Two weeks passed in a blur of training, recovery, more training. Andrei lived like a monk—practice in the morning, gym work in the afternoon, sleep by 10 PM.
His teammates went to clubs and parties. Andrei went home and studied match footage.
The system tracked everything:
Overall Rating: 66.8/99
Progress was slow but real. His stamina had improved through relentless conditioning work—running until his lungs screamed, then running more.
His positioning was sharper because he spent hours watching how Tănase moved off the ball, how Budescu found pockets of space.
But he was still with the reserves, still training on pitch three while the first team prepared for league matches on the main ground.
"You're improving," Coach Andone told him after a particularly good session.
"But improvement doesn't mean opportunity. You understand?"
Andrei understood. FCSB had spent millions on attacking players. They weren't going to trust an 18-year-old from Iași unless they had no choice.
Then fate intervened, as it sometimes does in football.
FCSB was scheduled to play CFR Cluj—the league leaders, the team everyone hated because they always won. It was a Sunday evening match, nationally televised, crucial for FCSB's title hopes. But on Friday morning, disaster struck.
Food poisoning.
Four first-team players, including two strikers, spent Thursday night violently ill. By Friday, they could barely stand. The squad was decimated.
Coach Rădoi stormed into reserve team training. "Luca! You're training with the first team today. Don't embarrass us."
Andrei's heart tried to punch through his ribcage.
Special Event Triggered: First Team Training
Perform well to earn match squad selection
Pressure Level: Very High
The first-team session was everything he'd imagined and feared. The pace was relentless, the technical demands unforgiving.
When Andrei misplaced a pass, veteran midfielder Mihai Pintilii shouted at him. When he lost the ball, defender Ionuț Panțîru clattered into him hard enough to leave bruises.
But Andrei didn't hide. Didn't shrink.
They ran an attacking drill—striker against two defenders, trying to score. Andrei's turn came.
The ball was played into his feet, two massive defenders closing like walls.
His composure rating flashed in his vision: 57/99 - Under Extreme Pressure
Time seemed to slow. Andrei could feel his heart hammering, feel doubt creeping in. Then he remembered his father's words: Make something of yourself.
He dropped his shoulder, sold the fake, and spun the opposite direction. One defender bought it completely.
The other lunged, but Andrei's pace—his best attribute at 74—carried him clear. Just the goalkeeper now.
Composure Check: Critical Moment
He didn't think. Didn't hesitate.
Just passed the ball into the bottom corner with the inside of his right foot. The goalkeeper dove, fingertips an inch away.
Goal.
The team erupted—not with wild celebration, but with acknowledgment.
A few claps, a few nods. In the world of professional football, that was the same as a standing ovation.
"Not bad ," Pintilii said, jogging past. Not bad.
After training, head coach Nicolae Dică called Andrei aside.
Dică had played for Steaua in their glory days, had scored in the Champions League. He studied Andrei with the intensity of a man who'd seen a thousand prospects and knew how to separate fool's gold from the real thing.
"You're in the squad Sunday," Dică said. "You probably won't play, but dress and be ready. If I call your name, don't think. Just run, fight, and play your game. Understood?"
"Yes, Mister."
"Good. Now go home and rest. And Luca? Don't tell anyone you're in the squad until Sunday. I don't want your head getting big."
OBJECTIVE COMPLETE: Earn First Team Selection
Reward: +1 to Composure for handling pressure
New Composure Rating: 58/99
Andrei floated home. He wanted to call his mother, call everyone, but he followed instructions. Instead, he called the one person he'd been texting regularly over the past two weeks.
"Elena? It's Andrei. Are you busy Sunday evening?"
"I have a match to cover, actually. FCSB versus Cluj. Why?"
"No reason. Just... watch number 37. He might do something interesting."
There was a pause, then her voice changed—sharper, more alert. "Andrei. Are you in the squad?"
"I can't say."
"Oh my God, you are!" He could hear the smile in her voice. "This is huge! I need to—"
"Don't write anything yet," he interrupted. "Please. Not until after."
Another pause. "Okay. But Andrei? Congratulations. Seriously."
"I haven't done anything yet."
"You got in the room. That's something."
After they hung up,
Andrei lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to stop grinning. The system display showed his stats, but for once, he ignored it.
Some moments didn't need to be quantified.