CHAPTER 170: WE NEED YOU

The revelation of the ’Predator & Jackal’ synergy link was like a mental bomb going off inside Leon’s head.

He had barely slept, his mind replaying the golden, shimmering line that connected Juventus’s two most dangerous players.

He woke up the next morning feeling like a dull, persistent drum was beating against the inside of his skull. His Vision, usually a clear, crisp overlay of information, was flickering with static, like a bad TV signal.

The system had never felt like this before. It felt... overloaded.

He got into his car to drive to the training ground for the final tactical session before the Juventus match.

But ten minutes into the drive, the drumming in his head intensified into a splitting headache. The street signs and car license plates were blurring into a meaningless soup of numbers and symbols. He couldn’t focus.

He pulled over to the side of the road, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the window and squeezing his eyes shut.

There was no way he could train like this. He’d be a liability. He scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over Coach Chivu’s name before skipping past it.

He couldn’t explain this to the coach. But there was someone who might understand, or at least, wouldn’t ask too many questions. He pressed the call button for Cole Palmer.

"Leo? Everything alright?" Palmer’s calm voice came through the car’s speakers.

"Hey, Cole," Leon said, his own voice sounding strained. "Listen, I... I can’t make it to training today."

There was a pause on the other end. "You sound rough, mate. What’s up?"

"My head is splitting," Leon said, which was the honest truth. "It’s a monster of a migraine. I can barely see straight."

"Right," Palmer said, his tone shifting to one of genuine concern. "Don’t be a hero. Just go home and get some rest. It’s the day before the match; a light session isn’t going to make or break you. I’ll let the medical staff know."

"Thanks, Cole. I appreciate it."

"No worries. Just be ready for tomorrow. We need you."

"I’ll be there," Leon promised, though as he hung up, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he wasn’t so sure.

Two hours later, Leon was lying on his sofa in a darkened room, a cold compress over his eyes, when his phone started buzzing incessantly with notifications.

With a groan, he picked it up. It was a link to a clip from "Calcio Live," Italy’s biggest daily football show. He pressed play, and the dramatic, over-the-top theme music filled his quiet apartment.

"We are coming to you live with breaking news that has sent shockwaves through the Serie A title race!" the host, a man with perfectly coiffed hair and a ridiculously serious expression, announced. "We can confirm that Inter’s superstar, the man they call ’Leondona’, was a no-show at the team’s final training session this morning before their colossal clash with Juventus!"

The screen cut to two pundits at a desk. One, a fiery ex-player, was already shaking his head in disgust. "Unacceptable! This is a sign of arrogance! After two big wins, he thinks he is above the team? The day before the most important match of the season? This is a disgrace!"

The other pundit, a more tactical analyst, stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I’m not so sure, Giorgio. My sources tell me the absence was cleared by the medical team. But the timing is... suspicious. Could this be a sign of a deeper issue? Is the pressure getting to the young man? Or, and this is just a thought, could this be an elaborate piece of mind-games from Coach Chivu, trying to unsettle Juventus?"

The host reappeared. "Mind games or a meltdown? The mystery is being dubbed ’Leongate’ by fans online. One thing is for certain: with Federico Chiesa’s miraculous return and now this drama surrounding Inter’s key player, the Derby d’Italia tomorrow has just become the most anticipated match in a decade!"

Leon turned off his phone and tossed it onto the sofa cushions.

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel a suffocating weight of pressure settle on his shoulders.

That night, the headache had subsided to a dull, persistent ache.

He sat in the dark, watching a nature documentary about deep-sea fish, a large bowl of popcorn in his lap. He wasn’t really watching, though.

His eyes were unfocused, his mind elsewhere.

He felt... depressed. It was a strange, heavy feeling he couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the headache or the media nonsense. It was the secret. The ’Synergy Link’.

He knew the exact nature of the monster they were about to face, but he couldn’t tell anyone. His Vision, the gift that had elevated him, had also isolated him.

He saw the world in a language no one else understood, and sometimes, the burden of that knowledge was crushing. He was supposed to be the hero, the magician, but right now, he just felt like a scared kid with a secret that was too big for him to carry alone.

He ate the popcorn without tasting it, the weird, bioluminescent fish on the screen doing nothing to lift his spirits. He eventually turned off the TV, the silence of the apartment feeling vast and empty, and went to bed.

The shrill, unapologetic sound of his alarm clock dragged him from a restless sleep.

For a moment, he just lay there, the heavy feeling of dread still clinging to him.

The match is today.

He swung his legs out of bed. His head... was clear. The pounding was gone. The static in his Vision was gone. He felt... okay. He felt normal.

A wave of relief so powerful it almost made him dizzy washed over him.

He walked into the kitchen and ate a bowl of cereal and a banana, the simple routine a comforting anchor.

He went into the bathroom, the water cold and refreshing as he splashed it on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror.

The tired, worried look from yesterday was gone, replaced by a familiar, steely glint in his eyes.

He brushed his teeth with a renewed vigor. He walked to his closet and pulled out his official Inter club tracksuit.

As he zipped it up, the iconic crest sitting over his heart, he felt the last vestiges of doubt and depression melt away.