Turin, Italy - August 2005
Rain lashed the windows of a rundown apartment in Turin's working-class outskirts. Lorenzo Luca, 36, slumped in a chair, eyes sunken, an empty whisky bottle rolling at his feet. The room was a graveyard of broken dreams: a tattered Torino scarf hung from a rusty nail; yellowed newspaper clippings, taped to the wall, boasted faded headlines: "Toni'sNephew, Torino'sNewStar" and "LorenzoLuca, theFutureBianconero." But newer ones stung like knives:"Lorenzo Luca, Another Fallen Star," "Turin'sTraitor," "Toni'sHeir, aFailure." A deflated football, blanketed in dust, lay in a corner, a silent witness to his downfall.
Lorenzo was the adopted nephew of Luca Toni, Italy's legendary striker who defined an era at Fiorentina, Bayern Munich, and the 2006 World Cup-winning squad. After losing his parents in a car crash at 8, Luca, then a rising forward, took him in as a younger brother in Verona, teaching him to kick a ball and dream of greatness. Lorenzo's talent shone early, a natural goal-scoring instinct mirroring his uncle's. At 15, in July 2005, Torino, battling in Serie B, signed him to their academy. At 16, in February 2006, he debuted for the first team, playing 8 matches, scoring 2 goals, and notching 1 assist—modest numbers for a kid, but his knack for finding the net had fans dreaming. In 2006-07, Torino climbed to Serie A, and Lorenzo, still young, was hailed as "Pequeño Toni."
At 20, in the summer of 2009, just before turning 21 on September 21, Juventus, the city's hated rival and his boyhood club, signed him for 8 million euros. For Torino, reeling from financial woes, the money was a lifeline, clearing debts and bolstering the squad. But to the granata fans, it was betrayal. Lorenzo, their idol, became a villain. Chants of support turned to jeers; at every derby, banners at Stadio Olimpico branded him "traitor" and "mercenary." Early social media burned with hate, accusing him of selling his soul. The rejection crushed him, turning his love for Torino into a wound that never healed. He tried to win over Juventus fans, but the pressure of being "the next Toni" and the granata's scorn broke him.
A ligament injury in his right knee during a Juventus training session, months after his signing, sidelined him for six months. He returned a shadow of himself. The weight of the Toni name, the expectations of being a bianconero star, and competition with forwards like Amauri and Quagliarella overwhelmed him. In 2011, a loan to Parma yielded 10 matches and a single goal. A 2012 loan to Hellas Verona was worse: a fractured ankle kept him out for a season. Back at Juventus in 2013, he was a nobody, scraping minutes in Coppa Italia, never trusted by the coach. At 24, he was sold to Sassuolo, a mid-tier Serie A side, but his life unraveled. Nights of partying in Milan, alcohol, and toxic friends pulled him from the pitch. By 2016, at 27, he was in Serie C with Pro Vercelli, where a third major injury—his left knee—left him limping. His final years were a nightmare: six-month contracts with third-tier clubs like Alessandria and Novara, barely playing. By 30, he was clubless, forgotten by fans and media. Luca Toni, his staunchest supporter, tried to help, but Lorenzo, drowning in guilt, Torino's hatred, and depression, pushed him away.
That night, in his apartment, a pill bottle sat on the table, the echo of headlines and jeers ringing in his ears. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I wasn't enough," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. He swallowed the pills, and darkness claimed him.
Turin, Italy - August 2005
Lorenzo snapped awake, gasping. The air smelled of fresh grass and old wood. He was in a narrow bed, in a small room in Turin's humble suburbs. Posters of Alessandro Del Piero and Gianluigi Buffon plastered the walls, a granata Torino scarf pinned above his desk. His heart pounded. "What…?" He ran to the mirror: a 16-year-old face stared back. Messy hair, dark eyes brimming with life. It was him, Lorenzo Luca, a month shy of 17, on September 21, 2005.
"This can't be real," he muttered. Memories of his death, the pills, the failure, hit like a sledgehammer. Every transfer flop, every injury, every night lost to bars, the Torino fans' hatred—they burned in his mind. Then, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in his head.
Football System Activated
User: Lorenzo Luca
Age: 16 years
weight and height:72kg (158.733 lb), 1,88cm
Stats:
Pace: 60 (88)
Dribbling: 58 (84)
Shooting: 68 (93)
Passing: 55 (82)
Stamina: 62 (87)
Mentality: 48 (90)
Template: Luca Toni - 10%
(Train to increase the percentage and emulate Luca Toni's center-forward style: strength, finishing, and presence in the box.)
Lorenzo clutched the sink, dizzy. The system was bare-bones—no missions, no levels, just stats and a template linking him to his uncle, the striker ruling Italy. The more he trained, the closer he'd get to Toni's style: a towering, deadly force in the box. But his past haunted him: the shattered Juventus dream, the granata fans' "traitor" chants, the loans to Parma and Verona, the knee and ankle injuries, the parties, the Serie C spiral, the oblivion.
He stared into the mirror, fists clenched. He was in Turin, 2005, a promising striker in Torino's Serie B academy, signed in July at 15. His first-team debut was months away, February 2006. Juventus, his true love, ruled Serie A with Del Piero and Zlatan before their relegation this season after finishing Serie A as champions. Lorenzo knew his mission: become the greatest Italian footballer, surpassing Roberto Baggio, Francesco Totti, Sandro Mazzola, Paolo Maldini, Tardelli, Gaetano Scirea, Alessandro Del Piero even his uncle, and carve his name as a Juventus legend. But he also wanted to redeem himself with Torino's fans, to prove his love for football transcended rivalries. "No more mistakes," he vowed, eyes on the granata scarf. The system in his mind glowed silently, waiting for his actions to speak.