The locker room was a cathedral of steam and silence. The rhythmic hiss of the showers was the only sound competing with the heavy, ragged breathing of thirty exhausted teenagers.
Thiago leaned his forehead against the cold tiles of the shower stall, the water drumming against his back. He wasn't standing so much as he was hovering, his trembling legs braced against the walls for support. To the other prospects, he looked like a god who had descended for ninety minutes; in reality, he felt like a battery drained to 0.01%.
[ CRITICAL FATIGUE DETECTED ]
[ PHYSICAL INTEGRITY: COMPROMISED ]
[ RECOVERY ESTIMATE: 72 HOURS ]
Through the thick mist, he felt the weight of stares. Otávio walked past, his massive frame hunched, refusing to meet Thiago's eyes.
Beto, usually a fountain of noise, just watched Thiago from a bench with a look of pure, unadulterated awe. To them, Thiago was a "monster"—a freak who had somehow balanced the soul of a veteran maestro in the body of a lanky kid. They didn't see the "noodle legs"; they saw the thunderous strike that was still vibrating in their ears.
Outside the steam-filled room, the world had already moved on from the match to the myth. The Atlético Mineiro Academy Twitter account had posted a sixty-second reel of the second half.
The clip of the free-kick alone had garnered a million views in twenty minutes. In London, a legendary English pundit—a man known for his cynical take on modern football—reposted the video with a simple caption:
"We talk of 'prospects' and we talk of 'talent.' But look at this boy. The poise, the audacity, the sheer technical insolence! Brazil has found a pocket of magic in the mud. Absolute majesty."
The comments section was a battlefield of hype:
@JogaBonito99: "The way he moved that wall... that's not training, that's sorcery."
@ScoutMaster_UK: "Look at his eyes before the power shot. He knew. He's playing a different game."
Thiago managed to dress, his fingers fumbling with his laces as if they were made of lead. He was heading for the exit, desperate for his bed and a gallon of water, when a junior assistant tapped him on the shoulder.
"Commander Rocha wants to see you. Now. In his office."
The office was small, smelling of old leather and victory. Rocha sat behind a desk piled with scouting reports, but for the first time, his face wasn't a mask of gravel. He was smiling—a genuine, terrifyingly happy smile.
"Sit down, Santos. If your legs will let you."
Thiago collapsed into the chair.
"I've been doing this for thirty years," Rocha began, leaning forward. "I've seen thousands of 'talkers' walk through those gates. Usually, I send them home with a reality check. But you..." He shook his head. "You didn't just play football today. You rewrote the script. With this level of vision, Thiago, the sky isn't just the limit—it's the starting line."
Thiago stared, his mouth slightly agape. "I... I just wanted to help the team, Coach."
"Drop the modesty, it doesn't suit a man who hits knuckleballs like that," Rocha laughed. "I'm recommending you directly to the Main Club Reserves. Forget the U-17s. You're ready for the big boys. A professional contract offer is being drafted as we speak. Are you ready for a career that will change your life?"
The words hit Thiago harder than Otávio's tackles. The "Talker Around" was officially a "Player."
As Thiago walked out of the complex, dazed and clutching a temporary club pass, the System flickered to life with a newfound intensity. It wasn't congratulating him; it was preparing for war.
[ NEW CHAPTER UNLOCKED: THE PROFESSIONAL PATH ]
[ ISSUE: HOST BODY IS A 'GLASS CANNON' ]
[ GENERATING SPECIALIZED CONDITIONING REGIMEN... ]
A series of complex, holographic diagrams began to overlay his vision, showing muscle groups and skeletal alignment.
[ DRILL 1: ISOMETRIC CORE STABILITY (THE ANCHOR) ]
[ DRILL 2: PLYOMETRIC EXPLOSION (THE LIGHTNING) ]
[ GOAL: ADAPT BIOLOGY TO LEGENDARY STATS. PREPARE FOR SÉRIE A INTENSITY. ]
Thiago looked at the long road back to the bus stop. He was a reserve player for one of the biggest clubs in the world, and his body was about to become a laboratory for the most advanced football system in existence.
"Ready?" he whispered to the empty air. "I've been jazzing about this my whole life. I'm more than ready."