As soon as Camilo stepped into the locker room, the noise was loud.
"MENDEZ! MENDEZ! MENDEZ!"
Water bottles flew through the air. Towels got tossed around. Someone banged on the locker door like a drum. It was chaos, loud and happy chaos.
Camilo stopped for half a second, still not believing what just happened, before Torres ran across the room and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"Le petit Brésilien!" Hugo yelled with a big grin. "Two assists, huh? Not bad for a guy we thought was broken three weeks ago!"
Everyone laughed.
"Oi, he's the man now, eh?" Mario shouted from across the room, shaking his head. "Our little Messi, huh?"
"Messi?" Torres laughed. "More like Neymar's cousin. Look at the hair, man."
Camilo couldn't even talk. His chest felt tight, not from being proud but from how unreal everything felt. Just a few weeks ago, he'd been lying in a hospital bed wondering if he'd ever play football again, and now everyone was shouting his name.
He finally managed to speak, shaking his head. "You guys are crazy," he said, smiling.
"Crazy for you, kid!" Mario shot back, tossing a bottle cap that bounced off Camilo's arm. "You earned this."
The laughter got quieter, and for a quick moment everyone just smiled, tired and sweaty and happy. Then the door opened.
A man in a black suit walked in, staying calm even with all the noise. The team's PR manager, Jean-Claude, though everyone just called him JC.
"Camilo," he called out, mixing English and French. "Viens par ici, vite. La presse t'attend." (Come this way, quick. The press is waiting for you.)
Camilo blinked. "Wait, what?"
JC smiled a little. "You didn't take your award."
That made it worse. The entire locker room burst out laughing.
Bernard leaned forward, pretending to yell through his hands. "He's new, JC! Someone give the kid a manual!"
Even Amedee was laughing hard. "Bro forgot his trophy already!"
Camilo rubbed the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly. "First time, okay?"
"Go," Torres said, still laughing. "Before they give it to me instead."
More laughter filled the room. Then Camilo saw the screen change.
[OVERRIDING LAST OBJECTIVE...]
[NEW OBJECTIVE FOUND: Attend Post-Match Interview]
Reward: +50 XP | +3 Club Reputation | +2 Media Presence
Camilo smiled bigger but just followed JC quietly through the hallway. The noise from the locker room got quieter behind them, and his cleats made soft clicking sounds on the concrete floor.
The closer they got to the tunnel, the quieter everything became until all he could hear was the hum of the stadium lights outside.
The field looked different now, empty and quiet. Most of the crowd had left, but a few fans still stood near the barriers, waving flags and singing something in French.
He didn't realize until now that his hands were shaking.
JC led him to the sideline where a woman stood waiting with a microphone and the Man of the Match award in her hand. Her smile was bright and professional, the kind that came from doing interviews for years.
"Camilo Mendez!" she said happily as the camera lights turned on. "Congratulations on winning your first Man of the Match award! How does it feel?"
Camilo swallowed hard, taking the award from her. It felt heavier than he thought it would.
"Uh, it's..." He let out a breath, laughing softly. "It's hard to explain, honestly. I'm just thankful. To the team, to the coach, to everyone who believed in me."
The words came out messy and rough, but they were real.
The interviewer smiled. "A humble answer! And tell me, will we be seeing more of this Mendez magic in the games to come?"
Camilo grinned nervously, scratching the back of his head. "I'll just do my best. That's all I can promise."
She laughed, nodded, and thanked him before turning back to the camera to finish up.
As the lights went off, Camilo stood there for a moment, still holding the award and staring at the empty field. It didn't feel real, but it was, and the screen changed again in front of his eyes.
[POST-MATCH SUMMARY UPDATED]
Morale: High | Confidence: Stable | Fitness: 84%
Manager Rating: +3 | Fan Approval: +7%
The night went by fast after that.
By 10:30, the team bus rolled quietly through the gates at Lens-Liévin Airport. Players leaned against the windows, half asleep, and some were still looking at match clips on their phones.
Camilo sat near the back with his award on his lap. Outside, the runway lights glowed faintly in the mist.
The short flight back to Toulouse was quiet, just the hum of the plane and Mario snoring once in a while.
When they landed at Toulouse-Blagnac Airport, the club bus was already there waiting. The players got on, moving slowly because they were tired.
By the time they reached Camilo's stop, most of the team had fallen asleep again. Mario opened one eye as the bus slowed down.
"Night, Mendez," he said quietly, his voice thick with sleep.
Camilo smiled a little. "Night, Mario."
He stepped off with his duffel bag over his shoulder and waved as the bus drove away. The city was quiet now, just streetlights, the distant sound of a car, and the soft hum of the night breeze.
His apartment wasn't far, so he walked slowly, still wearing his tracksuit, his thoughts stuck somewhere between disbelief and pride.
Inside, he dropped his bag by the door, set the award carefully on the counter, and just stood there for a moment.
He smiled to himself and thought, a quick shower. Some stretching. Then a quick snack, something to treat himself after a great game would make tonight perfect.
Camilo opened the fridge and there it was, a half-eaten chocolate cake he'd been saving for a night like this. Sweet, rich, and probably terrible for him, but he didn't care.
He grabbed a fork, cut himself a big slice, and dropped onto the couch. The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came after winning. Peaceful, heavy, and satisfying. He turned on the TV and found the post-match highlights.
There he was, going past defenders, that assist to Mario, and the way the crowd went wild when the final whistle blew. Seeing it all again made him smile bigger than he expected. It felt good, better than he thought it would.
He took another bite of cake. The sweetness stayed on his tongue, a little celebration just for him.
Then, ding.
The familiar blue glow appeared at the corner of his vision.
[System Notice]
Performance Stat: -2% Stamina (Nutritional Imbalance Detected)
Camilo froze, fork halfway to his mouth.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Another small line blinked underneath.
[Diet Directly Affects Performance Attributes.]
Recommendation: Maintain Optimal Nutrition for Peak Growth.
He looked down at the cake. It suddenly didn't look as good anymore.
He let out a low laugh, the kind that came more from shock than anything funny. "So you're watching that too, huh?" he said quietly, putting the fork down.
The display faded, leaving just the flicker of the TV screen and his reflection in the glass.
For a long moment, Camilo just sat there while the glow of the highlights played over his tired face. He felt the weight of it now, the truth the system had just shown him.
Becoming the best wasn't just about what happened on the field. It was everything. The training, the sleep, the food, the focus. Every small choice mattered.
He leaned back, eyes on the ceiling, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Guess it's not gonna be easy."
The system didn't answer.
But the silence that followed said enough.
---
To be continued...