Time's Ticking (1)

"What the hell was that just now, huh?" Luca shouted the moment they entered the locker room. "Did you hear me? What was that? Are your ears suddenly deaf?" He grabbed Dario by the collar as he walked in.

Dario, who was being yelled at, quickly snapped back. "Get your hands off me."

"You should be the one getting your hands off that handkerchief. Do you even realize how stupid you looked out there?" Luca was still fuming.

"It's just a preseason match," Dario clicked his tongue. "And besides, the score's only 1-0."

"1-0 in our defeat."

"Didn't I already say it's just a preseason match? Do you even understand what that means? Wins and losses don't matter here. Tell me, are we going to get points or a trophy if we win?"

"You piece of—"

"Enough!" Sandro quickly intervened, shoving the two apart. "If I hear one more word, both of you are getting knocked out."

Dario and Luca turned away, grinding their teeth. It wasn't fear of Sandro's threat but a realization that shouting at each other would be a pointless waste of energy—at least, that's what they convinced themselves.

"Coach, go ahead—wait, what are you doing?" Sandro asked, confused, noticing Rashid looking all dressed up as if he were about to head out.

"There's a sudden family matter. I have to go."

"In the middle of the game?" Sandro still couldn't wrap his head around it.

"It's an emergency, Sandro. I won't be long. I promise I'll be back no later than 10 minutes before the match ends."

"And who's going to take over for you?" This time, Enzo chimed in.

Rashid then glanced at Gigi, who was scribbling something in the corner of the room, and the others followed suit, eyes landing on her. It took a few seconds before she realized she was now the center of attention. "Y-you mean me?"

"You must be joking." Enzo was dumbfounded. Not only were they trailing by the end of the first half, but they also struggled to break down Spezia's rock-solid defense.

Enzo had been hoping for a breakthrough, something like what Rashid had pulled off against Milan.

But an intern like her? Enzo figured he could come up with better tactics himself.

"I've already handed over my game plan to her, along with alternatives depending on the situations you'll face." Rashid grabbed his bag. "I won't be long. Just do your best while I'm away."

After Rashid left, Gigi took her place in the center of the room. She looked around at the players, who all stared back at her.

'They're much scarier up close,' Gigi pushed aside the negative thoughts. For over a month, she had been studying Rashid's every move. Rashid even took time to discuss tactics with her and asked for suggestions they might use.

To Gigi, this task should be a breeze. "A-all right, let's get back out there and kill them all."

It was the exact phrase Rashid had said before the first half, but all the players were thinking the same thing. 'We're doomed.'

* * *

That, of course, was a lie. Rashid had no family here.

While watching the first half, Rashid had come to a conclusion: if he didn't find a solution to the lack of creativity up front, they were stuck.

He had been too naive, thinking a superior defense would frustrate Spezia and force them into an all-out attack strategy.

However, it seemed Spezia was also aware of the stakes, playing it safe. Logically, why would a team from a higher league play defensively against a lower-league team?

To make matters worse, Spezia's lineup was filled with experienced players who were difficult to provoke. They pressed high, but it was a flexible variation meant to create surprise elements. One of these surprises had led to the first goal.

Though Aeterna seemed to dominate, it was a false dominance. In reality, Rashid and his squad were just playing into Farina's hands.

And so, Rashid had to bet everything. He had to make a deal with the devil.

He arrived at the hotel where he first stayed when he got here. But this wasn't a nostalgic trip.

Rashid walked straight into the small hotel's restaurant. The same bartender was there. This time, when he saw Rashid, there was no longer that bewildered expression as though Rashid were the strangest man on Earth.

Rashid asked to exchange his 2500 euros for 500 tokens and headed to the old casino machine.

The only thing that convinced him this would work was the fact that the virtual window still popped up whenever he wished for it.

[Exchange 500 tokens to receive 1 random player card, from Class C to Class S.]

Rashid took a deep breath, exhaled, and inserted all the tokens he had just gotten into the machine. He started pressing the buttons.

The screen displayed five spinning slots, random images flashing by.

Apple, apple, orange, banana...

Wait. Surely, he wasn't going to fail just because of this initial mechanism, right?

Then, the machine displayed the fifth image.

A cherry. 'You failed.'

Rashid's mouth hung open. He tried calling up the virtual screen again, hoping he wasn't just going insane from frustration.

The virtual window appeared, but the casino machine didn't spit out anything.

