Chapter 6 : Invisible

After they finished eating, Nico stood up, dusted off his pants, and stretched his arms. Aitana followed suit, tossing the burrito wrapper into the trash.

As they started walking, she noticed they were heading in the direction of her house. She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Why are you walking me back?"

Nico smirked, his emerald green eyes glinting with mischief under the streetlights. "Well, I am a gentleman, you know."

Aitana rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Oh, really?" she said, crossing her arms. "Since when?"

Nico gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "Since always! You just never noticed."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Right, right. The great Nico Cryuff, footballing prodigy and now, apparently, a gentleman too. What's next? Poet?"

Nico grinned. "Maybe. But only if you promise to be my first reader."

They kept walking, the warm Barcelona night wrapping around them like a soft blanket. The streets were quiet, the occasional hum of a passing car filling the silence. Aitana stole a glance at him, watching how his hair swayed slightly in the breeze.

For someone so strict with himself, so disciplined, he was surprisingly easy to talk to.

Before she knew it, they had arrived at her doorstep. She turned to him, hesitating for a moment. "Thanks for walking me back."

Nico shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Anytime."

Aitana smiled before stepping inside. Just as she was about to close the door, she peeked out one last time. "See you tomorrow at training?"

Nico grinned. "5 AM sharp."

She groaned playfully. "Of course, you'd say that."

With a final laugh, she closed the door.

Nico stood there for a moment, staring at where she had just been, before turning around and walking back into the night, a small smile lingering on his lips.

_____________

Back at home, Nico lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow was a big day. No—the biggest day of his career so far. First-team training.

He had watched these players for years, admired them, studied their movements, learned from their brilliance. And now, he would be stepping onto the same pitch as them, not as a fan, not as a kid watching from the stands, but as a teammate.

The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

Taking a deep breath, he turned his head to the side and willed the holographic system screen to appear.

It flickered to life before him.

A translucent rectangular hologram appeared before his eyes, glowing faintly in the dimly lit room.

[SYSTEM PANEL]

Name: Nico Cryuff

Date of Birth: July 4, 2000A

ge: 13

Height: 175 cm

Weight: 65 kg

[ATTRIBUTES]

Pace 87

Dribbling 78

Passing 82

Shooting 78

Defending 37

Physical 83

[SKILLS]

Step Overs

S-Shaped Free Kick (Invisible Hand

)Marseille Turn

La Croqueta

Pendulum

Cryuff Turn

[SP: 987]

[SHOP - Unlocked]

A notification popped up at the bottom.

[You will receive 1 SP daily. You gain 1 SP for every 3 goals and assists in youth leagues. You gain 1 SP for every goal and assist in the five major leagues.]

Nico's eyes flickered with interest as he noticed the shop had finally reopened. It had been locked for over a year due to an update. Now, he finally had the chance to see if there was anything new.

With a small smirk, he selected the shop option.

As the shop interface loaded, several new skills appeared. Nico skimmed through them—Elastico, Reverse Elastico—both great for beating defenders. But one skill stood out from the rest.

[WHEN IN DREAD]"When your team is losing or the match is drawn, all attributes increase by 10%."[Cost: 500 SP]

Nico's emerald-green eyes gleamed as he read the description. This was perfect. A skill that would give him an edge when the team needed him most. No hesitation—he pressed buy.

[Skill Acquired: WHEN IN DREAD]

A warm sensation spread through his body for a brief moment before fading. Nico exhaled, satisfied. He still had 487 SP left, but he decided to save it for later.

Closing the system, he turned off his bedside lamp and lay back against his pillow. Tomorrow was the day he stepped into first-team training. No longer just La Masia's crown jewel—he was stepping onto the same field as the Barcelona legends he grew up admiring.

As excitement coursed through his veins, a small smirk tugged at his lips.

"Tomorrow, a new chapter begins."

And with that, he drifted off to sleep.

__________

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight seeped through his window, Nico was already awake. He moved with the precision of a machine, going through his daily morning routine—an hour of yoga to keep his body flexible, an hour of jogging to build endurance, and an hour of gym work to strengthen his muscles.

By the time he finished, his body was drenched in sweat, but he felt unstoppable.

After a quick shower, he put on his Barcelona training gear—a crisp, fitted tracksuit with the iconic crest on his chest. He grabbed his nutritionist-prepared meal and stepped outside, where a car was already waiting for him.

As he slid into the backseat, the familiar streets of Barcelona blurred past the window. His heartbeat remained steady, his breathing calm.

Today, he would train with the first team.

Today, he would take his first step toward the very top.

By the time he arrived at Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper, his mind was razor-sharp. He felt ready.

_________

As Nico stepped into Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper, he couldn't help but take in his surroundings. The walls were adorned with Barcelona's rich history—legendary photos of Cruyff, Maradona, Ronaldinho, Xavi, Iniesta, Messi. The Champions League trophies, La Liga titles, Copa del Reys—all shining reminders of the club's greatness.

This was where legends were made.

He walked through the corridors, his footsteps echoing lightly on the polished floor. His heart pounded—not with nerves, but with excitement.

Finally, he stepped out onto the first-team training ground.

In front of him were the stars of the 2014-15 season.

Lionel Messi, Neymar, Luis Suárez.

Xavi, Iniesta, Busquets.

Piqué, Alba, Dani Alves.

The team that would go on to win the treble.

They were already warming up, passing the ball around with ridiculous ease. The rhythm, the precision—it was on a level beyond anything Nico had ever seen in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the coach, Luis Enrique.

"Good morning, Mister," he greeted, standing straight, showing no fear.

