The cards flipped over. Three came out. The first two showed *No Luck, but the third was a flash of gold: **+5 on all stats*.
Demien shouted, *"Wow! My luck must be active today... wow!"*
He took a breath. *"Open Bronze Pack again."*
The glowing lever appeared. He gripped the handle and pulled.
The cards flipped one by one.
Card 1: *Long Passing +1* - COMMON
Card 2: *Stamina +2* - UNCOMMON For more chapters visıt 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝓷𝓮𝓽
Card 3: *Acceleration +1* - COMMON
The system window updated, showing his new stats. Demien leaned forward, scanning the numbers.
*PLAYER PROFILE — UPDATED (FIFA SCHEMA)*
*Name: Demien Walter*
*Nationality: English / Italian*
*Preferred Foot: Right*
*Position: CM (AM / RW capable)*
*Overall Rating: 68 (+5)*
*Acceleration: 79 (+6)*
*Sprint Speed: 81 (+5)*
*Positioning: 69 (+5)*
*Shot Power: 65 (+5)*
*Long Shots: 60 (+5)*
*Free Kick Accuracy: 59 (+5)*
*Short Passing: 70 (+5)*
*Long Passing: 72 (+6)*
*Ball Control: 76 (+5)*
*Interceptions: 61 (+5)*
*Heading Accuracy: 59 (+5)*
*Defensive Awareness: 65 (+5)*
*Standing Tackle: 60 (+5)*
*Sliding Tackle: 57 (+5)*
*Aggression: 75 (+5)*
*LEGENDARY TECHNIQUES*
*• Andrea Pirlo: Deep-Lying Playmaker*
*• Curve Run Timing (Epic)*
*• Lofted Dink (Rare)*
*TRAITS (Shards Collected)*
*• Agent Negotiation Perk: 1/4*
*• Recovery Boost: 2/4*
*• Press Resistant: 1/4*
*• Speed Dribbler: 1/4*
*• Stamina Regeneration: 1/4*
*• Long Shot Taker: 1/4*
*• Set Piece Specialist: 1/4*
His face changed from focus to pure surprise. The panel blinked, then settled.
*Overall Rating: 68 (+5).*
He blinked. A wide grin started. *"Wait—it went up?"*
He jumped up, running his hand through his hair, disbelief turning into a laugh. *"No way. I actually moved the number?"*
「Your overall rating has increased to 68. Recent boosts applied: Acceleration +6, Long Passing +6, Stamina +7, and +5 across other attributes.」
Demien sank back onto the bed, relief washing over him. *"So it actually matters."*
「It matters. Acceleration and Stamina are critical for scouts evaluating U23 prospects; Long Passing improves your distribution in midfield. These changes will reflect in both performance and visibility.」
He let out a small, quiet cheer. "That... that helps. A lot."
「Scouts value both numbers and in-game output. A higher overall opens doors; improved core stats change how you play and what teams will see. Trust the process.」
Demien stared at the ceiling, the crack suddenly meaningless. Things were changing—the numbers showed it, and his chest felt lighter.
*"Whatever,"* he said, smiling now. *"I’m tired—but good tired."*
「Rest well, Demien. The trial approaches. Goodnight.」
He pulled the blanket up without changing clothes, the worry knot gone. Tomorrow would come fast. Then the trial—and now he had real gains behind him.
Sleep took him before he could think of anything else.
## Sunday Morning, July 7th, 2022
The alarm went off at six. Demien was already awake, staring at the ceiling.
He showered quickly, the hot water washing away the nervous energy. When he came out, his mother was already in the kitchen, making breakfast.
"You didn’t have to get up," he said.
"Of course I did." She set a plate in front of him. Eggs, toast, everything he liked. "Eat. You need energy."
While he ate, Isabella went around his room, checking his bags one more time. She’d helped him pack yesterday, folding each shirt, making sure he had everything.
"Do you have your boots?" she called out.
"Everything’s there."
She came back to the kitchen, wringing her hands. "What about—"
"Mum." He stood up and hugged her. "I have everything. It’s okay."
She held him tight. "I know. I’m just nervous."
They drove to Marco’s office in her old car. The engine rattled its familiar song at every stoplight. Demien watched Florence go by, wondering when he’d see it again.
Marco’s office door was open when they arrived. Inside, Luca was already there with a man in an expensive suit. Not Luca’s father, but clearly someone who worked for him. The man looked sharp and efficient, like he handled important business daily.
"Perfect timing," Marco said, standing up. "Everyone ready?"
Luca grinned at Demien. "Been ready since five this morning."
"Couldn’t sleep either?"
Marco gathered some papers. "The flight leaves in two hours. *Mr. Bianchi’s assistant* here has arranged transportation."
The assistant nodded. "The car is waiting outside. Mr. Bianchi wanted me to ensure both boys arrived safely."
Isabella’s eyes widened a little. "That’s very generous."
"Also," the assistant continued, "*Mr. Bianchi has covered both plane tickets.* He insisted."
"Oh, I couldn’t—" Isabella started.
"Please." The assistant’s tone was polite but firm. "Mr. Bianchi was specific. He said talent should be supported, not held up by small problems."
Isabella looked at Marco, who nodded. "That’s very kind. Please thank him for us."
Marco turned to the boys. "You have your contracts?"
"Yes," they both said.
"Good. Remember, this is a trial. Work hard, stay focused, but also enjoy it. This is what you’ve been working toward."
They all walked outside. A black Mercedes waited at the curb, the driver holding the rear door open. Luca’s bags were already in the trunk.
Demien hugged his mother one more time. She kissed the top of his head, like when he was a kid.
"Be good," she whispered. "Call me when you can."
"And Luca," she said, turning to him. "Good luck to you too."
"Thank you, Mrs. Walter."
The assistant sat in the front. Marco, Luca, and Demien climbed into the back. The car pulled away smooth and quiet. Demien watched his mother through the rear window, standing on the sidewalk, getting smaller until they turned the corner.
The drive to the airport took thirty minutes. Nobody talked much. Luca kept checking his phone. Marco looked over papers. Demien just watched the city pass.
At the airport, everything moved fast. The assistant handled check-in while they waited. Boarding passes appeared. Security moved them through a special line.
Before Demien knew it, they were at the gate.
"This is where I leave you," Marco said. "The club will have someone waiting in Bergamo. Just look for the *Atalanta sign*."
He shook both their hands. "Make me proud."
"We will," Luca said.
Demien just nodded. His throat felt tight.
The boarding call came over the speaker. First class, business class, then their section. They joined the line, two eighteen-year-olds with football dreams and duffel bags.
The plane door closed behind them with a solid thunk.
Demien found his seat by the window. Luca sat beside him, already pulling out headphones.
"You good?" Luca asked.
The engines started. That deep rumble meant movement, change—everything about to begin.
Demien looked out the window as the plane moved back from the gate. Florence’s airport looked small from here. In two hours, they’d be in Bergamo. Tomorrow morning, the trial would start.
The plane lifted off steady and smooth. The ground fell away, and Demien closed his eyes.
Time to prove himself. For real this time.