Storm Clouds Over Verona

Aymar Zambo's tactical philosophy had never revolved around individual brilliance. Over the past six months, his players had adapted to his detailed and structured approach, embracing strategies that initially seemed overly complex. The results spoke for themselves, with the second team thriving under his guidance. 

Losing Mattia Cassani to the first team had been a significant blow, but Aymar had faith in the squad's depth. Players like Emanuele Torrisi, who had developed rapidly during the same period, were ready to step up. Torrisi's current ability now stood at 113—a testament to his steady growth. 

Other players had shown remarkable improvement as well. Gianluca Nicco, now a fixture on the right flank, boasted a current ability of 110. Tommaso, the tireless striker, had reached 101. However, at 22 years old and with a potential of just 110, his ceiling was limited. While reliable, he was unlikely to develop further into a top-level talent. 

The most surprising rise, however, had been Louis Hutt. Initially written off as a squad filler, the central defender had flourished. With a current ability of 125 and a potential of 149, Hutt had become the defensive linchpin of Aymar's system. His growth was aided by extraordinary discipline and determination—attributes maxed out in the system. Hutt's professionalism meant he often stayed behind after training to refine his skills, earning the admiration of his teammates and coaching staff alike. 

Of course, the system's growth enhancement scrolls had played a part. Aymar had used two such scrolls on Hutt, increasing his growth rate threefold, which accelerated his development beyond expectations. However, Aymar understood that talent alone wasn't enough. Without Hutt's unyielding work ethic and commitment, even the system's tools would have been ineffective. 

For the rest of the squad, current abilities ranged from 75 to 95. The second team's overall strength was undoubtedly the best in the Serie Leggera, and their tactical cohesion gave them an edge over opponents. Their unbeaten record in 19 matches was no surprise to Pierino Fanna or Pippo Glaviano, who had seen firsthand how Aymar's methods transformed the team. 

As the winter break drew to a close, Aymar and his staff gathered to plan. The loss of Cassani had left a gap in midfield that needed to be addressed. Torrisi and Nicco were set to take on greater responsibilities, but the depth of the squad would be tested further if the first team's struggles continued. 

Aymar's concern wasn't misplaced. Gillo Urso's first team had performed disastrously in Serie B, winless in 18 matches and teetering on the brink of relegation. There were whispers that more second-team players might be promoted to shore up the senior squad. Such moves could jeopardize the second team's cohesion and momentum. 

Still, Aymar remained focused. The CoachMaster Guidance System rewarded him with 10 achievement points and a skill for meeting the team's seasonal objectives. After considering his options, Aymar chose tactical analysis, which allowed him to evaluate his players' attributes and formulate optimal strategies. The other options—staff recommendations and a scoring report skill—seemed less relevant with the support of Pippo and Pierino. 

Over six months, Aymar had accumulated 38 achievement points. Apart from using two growth scrolls on Hutt, he had also spent five points on an injury healing scroll to speed up Cassani's recovery from a leg injury earlier in the season. While the system's healing tools were useful, they were limited—serious injuries couldn't be instantly fixed, and timing often dictated whether a player could make a match. 

The system, as Aymar had come to understand, was a powerful assistant but not a magical solution. Success still depended on how he leveraged its insights alongside his tactical acumen. 

As for his achievement points, Aymar Zambo had decided to conserve them. His reasoning was simple—most of the remaining second-team players didn't warrant further investment. Some had modest talent but lacked the work ethic to match, while others struggled with personality issues or simply didn't align with Aymar's vision. Using his limited resources on them felt like throwing good effort after bad. 

Players like Emanuele Torrisi and Gianluca Nicco had already improved significantly under Aymar's system. With their current abilities, they could hold their own not only in the Serie Leggera but even in the more competitive environments of Serie B. As a result, Aymar saw little reason to continue using achievement points on them. 

Beyond practicality, Aymar harbored a personal motive: preparation for the future. 

Truthfully, he felt no strong attachment to Hellas Verona. For him, the second team was a proving ground, a stepping stone to something greater. Aymar had no intention of remaining in the reserves indefinitely. His ambition was clear—when the opportunity arose to coach a professional team, he would seize it without hesitation. 

