Sunday, September 13, 2026
Blackwood City
Evaluation Day 6 of 90
At 6:32 a.m., Luca Veyron woke to the sound of rain against his window.
Not heavy rain.
Just enough to make the glass shimmer.
He reached for his phone.
Two notifications.
The first was from the academy.
Sunday Development Session — 8:30 a.m.
Players report to changing rooms by 8:00 a.m.
The second was from Aurora.
«Breakfast today.
Don’t disappear.»
Luca smiled.
Yesterday’s argument had clearly not been forgotten.
He typed:
«I won’t.»
Her response came quickly.
«7:00.
Café near the academy.»
Luca checked the clock again.
6:34.
He had less than thirty minutes to shower, dress, eat something small, and walk there.
He got out of bed.
His ankle was noticeably better.
Still not perfect, but the stiffness from earlier in the week had almost disappeared.
His palm was healing too.
He removed the bandage.
The scrape was dry.
He replaced it with a smaller dressing anyway.
Sofia would approve.
Probably.
Luca dressed quickly.
At 6:55, he left the academy residence.
Aurora was already waiting when Luca arrived.
The café was quieter than it had been yesterday.
Sunday morning traffic had not fully developed yet.
Aurora sat beside the window with a tablet in front of her and a cup of tea.
She looked up.
“You’re early.”
Luca pulled out the chair.
“You said seven.”
“It is seven.”
“Exactly.”
Aurora smiled.
“I was testing you.”
“That’s unfair.”
“So is football.”
Luca laughed.
She slid a plate toward him.
Toast, eggs, fruit, and yogurt.
He looked at it.
“How did you know?”
“Because yesterday you told me you had training at eight-thirty.”
“That’s a lot of food.”
“It’s breakfast.”
“I can’t eat all this before training.”
“Then eat what you can.”
Luca started with the eggs.
Aurora returned to her tablet.
For several minutes, the only sounds were cutlery and quiet conversation from another table.
Then Luca checked the time.
7:17.
Aurora noticed.
“Stop looking.”
“I’m supposed to report at eight.”
“You have forty-three minutes.”
“I need to change.”
“You’re already dressed.”
“Boots.”
“They’re in your bag.”
“Water.”
“You have a bottle.”
Luca looked at her.
Aurora lowered her tablet.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Trying to turn breakfast into another training session.”
Luca frowned.
“I’m just checking the time.”
“You’ve checked it four times.”
He glanced at the clock.
She was right.
Aurora took a sip of tea.
“You have enough time.”
Luca leaned back.
“Okay.”
“And you’re going to finish eating.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not running back to the academy.”
“I’m not.”
“Walk.”
He nodded.
“Walk.”
Aurora smiled.
“Good.”
The urgency hadn’t disappeared.
It had simply been put in its proper place.
Luca finished breakfast at 7:29.
They walked out together.
At the corner near the academy, Aurora stopped.
“I have work.”
“AURELIA?”
“Supplier documents.”
“You said the meeting was yesterday.”
“Meeting was yesterday.
Today is paperwork.”
Luca nodded.
“How did it go?”
“Better than expected.”
“That’s good.”
“It is.”
She looked at him.
“And you?”
“Training.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Luca understood.
He smiled.
“I didn’t train last night.”
“Good.”
“And I slept.”
“Very good.”
“And I ate.”
“Miraculous.”
He laughed.
Aurora stepped closer.
“Play your game today.”
“I will.”
“Don’t spend ninety minutes trying to prove you’re a different person.”
Luca nodded.
“I’ll try.”
She kissed his cheek.
“That’s all I ask.”
Then she turned toward the street.
Luca watched her leave before heading toward Blackwood.
For once, he wasn’t late.
At 7:51 a.m., Luca entered the academy changing room.
Elias Morrow was already there.
He looked up.
“You’re alive.”
“Apparently.”
“Breakfast with Aurora?”
“Yes.”
“Did she lecture you?”
Luca put his bag down.
“She challenged my scheduling.”
Elias laughed.
“That’s a polite way of saying she told you to stop being an idiot.”
“Pretty much.”
Marcus Renner walked in.
He had headphones around his neck and a bag over one shoulder.
“Morning.”
Elias pointed at Luca.
“Aurora kept him under control.”
Marcus looked impressed.
“That’s useful.”
Luca shook his head.
“Both of you are annoying.”
Ryan Mercer entered a moment later.
He glanced at the clock.
8:00.
“Coach is outside.”
The room became quieter.
Sunday sessions were usually lighter.
Today wasn’t.
A scout from a second-tier professional club was expected to attend.
Nobody knew exactly who.
Everyone knew someone was watching.
At 8:27 a.m., the players walked onto the training pitch.
The rain had stopped.
The grass remained wet.
