CHAPTER 171: A PROBLEM

Leon drove slowly, his window down, the cool air a balm against the nervous energy thrumming under his skin.

His head was clear, his body felt strong, but his mind was in a strange, reflective state.

He stopped at a red light and watched the city wake up. He saw a man in an apron meticulously arranging fruit at a small street-side stall, a young couple laughing as they shared a scooter, their hair flying in the wind, a student with a backpack slung over her shoulder, lost in the music from her headphones.

A series of strange questions flooded Leon’s mind. How do they live? Not in a condescending way, but with genuine, curious wonder.

The fruit vendor—was he worried about making rent this month?

The couple on the scooter—were they saving up for a small vacation?

The student—was she stressed about her upcoming exams?

They had normal problems, normal lives.

And him? He had more money in his bank account than he could ever spend. He was a household name, a face on billboards.

He lived a life that most people could only dream of.

And yet, sitting in his luxury car, a knot of anxiety about the upcoming football match was the single most important thing in his world. He felt... normal.

He felt just as worried and hopeful as any of them.

The disconnect was bizarre, a strange, isolating paradox of his life.

He was a global superstar who, on the inside, felt like the same kid who used to kick a scuffed ball against a garage door.

The light turned green. He shook his head, a small, wry smile on his face, and accelerated towards the stadium.

The time for philosophical questions was over.

It was time for football.

He pulled into the players’ car park, the familiar sight of the colossal stadium chasing away his introspective thoughts.

As he got out of his car, he saw a lone figure waiting for him by the entrance. Coach Cristian Chivu.

Leon’s heart did a little nervous flutter. This was it. The summons.

"Leon," Chivu said, his voice even, his expression unreadable. "How is your head?"

"It’s clear, Coach," Leon answered honestly. "100%. I’m ready to play."

Chivu nodded slowly, his intense gaze searching Leon’s face. "The media is having a field day. ’Leongate’, they are calling it. They say you are arrogant, that the pressure has broken you, that I have lost control of the team."

Leon opened his mouth to apologize, to explain, but Chivu held up a hand.

"I do not care what they say," the coach said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips for the first time. "Let them talk. It sells newspapers and it gives them something to do." He took a step closer. "I did not summon you to my office yesterday. I canceled the meeting the moment I heard you were unwell."

Leon was stunned into silence.

"You have been carrying this team on your shoulders, Leo," Chivu continued, his voice softer now, more personal. "The Derby, the Atalanta comeback... you have been our magician. But magic has a price. I saw the weight on you. I saw the pressure building. Sometimes, the best training a player can do is to simply rest his mind." He paused. "My only question is this: Are you ready to carry that weight again today?"

A wave of profound respect and gratitude washed over Leon.

Chivu hadn’t been angry. He had understood. He had protected his player.

"Yes, Coach," Leon said, his voice firm, filled with a new, unshakeable confidence. "I am."

"Good," Chivu said, clapping him once on the shoulder. "Because we are going to need our magician today."

When Leon walked into the dressing room, he was greeted by a series of dramatic gasps.

Julián Álvarez dropped the shin guard he was holding and rushed over, his eyes wide. "He’s here! He has returned from his secret mission!"

He grabbed Leon by the shoulders. "Tell us everything! Was it aliens? Did you sign a promotional deal with a company on Mars? Is their pizza any good?"

"Julián, leave him alone," Lautaro said, trying and failing to hide a grin. "He had a headache."

"A ’headache’?" Julián scoffed, turning to the room. "That’s what they want you to believe! This is a classic secret agent cover story! Next, you’ll tell me that his favorite food is ’just pasta’ and not a ’classified energy gel from the future’!"

The room erupted in laughter. Cole Palmer, taping his wrist, looked up with a deadpan expression. "Nah, I heard he was auditioning for a boy band. Said he had the voice of an angel but the dance moves of a confused flamingo."

Even the usually serious Alessandro Bastoni cracked a smile. "Flamingo is generous. I’ve seen him dance at the Christmas party. It was more like a baby giraffe learning to walk on ice."

Leon just laughed, the last of his anxieties melting away in the warmth of his teammates’ ridiculous, unwavering support. This was his sanctuary.

The banter continued until it was time to get ready. The mood shifted, the laughter fading into a low, determined hum.

They were a band of brothers, but they were also a team of killers.

Coach Chivu entered, his sharp suit a clear sign that this was a war room. His speech was short, sharp, and brutal.

"Outside this room, they are talking about Federico Chiesa’s return," he said, his voice a low growl. "They are talking about Vlahović’s power. They are talking about a Juventus team that is destined to challenge us. They are talking about our ’Leongate’ drama."

He looked around the room, his eyes burning.

"Good. Let them talk about Juventus. Inside this room, we talk about us. We are the leaders of this league. We are the kings of this city. We earned this position through intelligence and through fire. Today, we are not heroes. We are not magicians."

He smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "Today, we are hunters. And Juventus is our prey. Now go and eat."

They lined up in the tunnel, the roar of the Derby d’Italia a deafening wave of sound.

The black and white of Juventus stood opposite the blue and black of Inter, the air crackling with a century of rivalry.

Leon stood at the front, his heart pounding a steady, powerful rhythm. He was ready. He activated his Vision for a final check. He saw Chiesa, his ’Big Game Player’ trait glowing.

He saw the shimmering golden ’Predator & Jackal’ link connecting him to Vlahović. It was just as he’d seen in his room. The threat was real.

But then, as his vision scanned the rest of their lineup, it snagged on something else. Something he hadn’t seen before.

It was another link, but this one was different. It was a thick, pulsating silver line, a defensive barrier connecting their two titans at the back, Bremer and Danilo.

He focused on it, and a new, chilling piece of text appeared.

[Defensive Synergy Detected: ’The Twin Towers’. When Bremer and Danilo are defending in their own penalty box, their ’Tackling’ and ’Interception’ attributes receive a significant, coordinated boost. All attacking players suffer a temporary ’Intimidation’ debuff.]

The problem wasn’t just that their attack was supercharged. Their defense was a fortress.