In the hilly region of the Dnieper Upland lies one of the oldest cities in Eastern Europe, nad Kiev.
Warm, moist air currents from the Atlantic arrived in late May, nourishing this land rich with history.
Along with them ca tens of thousands of fans.
They hailed from all over the world, united for a single purpose.
The 2017-18 Champions League Final!
Most of them were supporters of Real Madrid and Manchester United, while the rest had co to witness this annual spectacle and to catch the World Cup fever before it started in mid-June.
Because of this, UEFA spared no effort in promotion, filling every corner of Kiev with player posters.
Cristiano Ronaldo, Karim Benzema, Sergio Ramos, Paul Pogba, Chris Smalling, Ling...
In the heart of Kiev stood a structure resembling a snow-white circular cake, with a large erald-green football pitch at its center.
Built in 1923, it was known as the Trotsky Red Stadium.
Having survived the Soviet Great Patriotic War, World Cup qualifiers, and the 1980 Olympics...
Its na changed four tis, eventually becoming the Kiev Olympic Stadium.
Under the glow of hundreds of lights, the stadium's glass structure was magnificently illuminated, resembling a grand and dreamlike hall.
...
Three Days Before the Final.
The Manchester United players were conducting their training sessions.
"Bang!"
Following the explosive sound, David De Gea turned to look at the trembling goalpost and couldn't help but swallow hard.
"Jeremy, are you a monster? It's only been over two weeks, and your shooting power has improved noticeably."
Ling patted De Gea on the shoulder and whispered quietly with a grin, "I'll tell you a secret—I'm actually an alien."
De Gea smiled wryly at the remark.
After practicing penalties for a while longer, the group cleared the field for the Real Madrid players.
Journalists set up their caras, aiming at those stepping out of cars.
Sports stars like Rafael Nadal, Fabio Cannavaro, and David Beckham all ca to the scene.
Oh, and Pep Guardiola's family too.
When asked which team they favored more, the group split into two camps.
Guardiola said expressionlessly, "Rationally speaking, I lean more toward Real Madrid because they are stronger and have a more balanced squad."
"According to rumors, your daughter is dating Manchester United player Ling. They were photographed together during the FA Cup final, and so even say Ling will transfer to Man City next season."
"So emotionally, wouldn't you prefer Manchester United to win?"
The reporter from The Sun was like a shark that had caught the scent of blood.
Guardiola's mouth twitched involuntarily.
He took a deep breath to stay calm. "No, still Real Madrid. As for the rumors outside, they are baseless. The two are just purely ordinary friends."
David Beckham, standing behind him, covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.
When the reporter's microphone turned to him, he quickly regained a serious expression.
"Ling is an outstanding professional player. His dribbling has a unique beauty—a perfect blend of power and technique."
"And in my career, I've only seen two players as disciplined as him. Today, they will stand on the sa pitch—him and Cristiano."
"Who do I support? I've played for both teams. If I must choose, I'd prefer Manchester United to win."
...
Match Day.
By now, the players had finished their pre-match warm-up and returned to the locker room for final preparations.
Jose Mourinho stood before his n.
"Real Madrid's formation is 4-3-1-2, sa as we predicted before the match. Ronaldo and Benzema will take turns pulling wide, mainly attacking our left flank. Zlatan, you know what to do."
"But you don't need to worry about these things. No matter how they change, it doesn't matter. We play according to our own setup."
"I've talked too much about tactics over the past two weeks. There's nothing left to adjust now. I just want you to rember who you are."
The locker room fell silent for a mont as the Manchester United players looked up one by one.
Mourinho picked up a black marker and tapped the tactics board.
"We are here today not because of the referee, not because of our opponents!"
"It's because of ourselves and the team. You know what needs to be done."
"On my first day coaching Manchester United, I promised you championships and glory. That promise might have been a bit naive."
"But I believe it also represents self-belief—the belief that together with you, we can achieve the best in football."
"What does being the best represent then?"
At this point, Mourinho suddenly pointed toward the center of the locker room, where a poster of the Champions League trophy was displayed.
Then he said word by word: "Being the best ans winning the Champions League."
"Let's look at it from another angle. Real Madrid wants to create the fairy tale of a Champions League three-peat, and we are the big villains standing in their way. Playing the antagonist is much easier than being the hero!"
Mourinho's voice softened, but the intensity grew.
"Every ti I recall that penalty shootout in 2012, I can still feel the sa pain. Real Madrid fans always say I owe them a Champions League title!"