Water clung to the blades and darkened the training tops around the players’ socks.
Victor Halden stood near the halfway line.
Beside him were Adrian Vale and a man Luca didn’t recognize.
The stranger wore a dark coat and carried a small tablet.
He wasn’t trying to look important.
That made Luca notice him more.
Adrian approached the group.
“Mr.
Stefan Keller is here from Eastborough Athletic.”
A few players straightened.
Eastborough Athletic were an established professional club from the neighboring country of Astoria.
Not a giant.
Not a club that could simply buy every young player it wanted.
But a real professional destination.
Keller gave a brief nod.
“I’m here to observe.
Nothing more.”
Victor looked at the players.
“Then give him something worth observing.”
The session began.
The opening drill focused on passing and movement.
Luca started on the right.
Ryan was on the opposite team.
Marcus played centrally.
Elias operated at left back.
Noah Kessler occupied the deeper midfield position.
The arrangement was temporary.
It still mattered.
The ball moved quickly.
Luca received from Noah.
His first touch took him slightly forward and inward.
He corrected.
A defender stepped toward him.
Luca didn’t accelerate.
Instead, he waited.
One second.
The defender shifted his weight.
Luca pushed the ball toward the outside.
Then accelerated.
The defender followed.
Luca stopped.
The defender overran him by half a step.
Luca cut inside.
The next pass went to Marcus.
Marcus returned it immediately.
Luca was already moving again.
He crossed low.
The ball was cleared.
Victor called for the next sequence.
Adrian said nothing.
But he watched Luca’s feet.
Not the ball.
His feet.
The second drill was more demanding.
Four attackers against three defenders.
The attackers had to reach the final zone within eight seconds.
Luca began wide.
The first pass went to Ryan’s side.
The defenders shifted.
Luca moved inward.
Noah saw him.
The pass came.
Luca received between the fullback and midfielder.
The central defender stepped forward.
Instead of forcing the dribble, Luca played Marcus through.
Marcus shot.
Saved.
The goalkeeper held the ball.
The drill reset.
Keller made a note.
Luca didn’t see it.
Adrian did.
He walked toward Keller.
“What did you see?”
Keller looked at his tablet.
“He’s comfortable receiving outside.”
Adrian waited.
“And?”
“He doesn’t rush the second action.”
Adrian nodded.
“Anything else?”
Keller glanced back toward Luca.
“His first movement after releasing the ball is interesting.”
Adrian watched.
Luca was already back in position.
“Why?”
“He moves before the defense settles.”
Keller made another note.
“He’s not particularly strong.”
“No.”
“Not the fastest over twenty meters either.”
“No.”
“But he gets separation.”
Adrian’s eyes remained on the pitch.
“Because?”
Keller shrugged.
“Timing.
Maybe.”
Adrian said nothing.
He wanted to see more.
The first competitive exercise began at 9:16 a.m.
Full-width pitch.
Two teams.
Small goals at either end.
Five-minute periods.
The objective was simple.
Create.
Transition.
Recover.
Repeat.
Luca took his place on the right.
Ryan stood opposite him.
Marcus waited centrally.
The whistle went.
For the first minute, Luca barely touched the ball.
He didn’t chase it.
He held his position.
That was different from earlier in the week.
He had learned that being involved didn’t mean constantly demanding possession.
Then Noah intercepted.
The ball came to Luca.
One touch.
He drove forward.
Ryan’s teammate closed him down.
Luca slowed.
The defender expected the burst.
Luca didn’t give it.
He cut inside instead.
A second defender stepped across.
Marcus moved between them.
Luca slipped the ball through.
Marcus collected.
Shot.
Blocked.
The ball rebounded toward the right.
Luca reached it first.
This time he accelerated.
The defender turned.
Luca beat him by a step.
He entered the box.
The goalkeeper moved forward.
Luca looked toward Marcus.
The striker had two defenders around him.
Instead of forcing the pass, Luca cut the ball backward.
Noah arrived.
Shot.
Goal.
Noah raised a hand.
“Good!”
Luca nodded.
The play had not been spectacular.
It had simply been correct.
Adrian wrote something down.
Keller did too.
The next period exposed Luca’s weaknesses.
A loose pass put his team under pressure.
Luca failed to track the runner quickly enough.
The opposing midfielder entered space behind him.
Elias shouted.
“Luca!”
Luca turned too late.
The cross came in.
The striker headed wide.
Victor blew the whistle.
“Transition!”
Luca knew immediately.
He had switched off.
He jogged back into position.
Victor looked directly at him.
“You’re not a spectator when we lose the ball.”
“I know.”
“Then act like it.”
Luca nodded.
The next attack came almost immediately.
This time, possession was lost on the left.
Luca reacted before the pass reached the opposing midfielder.
