Chapter 58: Chapter 57: First Team [III]
The game continued at a relentless pace.
Demien ran until his lungs burned and his legs trembled, chasing players who seemed to have endless stamina, trying to keep up with the tactical demands while also contributing in attack.
At one point he received the ball under pressure from de Roon, managed to turn away from the challenge with a quick touch, and played a diagonal pass to the wing that created space for a shot.
The shot went wide, but Gasperini clapped his hands once in approval of the pass.
But then five minutes later Demien got caught out of position when trying to press high, and de Roon played a simple ball through the gap he’d left, leading to a goal for the other team.
Gasperini’s whistle blew immediately.
"Demien! What did I tell you earlier about over-committing? You pressed too early and left a hole! Read the trigger first!"
"Yes, Coach!"
They reset and continued.
Demien made mistakes—a poor pass that went straight to an opponent, a missed tackle that let someone through, a moment of hesitation that cost his team possession.
But he also had good moments—a clever one-two with Koopmeiners that beat two defenders, a recovery run that tracked back and prevented a goal, a long pass that switched play and created an opportunity.
By the time the final whistle blew to end the session, Demien was drenched in sweat, his legs were shaking with fatigue, and every muscle in his body ached.
But he’d survived.
He’d kept up.
He’d shown enough quality that Gasperini hadn’t pulled him aside for extra criticism, and several of the senior players had given him approving nods.
The system chimed its approval.
「MISSION COMPLETE」
「Complete Today’s Training Session」
「Reward: 10 TP」
「Current Balance: 184 TP | 10 SP | 50 MP」
He dismissed it and followed the squad back toward the locker room, his legs heavy and his body already feeling the accumulated fatigue.
As they walked off the pitch, several of the senior players approached him carrying their training boots.
"Here," Pašalić said with a grin, handing over his muddy boots. "Tradition for new signings. You wash everyone’s boots after the first session."
Demien looked around and saw more players approaching with their boots, grins on their faces, and he couldn’t help but shake his head even as exhaustion pressed down on him.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," Tolói confirmed, adding his boots to the growing pile in Demien’s arms. "Welcome to the first team."
By the time everyone had contributed, Demien was holding at least fifteen pairs of muddy boots.
He carried them to the washing area near the equipment room, filled a large sink with warm water and soap, and started scrubbing.
His arms ached.
His legs ached.
Everything ached.
But he scrubbed every boot clean, rinsed them thoroughly, and set them on the drying rack one by one while his mind replayed the training session over and over.
The speed. The precision. The intensity.
This was the level he needed to reach if he wanted to survive here.
When he finally finished and returned to the locker room, most players had already showered and left, but a few were still lingering—Malinovskiy, de Roon, and Zappacosta talking near the benches.
"All done?" Malinovskiy called over.
"All done," Demien confirmed.
"Good man. Get showered and get some rest. Tomorrow’s another session."
Demien grabbed his towel and headed to the showers, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and grime while his muscles slowly began to relax.
When he emerged, dressed in his street clothes, he said goodbye to the remaining players and headed out of the complex.
As he walked through the facility toward the exit, he spotted Moretti coming out of the physio room.
"Demien!" Moretti jogged over with a tired grin. "First day done?"
"Barely survived," Demien admitted. "You?"
"Same. Been doing this for a week now and I’m still dying every session." Moretti fell into step beside him as they headed toward the gates. "How’d it go?"
"Intense. Really intense. The pace is crazy compared to U23."
"Right? I tried to warn you but you have to experience it to understand." Moretti shook his head. "At least we’re in it together now."
They reached the gate and parted ways, Moretti heading toward the bus stop while Demien started the walk back to the apartment.
The walk back felt twice as long as the morning walk had been.
This was first team football.
And tomorrow he’d have to do it all over again.
Tuesday, July 29th, 2022
The second day was somehow harder than the first.
Demien woke up sore, his muscles protesting every movement as he dragged himself out of bed and prepared for training.
Luca was already awake, making breakfast in the small kitchen.
"You look like death," Luca observed cheerfully.
"Thanks," Demien muttered, pouring himself coffee.
"First team training that bad?"
"It’s... intense."
"You’ll get used to it." Luca clapped him on the shoulder. "I start with the U23s again today. At least I don’t have to wash anyone’s boots."
Demien managed a tired laugh and finished his coffee before heading out.
The training session that morning followed a similar structure—warm-up, possession drills, positional work, small-sided games—but Gasperini himself was more involved today, stopping play frequently to correct positioning or explain tactical concepts.
Demien found himself both impressing and struggling in equal measure.
He completed a series of passes that earned a nod from Gasperini.
But he also mistimed a pressing trigger and got yelled at for leaving a gap in midfield.
Moretti, training alongside him, was experiencing similar ups and downs, and during a water break they exchanged exhausted looks.
"This is crazy," Moretti said quietly, his chest heaving. "I thought I was fit, but this is different."
"Different level entirely," Demien agreed. "But we’re keeping up."
"Barely."
"Barely is enough for now."
The training session ended with conditioning work—repeated sprints that left Demien’s legs feeling like jelly—and when the final whistle blew he collapsed onto the grass for a moment before forcing himself back to his feet.
「MISSION COMPLETE」
「Complete Today’s Training Session」
「Reward: 10 TP」
「Current Balance: 194 TP | 10 SP | 50 MP」
As they walked off the pitch, Demien checked his phone while changing and saw a notification from Instagram.
Fabrizio Romano had posted.
He opened it.
@FabrizioRomano: 🚨 OFFICIAL! Ademola Lookman to Atalanta, HERE WE GO confirmed! €15m deal from RB Leipzig, medical scheduled for next week. Gasperini gets his winger! 🔵⚫️✅ #Atalanta #Transfers
The comments were already rolling in, Atalanta fans celebrating the signing of the English winger, and Demien felt a strange mix of emotions.
Lookman would be competition for minutes.
Another talented player fighting for the same opportunities.
But that was football at this level.
He put his phone away and focused on getting showered and heading home.
Wednesday - Thursday
The next two days blurred together in a haze of training, recovery, and sleep.
Demien was improving, his body slowly adapting to the demands, but the soreness never fully went away and every session pushed him to his limits.
Moretti remained his companion in struggle, and they often found themselves encouraging each other during the hardest moments.
"One more drill," Moretti would say, gasping for air. "We can do one more."
"Yeah," Demien would agree, forcing his legs to move again. "One more."
The system continued rewarding him for completing each session—10 TP every time—and his balance slowly climbed.
194 TP. 204 TP. 214 TP. 224 TP.
But he had no time to think about using them, no energy left at the end of each day to do anything except eat and collapse into bed.
By Thursday evening, Luca started complaining that Demien was boring.
"You just train and sleep," Luca said, sprawled on the couch while Demien heated up leftovers. "That’s your entire life now."
"Pretty much," Demien admitted. "This is what it takes."
"Well, don’t forget about the rest of us when you become a superstar."
Demien smiled tiredly. "Not worried about that yet. Just trying to survive pre-season."