"I hope none of you ever have to experience that."
Ling watched Mourinho's slightly trembling gray hair, which seed to tell stories of ti's passage and those glorious years gone by.
"Today, if they want to achieve the historic three-peat, they'll have to ask for our permission first!"
...
anwhile, in Real Madrid's locker room.
Zinedine Zidane wasn't giving too much of a motivational speech, as Real Madrid players were already battle-hardened veterans who had experienced heart-wrenching defeats and glorious victories.
They knew exactly what they wanted.
That's why they were the protagonists of this match, the heroes in this script—they would create and beco legends, ushering in a brand new era!
...
After being notified by staff, players from both teams gathered in the players' tunnel.
The atmosphere remained relatively cordial, but tense.
Mourinho shook hands with Real Madrid players and joked with Gareth Bale.
"If you had expressed your intentions last season, you'd probably be wearing red right now."
Bale scratched his head upon hearing this and wisely chose to remain silent.
After greeting Mourinho and his forr teammates, Ronaldo glanced indifferently at Ling before staring straight ahead with unwavering focus.
'Still as cold as ever.'
Ling couldn't help but complain internally, though he found it quite amusing.
Notably, Ronaldo seed to have specifically styled his hair similarly to his "Noodle Hair" from his Man United days, though he looked much greener back then.
Suddenly, Ling felt an odd sensation.
Turning around, he found Sergio Ramos staring at him, arrogantly making a throat-slitting gesture.
Having taken out Mohad Salah in the Champions League final in the original tiline, Ramos probably wouldn't mind doing the sa to the Premier League's top scorer today.
This was essentially a battle of intimidation.
Back when Paul Scholes played, he would recklessly slide tackle from the start, aiming to establish psychological dominance.
At football's highest level, every factor matters trendously.
Ling wasn't one to back down either—he pointed a finger-gun at Ramos while flashing a bright, toothy smile, the provocation unmistakable!
What did he have to lose when he had nothing to lose?
Since the start of this season, nobody had believed in them.
Nobody expected them to win the Premier League title, nobody expected them to reach the Champions League final.
Topping their Champions League group? They called it luck.
Reaching the quarterfinals? They called it luck.
But beating Bayern Munich? Suddenly everyone realized there was no such thing as luck.
At worst, they'd lose this match and co back stronger next year.
As long as they left no regrets in their performance, the outco would bring no regrets either.
And Real Madrid? The first three-peat winner after the Champions League reform—this was both an unparalleled glory and a pressure.
...
The opening performance of the Champions League final was in full swing, with Dua Lipa performing her new song, "One Kiss."
The familiar lody drifted into the players' tunnel.
Ling smiled again as he listened to the familiar tune.
Soon the opening performance ended.
The stirring Champions League anthem suddenly began to play.
As the cara rapidly zood out, what ca into view was the gleaming Saint Bride's Cup (The Big Ears), followed closely by two musicians holding cellos.
They were 2CELLOS, performing a passionate rendition of the anthem.
Amid their brilliant performance, and under the gaze of 67,136 spectators in the stadium, the players from both teams slowly erged from the players' tunnel.
High in the gantry, Peter Drury adjusted his headset, his voice resonating with the gravity of the occasion.
"The night has fallen on Kiev, but the stars are just coming out!"
"Good evening, world! From the banks of the Dnieper, we bring you the pinnacle of the club ga. The 2017-18 Champions League Final!"
"Real Madrid versus Manchester United!"
"Two tribes, two histories, one obsession. The atmosphere is electric, the air is thick with destiny."
"The cara finds the faces... Ronaldo, the King of this competition. Benzema, the silent assassin. Pogba, the prodigal son. And Ling... the boy who would be King."
"Take a close look at them and ponder—what kind of talent, what kind of sacrifice does it take to stand here?"
Jim Beglin chid in, "It's the ultimate test, Peter. Real Madrid are chasing immortality—a third consecutive title. No one has done it in the modern era."
"And Manchester United?" Drury continued. "It has been ten long years since their last triumph. In the bleak wind and rain of Moscow in 2008, under the watchful eyes of the footballing gods, they defeated Chelsea on penalties."
"Ronaldo wept uncontrollably that night... John Terry slipped... It is the unpredictability of the pitch, the endless charm of the ga."
"Tonight, the script is unwritten. Will the Kings of Europe retain their crown? Or will the Red Devils drag them from the throne?"
"The stage is set and the actors are ready. Let the drama.... begin!"
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