The morning after the Europa League clash, the English tabloids didn't just report the news—they declared a state of emergency.
Sky Sports ran a ticker tape all morning: "Everton Humbled at Home; All Premier League Teams Out of Europe." But it was The Sun that twisted the knife deepest: "Scouse Revenge! The Boy Liverpool Didn't Want Just Destroyed the Team Liverpool Couldn't Beat!"
The statistics were being shared like wildfire across social media. 16 years old. 4 games. 8 assists. It was a production rate that surpassed prime Cesc Fàbregas or Wayne Rooney.
The Cost of a "Free" Genius
As the media dug deeper, the "Zero-Euro Contract" came to light. Not only had Liverpool sent away a generational talent, but they were also paying his wages while he dismantled their local rivals.
"It's the Pogba situation all over again," a pundit on BBC Radio 5 Live argued. "Manchester United let Pogba go to Juventus for free, and now he's worth £80 million. Liverpool haven't just lost a player; they've lost their dignity. They're paying for the privilege of being humiliated!"
For the Liverpool faithful, the "Derby Double" loss to Everton earlier in the season was a wound that hadn't healed. Seeing a Liverpool player—even one on loan—finally silence Goodison Park should have been a moment of pride. Instead, it was the ultimate insult.
The Meltdown at Melwood
Inside Liverpool's training ground, the atmosphere was toxic. Brendan Rodgers sat in his office, the blinds drawn, but he couldn't block out the noise of the protesters at the gates.
"RODGERS OUT! GIVE US RENZO!"
A sharp knock at the door preceded Michael Edwards, the Sporting Director. Edwards didn't look angry; he looked clinical. He held a tablet showing the heat map of Renzo's performance against Everton.
"Brendan," Edwards said, his voice dropping like an executioner's axe. "I told you three months ago. The data on Renzo was off the charts. You insisted he 'wasn't ready for the physicality of the Premier League.' Did he look unready last night? He made Gareth Barry look like he was playing in slow motion."
Rodgers opened his mouth to speak, his face a shade of crimson that matched his tie, but no sound came out. He had watched the tape. He had seen the Trivela pass. He knew that no amount of tactical "character" or "philosophy" could explain away why that boy wasn't in a red shirt.
The Great Betrayal
Edwards turned away, already checking his phone. He had been the one to leak the details of Rodgers' refusal to play Renzo. In the high-stakes world of elite football, if the ship is sinking, you throw the captain overboard to save the hull.
He stepped out into the hallway and dialed a number with an Italian country code.
Ring... Ring... Ring...
"Pick up, Renzo," Edwards muttered, his cool exterior cracking with a hint of desperation. "Come on. I'm the one who believed in you. Don't freeze me out now."
But on the other end, there was only the rhythmic tone of a voicemail. In the heart of Florence, Renzo Uzumaki was busy. He wasn't looking at his phone. He was looking at a golden, glowing interface that only he could see.
[EPIC-GRADE TREASURE CHEST (GOLD) IS READY TO OPEN]
[DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?]
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