Training was a fierce, concentrated symphony of motion and sound.
The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, the thud of the ball, and the sharp shouts of Coach Chivu. He was a force of nature, pushing us harder than ever before. Every drill was for a purpose. Every sprint, every pass, every tackle was for the next match.
The most important match of our season so far.
Napoli.
They were our rivals, the kings of the league, and they were a mere two points ahead of us.
I was in the middle of a passing drill, my Vision on full alert, a constant, humming presence in my mind. I saw the symbols above my teammates' heads, their stats, their small evolutions, their slow but steady growth.
Lautaro Martínez, his Potential: 94 and Current: 89 burning bright.
During a break, I walked over to the water cooler, and Cole joined me. "You feel it?" he asked, his voice low and serious.
"The pressure?" I asked, a small, knowing grin on my face.
