The first light of dawn barely cut through the dense mist that clung to the outskirts of Milan. Jaeven tightened his laces one last time, feeling the leather of the football snug against his feet. Today was the day—the trial at Virtus Lombardia Academy, the first true test of his reborn body, his honed skills, and the relentless determination that had carried him through the past week.
He stepped out of the villa, the chill of early morning brushing against his skin. The streets were quiet, but already, small hints of activity began: shopkeepers unlocking doors, the smell of fresh bread drifting from corner bakeries, distant sounds of balls striking walls from local youths practicing their own routines. His heart thrummed in tandem with the faint echo of past stadiums, cheering crowds, and the imaginary roars that had fueled his training.
The drive to the academy was short, yet each passing moment felt loaded with anticipation. Jaeven stared out the window, eyes scanning the Italian landscape—the winding streets, old stone buildings, and the quiet hum of life—until the modern architecture of Virtus Lombardia came into view. Sleek lines of steel and glass contrasted with classical facades, an arena of ambition, where young players dreamed, competed, and fought for recognition.
Stepping from the car, he felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline, the kind he had imagined countless times while watching professional matches. His body responded instinctively: heart rate up, muscles ready, every nerve alert. He could feel the System humming quietly in the background, subtle indicators of readiness flickering in his peripheral vision.
> [Trial Detection: Virtus Lombardia Academy – Youth Division]
[Participant: Jaeven Moretti Han]
[Objective: Demonstrate competency in skill, strategy, and adaptability]
[Time Remaining: 120 Minutes]
He inhaled, centering himself. This was no longer training in a villa courtyard or improvisation in a private garden. This was the real deal. Every youth here had ambition etched into their bones; some had been playing since they could walk. Some had grown up dreaming of nothing else. And yet… he felt no fear. Confidence, tempered by preparation, coursed through him.
The entrance hall was bustling with activity: teens stretching, warming up, exchanging banter, some sizing up competitors. Coaches moved like hawks, clipboard in hand, evaluating every detail. The air vibrated with expectation, energy, and latent tension.
Jaeven moved to a corner and began warming up quietly. A light jog, stretches, ball touches, pivot drills—all subtle, precise, measured. He felt eyes on him occasionally, curious glances from other candidates, but he ignored them. He didn't need acknowledgment yet. The focus had to be complete.
Minutes later, a whistle pierced the air, sharp and commanding. Everyone froze, then moved toward the main field. Jaeven's pulse quickened. The academy's pitch was massive—lush green, perfectly trimmed, lined with crisp white markings. Coaches lined one side, players on the other, the atmosphere a mix of nervous energy and fierce competitiveness.
The first drill was simple on the surface: dribbling through a sequence of cones, maintaining control under timed conditions. Yet as soon as he started, he realized the difference. Here, every movement had to be precise, every step calculated. The mental load was heavier; the pressure of observation weighed down on him subtly, demanding perfect execution.
Jaeven's feet moved naturally, almost effortlessly. The muscle memory, honed over the past week, guided him. He weaved through the cones, pivoting, accelerating, adjusting his stride with precision. His mind was quiet but alert, anticipating, calculating, responding. He completed the drill in record time, barely breaking a sweat.
A coach muttered under his breath, glancing at his clipboard.
> [System Update: Drill 1 Complete – Dribbling Efficiency: 95% | Pace: +2 | Agility: +1]
Next came passing accuracy. Pairs were formed, each candidate tasked with exchanging the ball across increasing distances while moving in sequence. Jaeven's movements were fluid; each pass precise, perfectly weighted, rhythmically synchronized with his partner. He noticed small errors others made—slightly off-balance passes, over-rotated shots—but he compensated seamlessly, adjusting without hesitation.
> [System Alert: Tactical Awareness Detected – Adaptive Response +3]
By the time the shooting drill arrived, the sun had risen higher, casting long shadows across the pitch. Candidates were to take turns executing low-curve shots from various positions under limited time. Jaeven approached the ball, scanning the goal, calculating angles, imagining imaginary defenders' positions. He struck the ball cleanly—first attempt, perfect trajectory, precise curve, netting a goal that drew a low murmur of approval from the observing coaches.
The drills intensified. One-touch control, combination plays, defensive pressure simulations—each segment tested different facets: stamina, mental acuity, coordination, strategic adaptability. Jaeven moved like a storm contained within control: swift, precise, adaptable, aware. The System provided subtle guidance—small cues in his peripheral vision, notifications he barely acknowledged but which enhanced execution subtly.
> [Day 7 – Trial Progress: Synchronization at Maximum]
[Attributes: Pace 53 | Dribbling 52 | Shooting 44 | Passing 45 | Physical 51 | Intelligence 58 | Mentality 62]
By mid-afternoon, the final segment began: a small-sided match. Seven-a-side, designed to evaluate all skills under dynamic pressure. Jaeven's team, assigned randomly, included players with varying skill levels, some quick, some powerful, some technically proficient but hesitant under pressure. He immediately adapted. Scanning the field, predicting movement, positioning himself optimally, communicating silently with teammates through gestures and eye contact.
The match was intense. Jaeven received the ball multiple times, executing feints, pivoting past defenders, threading passes through narrow spaces. A rival player tried to close him down aggressively, but Jaeven countered smoothly, accelerating, spinning, and maintaining control. He shot once, narrowly blocked, then pivoted to assist a teammate for a perfect cross into the goal.
Coaches watched silently, taking notes, measuring performance, observing decision-making under stress, adaptability, composure, and creativity. Jaeven felt no fear, only clarity, precision, and exhilaration. Each movement was deliberate, a blend of instinct and training, of intuition and practice, of heart and system enhancement.
As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the trial, Jaeven's chest heaved slightly—not from exhaustion, but from the raw thrill of challenge met. Around him, some candidates looked dejected, others proud, all aware they had been tested to their limits. The coaches murmured among themselves, and a senior coach approached, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp, appraising.
"You performed exceptionally," he said simply. "Your technical skills, tactical awareness, and adaptability are… impressive. You will hear from us soon."
Jaeven nodded, offering a respectful bow, his mind already racing ahead—what drills had gone well, what could be refined, how he would improve further. He had completed this first test, but the journey was just beginning. Every skill, every lesson, every challenge would be another step toward becoming more than just good—toward becoming a player the world couldn't ignore.
As he walked off the field, the sun dipping low over the academy's horizon, a thought burned in his mind:
> "This is just the beginning. Every second counts. Every move matters. And I will rise."
The villa, the training, the System, the rebirth—all of it led here. Jaeven Moretti Han had stepped into a world where potential met opportunity, where talent was forged into mastery, and where his reborn life could finally fulfill the promise he had begged for in his last moments as Elias Kwon.
Tomorrow, he would train again. Tomorrow, he would push harder. Tomorrow, the first whispers of reputation would begin, carried on the pitch of Virtus Lombardia Academy, as a boy who refused to be defined by weakness finally carved his own path.