He sprinted across.
Closed the angle.
Forced the player backward.
Elias arrived.
Together, they won the ball.
Luca didn’t celebrate.
He was already moving forward.
The academy moved with him.
That transition became an attack.
It ended with Marcus shooting over the bar.
Still, Adrian noticed.
The mistake hadn’t disappeared.
The response had improved.
At 10:04 a.m., the final game began.
The players were tired.
The wet grass had become heavier under their boots.
The tempo dropped slightly.
That was when the differences between players became clearer.
Some relied on speed.
Others on strength.
Some stopped making runs.
Others demanded the ball.
Luca’s legs felt heavy.
He received the ball near the touchline.
Ryan was pressing from behind.
Luca protected it.
The defender ahead waited.
Marcus made a run.
Noah moved into support.
Luca had three options.
Cross.
Pass inside.
Drive forward.
He chose the third.
One touch toward the line.
Burst.
The defender matched him.
Luca slowed.
Then accelerated again.
The second change of pace created half a meter.
Enough.
He entered the final third.
The center-back moved across.
Marcus was now between two defenders.
Luca didn’t cross.
He cut inside.
His left foot came around the ball.
The shot curled toward the far corner.
The goalkeeper stretched.
Fingertips.
The ball struck the post.
It bounced across the goalmouth and out.
Luca stopped.
He had both hands on his head.
Marcus walked over.
“That was close.”
“Too close.”
“It was a good shot.”
Luca jogged back.
The game continued.
No miracle followed.
No dramatic goal.
That was fine.
The chance itself mattered.
At 10:31 a.m., the session ended.
The players walked toward the changing rooms.
Some dropped onto the benches immediately.
Others stretched.
Luca sat down and removed his boots.
His ankle felt stable.
His legs were tired.
His palm had reopened slightly beneath the dressing.
A thin red mark showed across the healing scrape.
He noticed it.
So did Sofia.
She approached.
“Show me.”
Luca held out his hand.
She inspected it.
“Not bad.”
“It opened a little.”
“Because?”
“Probably the gloves.”
“You weren’t wearing gloves.”
Luca smiled.
“Then probably the ground.”
“Better answer.”
She cleaned the small mark.
“It isn’t serious.
Keep it clean.”
“Okay.”
She looked at his ankle.
“And?”
“Fine.”
“Actually fine?”
“Actually fine.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
Then she moved to another player.
Luca looked toward the pitch.
Adrian and Keller were still talking.
That made him uneasy.
Not because he had done badly.
Because something might happen.
At 10:47 a.m., Victor called the players back outside.
Everyone gathered near the halfway line.
Keller stood beside him.
“I’ve seen enough for today.”
Nobody moved.
Keller looked across the group.
“I’m not making offers.”
A few shoulders relaxed.
Others dropped.
He continued.
“Eastborough Athletic is interested in receiving additional footage on several academy players.”
Luca’s attention sharpened.
“Three players in particular.”
Marcus looked straight ahead.
Ryan did too.
“Marcus Renner.”
Marcus nodded.
“Ryan Mercer.”
Ryan’s expression remained controlled.
Then:
“Luca Veyron.”
Luca froze.
For a second, he wondered if he’d heard correctly.
Keller continued.
“Your current level isn’t sufficient for a professional recommendation.”
The words were blunt.
Luca’s stomach tightened.
Then Keller added,
“Yet.”
The single word changed the room.
“We want another evaluation sample over the coming weeks.
Match footage, training footage, physical data, and positional development.”
He looked toward Victor.
“If the academy agrees, send the reports through your normal recruitment channel.”
Victor nodded.
“Understood.”
Keller turned toward the players.
“Being observed is not the same as being selected.”
Then he left.
The group slowly dispersed.
Marcus looked at Luca.
“Congratulations.”
Luca shook his head.
“I wasn’t selected.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because they asked for more.”
Marcus smiled.
“That’s better than nothing.”
He walked away.
Ryan stopped beside Luca.
“Don’t get excited.”
Luca looked at him.
Ryan shrugged.
“They asked for more footage of me too.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Ryan continued toward the changing room.
Competition remained.
So did respect.
Adrian waited until the other players had gone.
“Veyron.”
Luca turned.
“Yes?”
“Stay.”
Luca stopped.
Victor was still nearby.
Adrian looked at the pitch.
“Show me the first sequence again.”
Luca frowned.
“Which one?”
“The one where you received from Noah, waited for the defender, then accelerated.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see whether it was instinct or coincidence.”
Victor glanced at Adrian.
Adrian didn’t look back.
Luca returned to the pitch.
Noah had already left, so Adrian played the ball himself.
“Start here.”
Luca stood near the right touchline.
Adrian passed.
Luca received.
“Again.”
He repeated it.
