The transfer window turned into a whirlwind. While most clubs in the second division moved carefully because of low budget and various financial restrictions, Hamburger SV acted like a team with something to prove.
Newspapers still mocked Niklas. "The Wilhelmsburg Kid Throws Money Around" became a common headline. Fans argued in pubs as some worried he would bankrupt the club. Meanwhile, others secretly hoped the madness would bring positive results.
Niklas didn't read the papers. He sat in the meeting room at the training center with his new coaching staff and Jonas. The whiteboard was covered with names, positions, and estimated prices. The young Dutch coaches leaned forward, excited by the scale of the plan.
"We are not building for this season only," Niklas said. "We are building for the next ten years. Some players will come for money. Others will come for the project. All of them must be hungry for success."
Jonas slid a fresh report across the table. "We already have offers for most of the old squad. The sales brought in around fourteen million euros. Not much, but we cleared a lot of wages."
Niklas nodded. "Good. Now we spend wisely."
The first big move came quickly. Niklas targeted a strong, reliable center-back who could lead the defense and the dressing room. He sent an offer to Borussia Dortmund for a young player who had been on loan and needed regular football.
After some negotiation, they agreed on a fee of €2.8 million for Manuel Akanji. The Swiss defender was only twenty-two and already showed leadership qualities.
But Niklas wanted more than just one solid player. He wanted characters who could grow into stars.
He flew with Jonas to Norway to meet Erling Haaland's family. The seventeen-year-old striker was still playing for Molde and had only just broken into the first team. They sat in a small house near the coast. Haaland's father listened carefully while the tall teenager watched Niklas with sharp eyes.
"I will not promise you European football this year," Niklas told him honestly. "But I will promise you regular starts, proper training, and a coach who knows exactly how to make you better. In two or three years, bigger clubs will come. When they do, we will not stand in your way if the price is right."
Haaland's eyes lit up. The money was good too — €4,500 a week plus bonuses. For a teenager, it felt like a fortune. Three days later, he signed.
Next came a trip to France. Niklas met William Saliba, the tall, composed seventeen-year-old defender at Saint-Étienne. The boy was quiet but mature beyond his years. Niklas showed him videos of how he wanted to play; high line, aggressive pressing, and defenders who could build from the back.
"You will not sit on the bench here," Niklas promised. "You will learn every day and play every week. This is your chance to become one of the best in Europe."
Saliba signed for €1.2 million and €5,000 a week.
The signings kept coming. In Portugal, Niklas secured Diogo Costa, the promising young goalkeeper, and Vitinha, a creative midfielder, both for relatively small fees. From Ajax, he brought Jurriën Timber, the composed teenager who could play multiple positions. From Austria came Dominik Szoboszlai, a powerful attacking midfielder with a rocket shot.
Each time, Niklas or Jonas met the players and their families personally. They explained the vision. They offered wages far above what second-division clubs usually paid; between €3,000 and €8,000 a week depending on age and potential. The young players listened. Many said yes.
One evening, back in Hamburg, Niklas sat with Jansen in the nearly renovated training center. The smell of fresh grass and new paint filled the air. The hotel they rented nearby already had players staying there for medical checks and fitness tests.
Jansen smiled as he looked at the growing squad list. "People outside are calling you crazy. They say you are paying too much for kids nobody knows."
Niklas leaned back in his chair. "Let them talk. In three years they will say we stole these players for nothing."
Every signing carried the same message: this is not a normal second-division club anymore.
One afternoon, Niklas stood on the side of the training pitch watching the first session with many new faces. Haaland towered over the other strikers. Saliba moved with calm confidence next to van Drongelen. Szoboszlai struck powerful shots from distance. The young Dutch coaches shouted instructions in a mix of German and English. The atmosphere felt different, sharper, faster, and more modern.
Jonas walked up beside him with a chuckle. "The news outlets have been a source of comedy lately. One paper said you turned HSV into a holiday camp with expensive children."
Niklas smiled slightly. "They laughed at us when I took over. They laughed when I fired the old coaches. They will laugh again when we win the league."
He turned and looked at the group of young players running drills. Some were only sixteen or seventeen. They looked like unpolished diamonds but full of energy. This was the foundation he wanted.
Later that evening, Niklas stood alone in his office. The summer sun was setting over the Elbe. The list of incoming players now covered two full pages. He had spent a lot of the eighty million, but he still had money left for emergencies.
He thought about the upcoming season. The 2. Bundesliga would be tough. Rivals like St. Pauli would want to humiliate them. Werder Bremen and others would look down on the fallen Dinosaur.
But Niklas felt calm.
He had young, hungry players who would run until they dropped. He had coaches who believed in the same ideas. He had facilities that were already improving. And most importantly, he had time.
The first friendly matches would start soon. Then the real season.
Niklas turned off the light and left the office. As he walked out into the warm Hamburg evening, he whispered to himself.
"Come on then. Let's see who's laughing at the end of the season."