The cycling world erupted after Primož Roglič delivered a chilling declaration to rivals Remco Evenepoel and Cian Lipowitz ahead of the new season. His words struck like lightning through the professional peloton.

“We must be ready to dominate — win or lose, you’ll cry!” Roglič warned during a private pre-season camp in Andorra, his calm tone hiding a frightening confidence. Cameras captured the smirk that shook fans.

According to insiders, the meeting wasn’t meant for the public. It was a strategy session for Bora-Hansgrohe, but a leaked recording revealed Roglič’s ruthless ambition — a statement that instantly went viral online.

Team sources suggest Roglič’s words were aimed directly at Evenepoel, his fiercest rival, who has long been vocal about wanting to dethrone him. Their silent rivalry just evolved into an open psychological war.

During training, witnesses described an electric tension between the riders. Evenepoel’s expression hardened while Lipowitz appeared stunned. Yet Roglič remained composed — a predator studying the nervous energy around him.

Analysts believe Roglič’s statement reveals a deeper mindset: he no longer cares about personal glory. “He wants to build an empire,” one commentator noted. “For him, dominance is bigger than a trophy.”

Roglič’s cold smile during interviews added fuel to speculation. Was it arrogance, or the calm of a man certain of destiny? Fans began calling him “The Silent Emperor” — a nickname spreading fast on sports sites.

Bora-Hansgrohe insiders hinted that the Slovenian star has been training under a new high-altitude program designed to maximize endurance and explosive power. The results, reportedly, are “frighteningly consistent and efficient.”

Meanwhile, Evenepoel has doubled his workload, vowing revenge at the next Tour de France. “Talk is cheap,” he said curtly to reporters. “Let’s see who cries when we hit the mountains.”

Lipowitz, the team’s rising star, tried to calm tensions, describing Roglič’s remark as “tough love among champions.” Yet even he admitted: “When Primož looks you in the eye, you feel something icy.”

Behind closed doors, team management is said to be walking a tightrope — balancing Roglič’s aggressive leadership with the fragile egos of younger riders craving recognition. One insider called it “controlled chaos.”

Sports psychologists have already weighed in, suggesting Roglič’s outburst could be a tactical mind game designed to break rivals mentally before the first race. If so, it’s working — everyone’s talking about him.

For fans, the upcoming racing calendar feels less like sport and more like a gladiator arena. Roglič’s chilling words have redefined expectations — cycling is no longer about pedals but about power and psychology.

As the season approaches, the world waits for the first climb, the first attack, the first tear. Whether he wins or not, Roglič has already conquered fear itself. And that, perhaps, is true domination.