Rashid was dumbfounded.

It seemed this was going to take longer than expected.

* * *

"Play properly, dammit!" Luca shouted through clenched teeth, his anger boiling over as he glanced at the scoreboard.

It was the 67th minute. The score was 0-2. Looking at the match stats, you'd think Aeterna was in the lead. But the names on the scoreboard belonged to Daniele Verde and Emanuel Gyasi, both Spezia players. Two goals from two different players in two separate halves. The only thing in common? Both goals resulted from Aeterna's mistakes, not open play.

Spezia was proving that football isn't just about possession or who takes the most shots on goal.

'You can take the ball home. We'll take the victory.'

Luca remembered how Gyasi said that after scoring the second goal.

"If only our forwards were more effective, we wouldn't be trailing now."

Luca was startled by a voice behind him. He turned to Enzo and exploded again. "So now you're blaming me? Isn't your job to make sure the ball never enters the net?"

Enzo bit his lip, unwilling to be blamed further. "This is a game where the team with the most goals wins, not the team with the strongest defense."

"Don't you dare—"

"Enough." Sandro stepped between them. He didn't say anything else but gave Luca a look. "There's still time. There's still a chance. Now, get the ball moving."

Luca scoffed and retrieved the ball, restarting play with a kickoff. He passed to Sandro, then immediately called for it back.

Sandro frowned and instead rolled it to Enzo. Luca, frustrated, raised his arms dramatically, enough to catch the attention of an opposing player.

Just as Luca finally got the ball, he was tackled by a short figure with brown hair. It was Salazar Dest, the substitute who came on in the 50th minute.

Salazar Dest, an 18-year-old modern full-back. His style of cutting inside and delivering progressive passes had earned him the nickname "the next Trent Alexander-Arnold."

Salazar was a top-10 contender for the Golden Boy award this year. His club, S.L. Benfica, had loaned him to Spezia to give him experience and regular playing time, hoping to sell him to a bigger club for a high price. His current market value was 35 million euros.

Salazar's rough, reckless challenge was deemed a foul by the referee.

Salazar just smiled. He approached Luca, extending a hand, though it was more than just an empty gesture.

"You're really struggling. Feeling tired yet, old man?"

Luca scowled. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, is the truth too bitter for you to swallow?" Salazar patted him on the shoulder. "You used to be Turin's pride. Such a bright talent. But what do I see now?" Salazar leaned closer, whispering in Luca's ear. "Admit it. You're washed up."

Salazar shoved Luca back to the ground. "Enjoy rotting in the trash while I dance in the European spotlight." He walked away, chuckling.

'Turin?' That stirred unpleasant memories in Luca's mind. Turin was his hometown, where Juventus academy scouts first discovered his talent.

But that day came, and everything changed.

Only Aeterna's executives and previous coaches knew about his background as a former Juventus academy player. Even senior players like Sandro were unaware.

But how did Salazar, an outsider, know?

Unless... he wasn't an outsider.

Salazar Dest's devilish grin reminded Luca of someone. Someone who had haunted him for years.

Suddenly, an irrational anger flared up within Luca.

Sandro approached and helped Luca to his feet, this time genuinely pulling him up. "You idiot, I told you to look for your teammate and pass to the open man. Isn't that what Coach always tells us?"

"Yeah," Luca muttered curtly.

So curt it felt strange. Luca walked away, leaving Sandro puzzled by his sudden obedience.

The match restarted with a free-kick, which Enzo stepped up to take. It was the same set-piece play they had used against Milan.

But this time, things didn't go as smoothly. Alberto Grassi intercepted the ball in the air before any Aeterna player could reach it. Without hesitation, he launched it forward, triggering a quick counter-attack.

Salazar took control, surging ahead with only Enzo and the Aeterna goalkeeper standing in his way. It was a 5-on-2 situation, with Spezia holding the advantage in numbers.

It all happened in a matter of seconds.

Luca, moving like a flash, darted past players and closed in on Salazar from behind.

'Good,' thought the Aeterna players. At that speed, Luca just needed to keep pace and shadow Salazar while the rest of the defense regrouped.

But Luca pushed him. It wasn't a challenge for the ball; it was an intentional act to hurt Salazar.

Salazar went tumbling, clearly in pain.

The whistle shrieked.

Luca heard the referee approaching. The referee shook his head and clicked his tongue before reaching into his pocket.

A red card.

Luca Santoro was sent off.