The journey to Copenhagen was filled with a relaxed confidence that bordered on casualness.
The Inter Milan squad, fresh off their thrilling Derby victory and a dominant win against Fiorentina, viewed their first Champions League group stage match as a mere formality.
On the team plane, players laughed, played cards, and scrolled through social media, barely giving a thought to their Danish opponents. Leon was no exception. He felt invincible.
He still checked the news, seeing more praise for his recent performances, and it only fueled his belief that he could conquer any challenge.
Upon arrival, the city of Copenhagen was charming, but the stadium, Parken, felt different from the grand, iconic San Siro.
It was smaller, more compact, but as they stepped onto the pitch for warm-ups, Leon felt an immediate shift in the atmosphere.
The stands, though not as towering, were packed to the brim, a sea of white and red. The roar of the crowd, while perhaps not as deafening as the Derby, was incredibly passionate, a fierce, unified chant that vibrated through the air.
"This crowd is loud for a 'stroll'," Cole Palmer muttered to Leon.
Leon just grinned, shrugging.
"Doesn't matter how loud they are if we play our game."
The referee's whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of the match.
From the very first minute, Leon realized his "vision" had betrayed him. Or rather, it wasn't betraying him, but it was showing him something he hadn't fully understood before.
He received the ball early on the left wing, looking to make a quick, flashy dribble to announce his presence.
He saw the shimmering leg and a block icon above the Copenhagen right-back, Kevin Diks (Current: 78), indicating a tackle. Leon prepared to use his 'Blind Side Escape' to glide past.
But as he moved, a second player, a midfielder, Rasmus Falk (Current: 79), seemed to appear out of nowhere, closing him down instantly.
Then, a third, Viktor Claesson (Current: 80), was already anticipating his next move, cutting off his passing lane. Leon saw a chaotic flurry of legs and converging tackles, bodies and blocks, all appearing simultaneously, overwhelming his ability to predict a single, clear action.
He tried a quick turn, but he crashed into a wall of white shirts. The ball was poked away, and Copenhagen were on the attack.
"Copenhagen are pressing high!" the commentator observed, surprised.
"They're not giving Inter a moment's peace!"
Leon frowned. He looked at Copenhagen's individual player ratings.
Diks (Current: 78), Falk (Current: 79), Claesson (Current: 80) – they were all modest, certainly not the high 'Current' ratings he was used to facing in Serie A.
Yet, their 'cohesion' index, a new metric that suddenly appeared above their collective unit, burned like the sun, a blinding, fiery orange. It was a single, powerful unit, moving in perfect sync.
Every time Leon tried a flashy play, a complex dribble, or an audacious pass, he crashed into a wall of two or three defenders. It wasn't about individual brilliance here; it was about a collective, intelligent, and fierce closing down of spaces.
They suffocated him, anticipating his movements not through individual skill, but through seamless teamwork.
His frustration mounted. He tried another backheel pass, a little flick to Lautaro Martínez (Current: 88), but a Copenhagen defender, Denis Vavro (Current: 77), seemed to read his mind and intercepted it effortlessly.
"Copenhagen are showing real discipline here!" the commentator noted. "They're not letting Inter's creative players settle!"
Leon started to make individual decisions, attempting to solve matters on his own. He tried to dribble through three players, then four, ignoring open teammates, convinced his 'Current: 84' and 'Vision' (95) could overcome any obstacle. But each time, he lost the ball, the shimmering icons of Copenhagen's collective defense overwhelming his senses.
The first half ended 0-0. In the locker room, Coach Chivu (Current: 90) was calm.
"We're not playing as a team," he stated simply. "We're trying to do too much individually. They are organized. They are disciplined. We need to match their intensity, and we need to play simple, quick passes. Get the ball wide, stretch them."
He looked pointedly at Leon, though he didn't name him. Leon felt a blush creep up his neck.
The second half began, and Inter tried to implement Chivu's instructions, but the frustration was still palpable.
Leon continued to struggle, his flashy attempts often leading to turnovers.
Around the 60th minute, Coach Chivu made a substitution. Marco Rossi (Current: 82), a veteran midfielder known for his no-nonsense attitude and tireless work rate, came on for Hakan Çalhanoğlu (Current: 86).
Rossi's 'Current' was lower than Leon's, but his 'Teamwork' attribute, a new metric Leon noticed, was incredibly high, burning with a bright, steady light.
Just minutes after coming on, Leon received the ball in midfield. He was surrounded by two Copenhagen players, and he saw the familiar converging tackle icons.
He decided to try another audacious dribble, a spin move to get past them both, ignoring the simple pass to Nicolò Barella (Current: 88) who was wide open.
He executed the spin, but a third Copenhagen player, Lukas Lerager (Current: 79), appeared out of nowhere, anticipating his move perfectly. The ball was poked away. Leon stumbled, losing possession in a dangerous area.
"Oh, a turnover in midfield!" the commentator exclaimed. "Copenhagen on the attack!"
As Copenhagen surged forward, Marco Rossi (Current: 82), who had been covering back, saw Leon's mistake. He skidded to a halt, his face red with frustration, and yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice cutting through the stadium noise.
"WE'RE A TEAM, FISCHER, A TEAM! PASS THE BALL! YOU'RE NOT HERE TO MAKE A MOVIE ABOUT YOURSELF!"
The words hit Leon like a physical blow. The stadium was loud, but Rossi's shout, filled with raw anger and disappointment, seemed to echo in his ears. He froze, the ball now far away, Copenhagen building an attack. He looked around. His teammates, who had heard Rossi's outburst, avoided his gaze, their 'Current' ratings reflecting a mix of frustration and silent agreement.
Shame washed over Leon, hot and stinging. He had been so caught up in his own brilliance, his own desire to shine, that he had forgotten the most basic principle of football. He wasn't playing alone. He was part of a team. And in his arrogance, he had let them down. The realization hit him with the force of a thunderclap. The Champions League wasn't a "stroll." It was a brutal test, and he had just failed the first lesson.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter!