The week leading up to the final match of the season was a strange, beautiful, and slightly terrifying limbo.
The Coppa Italia trophy was gleaming in the club's display case, a testament to their fighting spirit. The four-point lead in the league was a testament to their season-long brilliance.
One final, brutal war remained: an away match against a Lazio team that would love nothing more than to play the ultimate spoiler.
"Okay, so," Julián Álvarez began, addressing a stretching Alessandro Bastoni, "the Lazio eagle is their mascot, right? So if I score, and I celebrate by flapping my arms like a bigger, better eagle, is that a sign of respect, or is it a declaration of aerial warfare?"
Bastoni, who was trying to touch his toes, just groaned.
"Julián," he said, his voice muffled. "Just score the goal. Please, for my blood pressure, do not declare war on their mascot."
"He has a point, though," Lautaro Martínez chimed in from the physio's table, where he was undergoing light treatment on his recovering ankle.
"If you assert yourself as the alpha eagle, they might be too intimidated to attack. It's a valid psychological strategy."
"See!" Julián said, vindicated.
"The captain understands the intricate art of 'bird-based mental warfare'!"
The squad chuckled, the easy banter a necessary steam valve for the immense pressure of the week.
The light mood evaporated the moment Coach Chivu walked onto the pitch.
His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated intensity.
Today was the final hard training session. Today was about sharpening the sword.
"Gather 'round," he barked, and the players jogged over, their expressions instantly serious.
Chivu pointed towards the goal, where the technical staff was finishing the setup of a strange, new piece of equipment.
It was a large, sleek, black mechanical arm, mounted on a track that ran the length of the goal line.
"For our final shooting practice of the season," Chivu announced, a cold, almost cruel, smile on his face, "you will not be shooting against a human goalkeeper. You will be shooting against that." He gestured to the machine.
"We are calling it 'Il Muro' - The Wall. It is a new prototype. Its reflexes are three times faster than a human's. It can move from post to post in 0.2 seconds. It does not get tired. It does not get scared. It does not make mistakes. Your job," he said, his eyes scanning the faces of his attackers, "is to find a way to beat perfection. Begin."
A murmur of intrigued excitement went through the squad. This was new. This was a challenge.
Hakan Çalhanoğlu went first.
He stood 25 yards out and unleashed an absolute thunderbolt, a shot of pure, unadulterated power.
The Wall moved with an inhuman, silent speed, a blur of black metal, and punched the ball away with a dull, metallic thud.
Cole Palmer went next. He tried finesse, a beautiful, curling shot aimed for the top corner.
The Wall glided across its track and plucked the ball out of the air with a three-fingered claw, as if it were picking an apple from a tree.
One by one, they tried, and one by one, they failed.
Lautaro, watching from the sideline, was acting as a guest commentator.
"Another one bites the dust! The machine is flawless! It is a beautiful, heartless monster!"
Julián Álvarez, of course, tried to be clever. He took a short run-up and tried a cheeky, scuffed shot aimed at the bottom corner, hoping to trick the machine's programming.
The Wall didn't even move its main arm. A small, secondary appendage shot out from its base and simply blocked the ball dead.
"IT HAS A FOOT!" Julián yelled in outraged disbelief. "THAT IS CHEATING!"
Leon watched, fascinated. The bracelet from Sofia was a cool, comfortable weight on his wrist, the 'Unshakeable Heart' skill keeping him from feeling any frustration.
He wasn't seeing an unbeatable opponent. He was seeing a puzzle. He activated his 'Manager Mode', analyzing the machine.
[Target Analysis: 'Il Muro' Goalkeeping Robot]
[Strengths: Reflex Speed (99), Positioning (99), Power Resistance (95)]
[Weakness: Cannot process 'unpredictable ball trajectory'.]
Unpredictable trajectory. The Knuckleball.
He hadn't mastered it yet, but this was the perfect time to try. He placed the ball, took a deep breath, and struck it with that strange, flat technique.
The ball flew, wobbling erratically, and for the first time, the machine was fooled. It twitched, recalculating, but it was too late. The ball sailed past it and into the net.
A stunned silence, followed by a huge cheer from his teammates. Leon just smiled. The puzzle was solved.
After the shooting drill, Chivu gathered them again.
"Good. You are learning to think. Now, a final tactical run-through. We will play a 60-minute match against the Under-18s. Our formation against their expected Lazio setup. I want to see everything we have practiced. I want to see focus. I want to see intensity. Go."
The team got dressed and headed out to one of the other pitches.
A practice match against the kids was a good way to cool down, a low-pressure environment to drill their tactics one last time.
The match began, and the senior team was, as expected, completely dominant.
They moved the ball with a speed and intelligence that the youngsters couldn't handle.
But Leon wasn't just focused on his own team's patterns.
Out of pure curiosity, he began to scan the U18 players with his Vision.
Most of them had good potential ratings—70s, low 80s. The future of the club was bright.
A young, skinny kid playing in central midfield. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
He had incredible composure on the ball, a natural, elegant way of moving.
Leon's Vision locked onto him, and the numbers that appeared made his breath catch in his throat.
[Player Profile: Davide Russo]
Ninety-three. It was a superstar-level potential, the kind you saw once in a generation.
The kid was a future world-beater, playing right here in their own academy.
A wide, proud smile spread across Leon's face. The future was more than bright; it was dazzling.
He continued to scan the rest of the players, still reeling from the discovery of Russo.
And then, his Vision locked onto a lightning-fast winger on the left flank, a player with explosive pace who had just beaten his man with a blistering run.
The profile box appeared, and Leon's heart, which had been swelling with pride just a moment ago, completely stopped.
[Player Profile: Marco Esposito]
Two of them. Two future legends on the same pitch.
It was an impossible, miraculous concentration of talent.
He watched the two kids, a sense of wonder and excitement filling him. He felt a new sense of purpose, a desire to help them, to guide them.
But then, as he focused on the profile of the young winger, Marco Esposito, a new, final line of text appeared, a piece of information that made the blood in his veins run cold and the joyful smile on his face instantly vanish.
[Relationship Link Detected: Younger brother of Sofia Rossi.]
[Synergy Link Detected: 'Sibling Bond'. Potential synergy with Cristian Chivu.]