Before the winter break, whispers of interest had reached him. A few Serie C clubs had sent unofficial feelers, intrigued by the second team's undefeated record. During the winter, even Serie B sides in precarious positions, such as Mantova and Brescia, had expressed quiet interest in his services. However, their concern was universal: his youth and inexperience. At just 23 years old, Aymar lacked the pedigree most clubs demanded from a professional coach. 

The only reason Aymar remained at Hellas Verona was the lack of formal offers. If a professional team had approached him directly, he would have left the reserves without looking back. 

With these ambitions in mind, Aymar had resolved to stockpile his achievement points. Leaving Verona for a new team would be a daunting challenge, and saving these resources for the future could give him a critical edge. His current focus was to complete the system's 10-match winning streak task, which would reward him with five additional points. He also pursued every other attainable task, determined to prepare for any eventuality. 

Pierino Fanna and Pippo Glaviano understood Aymar's mindset all too well. As Verona natives, they held deep affection for the club, but they bore no illusions about its struggles. Both had seen promising coaches and players come and go, seeking greener pastures. They neither resented Aymar for his ambitions nor expected him to stay indefinitely. For them, Verona was a stepping stone too. 

Yet, just as Aymar returned to the club after a peaceful winter break, an unexpected and shocking piece of news disrupted his focus. 

... 

... 

"Hellas Verona is going bankrupt?" Aymar Zambo's first reaction was disbelief. His mind struggled to process the words, and for a moment, he was simply stunned. 

Pippo Glaviano shared his incredulity, his brow furrowing deeply. "Is this real?" 

Pierino Fanna nodded bitterly. "Unfortunately, it's true. It's not public yet, but give it a few days. Once the players and staff stop receiving their salaries, it'll be impossible to keep quiet." 

"Are you sure about this?" Aymar asked, his voice low but steady. 

Pierino sighed heavily. "Absolutely. Giambattista Pastorello told me himself. He's been trying to keep things under wraps, but the debts are piling up, and there's no immediate solution in sight." 

Aymar and Pippo exchanged worried glances. Neither of them had ever been through a situation like this. Stories of bankrupt clubs—teams like Fiorentina and Napoli—had always felt like distant cautionary tales. Now, the cold reality of financial collapse loomed over Verona. 

"Apparently, Pastorello is in constant talks with banks and trying to court local investors, but it's not looking good," Pierino added, shaking his head. "This isn't a sudden crisis; it's been brewing for a while. He must've exhausted every option before this." 

"How bad is it?" Aymar asked after a moment of silence. 

Pierino hesitated, then said, "The club owes around 1.2 million euros. Most of it's tied to two banks in Verona, and the deadline for repayment has passed. They're out of options." 

Hearing the figure, Aymar's mind immediately flashed to Gillo Urso's mismanagement. "Is this because of Gillo's spending spree last summer?" he asked sharply. 

Pierino grimaced. "That's part of it. Pastorello took a gamble. He approved Gillo's signings to strengthen the squad, thinking Verona could make a promotion push. If the team performed well, higher attendance, sponsorships, and prize money would cover the debts. But as we know…" He trailed off, his tone heavy with frustration. 

"The team is sitting dead last in Serie B," Pippo finished grimly. 

Pierino nodded. "Exactly. If Verona were even mid-table, the banks might have been more forgiving, but relegation to Serie C is looking inevitable. If that happens, the club won't just be in debt—it'll collapse entirely. Sponsors will pull out, and income will plummet. Even selling off players won't be enough to plug the gap." 

Aymar leaned back in his chair, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. He had known football was a brutal business, but hearing it laid out so plainly was sobering. "So, what now?" 

Pierino shrugged helplessly. "The reality is that Verona isn't a big club. 1.2 million euros wouldn't even faze a Serie A team like Milan or Inter, but for Verona, it's a death sentence. If relegated, they'll be forced to sell anyone remotely valuable. Players like Corrent, Greco, and even young talents like Cassani will go for peanuts just to keep the lights on." 

Aymar's stomach churned at the thought. The idea of Cassani—a player he had nurtured—being sold off cheaply, only to languish in a poorly managed team, stung more than he cared to admit. 

"This is the reality of professional football," Aymar said quietly, more to himself than the others. "It's a system built on extremes. The rich get richer, and the rest… they fight for scraps. There's no slow climb for a struggling club anymore—not without a miracle." 

