The heat of Andalusia hit the Barcelona squad the moment they stepped off the plane at San Pablo Airport. It wasn't just the climate, it was the density of the crowd waiting beyond the barriers, the particular energy of a football city that understood what was arriving and had opinions about it.
Martino's instruction was the same as always at airports: three minutes, then the bus. He said it without urgency, already moving toward the vehicle, trusting his players to handle themselves.
Messi moved through the crowd with the practised ease of someone who had done this a thousand times, signing jerseys in rhythmic motions without breaking stride. Neymar accepted selfies with his usual wide grin, bleached spikes catching the September sunlight. Lorenzo found himself at the centre of a section that was predominantly young, predominantly female, and considerably louder than the rest.
A woman near the front pushed through to him. "Lorenzo, my brother is Fernando Navarro. He's been working to get back from his injury just to play tonight. He's La Masia, like you." She leaned closer. "Please - don't make it too hard for him on his comeback."
Lorenzo looked at her for a moment, then at Messi and Neymar a few metres away. "You'd have to ask my teammates about that," he said.
Busquets, overhearing, offered a dry look. "Nothing to do with us. If he wants to be kind to Navarro, that's between him and the referee."
The bus doors closed. Three minutes, as instructed.
The media room at the Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán was packed. Unai Emery sat behind the table with the contained, flickering intensity he carried into every press conference, a man who treated each question as a problem to be solved rather than an audience to be played to.
"As a former Valencia manager, how do you view Barcelona's 5-1 result at the Mestalla last week?" a reporter from Diario de Sevilla asked.
Emery shrugged. "Valencia is in the past. I watched the footage. Their defensive structure couldn't handle Lorenzo's physicality, that's a specific mismatch. We are different." His voice gained its characteristic edge. "On both sides of the ball, no team in Spain can say they will definitely beat this Sevilla. We have Fazio and M'Bia to anchor the back, and we have Rakitic and Gameiro to hurt them on the break. Our goal this season is not just a Champions League spot. We want to challenge for the title. That challenge begins tonight."
Across the hall, Martino was equally direct, equally brief.
"Sevilla are a quality side. Rakitic is one of the best midfielders in Spain, their defensive organisation is excellent, and the Pizjuán is one of the hardest venues in Europe. We respect that. We come to play our game."
A reporter pressed: "Barcelona's record of 18 consecutive wins from the 2005-06 season — are you chasing it?"
Martino allowed a small pause. "We think about the next match. That's where our attention is."
In the corridor outside, Busquets and Iniesta walked past a group of journalists crowded around a television showing Rakitic's highlights reel. Iniesta glanced at it.
"He's good," Iniesta said simply, and kept walking.
"There are rumours the board are interested in him," Busquets said.
"There are always rumours," Iniesta replied.
Neither man said anything further about it. That conversation belonged to the club's offices, not the tunnel.
As night fell over the Pizjuán, the forty-five thousand seats filled with a rhythmic, rising noise. The stadium, a 1982 World Cup venue of looming steel and compressed atmosphere, produced a sound that arrived from every direction simultaneously, the product of a steep bowl design that gave the home crowd a particular acoustic authority.
In the tunnel, Lorenzo stood near the back of the Barcelona line, feeling the weight of gazes from Fazio, 195 centimetres of Argentine international and Navarro ahead of him. Two professionals preparing to do a job. He prepared to do his.
[Ding! Detecting Host participating in a La Liga Key Battle!]
[Side Quest Activated: Conquer the King of Europa!]
[Objective: Secure a dominant victory and maintain top spot in La Liga.]
[Reward: Sevilla 'Legendary' Star Chest × 1.]
"Welcome to the Hell of the South!" Santiago's voice rolled across the ESPN Sur broadcast. "Matchday 5 of La Liga! Barcelona, five wins from five, ten goals for Lorenzo - versus Sevilla, the only other undefeated side in the division! The Beast has conquered Madrid, Paris, and Valencia. Can he add Andalusia?"
Inés reviewed the lineups. "Martino rotates tonight, Alves rested, Bartra in at right back, Sergi Roberto in the midfield pivot alongside Iniesta and Busquets. The LMN front three unchanged. For Sevilla, Emery names a 4-2-3-1: Beto in goal, Carriço, Navarro, Fazio, Alberto Moreno across the back, M'Bia and Iborra as the double pivot, Reyes and Perotti wide, Rakitic behind Gameiro."
Sevilla (4-2-3-1): Beto; Carriço, Navarro, Fazio, Alberto; M'Bia, Iborra; Reyes, Perotti, Rakitic; Gameiro.
FC Barcelona (4-3-3): Valdés; Bartra, Mascherano, Piqué, Alba; Sergi Roberto, Iniesta, Busquets; Neymar, Lorenzo, Messi.
"Look at Sevilla's defensive setup," Inés continued. "Fazio and M'Bia average 192 centimetres between them. Emery has built his backline specifically to contest Lorenzo in the air and deny the vertical channels. The question is whether that is enough or whether Lorenzo simply finds another way, as he has every time a team has tried to close him down this season."
Fweet-!
The whistle sounded and the Pizjuán erupted. Gameiro tapped to Rakitic, who received and immediately drove at Sergi Roberto, no hesitation, no settling touch, just the vertical directness of a midfielder who had decided from the first second that he was going to dictate the tempo of this match.
Lorenzo crouched at the halfway line, watching. The Pizjuán was loud, close, and entirely hostile.
Good, he thought. This was what it was supposed to feel like.
[Status: Kickoff. 0-0. La Liga Matchday 5 - Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán.]
[System Note: Side Mission 'Conquer the King of Europa' - Active.]
Plz Drop Some Power Stones.
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