The restart came quickly, the Under-20s eager to maintain their momentum. But something had shifted in the Under-18s' positioning. Alessandro dropped deeper, finding space between the lines where his technical ability could flourish without the constant physical pressure. Luca moved wider, stretching the defense and creating room for others to operate.
Most importantly, they began playing as a team rather than a collection of individuals trying to prove themselves.
The goal came in the sixty-seventh minute, and it was beautiful in its simplicity. Verratti won the ball back with a perfectly timed tackle and immediately found Alessandro with a simple pass. Instead of trying to beat three men or attempt an impossible through ball, Alessandro played it early to Luca on the right wing.
Luca's first touch took him away from the touchline, creating the half-yard of space he needed. His second touch was a cross, but not the kind anyone expected. Instead of aiming for the crowded penalty area, he bent the ball toward the back post where Alessandro had continued his run after making the initial pass.
The Under-20s' defense was caught completely off guard. They'd focused on the obvious threats—Santoro in the box, the overlapping full-back, the supporting midfielders. No one had tracked Alessandro's continued movement, assuming his involvement in the move was finished.
Alessandro's volley was struck with perfect technique, the ball flying into the top corner with such force that the goalkeeper barely had time to react. It was the kind of goal that would be replayed on highlight reels, the kind of finish that separated good players from great ones.
Four-two.
This time, Alessandro's celebration was different. Instead of the elaborate showboating he'd displayed in previous matches, he simply raised his arms and smiled—pure joy rather than desperate validation. When his teammates reached him, Luca was the first, and their brief embrace carried the weight of mutual respect earned through shared struggle.
[Team Chemistry Critical Threshold Reached. New Dynamic Unlocked: Collective Intelligence. All players now benefit from tactical awareness improvements.]
The final twenty minutes became a masterclass in tactical warfare. Both teams made substitutions, adjusted formations, switched between different pressing triggers and defensive shapes. It was chess played at sprinting pace, each move countered by an equally sophisticated response.
Luca found himself orchestrating play in ways he'd never imagined possible. The system's enhancements had evolved beyond simple stat improvements—he was seeing patterns three passes ahead, anticipating opponents' reactions before they'd fully formed their intentions, making decisions that seemed instinctive but were actually based on lightning-fast tactical calculations.
In the eighty-third minute, he made a run that defied conventional wisdom. Instead of staying wide in his assigned position, Luca drifted into the center of the pitch just as the Under-20s launched what appeared to be a decisive attack. To observers, he looked out of position, abandoning his defensive responsibilities at the worst possible moment.
But Luca had seen something others missed. The Under-20s' attack was building down the left flank, but their right-back had pushed forward to provide width. If the attack broke down, there would be a massive space behind him—space that would be impossible to exploit unless someone was already positioned to receive the transition ball.
The interception came from an unexpected source. Alessandro, tracking back to defend, slid in to win the ball just as the Under-20s' winger tried to cut inside. The tackle was clean, decisive, and immediately launched a counter-attack that caught the older players completely out of position.
Verratti's pass was inch-perfect, finding Luca in acres of space down the right flank. The Under-20s' defense scrambled desperately to recover, but they were caught between pressing the ball and tracking runners, and in their confusion, they did neither effectively.
Luca's cross was low and hard, skipping across the penalty area toward the back post. Santoro's run was perfectly timed, his finish a simple tap-in that capped a move of devastating simplicity and surgical precision.
Five-two.
The Under-20s' reaction was immediate and desperate. They threw players forward with the reckless abandon of a team that couldn't afford to lose face. For seven minutes, the Under-18s' penalty area became a war zone, crosses and shots raining down like artillery shells.
But something remarkable had happened to the younger players. The constant pressure, instead of breaking them, had forged them into something stronger. They defended with the unity of soldiers who'd learned to trust each other completely, each player covering his teammate's weaknesses while maximizing his own strengths.
When the final whistle blew, confirming the Under-18s' incredible victory, the silence was deafening. Even their own celebration was muted, the magnitude of what they'd accomplished too large to process immediately.
Coach Marotta stood on the sideline, his expression unreadable. The Under-20s trudged off the pitch with the shell-shocked demeanor of professionals who'd just been outplayed by children. Several would face uncomfortable questions from their loan clubs, their development trajectories suddenly uncertain.
But for the Under-18s, everything had changed. They'd proven they could compete at the highest level, could respond to pressure, could play as a team when it mattered most. More importantly, they'd discovered something about themselves that no amount of training could teach—they were capable of greatness when they chose to pursue it together.
As the players shook hands and began the walk back to the changing rooms, Luca felt a presence beside him. Coach Marotta fell into step, his pace measured and thoughtful.
"Interesting performance today, Moretti."
"Thank you, Coach."
"I wasn't giving you a compliment. I was making an observation." Marotta's eyes held no warmth, but they carried something more valuable—respect. "You did something I've rarely seen from a player your age. You made everyone around you better."
Luca said nothing, knowing that sometimes silence was the most appropriate response.
"The squad list goes up tomorrow morning. Eighteen names for the Roma match." Marotta paused at the edge of the pitch, his gaze sweeping across the perfectly manicured grass where so much had been decided. "Some selections are obvious. Others... require more consideration."
He turned to face Luca directly. "Leadership isn't about being the best player on the pitch. It's about making sure your team performs at their highest level when it matters most. Today, you did that."
As Marotta walked away, Luca stood alone on the training ground, the weight of expectation and opportunity pressing down on him like a physical force. Tomorrow would bring the squad announcement. Next week would bring Roma and the real beginning of his professional journey.
But tonight, for the first time since his rebirth, Luca Moretti felt like he was exactly where he belonged—not because the system told him so, but because he'd earned it through choices that had nothing to do with supernatural assistance and everything to do with the kind of man he'd decided they become.
The boy who'd died in a Naples alley had been forgotten by everyone who'd known him. The young man walking off this pitch would be remembered by everyone who'd witnessed what he could accomplish when he chose to lead from the light rather than follow into darkness.
[Chapter Complete. Leadership Attributes Significantly Improved. New Skill Unlocked: Tactical Inspiration. Warning: Greater expectations now accompany greater abilities.]
His legend was no longer just beginning—it was growing with every choice he made.