you might start seeing rumors soon about interest from somewhere."

"Bavaria?"

"How did you know?"

"It's not really that hard to guess... It's only a matter of time."

"Yeah. I got contacted last night after your game against Fenerbahçe. A representative wanted to speak to me. There's only one reason a representative from Bayern Munich would wanna speak to me."

"Don't they have to get approval from the club first? Does this mean Eintracht Frankfurt is willing to let me leave so soon?"

"I am highly doubtful that is the case. Technically they do have to get permission from your current club. But there are tons of methods clubs can use to bypass that restriction so I won't be surprised if that's what they're doing right now."

"Interesting. So what did you say to them? Will you be meeting the representative?"

"You don't want me to?"

"I don't see the need. But don't worry about that, have the meeting. And let me know what they are saying."

"Alright then, I will do that. We'll talk about it when we meet for the signing during the weekend."

"That's okay."

The call ended and Lukas dropped his phone as he thought about the details of the call.

Is a move to Bayern Munich something he would welcome?

They are a hegemonic club that's for sure and the Bundesliga would be all but guaranteed year after year.

With his presence and continued improvement, winning multiple Champions League across the course of his career would not be a pipe dream.

They were undoubtedly the biggest club in Germany and arguably one of the three biggest and most supported super clubs in all of Europe, so his popularity will skyrocket.

But was this something he wanted at this stage of his career?

Was this something he needed to do?

On a personal level, he was not one of the multiple Bayern haters in Germany. But he wasn't a fan either.

And most importantly—

"I don't want to leave Frankfurt if I don't have to."

—was his current state of mind.

"Argh... No need to stress myself too much about it, I doubt the club will even let me leave."

* * *

Meanwhile, at the same time at the ProfiCamp.

The glass walls of Krösche's office reflected the autumn sunlight that poured into the Eintracht headquarters. Papers were stacked neatly on the CEO's desk, but the one file lying open in front of him was anything but neat in its implications: Lukas – Contract Clauses.

Krösche leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose before pressing the intercom.

"Timmo, come in. We need to talk."

Moments later, Hardung walked in, his expression betraying the same mix of pride and unease. He didn't sit right away, hovering by the chair as if bracing for impact.

"I know why you called me," Hardung said with a half-smile. "The boy's already torn through that clause."

Krösche gestured toward the chair. "Nine games, Timmo. Nine. And we're already looking at 22 goal contributions. You do realize how absurd this looks? We barely got the ink dry on his first contract three months ago, and now — now we're forced into renegotiation talks because of a clause you pushed through."

Hardung sat, clasping his hands. "I pushed it through? Are you remembering things wrongly? Markus, you were literally talking about how we would be renegotiating the contract by the end of the season."

"Ahem... Is that so? Why don't I remember that?" Krösche said before changing his expression to a slight grin. "That aside, what do we do now, though? I put that clause in there as a motivation for him. I didn't expect him to smash it out the window in only a handful of games. He's been brilliant. Too brilliant. And you know what that does — it puts a target on his back."

Hardung leaned forward. "I've already heard whispers. Bayern's scouts have been at three of our games in a row. They don't move quietly, you know that. If they decide Lukas is their long-term player, no clause, no salary bump, nothing will scare them off. They'll throw money we can't match."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Germany's footballing hierarchy pressing down on them.

Krösche finally spoke, his tone firm. "That's why we can't drag our feet. We have to show Lukas he's valued here — more than just a kid who broke through. If Bayern calls tomorrow, we need him to think twice before answering. We renegotiate, yes, but on our terms. Performance bonuses, loyalty incentives, buyout clauses — real deterrents."

Hardung nodded slowly. "So, we're going to reward him this early?"

Krösche gave a thin smile. "We're going to protect him this early. And protect Eintracht while we're at it. Lukas may only be sixteen, but he's already our crown jewel. If Bayern wants him, they'll have to bleed for him."

Hardung chuckled under his breath. "Not bad, Markus. Not bad."

Krösche closed the file with a quiet snap. "Good. Now set up a meeting with his agent. Let's get ahead of this before Munich even puts pen to paper."

The sun was still low above Frankfurt, casting a pale autumn glow across the training ground. Saturday mornings were usually light, and after the exhausting trip to Istanbul, today's session was nothing more than tactical walkthroughs and ball-movement drills.

Players jogged in small groups, the laughter and banter carrying across the crisp morning air. Larsson, leaning over to catch his breath after a short shuttle, looked up and shook his head.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, watching Lukas sprint down the flank at full tilt as if it were the first day of preseason.

Knauff joined in, grinning. "Doesn't the guy have human settings? He ran the whole game Thursday night and he's still bouncing around like a puppy."

Even Uzun, usually the quiet one, piped up. "If I played like that in Kadıköy, I'd still be in bed with ice packs."

Lukas jogged back to them, smirking, sweat barely glistening on his forehead. "What? This IS light. You guys just need better stamina."

The mock groans from Larsson and Knauff were drowned out by a ripple of laughter through the group. "Better stamina, he says," Knauff called out. "Next time you run like that, we'll just send you alone to play ninety minutes."

On the sideline, Dino Toppmöller folded his arms, his eyes locked on the pitch. His assistants, Zembrod and Buck, stood beside him, each with a clipboard.

"Look at him," Buck said, gesturing toward Lukas as the winger cut inside and lofted a casual cross. "No sign of fatigue at all. Kid's built different."

Zembrod nodded slowly but frowned. "That's what worries me. He doesn't feel it yet, but the body keeps the score. You let him go full throttle every three days, and sooner or later, something pulls."

Toppmöller exhaled, expression unreadable. "I know. He was everywhere against Fenerbahçe. Tackle at the back, assist, goal, endless sprints. And now look at him — fresh as ever. If I'm not careful, he'll think he can do this forever."

"So what do you do tomorrow?" Buck asked carefully. "Union are physical, they'll try to grind the game. Do you risk him again?"

Toppmöller's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly as Lukas accelerated past Larsson with a burst of pace. "Maybe he starts on the bench. It might be the only way he learns that even the strongest legs can't run forever."

He didn't say it louder than that, just a quiet hint. But his assistants exchanged a knowing glance. It was rare for the coach to even consider leaving Lukas out — yet the thought was already out in the open, and tomorrow might be the first real test of managing a phenomenon who didn't seem to know his own limits.