The room fell silent, each man lost in thought. For Aymar, the moment was a stark reminder of the challenges he faced. Football wasn't just tactics and players—it was politics, finances, and the relentless grind of reality. 

"Even if Verona somehow avoids relegation," Pierino added, breaking the silence, "the financial damage is done. Next season, they'll be weaker, and the cycle will continue. This isn't just about one bad year—it's the slow death of a club that can't keep up with modern football." 

Aymar didn't respond. His mind was racing, calculating the odds, weighing the risks. He had no illusions about staying at Verona long-term, but the thought of abandoning the second team in the middle of this storm left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Pippo glanced at Aymar, concern flickering in his eyes. "What's the plan? If the first team goes down, they'll probably gut the second team too." 

Aymar frowned. "We keep moving forward. We focus on what we can control—our tactics, our players, our matches. Let the board deal with their mess." 

But even as he spoke, Aymar couldn't shake the gnawing doubt in the back of his mind. For all his confidence, the harsh truth was clear: no system, no tactic, no coach could save a club drowning in debt. 

... 

... 

The specter of bankruptcy hung heavily over Hellas Verona. 

As players began returning to training for the second half of the season, a noticeable unease spread through the squad. Many carried worried expressions, whispering among themselves about the unpaid wages and the uncertain future of the club. The tension was palpable. 

Giambattista Pastorello, Verona's president, was juggling two urgent priorities. First, he was desperately seeking financial support from local businesses, influential individuals, and banks to stabilize the club. Second, he was pressuring young, promising players to sign professional contracts. 

Hellas Verona's second team boasted a few standout players who had garnered attention. Mattia Cassani and Emanuele Torrisi, for instance, were emerging as future stars, while others like Gianluca Nicco and Federico Bianconi were also showing significant potential. But most of these players were still on youth or part-time contracts, which required minimal wages from the club but offered no real security for the players. 

Since the introduction of the Bosman ruling a decade earlier, clubs across Europe had grown increasingly wary of losing their talent for free. For a cash-strapped team like Verona, letting these players leave without compensation would be a catastrophic blow. 

"Pastorello has never shown this much interest in the second team," Aymar Zambo remarked dryly, watching the president pacing near the training ground, speaking earnestly with Cassani. 

Pierino Fanna smirked. "He's terrified they'll leave for nothing. With the first team in shambles, the second team's players are his last bargaining chip." 

Aymar said nothing, but inwardly, he understood the harsh logic. In professional football, everything ultimately boiled down to money. 

The players in the first team carried the heaviest burden of the club's financial woes. Most of them were on full professional contracts, and the rumors of missed payments had already reached their ears. Their morale was at an all-time low, evident in their sluggish training sessions and muted interactions on the pitch. Even Gillo Urso's booming voice on the sidelines failed to energize them. 

By contrast, the second team seemed unaffected. They received little to no wages—only small subsidies for travel and bonuses paid privately by Aymar himself. While his actions had raised some eyebrows within the club, Pastorello had turned a blind eye, unable to deny the second team's stellar performance under Aymar's leadership. 

Still, the atmosphere across the club was grim. The first team's training ground felt lifeless, the players going through the motions without enthusiasm. In stark contrast, the second team's training sessions remained vibrant and focused, with Aymar pushing his players hard. 

"Inconsistent performances, financial ruin, unpaid wages… I never thought Verona would sink this low," Pierino muttered, watching the first team struggle through a passing drill. 

"It's not surprising," Aymar replied bluntly. "When the heart of a team is gone, nothing else works." 

Gillo Urso's struggles as head coach were emblematic of the club's broader failures. Once respected for his tactical acumen and leadership, his inability to adapt had become glaringly obvious. Initially, his reputation and experience had bought him time, but as the team's results plummeted and his shortcomings were exposed, he lost control of the locker room. 

"You can see it in their body language," Pippo Glaviano observed. "Half the players are already looking for new clubs. The ones with any market value are ready to jump ship. Why would they stick around to endure Gillo's tantrums?" 

Aymar smirked faintly, his gaze shifting back to the second team. "It's no surprise. When Gillo poached half his squad from lower-tier teams last summer, they should've known this was coming." 

