The next morning felt heavier than the night before.
The Champions League anthem still echoed faintly in Lamii's mind as he walked toward the academy. The lights, the crowd, the dream—it hadn't faded.
If anything…
It had become clearer.
Closer.
And more dangerous.
Lamii stepped onto the training ground early.
The grass was still wet.
Cold air.
Silent pitch.
For a moment, it felt peaceful.
But inside him—
Nothing was calm.
He could still hear Papii's voice:
"I'll be there."
And Enzo's:
"If only one of us makes it… it's me."
Lamii exhaled slowly.
Then prove it.
Players arrived one by one.
No loud conversations.
No jokes.
Just quiet focus.
Because everyone felt it.
Something was coming.
Something big.
Coach Salva didn't make them wait.
He walked onto the field, hands behind his back, eyes sharp as ever.
"Everyone here?"
Silence.
Then—
Salva stood in front of them.
Calm.
Controlled.
But his presence alone carried weight.
"You watched the Champions League last night."
It wasn't a question.
No one answered.
"You saw the level."
A pause.
"The intensity."
Another.
"The difference."
Lamii felt his chest tighten slightly.
Salva stepped forward.
"You want to play there one day?"
Now—
He looked at them.
One by one.
"Then prove it."
Silence.
But not empty.
Heavy.
Focused.
Real.
"In one week…"
Salva's voice cut cleanly through the air.
"You will play a closed match."
Murmurs.
Small.
Controlled.
But present.
Salva raised his hand slightly.
Silence returned instantly.
"Scouts will attend."
That was it.
That was the moment.
Everything shifted.
"This isn't just a match."
Salva continued.
"This is a decision."
Players leaned in—mentally if not physically.
"After this match…"
A pause.
"I will recommend players."
Now it was clear.
Crystal clear.
"This is your first real step toward bigger clubs."
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Because now—
It wasn't a dream anymore.
It was selection.
Salva turned toward the assistant coach.
A list in his hand.
"You won't choose your teammates."
He looked back at them.
"I will."
And just like that—
The tension doubled.
Names started being called.
"Team A."
A pause.
"Lamii."
His name echoed louder than expected.
He stepped forward.
Heart steady.
Mind sharp.
"Kairo."
The fast winger smirked slightly as he joined him.
"Diego."
Another name.
Then a few more.
Lamii glanced around.
Different players.
Unfamiliar chemistry.
Uncertain balance.
"Team B."
Salva didn't hesitate.
"Papii."
A small grin appeared instantly.
"Enzo."
Calm as always.
"Raúl."
The wall.
And more names followed.
Stronger names.
More structured.
More dangerous.
Lamii looked across the field.
At them.
Papii.
Enzo.
Raúl.
All on the same team.
He didn't say anything.
But inside—
He understood immediately.
Hard mode.
Papii's Smile
Papii crossed his arms.
Grinning.
"Well…"
He looked at Lamii.
"Guess you're on your own."
Lamii didn't react.
Didn't respond.
Just watched.
Enzo simply adjusted his position slightly.
Eyes already analyzing.
Already thinking.
Already preparing.
Like this was expected.
Like this was already decided.
"Positions."
Salva didn't waste time.
"Play."
The ball rolled.
And immediately—
The difference showed.
Lamii received the ball early.
Looked up.
Kairo was already sprinting forward.
Too fast.
Too early.
The pass angle wasn't there.
Lamii hesitated.
Lost the moment.
Turned—
Enzo intercepted.
Clean.
Again.
Team B moved differently.
Structured.
Connected.
Papii made runs.
Enzo fed him.
Raúl stayed back.
Unbreakable.
They weren't just playing.
They were functioning.
It happened fast.
Enzo recovered the ball.
One touch.
Forward.
Papii ran.
Perfect timing.
Shot.
GOAL.
1–0.
Papii didn't celebrate much.
Just looked at Lamii.
And smiled.
Lamii felt it clearly now.
Not just skill.
Not just talent.
Difference.
Execution.
Speed.
Understanding.
Kairo got the ball.
Ran.
Dribbled.
Tried to beat everyone.
Lost it.
Again.
"No control," Lamii muttered.
Lamii tried to organize.
"Slow down!"
"Pass!"
"Move!"
But no one listened properly.
Because everyone wanted to shine.
No one wanted to follow.
Meanwhile—
Team B kept building.
Another attack.
Another chance.
Raúl stopped everything at the back.
Enzo controlled the middle.
Papii attacked.
Perfect balance.
Another sequence.
Quick.
Sharp.
Finish.
2–0.
Lamii stood still for a moment.
Watching.
Thinking.
Feeling it.
They're ahead.
They're better.
The thought came.
Clear.
Dangerous.
Then—
He shook his head slightly.
No.
He stepped forward.
Demanded the ball.
"Here."
He didn't slow it this time.
Didn't overthink.
One touch.
Pass.
Move.
Again.
Faster.
Sharper.
More risk.
More flow.
Enzo stepped in—
But this time—
He was slightly late.
Just slightly.
But enough.
The play continued.
Lamii moved again.
Received.
Turned.
Passed.
Kairo finished.
GOAL.
2–1.
Silence.
Then noise.
Then energy.
Lamii didn't celebrate.
He just looked at Enzo.
Enzo met his eyes.
No emotion.
But something was there.
Acknowledgment.
Whistle.
Game over.
But no one felt finished.
Because now—
They knew.
The gap existed.
But it wasn't impossible.
Coach Salva gathered them again.
"One week."
Silence.
"One match."
More silence.
Then—
"Show me who deserves the future."
As Lamii walked off the pitch, one thought burned stronger than ever:
This wasn't about dreaming anymore.
This wasn't about talking.
This was about proving.
And in one week—
Everything would be decided.