Chapter 426: Chapter 33: Allianz
Wednesday, September 20, 2023
Allianz Arena — Approach
Evening
The coach rolled the last stretch of the access road, and the windows kept catching red light off the police barriers, the camera phones lifted over the heads of the crowd, and the Champions League boards lit blue along the perimeter.
Bayern scarves hung from the railings outside, and the noise of the home support came through the glass in waves that built and broke before the coach had even reached the gate.
Demien sat with his travel bag by his feet, the tactical card folded flat inside it between his boots, and he didn’t reach for it the way a nervous boy would have.
He looked once at the bag, then back through the glass at the stadium lights, and when a louder swell of the crowd pushed against the windows his thumb tapped once against his knee before going still again.
The coach slowed at the security gate, the brakes hissing as the barrier lifted, and around him the players began gathering their things, zipping bags and checking phones one last time before they went dark for the night.
Demien looked at the arena again as the coach crept forward, the glass throwing his own face back at him over the red-lit bowl, and then the underground ramp swallowed the lights and the noise dropped away all at once.
Allianz Arena — Tunnel Level
United stepped off the coach into the underground arrival area, and the sound changed the moment their boots hit the concrete.
Outside the crowd had been open and wide, but down here the tunnel was tight and bright and controlled, the home chants reaching the squad as a muffled roll that came down through the ceiling rather than across an open field.
Bruno stepped down first with his jaw set, already scanning the route ahead. Casemiro followed and adjusted his sleeves without a word, and Onana came after them with his headphones still on, giving nothing to the cameras already pointed at the line.
Dalot glanced once toward the noise overhead before he followed the staff inside.
Demien moved with the group and didn’t make himself the centre of it.
His sharpness showed in the small things instead — he saw the staff member’s arm point them left a beat before the player ahead of him reacted, and he stepped around a rolling equipment case without looking down at it, his eyes already on the corridor.
A Bayern staff member stood against the wall and watched the United players pass, and a camera tracked Demien for a few seconds because his name had been climbing all season, but he didn’t perform for it.
He kept walking, level and unhurried, into the away dressing room.
Away Dressing Room
The dressing room was clean and bright, the United shirts hung in order along the wall with names printed above each peg.
Demien’s shirt was already there among the starters, his name set above it in white, and he stopped for half a second when he saw where it hung.
Then he bent and slid his boots under the bench beneath it, leaving the tactical card folded in the bag.
He tied the first lace tighter than he meant to, felt it pinch across the top of his foot, and loosened it with one pull before he tied it again properly.
Around him the squad fell into their routines.
Bruno couldn’t keep still, moving from the board to a coach and back, checking one detail and then another. Casemiro sat with his elbows on his knees and his eyes on the tactical board, taking it in without moving.
Højlund rolled his shoulders twice and looked toward the pitch entrance, keeping his breathing slow on purpose. Rashford sat with his head slightly bowed and one boot planted, tapping the other against the floor in a steady beat.
When a staff member crouched beside Pellistri and repeated his job against Davies, Pellistri nodded and listened without looking away.
Ten Hag came through the middle of it and didn’t raise his voice, and there was no speech.
"Onana, ball moves early," he said, holding two fingers up flat. "You don’t wait for them to come."
He turned to the center-backs. "Don’t wait for the press to choose for you. Pick before it arrives."
"Casemiro, the lane behind Bruno is yours when he jumps," he went on, and Casemiro gave a single nod without lifting his head.
Then his eyes found Demien. "When the first trap closes, you have to be there. Every time. They’ll squeeze the middle and dare us to lose it."
Demien met it and gave a short nod, and Ten Hag moved on without dressing it up any further.
As Demien pulled his shirt down over his head, the panel surfaced quietly in the corner of his vision.
「CHAMPIONS LEAGUE MATCH MISSION ACTIVATED」
「MATCH: Bayern Munich vs Manchester United」 「LOCATION: Allianz Arena」 「ROLE: Starting Midfielder」
「OBJECTIVE 1: Complete 5 successful pressure-release actions」 「OBJECTIVE 2: Identify 3 Bayern pressing traps before they close」 「OBJECTIVE 3: Create 1 clear chance」 「OBJECTIVE 4: Prevent midfield collapse before halftime」
「REWARD: +90 MP」
「BONUS OBJECTIVE: Direct goal contribution against Bayern」 「BONUS REWARD: +10 SP」
「FAILURE: No penalty」
The room carried on around the window, Bruno still talking to the coach and Casemiro still fixed on the board and Onana working his fingers into his gloves, none of them seeing what only Demien could see.
His eyes moved across the objectives once, and he blinked the panel away as a staff member leaned through the door and called the players for the warm-up.
Allianz Arena — Pitch
United walked out for the warm-up, and the Allianz wasn’t full yet but it was already loud, the home end filling early and the Champions League branding wrapped around every board in the bowl.
Every touch from a Bayern player drew a different sound than a touch from a United player, the crowd warm for one and flat for the other.
The ball popped off the surface faster under the lights, and Demien felt his studs bite into the grass when he turned, the grip cleaner than the training pitch had given him.
The crowd whistled lightly when Rashford took a ball down near the touchline, then lifted into a roar as Bayern’s attackers jogged out on the far side.
Demien watched them without making a show of it.
Kane finished a line of simple shots without wasting a single movement, the ball leaving his boot and finding the corner each time. Sané took one ball, cut it inside, and rolled away as though the pitch already leaned in his direction.
Musiala drifted through a tight-touch drill without once looking down at his feet, and Gnabry attacked the far-post pattern at full speed, arriving late and hammering it across the keeper.
Davies came flying down the overlap in a warm-up run with more power than Pellistri would be able to ignore for ninety minutes.
Demien watched Sané take that one touch inside and saw Kane point for the next ball before it was even played, and he looked away before the shot hit the net, because he’d already seen the movement that mattered.
United’s own work didn’t look weak beside it.
Demien’s level showed in pieces — his passing weight sat flat and clean, and his first touch set up the next action before the pressure could reach him.
In a short rondo he received under a light press and released the ball before Bruno had finished pointing for it, the pass already gone by the time Bruno’s arm came up.
Bruno looked at him once, holding it a beat, then turned back into the drill without saying anything.
Tunnel
The players came back in for the final preparation, then filed into the tunnel, and the scene tightened down to boots on concrete, camera operators stepping backward ahead of the line, and the Champions League arch glowing at the mouth of it.
Kane stood a few places up the Bayern line, relaxed and still, his weight even on both feet. Sané rolled his neck once. Musiala kept shifting the ball of his foot against the floor, never fully still.
On the United side Højlund stared straight ahead and tried not to blink too much, and Demien stood close enough to Casemiro and Bruno to feel both of them at the edges of his vision.
He didn’t look across at the Bayern players or try to hold anyone’s eye.
Then the anthem started, and the crowd lifted with it, the whole bowl rising into the sound as the players raised their heads and the camera tracked slowly along the line.
Demien’s shoulders rose once with a slow breath, his hands stayed behind his back, and when the anthem hit its loudest point he looked out across the pitch instead of up into the stands.
The whistle to walk out came, and the line moved.
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