The second team, meanwhile, continued their drills with intensity. Aymar's thoughts were already turning to the future. The financial crisis meant that some of his players would inevitably be promoted to the first team, leaving gaps in his own squad. He had to prepare for the possibility that Cassani and Torrisi—his most valuable players—would be taken before the season's end. 

Pierino, sensing Aymar's focus, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If Gillo keeps raiding your squad, you're going to be left with scraps." 

Aymar gave a faint smile, his expression unreadable. "It's part of the game, isn't it?" 

But even as he spoke, a part of him felt the weight of Verona's collapse. The financial struggles weren't just a club problem—they were a systemic issue, a reflection of the growing gap between Italy's footballing elite and its struggling provincial teams. Clubs like Verona were being crushed under the weight of modern football's financial demands. 

"You think the first team will turn it around?" Pippo asked. 

Aymar shook his head. "Not under Gillo. The players have already checked out, and without unity, they'll keep losing." 

The grim reality of professional football had never been clearer. A club like Verona, drowning in debt and division, could only survive so long without drastic changes. Aymar knew his second team couldn't fix the first team's problems, but they could offer hope—a glimpse of what the future might hold if the club could find its footing again. 

For now, though, survival was all that mattered. 

... 

... 

Sure enough, within a week of the team's training resumption, four key players from Hellas Verona's first team had been transferred out, all to Serie B rivals. News of the club's precarious financial situation had spread quickly, and opposing teams pounced, offering cut-price deals that Verona had little choice but to accept. 

Giambattista Pastorello's temper had grown noticeably worse during this period. Each transfer negotiation left him visibly more frustrated. Verona's dire financial state meant they were at the mercy of wealthier clubs, who wasted no time exploiting their vulnerability. For Pastorello, it felt like being forced to sell family heirlooms for scraps, a cruel irony considering Verona's proud history. 

In truth, it was a bitter pill for the entire club. The same ruthless tactics Verona was enduring now were not unlike those they themselves had employed in the past, capitalizing on smaller teams' misfortunes. But as the saying went, what goes around comes around. 

Aymar Zambo, however, stayed focused on the second team. He avoided involving himself in first-team matters, though the constant flow of players leaving was impossible to ignore. For him, the second team remained a sanctuary—a place to channel his energy into development and tactics rather than the chaos enveloping the rest of the club. 

Despite this, it seemed Gillo Urso couldn't keep Aymar entirely out of first-team affairs. 

One afternoon, Gillo showed up at the training grounds for the second team, his posture heavy with defeat. It was the first time the two had seen each other in months, and Gillo looked as though he had aged years in that time. His hair had turned noticeably gray, and the arrogance that once defined him was nowhere to be found. Instead, he carried an air of weariness, a man battling an unrelenting tide. 

Aymar watched him approach, his sharp eyes noting the subtle slouch in Gillo's shoulders. Initially, he'd imagined taking this moment to deliver a cutting remark, perhaps some ironic comment about Gillo's leadership. But as he took in the man's downtrodden appearance, Aymar found himself unable to do so. He wasn't one to kick someone when they were already down—especially when the outcome of their rivalry was already clear. 

"What brings you here?" Aymar asked, his tone neutral but not unkind. 

Gillo hesitated before speaking, his voice lacking its usual bluster. "I came to tell you… about Cassani." 

Aymar's expression didn't change, but his interest was piqued. 

"I didn't make the decision to pull him into the first team without consulting you," Gillo admitted, his voice faltering slightly. "That was Pastorello's call." 

Aymar remained quiet, processing the admission. He had suspected as much. The decision to move Barak without involving Aymar had felt calculated, and this confirmation only solidified his view of how fractured the club's hierarchy had become. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself, his face betraying no emotion. 

"I didn't come to make excuses," Gillo continued after a pause, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I need to discuss something with you." 

Aymar tilted his head, raising an eyebrow slightly, unsure of where this conversation was going. 

"It's your insight I need," Gillo added, his tone carrying an unusual humility, a sharp departure from his usual bluster. 

Aymar remained silent, his thoughts racing but his expression carefully neutral. For Gillo to approach him like this hinted at something significant. Whether it was desperation or genuine respect, Aymar couldn't yet tell.