The week went by fast, faster than usual. For Camilo it felt like one long blur of running, stretching, and watching that quiet glowing thing in his vision. The system never stopped. Every morning it had something new for him. Jog here, stretch there, eat this, rest now. It wasn't loud but it was constant, like it refused to let him slow down.
But today wasn't about training or tasks. Today was match day.
Toulouse FC vs. Olympique de Marseille. At home. The Stadium de Toulouse.
The club bus rolled through the gates just after seven. Stadium lights were already cutting through the evening sky as it stopped near the players' entrance. The doors opened and one by one the squad stepped out. Reporters stood behind barriers snapping pictures. Fans in purple waved flags, shouting names and hoping for quick selfies before the team disappeared inside.
Camilo had his headphones hanging around his neck. He nodded slightly to the beat as he followed Mario and Torres toward the tunnel. He still wasn't used to all the noise, the flashes, the fans, the energy that came the moment they arrived. But it felt good.
Mario clapped him on the back as they walked. "Big one today, eh, kid?"
Camilo smiled a little. "Yeah. Think we can pull it off?"
Mario smirked. "We can if you play like last week."
Torres laughed from the side. "If he does that again, he's buying dinner for everyone."
"Dinner?" Camilo asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Torres grinned. "Man of the Match pays for dinner. Team rule."
Mario chuckled. "Don't worry, he's joking. Kind of."
The laughter made the air lighter as they made their way to the locker room. The smell of polish and turf filled the space. Everyone had their own little routine. Lacing boots, taping ankles, putting in earbuds. There was a quiet buzz that always came before a big game.
Time passed fast. By the time Adrian walked in, an hour and a half had already slipped by. The chatter dropped instantly.
Adrian Volkan wasn't the loud kind of coach. He didn't need to be. His calm voice carried weight all on its own. Standing next to him as always was Luca Moretti holding a tablet.
Adrian set a folder down on the table and looked around at the players. "Alright, listen up," he started. "We've worked hard this week. You know the plan. Marseille is strong on the wings, they press high, and they don't give space. But we've got pace, we've got heart, and we've got home advantage."
He paused, scanning the room, then picked up a small card. "Here's the starting eleven for today."
The air grew still. Everyone leaned forward a little.
"Goalkeeper, Hugo. Right-back, Marquant. Center-backs, Kouadio and Rafeal. Left-back, Marek."
Camilo listened. He tried not to think ahead but his palms started to sweat.
"Defensive midfield, Rami and Bernard. Right midfield, Luca. Left, Torres. Attacking midfield..." Adrian looked up, eyes steady. "...Camilo."
For a second Camilo didn't move. He thought maybe he'd misheard. Then Mario's hand landed on his shoulder.
"Let's go, kid," Mario said quietly, grinning.
Camilo blinked. He was still trying to process it. He'd expected to be on the bench again. Maybe come in around the 58th minute like last time. But starting? Against Marseille?
Adrian continued without pausing. "Up front, Mario."
Then he listed the substitutes. Amedee, Rayan, Anton, Yuto, Jonas, Perrin, Arnaud. He placed the card back on the table.
Camilo's eyes followed Adrian but his mind lagged behind. It took a second for the words to sink in. When he finally looked up, the big tactical screen at the front of the room flickered to life. It showed the formation.
His name was there. Not on the bench. In the starting eleven.
He stared for a moment, almost afraid to blink because he thought it might disappear if he did.
Formation: 4-2-3-1
Starting XI:
#1 – Hugo Delrane — GK
#2 – Theo Marquant — RB
#4 – Idriss Kouadio — CB
#5 – Rafael Da Silva — CB
#3 – Julien Marek — LB
#6 – Nabil Rami — CDM
#8 – Bernard Okoro — CMF
#7 – Luca Silva — RMF
#20 – Camilo Mendez — AMF
#14 – Diego Torres — LMF
#9 – Mario Costa — CF
Substitutes:
#10 – Amedee Laurent — LWF
#19 – Rayan Belkacem — ST
#16 – Anton Velik — CMF
#11 – Yuto Kagawa — RWF
#13 – Jonas Eberle — LB
#15 – Lucas Perrin — CB
#12 – Arnaud Fleury — GK
He leaned back in his chair. He stared at his name glowing under the number twenty. It felt unreal, like seeing someone else's name up there.
