Camilo pushed forward, moving light on his feet.
The first defender came at him fast — he stepped to the side, rolled the ball with his right foot, cut through the gap, and slipped past. Easy.
The second one showed up right away, body positioned low, ready to stop him. Camilo waited, just for a second, before trying to move. The hologram defender reacted right away.
A quick blur of movement and the tackle came in clean, the kind that doesn't give you any chance to recover.
The ball flew off his foot and rolled into the grass, disappearing into pixels before it even stopped moving.
Camilo stood there for a moment, his chest moving up and down as he breathed. He didn't chase after it this time. He just… let out a breath.
"Again," he said to himself.
The field pulsed with a faint blue light. A new ball appeared, glowing a little before settling on the grass.
He went at it again, moving faster this time. The first defender was gone in a flash. The second one was quicker now though. Camilo dropped his shoulder down, cut in hard, almost made it through but the tackle came again.
He stumbled a little bit, caught his balance… and then he laughed.
He actually laughed out loud.
The two hologram defenders reset themselves quietly, going back to their starting positions like nothing had happened. Camilo was still smiling, hands resting on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead. Because he realized something important... he wasn't afraid this time. Not of the tackle. Not of the pain. Not of falling down again.
The system stayed quiet, just floating faintly beside him, tracking every single move he made.
He kept training for another hour, doing the drills over and over again, sometimes beating the first defender, sometimes not even making it past the first one. His touches were getting sharper now, his breathing was steadier. The fear that had been wrapped around his leg like heavy chains was slowly breaking apart, getting replaced with rhythm and muscle memory.
Even if he never got past the second defender completely, it didn't really matter. Each run felt a little bit smoother, a little bit closer, like his body was slowly remembering what it used to be able to do.
A faint dinging sound blinked across what he could see.
[Skill Progress: +0.02% — Dribbling]
He smiled quietly to himself. "That's it? That little?"
Still, he knew... progress was progress, no matter how small.
When he finally dropped down onto the grass, his shirt was sticking to his back, his hair was damp with sweat. He laid flat on the field, staring up at the night sky.
For the first time since the accident happened, he didn't feel broken anymore. He felt light. He felt free.
The faint display glowed above him.
[Condition: Stable]
[Skill Progress: Dribbling +0.02%]
[Confidence: Rising]
He smiled a little at the last line there.
"Confidence? I didn't know you tracked that too," he said quietly.
The system didn't say anything back.
Camilo closed his eyes. The wind brushed past him softly, and his thoughts started drifting —
How long would this take?
Could it really make him the greatest of all time?
He smiled again. "I guess we'll find out."
_____
Two days later.
The sun had barely come up over Toulouse when Camilo got to the training center on the Île du Ramier. The morning air was cool and fresh, with the smell of damp grass and river water.
He walked through the gates, seeing the familiar sight of the club's emblem in front of him — Toulouse FC — white letters, proud and against deep purple.
A few players were already out on the pitch, stretching their legs and warming up. The sound of cleats hitting softly against the turf echoed faintly.
Camilo adjusted the strap on his bag and started walking toward the field.
The moment he showed up, the Head Coach and Manager, Adrian Volkan, looked up from his clipboard. The man's eyes got narrow right away, and with a quick wave of his hand, he called Camilo over.
Camilo jogged up to him, trying to hide the grin that was pulling at his lips.
Adrian crossed his arms over his chest. "How do you feel now, Camilo?"
Camilo smiled. "Much better, Coach."
Adrian's eyebrows pulled together slightly. "Nancy sent me your medical report and it looks good. But… are you sure you're ready to play again?"
Camilo nodded fast, maybe a bit too fast. "Of course, Coach. I'm fit now. 100% ready."
The coach looked at him for a long second, his expression hard to read. Then he let out a sigh and looked toward the assistant coach.
"Luca! Mendez is joining in today," he called out.
Luca Moretti, a former midfielder who became assistant coach, turned toward Camilo as Camilo jogged towards him.
"Finally back, huh?" he said, clapping Camilo's shoulder. "Good to have you with us again, kid."
Camilo laughed softly. "It feels good to be back, Coach."
Luca turned toward the team, clapping his hands twice. "Alright boys! Quick drill to start, two-touch passing. Camilo, you're with the yellow bibs. Don't hold back today. I want to see some real pace out there!"
A few of the players cheered lightly as Camilo jogged over toward them. Someone whistled. "Yo. Mendez is back!"
He grinned wide, feeling that old spark inside him again.
As they started passing the ball around, the familiar rhythm came back. Ball to foot, pass it, control it, turn. The thud-thud sound of cleats kicking ball filled the air around them.
The system flickered faintly in his vision.
[Training Session: Active]
[Stamina Tracking: On]
[Performance Syncing: 72%]
Camilo blinked but kept playing.
It wasn't getting in the way, it never did. The display just floated there out of focus, like it was supposed to be there.
He passed, received the ball back and turned with it, no hesitation this time.
After a short while, Luca blew his whistle. "Alright, switch it up! Mendez, take the left side. Show me what you've got."
Camilo nodded, his heart starting to beat harder. The next drill started — a short scrimmage game, half-pitch.
He moved forward fast, pressing into the play. A teammate sent him a pass down the wing, he controlled it smoothly while running, sprinting fast.
The defender came in to close him down. He slowed down a bit, shifted his weight, faked going left and then slid right, passing by him clean.
Mario, one of his teammates, let out a low whistle. "Not bad, Camilo," he said with a grin, jogging past him.
Camilo just nodded, catching his breath.
Getting praise from Mario didn't happen often, not because the guy was mean, but because he only said it when he really meant it.
For the next twenty minutes, he played like he used to. Not perfect yet, but getting closer. The pain was completely gone. The fear was fading away.
When the drill ended, Luca walked up to them, clapping once. "That's more like it, boys. You too Camilo, good job out there."
Camilo let out a breath, smiling wide. "Thanks Coach."
But as he turned to walk away, he caught the faint glow of the display again.
[Task Progress: Updated]
[Mental Block — Overcome]
[Skill Progress: +0.05% — Dribbling]
[Confidence Restored]
He let out a quiet laugh to himself. "I guess it's official now," he said under his breath.
Luca turned around. "What's that?"
Camilo shook his head. "Nothing, Coach. Just… it's good to be back."
Luca smiled, giving his shoulder a light tap. "Good."
That was all he said before turning back to watch the other players. As the players started finishing up and wrapping things up, Camilo stayed there for a second on the edge of the pitch, looking at the reflection faintly showing on the display — His stats and his new progress numbers.
It wasn't a lot. But it was something.
[Dribbling: 80 → 80.1]
[Speed: 74 → 74.2]
[Confidence: Restored]
[Condition: Excellent]
[Next Objective: ???]
He smiled a little, wiping sweat off his forehead.
"Let's see where this thing takes me," he whispered to himself as he headed toward the locker room.
---
To be continued...