Luis Enrique turned to him, giving him a brief once-over before nodding.

"Ah, Nico Cryuff," he said with a small smirk. "Let's see what you've got."

____________

Luis Enrique clapped his hands, calling all the players over.

"Alright, listen up!" he said, his authoritative voice carrying across the pitch. The squad gathered around, some already eyeing Nico with curiosity.

"This is Nico Cryuff. You all know the name. The crown jewel of La Masia. The boy everyone's been talking about."

A few of the players chuckled, exchanging glances. Gerard Piqué was the first to step forward, crossing his arms with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, we know him. The 'Prince of La Masia,' right?"

Jordi Alba whistled. "950 goals and 400 assists in the youth leagues? Is that even real?"

Sergio Busquets nodded with a teasing grin. "Are we sure he's not some experiment? Maybe La Masia created the perfect player in a lab."

The group burst into laughter.

Luis Suárez stepped up, resting an arm on Nico's shoulder. "I heard you're scoring goals for fun. You better not try and take my spot, kid."

Nico, ever calm, simply smiled. "I'm a team player, Luis. But if you need assists, I've got you."

That got another round of laughs, even from Messi, who had been watching quietly.

Neymar shook his head. "Man, this kid's already got a comeback ready."

Even Xavi and Iniesta exchanged knowing looks. The veterans of the team could see something in Nico—an aura, a presence that didn't belong to a normal 13-year-old.

Luis Enrique clapped his hands again. "Alright, enough talking. Let's see if he can back it up on the pitch."

________

As training progressed, the atmosphere slowly shifted. At first, the players were just observing, teasing the young prodigy, expecting him to be good—but not this good.

Nico moved like a seasoned professional, not a 13-year-old playing with world-class veterans. His passes were like silk, weaving through the defense effortlessly. He wasn't just making the safe choices; he was slipping in through balls that left defenders flat-footed, curling passes into tight spaces where no one else even saw a gap.

Xavi and Iniesta, the maestros of the midfield, took notice immediately.

Luis Enrique stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching intently. Even he, who had seen countless talents come through Barcelona, had to admit—this kid was different. There was a rhythm to his play, an intelligence beyond his years.

Then came the dribbling.

During a small-sided game, Busquets pressed him high, trying to force a mistake. Nico, calm as ever, shifted his weight and—Marseille Turn.

A smooth, seamless spin left Busquets behind, and before anyone could react, Nico had already cut past another defender with La Croqueta, sliding between two players before releasing a pinpoint pass to Neymar.

The Brazilian stopped for a moment, looking at Nico with an impressed grin. "You sure you're only thirteen?"

Then came the shooting.

Luis Suárez had challenged him earlier, saying, "Show me you can finish against the big boys."

So when the ball landed at Nico's feet just outside the box, he didn't hesitate. A feint, a small shift, and then—boom.

A strike so clean, so pure, that Ter Stegen barely had time to react. The ball curved, dipped, and smashed into the top corner.

Silence.

Then laughter and claps from the players.

"Madre mía," Piqué shook his head. "You sure you don't have a fake birth certificate, kid?"

Messi, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke. "That was special."

And just like that, Nico Cryuff had officially arrived.

___________

As the training session wrapped up, the players gathered around, sharing jokes and light banter. Neymar, ever the playful one, turned to Nico with a grin.

"Alright, wonderkid, who was the one player you were most excited to meet today?"

Everyone expected the same answer—Messi. Maybe Iniesta. After all, those were the legends every La Masia kid dreamt of playing with.

But Nico, with his usual calmness, simply replied, "Ter Stegen."

A brief silence followed before the entire group burst into laughter.

"Wait, what?" Suárez smirked. "Not Messi? Not Don Andrés?"

Even Ter Stegen looked surprised. "I wasn't expecting that… Why me?"

Nico gave a small shrug, a playful smirk on his lips. "Because I didn't have good enough goalkeepers to practice my free kicks with."

The entire squad erupted. "¡Qué confianza!" Piqué laughed, clapping Nico on the back. "I like this kid!"

Ter Stegen chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh? And what kind of free kicks are we talking about?"

"Invisible Hand," Nico said casually.

That made them pause.

"Invisible what?" Neymar frowned. "What the hell is that?"

Nico just smiled. The only person who had ever seen it before was Aitana.

Ter Stegen crossed his arms. "Alright, now you have to show me."

Nico's smirk widened. "Sure. Why not?"

Everyone gathered around, intrigued. Ter Stegen jogged to the goal, stretching his arms. "Come on then, kid. Let's see what you got."

Nico walked up to the penalty arc, setting up the fake wall. Carefully, he placed the ball exactly thirty meters away from goal.

The players watched as he stepped back—four steps. His eyes locked onto the target. The wind was still. The world seemed to slow.

Then, he sprinted forward.

His foot struck the ball with precision. It rose up like a normal free kick, but then—something unnatural happened.

The ball swerved sharply to the left. Then, mid-air, it cut back to the right like an invisible force had grabbed it, carrying it through the air like a puppet on strings.

Ter Stegen reacted late—he had anticipated curve or dip, but this… this was different.

The ball soared into the top right corner, just past his fully outstretched fingertips.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then—

"¡Mierda!" Suárez shouted. "What the hell was that?!"

Neymar had his hands on his head. "Bro, that ball moved like a possessed spirit!"

Even Messi, normally composed, raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't normal."

Ter Stegen was still staring at the net, arms frozen in the air. He slowly turned to look at Nico, then at the ball inside the goal, then back at Nico.

"Do that again."

Nico chuckled, already grabbing another ball. "Alright."

_________