Adrian looked around once more. "This is a team game. I don't want heroes, I want discipline. You stick to your roles, you move together, you fight for every ball. Let's make the home fans proud."
He nodded to Luca. "Let's check on the warm-up prep."
Luca followed him out, leaving the players alone.
The silence lasted a few seconds before Torres elbowed Camilo lightly. "Starting, huh?" he said, smiling. "Didn't take long."
Camilo finally let out a breath. "I... I didn't think I'd..."
Bernard cut in, grinning. "Didn't think you'd what? Be this good?"
Everyone laughed, even Camilo.
But not everyone was smiling. Amedee sat a few lockers down. His head was lowered as he retaped his shin guards. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Everyone knew what it felt like to lose your spot, even temporarily.
Camilo glanced his way for a second but didn't say anything either. He knew how it felt to be on the other side.
The system chimed softly, visible to only him.
[UNTRACKED ACHIEVEMENT: Break into Starting XI]
Reward: +100 XP | +3 Confidence | +1 Club Reputation
Camilo blinked. The notification hovered faintly in his vision, half transparent against the tactical screen.
He hadn't done anything to trigger it. At least not on purpose.
"Untracked achievement?" he said under his breath. "Didn't even know that was a thing."
The glowing text faded. It left only the hum of conversation in the locker room. Camilo looked down slightly, hiding the small smile that tried to form. The system's rewards never were much, but it felt like a pat on the back all the same.
Theo leaned over from the next bench. "You nervous?"
Camilo waited a second. "A little."
"You'll be fine," Theo said simply. "First starts are like first goals. Once it happens you stop overthinking."
Torres threw a towel across the room. "That's not true, he still overthinks."
"Shut up," Theo said, laughing.
The room lightened again. The tension faded, replaced by the easy noise of boots hitting the floor, music starting up, the usual back and forth that came before the game.
When the clock hit thirty minutes to kickoff, Adrian and Luca returned. "Warm-up," Adrian said. "Let's go."
The players got up, stretched one last time then headed out the tunnel.
The moment they stepped onto the pitch the noise came like a wave. Thousands of fans. Purple flags flying. Chants echoing off the stands.
Camilo blinked. He tried to take it all in. The smell of the grass. The sound of the ball during short passes. The buzz from the stands. His heart raced, not from nerves but from how big it all felt.
He looked around and saw Mario juggling a ball lazily. Torres was jogging backward, teasing Bernard. Hugo was stretching near the post.
Mario caught Camilo watching and called out, "Hey! Don't freeze now!"
Camilo laughed, shaking his head as he joined the passing drill. "I'm fine!"
But inside he wasn't. Not completely. His stomach fluttered every few seconds. He could feel the difference between being a substitute and a starter. The weight of the jersey. The knowledge that when the whistle blew he wouldn't be waiting for a chance. He was the chance.
The system blinked once more, faint and almost playful.
[PRE-MATCH MODE ACTIVE]
Condition: Optimal
Morale: High
Performance Boost: +0.3%
Camilo didn't even know what that meant but he smiled anyway.
The crowd roared louder as the announcer started reading the lineup.
"Number 10 — Camilo Mendez!"
The noise that followed was bigger than he expected. Not the loudest in the stadium, but enough to make him lift his head higher.
For a second, just a second, he forgot about the system, the stats, the pressure. All that mattered was the field under his feet and the chance he'd been waiting for.
Warm-up drills ended. The players headed back into the tunnel to prepare for kickoff.
Camilo walked last. The roar of the fans faded behind him as he stepped into the dim light of the tunnel.
He took a deep breath, hands on his hips, and smiled to himself.
He was ready.
---
To be continued...