Adrian changed the angle.
Again.
Then again.
Different speeds.
Different starting positions.
Different defensive pressure.
The pattern remained.
Luca’s first touch consistently angled his body toward the space ahead.
His next movement was usually toward the line before he decided whether to cut inside.
When defenders opened their hips, Luca accelerated.
When they stayed square, he slowed and manipulated them.
Adrian finally raised his hand.
“Stop.”
Luca did.
Adrian walked toward him.
“How do you decide?”
“Decide what?”
“Whether to go outside or inside.”
Luca thought.
“I don’t know.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“That’s what I thought.”
Luca looked confused.
“You don’t know?”
“I mean you don’t consciously calculate it.”
Adrian pointed toward the right flank.
“Your body is reading the defender before your brain turns it into words.”
Luca looked at the grass.
Adrian continued.
“That’s different from what happens when you’re central.”
Luca looked up.
“You noticed that?”
“I noticed it days ago.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because noticing something isn’t the same as proving it.”
That answer stayed with Luca.
Adrian wasn’t giving him a position.
He wasn’t promising him a contract.
He was studying him.
That was different.
Adrian handed him the ball.
“One more.”
Luca took his position.
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow isn’t today.”
Luca smiled.
Then he started again.
At 12:18 p.m., Luca sat alone outside the changing room.
His boots were beside him.
His notebook rested on his knee.
He wrote slowly.
Scout observation — Eastborough Athletic.
Requested additional footage.
He stopped.
Then:
Not selected.
He added another line.
Still being evaluated.
That felt more accurate.
His phone vibrated.
Aurora.
«How did it go?»
Luca looked toward the training pitch.
He typed:
«A scout watched.»
Three dots appeared.
«And?»
He smiled.
«They want more footage.»
Her response came almost immediately.
«Then give them something worth watching.»
Luca laughed quietly.
«You sound like Coach Halden.»
«Absolutely not.
I have better taste.»
He put the phone away.
The pressure remained.
But now there was something concrete in front of him.
Not a contract.
Not a guarantee.
A request for more.
That was enough to make tomorrow matter.
At 6:43 p.m., Adrian Vale sat in the academy analysis room.
The building was mostly quiet.
He replayed the morning’s footage.
He watched Luca’s first touch.
Pause.
Rewind.
Play.
Again.
Then he pulled up footage from the previous week.
Luca as a striker.
Luca in midfield.
Luca on the left.
Then today’s right-wing sequences.
The difference wasn’t dramatic in one isolated movement.
It appeared through accumulation.
His shoulders sat differently.
His first touch opened different passing lanes.
His acceleration came at different moments.
His scanning was more frequent.
Most importantly, he seemed to recognize the next action sooner.
Adrian leaned back.
He had coached hundreds of young players.
Some were faster.
Some stronger.
Some technically cleaner.
A few were more talented than Luca.
But Luca’s problem had never been a complete absence of ability.
It was direction.
He opened a new development report.
Player: Luca Veyron
Position under evaluation: Right Wing
He hesitated before typing the next sentence.
Recommendation: Continue targeted observation.
Then another.
Investigate positional misdevelopment and potential long-term fit as inverted right winger.
He saved the report.
It wasn’t a contract.
It wasn’t a promotion.
It wasn’t even a guarantee that Victor would change Luca’s position permanently.
It was simply the first formal document at Blackwood suggesting that Luca might have been developed incorrectly.
That mattered.
At 9:56 p.m., Luca lay in bed.
His legs were tired.
His ankle had held up.
His palm needed another dressing.
The scout had not offered him anything.
Ryan remained ahead.
Marcus remained the academy’s golden boy.
Victor still had doubts.
The ninety-day evaluation remained.
But there was now a line in an academy report with his name on it.
Right Wing.
Not because the System had said it.
Not because Luca desperately wanted it.
Because someone who understood football had watched him closely enough to become curious.
Luca turned off the light.
Tomorrow was Monday.
Another training day.
Another chance to make the argument with his feet.
He closed his eyes.
At 10:02 p.m., the System appeared.
[PLAYER DEVELOPMENT SYSTEM]
Evaluation Day: 6/90
Days Remaining: 84
External Evaluation Detected.
Scout Interest: Preliminary
Professional Recommendation: Not established
Development Requirement: Continue measurable positional improvement.
A second message appeared.
Primary Positional Compatibility: RIGHT WING
Luca read it once.
Then closed it.
The screen disappeared.
Outside his room, someone laughed in the corridor.
A door shut.
Water ran through the pipes.
Blackwood was still awake.
So was Luca.
But tonight, he didn’t need to train.
Tomorrow would come whether he chased it or not.
And when it did, he would have to be ready.
Evaluation Day 6 of 90.
84 days remained.
Wait