"Lorenzo, does your ankle still hurt?"
Outside the Ezeiza training base, Lucia knelt beside Lorenzo with a worried expression. Her fingers gently brushed the area where Facundo's metal studs had raked across his skin. She watched his face closely, searching for any flicker of pain, her eyes clouded with a deep sense of heartache.
"That Facundo is truly disgusting," she muttered, her voice trembling with indignation. "And the rest of them... how could they be so ruthless? To go for the ankle in a training match? It's supposed to be the national selection, yet it's filled with people like that."
"It's a minor issue," Lorenzo replied, casually flexing his ankle to show her it still had its full range of motion. "What do you expect from trash who can't even control a ball? Did they really think they could cripple me that easily?" He reached out and gently patted the top of Lucia's head, offering her a reassuring smile.
Lorenzo and Lucia had known each other for as long as he could remember. While Lorenzo had spent the last few years developing his game in Europe, their bond remained unshaken. Their families were close business partners in Argentina, both owning successful chains of supermarkets, a highly lucrative venture in a country where retail and daily necessities were the backbone of the local economy. Lucia had come to the training base today specifically to support him, only to witness the corruption of the youth system firsthand.
"But... I saw the guards detaining those reporters," Lucia said, her brow furrowing. "The media reports tomorrow might twist the facts. They'll try to protect the Coordinator's son. It could be very unfavorable for your reputation here in Argentina."
Lorenzo's expression hardened, but he wasn't surprised. Manipulating the press and controlling the narrative was second nature to men like Marcos. "Let them twist it," Lorenzo said coldly. "My future isn't here. After what happened today, I have no intention of ever wearing this shirt as long as those people are in charge. Unless the local board has the power to ban me from playing overseas, which they don't their opinion means nothing to me."
He looked toward the horizon. He still loved the spirit of Argentinian football, the passion of the streets, and the legends who had come before him. But the current system? It was a rot that had spread too deep. He felt nothing but disappointment and disgust for the bureaucracy that prioritized bloodlines and "social etiquette" over raw talent.
"So, you're going back to Spain next?" Lucia asked, smoothing her skirt as she sat down beside him, reaching out to straighten his collar.
"Yes. Back to Barcelona, to continue my dream where the football is real," Lorenzo replied.
Two years ago, while playing for a local youth side in Argentina, Lorenzo had been scouted by the world-renowned La Masia academy. He had passed the trials, signed a contract, and moved to Spain. Under Spanish law, players from Ibero-American countries can apply for nationality after two years of legal residence. Having completed his two years at La Masia, Lorenzo had successfully obtained his Spanish passport, granting him dual nationality.
With the U-20 World Cup approaching, he had actually received invitations from both the Spanish and Argentinian youth setups. He had chosen to attend this trial out of a lingering hope that the rumors of corruption were exaggerated. He had wanted to see if he could represent his father's homeland with pride.
Now, he knew he had been mistaken. The environment in Europe was light-years ahead, not just in tactics, but in integrity.
"That's for the best," Lucia nodded. "The environment in Europe is where you belong."
As they spoke, a series of sharp, mechanical chimes suddenly echoed in Lorenzo's mind.
[Ding! Detecting that the host is experiencing a significant life moment...]
[The Football King System is activating...]
[1%... 15%... 50%... 100%!]
[System activation successful!]
[Ding! System activated for the first time. Congratulations to the host for receiving a Newbie Gift Pack. Would you like to open it?]
Lorenzo froze, his eyes widening in shock. He had spent years wondering if he had what it took to reach the very top, and now, the answer was vibrating in his consciousness.
Late that night, the roar of jet engines masked the quiet inside the cabin of a flight bound for Barcelona. Lorenzo looked out through the porthole, taking one last glance at the lights of the land below before resolutely closing the shade. The last trace of nostalgia vanished from his eyes.
Beside him, Lucia was fast asleep. What was originally meant to be a solo return journey was no longer lonely. Lucia, coming from a wealthy family, had already planned to study in Spain for the upcoming semester to prepare for her future education in Europe. Since it was currently the summer break and her visa was already processed, she had insisted on moving her flight up to accompany Lorenzo. Her parents had not only agreed but had practically pushed her to go, trusting Lorenzo to look after her as they always had since they were children.
Lorenzo leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes. His consciousness dived into the System.
He needed to study this "Golden Finger." For two years at La Masia, he had trained until his boots wore out. Among the average youth players, he was a dominant force, but he was self-aware. Among the elite at Barcelona, his talent was considered "good," but not "extraordinary." He often looked at players like Takefusa Kubo, the "Japanese Messi" and felt the gap in natural flair.
Football was a sport of talent and hard work. Talent determined the ceiling. If his talent was merely average for a professional, he might become a reliable role player, but he would never be a King. Furthermore, he knew that physical development was a hurdle; even with his Argentinian-Spanish heritage, reaching the peak of physical fitness required more than just standard training.
But with the System, the limits were gone.
The prompt was still flashing in his mind.
"Do you want to open the Newbie Gift Pack?"
"Open it," Lorenzo commanded silently.
He felt a surge of anticipation. He knew that what came next would determine whether he would return to Barcelona as just another student, or as the man who would eventually rule the Camp Nou. He focused his mind, waiting for the System to unveil the rewards that would bridge the gap between "talented" and "legendary."